On Calves and Cabbages

Me with my prized Brugmansia plants, who are still blooming after surviving several frosts!

Hello Friends, 

It has been two weeks since I last posted in the wake of the uproar of the election insanity which has gripped our country. In the intervening time the news hasn’t gotten any better. I don’t want to contribute to the doom scrolling and the fear (which is the principle weapon of the Tyrant), so I’m going to talk about other things with this week’s content. But I reiterate my support of the oppressed and marginalized. My wand, my athame, and my pen, and my heart are at your service. 

My time, however, has been taken up with the most Earthly of concerns, namely harvesting cabbages and rounding up calves. The weather here in Kentucky has finally turned rainy and the cold is on its way. The drought dried up our pastures and we have been feeding our too large (for our land) herd of cattle our limited supply of winter hay since August and are now running out. So this week found me trudging through the mud in our densely planted fall garden harvesting 600 lbs of giant 14lb. napa cabbage and bok choy for a nice lady who makes kimchi, and then separating, by trickery, this year’s crop of five 6 to 7 month old calves from their mamas for weaning so I can sell them on to other farms. We also have a rent-a-bull who needs to go back home. In between all of this action there was considerable bovine baby mama drama, because cows are good mothers who are very attached to their babies. 

It’s hard to get a sense of the size of these babies, but they are huge!

It is a hard thing to be a sensitive farmer who can feel and empathize with the sentience of my livestock. I really feel connected to them, and it is stressful to me when they aren’t happy. That is why I no longer raise hogs, because there is always one sow who thinks she might be able to convince you to make her into the family pet. Like an 800 pound dog who eats $5.00 worth of food a day. It’s sad. I’m probably just getting too old and soft hearted for it. You just can’t afford to keep them all, and people have to eat, and if eat meat they must, then they should eat meat from a farm where the animals are raised ethically. 

Moving our small herd of beef cattle from their summer pasture to the winter pasture.

After the, cabbages were harvested and delivered and the cows and calves were separated, accompanied by the chorus of sad, plaintive mooing, my wife Esmee, and I dug into the real hard work of the week: the harvesting and preparation of vegetables for our modestly sized fall CSA program, in which we provide 40 families with a share of organically grown seasonal produce. In the golden days of the warm extended fall that we had, harvesting vegetables was, if not exactly easy, at least a pleasant way to spend the day: outside, with family, listening to the wind in the trees, watching the clouds pass by. All of that changes when the rain moves in on harvest day and temperatures drop into the 40s. After not having mud on our shoes for months, we were suddenly sinking in it, and digging and washing carrots became a particular hardship. 

We avoid the use of plastic whenever possible in our operation, because covering large swaths of the Earth in clear plastic grow tunnels which block the life-giving rain from the soil seems particularly against the spirit of the kind of natural agriculture I want to practice on my farm. But as a result, when it rains on harvest day or before we are working in the mud. If it's cold, we are working outside in the cold and wind. I am grateful for a job and a livelihood, an opportunity to work with nature, producing healthful food for humans is an honorable profession, many would agree. But the problem is that it barely pays and is incredibly time consuming. Esmee and I are often frustrated by the fact that our product falls within the realm of a family’s grocery budget, where people, as we also do, are always trying to cut costs, whereas, for health, beauty or luxury products, people are often tempted to splurge. 

Wagner loves broccoli!

To put it bluntly, we are peasants. I am fine with that. But as I get further into my 50s with all of the challenges aging entails, I would like to transition to being a person who writes interesting books and articles on magic, mythology, the occult, and folklore, and manages an organic farm in my spare time. In short, like so many other farmers, I would like farming to be my side gig, not something I have to depend on in my old age. We also have other marketable skills that we would like to pursue, if we could just get a little space from our demanding day job. Skills such as: making herbal medicine, soaps, salves, tinctures, and essential oils. I love reading astrological charts for people and with a bit more time away from digging carrots and potatoes, I could do a deep dive into studying astrology, so I could do professional readings, and make custom talismans. There’s just so much more we want to do.  Esmee is a certified yoga instructor and I am a Reiki practitioner with a master certificate. We would love more time to dive into our passion projects.

Esmee harvests fennel on a golden fall afternoon

 And here’s where I make my pitch: If you like my content, and would like to help free me up to make more of it, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. It doesn’t cost that much, just $6/ per month, and having a hundred or two subscribers would make a huge difference to my family. And if you're local to Cincinnati, Ohio or Northern Kentucky, you can buy our farm products or join our CSA. Keep checking in with me for more content and more future developments, such as an Etsy shop or a Patreon page where you can find more ways to connect with The Cunning Farmer and get some of our herbal products and magical supplies.

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