Memories of a Summer Spent Working the Farm

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Farm labor in return for bushels of tomatoes was just one successful swap in the summer of 1975.
Farm labor in return for bushels of tomatoes was just one successful swap in the summer of 1975.
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A summer spent swapping labor for food provided not just produce, but memories besides.
A summer spent swapping labor for food provided not just produce, but memories besides.

In the summer and/or fall, we like to travel to the sunny Okanagan and Similkameen Valleys of British Columbia to take advantage of their abundant vegetable- and fruit-picking opportunities. Last summer was a particularly bountiful one for us . . . one we’ll never forget, thanks to the many good friends–and barters–we made on our trip.

The year prior to our 1975 outing, my husband (Robert, alias Roberto, RoBear, or Bobby) and I had made the acquaintance of a young, Okanagan organic farmer named “Hank Dirt”. In the winter, we contracted with him to raise fairly large quantities of certain commodities for us, and told him that come July–on our annual cherry/apricot/peach-picking journey–we’d be glad to stop by and help with the hoeing of our vegetables in return for a reduced price on the goods. He agreed to this arrangement, and asked if Roberto and I would mind bringing along some seaweed for fertilizer.

Well, foraging for seaweed is one of our favorite occupations anyway, so we didn’t mind at all. Bobby and I proceeded to harvest a two-ton-truck-load of “tossed salad”–storm-shredded kelp, eelgrass, rockweed, and dozens of other varieties of giant algae in shades of green, brown, white, and hot pink–seasoned (so to speak) with sand, shell particles, and fine wood debris. After collecting the “weeds”, we spread them out to be washed by the rain (fresh seaweed is too salty for use as fertilizer) and dried by the sun. Tending and tedding it like hay, we eventually had a third of a truckful of choice, dry fertilizer to take to Hank’s place.

When Roberto and I–and our 6-year-old son, Faro, and 2-nearly-3 daughter, Reina–arrived at Dirt’s farm on July 18, we found Hank way behind in his hoeing. The grass, pigweed, and nightshade were choking his soybeans, squash, corn, and tomatoes so badly–in fact–that he immediately offered us a credit of $4.00 per hour to hoe for him . . . which was all the excuse we needed to pick up our tools and get to work.

  • Published on May 1, 1976
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