Meetings Galore

Last week, the farmers sat down with the chefs from Chuck n' Auggies. At this meeting, each farmer shared information about a crop they thought would benefit Chuck n' Auggies' menu. SVSF left the restaurant eager to start growing. All but one farmer got the go-ahead to plant their crop. Of course, we first need to let the ground thaw and the temperatures rise. For now, we're planning what varieties to buy, where to buy, what plots to plant said varieties, and how many seeds are needed.

In other news, this Wednesday we have our second SVSF club meeting, at 6:00 in the Sprague basement. We hope to see you there!

The above are pictures from our seed catalogues.

First Snow Day of 2016

We were only supposed to get 5 inches of snow, but by Friday morning almost a foot had piled up! Not ones to shy away from the elements, the farmers got outside and shoveled around the hoop house. Then, many hiked the hill to sled down, before thawing out their toes inside, and settling into blankets and hot cocoa.

 

We're Back!

Over the break, many of us stayed at the farm to work on our new up and coming aquaponics system! Starting from a wide eyed hope, forming into a grant proposal, filling into a plan, and then slowly inching towards becoming a reality, the aquaponics dream has come so far! Soon, we'll be able to use fish waste as nutrients for plants and harvest produce all year long! If you're interested about learning more about how aquaponics works or helping us to realize a sustainable project, feel free to contact any of the farmers. Now that school has started, SVSF is in full swing. We'll be in Sprague hosting farm meetings twice a month and around campus putting on other fun events. Stay tuned for more information about what you can get involved in this upcoming semester!

Preparing for Winter

It's about time to get the plots ready for winter!

Last Farm Friday

Our last Farm Friday came and went on Halloween. We had a wonderful time saying thank you to our wonderful volunteers and saying goodbye to the growing season.

Halloween Is Coming!

Halloween is on Saturday and the farm is looking extra eerie. We can't believe this Friday is the last volunteer day of the Fall Semester. If you have helped out at SVSF before, stop by so we can thank you with music, games, and cake! Hope to see you there. In the mean time, stay spooky.

SVSF and EcoHouse Volunteer at the Windham Community Garden

 

 

                                          

As Fall Creeps In

Tomorrow is the first day of Fall! Soon SVSF will turn from green to copper, and the temperatures and produce will dwindle. Still, we're taking advantage of the mild sun and the garden's gifts. We're still hosting volunteer hours from 4-6 on Fridays (separate of course from this Friday, during which we are helping with Grow Windham's Community Garden) and we hope to see all you're smiling, beautiful faces there!

The Following is a poem by Amy E. King that, to me, acts as an ode to the transition of a farm from Summer to Fall:

Digging Potatoes

Summer squash and snap-beans gushed

all August, tomatoes in a steady splutter

through September. But by October’s
last straggling days, almost everything

in the garden was stripped, picked,
decayed. A few dawdlers:

some forgotten carrots, ornate
with worm-trail tracery, parsley parched

a patchy faded beige. The dead leaves
of potato plants, defeated and panting,

their shriveled dingy tongues
crumbling into the mud.

     You have to guess where.
     The leaves migrate to trick you. Pretend
     you’re sure, thrust the trowel straight in,
     hear the steel strike stone, hear the song
     of their collision—this land is littered
     with granite. Your blade emerges
     with a mob of them, tawny freckled knobs,
     an earthworm curling over one like a tentacle.
     I always want to clean them with my tongue,
     to taste in this dark mud, in its sparkled scatter
     of mica and stone chips, its soft genealogy
     of birch bark and fiddleheads, something

that means place, that says here,
with all its crags and sticky pines,

its silent stubborn brambles. This
is my wine tasting. It’s there,

in the potatoes: a sharp slice with a different blade
imparts a little milky blood, and I can almost

smell it. Ferns furling. Barns rotting.
Even after baking, I can almost taste the grit.