Newly Planted Onions
We finally finished one of the most hated jobs on the farm – planting onions. This is a labor intensive process for us since we aren’t quite big enough to invest in certain equipment that would transfer the burden of planting from our knees to a well designed and totally inanimate hunk of steel. Laying the plastic and drip tape is hard enough, but the actual planting is tedious and seems to go on forever. My workers always ask me why I plant so many onions and it’s becoming harder to come up with a reasonable answer. About half way through the process there’s a palpable sense of rebellion that emanates from the crew as they pull off what they wish was the last flat from the back of the truck, only to be instructed to go up to the greenhouse for the next 20. The normal conversational atmosphere that accompanies most farm activities becomes sparser and more guttural as each plug is mechanically deposited into the plastic. Any sign of a rain cloud is grasped as a possible excuse for cutting this job short, and after I refuse to respond to the fifth casual utterance of, “Sure looks like rain”, the main topic of conversation turns back to observations in the field. Comments like, “That sure is a big rock” are bandied about with the implicit understanding that my employees are considering using it to casually whack me in the head with it so they can make their escape. Of course, planting onions does finally come to an end after I decide my knees can’t take it anymore. But there is no elation or cheer of accomplishment from the crew – I’ve already drained what little hope they have for a normal life out of them. As we clean up the empty flats I inadvertently mention that next week we’ll be planting tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, beans, corn…and before I can say squash something unidentifiable, but clearly originating from the compost pile, hits me in the back of the head. I take my cue and slither under the nearest rock before it’s used for the coup de gras.
