“Where is the brassica growing?”
I thought this was a simple enough question, however, the answer was pretty complicated and a little dangerous. On our Farm it is pretty tough to walk out through the greenhouses and hoop houses and find one variety or species without some guidance from the growers, the pickers or anyone else with an idea of where a certain stand of flowers may be. The growers can tell you with pinpoint accuracy where a crop is but interpreting their instruction can be part of the challenge.
“Brassica? You want Corgy White, Bright Wine or Crane Rose?” answers
Grower Tim.
Picking the variety with the coolest sounding name I answer with confidence, “
Bright Wine.”
“Ok, go out to 9th Street, 9th Street West, not East. Go down to about 944 and it is about half way down in the hoop.”
I act like this jargon means something, thank him and walk away. Behind my back I hear, “You’re not gonna walk all the way out there are you? Take a bike.”
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| Bikes on the farm |
“Oh, which one?” I ask as I look over a collection of beaten up, but functional farm bikes. The grower points to a faded green one, “Take mine.”
I hesitate just long enough to get the question every adult who loves to mountain bike never wants to hear.
“You know how to ride a bike, right?”
“Ahh, yeah of course, nothing to it.” Thinking,
I know how to ride a bike why am I so nervous?
I hop on the once sweet beach cruiser with a basket on the front handlebars and take a few good pedals to get up to speed. I feel Tim’s eyes on my back, as if the verdict is still out on whether I know how to ride a bike or not. Just at that moment a fork lift comes whipping around a parked delivery truck, beeping his horn to make sure he doesn’t collide with any one.
Who “yields” in this situation? I know on the water the vessel with the most control yields, such as a power boat yields to a sailboat. In this situation, my own sense of self-preservation slams back on the coaster brake, pebbles fly and I am back to standing astride a bike with a cloud of dust swirling around me, having gone all of 15 feet.
Grower Tim yells back over the forklift’s grumble, “Look out for forklifts!” and he returns to his clip board with
crop calendars and planting schedules. I thank him for this gem of knowledge, remount the bike, give it a good shove (steady, steady) and pedal off in hopes of finding the “Bright Wine” Brassica, at this point I consider pedaling to a local
café for an actual glass of wine.
Arcata is a
bicycle friendly community, I would say more than just friendly, there are some real bicycle
nuts here. The
Kinetic Grand Championship is an annual race of pedal powered vehicles, which need to be able go across (or through) pavement, sand, mud, open water and many other hazards. Start planning for Memorial Day 2013 to be a part of a
wonderful spectacle, started right here in Humboldt County.
Bicycling in and out of the greenhouses, across fields and down dirt roads is a great way to get around. The farm is big! The farm is so big, we actually need street signs just like any other community. Cruising down Tulip Avenue leads you right to a mechanical door at the entrance of a greenhouse. Once you are comfortable on your ride, you can pull a string about 10 feet before the door, the door magically opens and you pedal right through. The street signs help you navigate through the rows of lilies, iris and tulips.
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| Street signs on the Farm. |
I zoom past West 7th street, and sure enough West 9th Street appears on the right. I ring my handlebar bell, in the faint hope that if a forklift is coming the other way we may avoid a collision. I go past row after row of
Asiatic Lilies, then the crops start getting different, some
freesia, some basil (don’t ask…), some
yellow iris, then suddenly I hit the brassica…right where Tim said it would be. All I needed to do was find it.
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| West 9th Street, home of the Brassica. |
I take some beautiful photos of this unique crop, the Bright Wine is really a neat plant, so much texture and personality.
I head back to the office, taking a different route through the farm going past the blazing fields of crocosmia, enjoying the freedom and speed only a bicycle can provide. Pumping my legs, the wind in my hair, leaning over the handle bars for the least amount of drag, feeling great! I pull up to the office, just as Grower Tim is coming out. I slam on the brakes, kick out the back wheel, and skid to a perfect stop. Then gracefully hop off the bike and stand in flawless form like any 11 year old would proudly do.
Grower Tim rolls his eyes, grabs the handle bars away from me, tosses his planting schedules in the front basket, mounts the bike and pedals away slowly, shaking his head.
"See... I can ride a bike," I call out after him.
