Some people take their curtains down and wash them. Some clean their windows. Others bring carpets outside and beat them with a big stick. Not me!
I prune raspberries.
It is a daunting task. We have row upon row of raspberries needing pruning. Some rows are 250 feet long. Some, out in our orchard garden, are 500 feet long. That's a lot of raspberries.
After several hours of pruning yesterday, I was called away. Upon my return, I resolved to finish my current row, since I thought I was almost done. With the optical illusion of a never ending row, I had only completed one-quarter of the row, in 3 hours. I re-focused on how great the pruned side of the row looked and got back to business.
I start with the 3 Ds: Dead, Damaged and Diseased. Once these are gone (cut right to the ground), I decide how wide I want the row. At this point, I picture my kids picking raspberries in the heat of summer. Will they be able to reach this one if this cane is in the way?
Then I thin. I cut any canes that thin and wispy. I cut any that are too close to another cane (how will the kids reach between the two?). I cut any that are leaning the wrong way. Then I stand up, brush the mud from the knees, and top off the canes, to about belt height. Then I take another good look. My goal is to have 6-8 healthy canes per running foot of raspberries. Lots of air between the canes, for picking space and circulation.
Now, here's the disclaimer. I'm not the world's best raspberry pruner. I probably cut a ton of stuff I shouldn't and don't cut stuff I should. I'm sure someone will look at my picture of my pruned raspberries and tell me all I'm doing wrong. But somehow, even with my annual pruning, we always have a bumper crop of raspberries, so something I'm doing is right! Maybe someday, Gwen's 'Can the kids reach it?' Raspberry Pruning Method will be all the rage.
I can't tell you how many times during the summer the kids have complained of being hungry and I've sent them to the raspberry patch for a snack. Or the time when Jason was just learning to walk, and getting stuck in the weeds, how Sarah pulled him along. Or when Sarah was picking for me, and in her sweet voice, "One for me, one for the bucket."
For now, I'm just pruning till I can't prune no more and imagining all those lush, sweet raspberries as big as my thumb. And one of my kids running up to me, waving a raspberry in my face, picked just for me.
That's what farming is all about.
Monday, April 6, 2009
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