by Anne Pyburn Craig   

Corn is one of humanity’s oldest known friends. It was around 9,000 years ago that people, probably in southern Mexico, first learned how to grow the plant on purpose, cultivating it to produce more larger, tastier ears on each plant.

Native Americans called her Mother Corn. In the early creation stories, as in life, she’s a nurturer: the Sioux said that after the Creator had sent a flood to douse an unruly species of giants, it was Mother Corn who came down to earth to free the regular folks from the caves where they’d been sheltered and taught them how to feed themselves. The Cherokee envisioned corn seed coming from the body of a loving crone.

“Some 2,000 years ago people who recognized the value of these soils inhabited the Rondout Valley,” writes Bruce Davenport, one of our local corn wizards, in a reflective essay on the history of Davenport Farms. “They found that they could plant seeds in clearings on these bottomlands to produce food to help sustain their people through the long winters. No longer entirely dependent on hunting and gathering their food, these people were now able to stay in one place for generations, and they called this valley home for thousands of years. Evidence of their existence can still be found in the form of arrowheads, fire pits, and bone pipes.”

Henry Hudson described a native home he visited as containing “a great quantity of maize or Indian corn, and beans of last year’s growth, and there lay near the house for the purpose of drying enough to load three ships, besides what was growing in the fields.”

Had the folks already here not taught the immigrant Europeans the ways of corn, they might well have starved to death. Corn is a generous plant; it thrives even in the challenging climate of the Northeast and keeps well. Farmers of European descent came up with their own corn culture, mostly involving corn as omen or harbinger. In some places it was said that if you missed a row planting there’d be a death in the family soon. Coming across a scattering of spilled kernels meant company was coming; if you didn’t want to see anyone you knew, you might brush away the kernels and a stranger would show up. A young woman who came across a throwback red ear amongst a harvest of yellow was due to marry before the next harvest.

Stephen King, of course, took corn from omen to ominous with his imaginative fable of its angry Children. In modern cornfields, though, He Who Walks Behind the Rows would have a danged hard time getting through them to wreak any particular havoc.  Cornfields may look intriguing, but there are good reasons to confine any exploration of them to established corn mazes and U-Picks. “Tightly packed rows of stalks almost 10 feet tall create an almost full canopy overhead,” wrote Kaitlyn Stack Whitney in The Atlantic last year. “Underneath, row widths much narrower than your hips include sharp, jutting corn-leaf edges that inflict papercut-like nicks to any exposed skin as you brush past. And if you’re there during the tasseling and silking stages, your skin may break out in a rash from the falling pollen. Appropriate attire for field scientists in cornfields includes boots, long pants, and sleeves, a sturdy hat, and glasses to protect your eyes from being cut by the leaves.”

There are two main types of corn: field (maize) and sweet (what you get at the farm stand). Every year, U.S. farmers produce 332 million metric tons of maize, with 40 percent being used for corn ethanol and about another third for animal feed. The wise method the natives used—planting the “Three Sisters,” squash, beans, and corn, in close proximity to keep the soil healthy—has long since been abandoned in mass production, giving way to fertilizer-intensive methods that create a nasty nitrogen imbalance in some places. Eighty-five percent of the corn grown in the United States today is genetically modified. According to the Environmental Working Group, “In contrast to field corn, only a small amount of GE sweet corn can be found on the U.S. market.  Most sweet corn has not been genetically engineered.”

The ecological damage wrought by corn, environmental advocates agree, is driven largely by subsidized ethanol production. And corn is turned into a lot of other non-foods as well. The Corn Refiners Association, a pack of heavyweights including Archer Daniels Midland and Cargill, converts 1.5 billion bushels into six categories of corn based products: sweeteners, oils, starch, ethanol, animal feed, and bio-products. Corn is ubiquitous, used in soft drinks, plastics, fabric and adhesives: “jams, jellies, sauces, marinades, cereals, condiments, canned fruits and vegetables, baked goods, meat products like bologna and hot dogs, yogurts, snack items, cough drops, antibiotics, intravenous solutions, toothpaste, paper, cosmetics and soap to name a few,” all contain corn. 

The CRA is currently locked in legal strife with the Sugar Association over the latter’s attempts to “vilify” high fructose corn syrup, which the corn folks assert is no worse for us than refined sugar, It’s interesting to contemplate how many issues could be addressed by growing and using environmentally friendly hemp crops instead of some of that corn.

Nutritionally, we’d all be better off eating blue, red, or multicolored corn. These “Indian corn” varieties, mostly used for decoration these days, contain anthocyanins, bioflavonoid phytochemicals that produce their rich coloration and help protect the human body from a host of enzymatic, hormonal, inflammatory and immune system woes. You can still get the benefit of colorful corn by grinding it into homemade hominy or grits in a sturdy blender or a coffee grinder, and the red variety is said to make exceptionally tasty popcorn.

Golden sweet corn, however, is still a whole grain rich in good stuff: fiber, protein, vitamin C, thiamin, riboflavin, niacin, pantothenic acid, magnesium, phosphorus, and folic acid.  Just beware of the whitest varieties; they come to us courtesy of a mayor and “gentleman farmer” from New Haven, Connecticut, who in the late 19th century bragged that he had bred out of sweet corn “the disadvantage of being yellow”—and with it, most of the betacarotene. (There’s a parable in there somewhere.)

During the peak era of Rondout Valley corn production, Gill Farms harvested over a million dozen ears a year from 1,300 acres, and the Davenports had 1,000 acres in corn production. The New York Times came to Hurley and interviewed Jack and Charlotte Gill on their techniques and on the fine art of corn purchase and transportation (keep it wet and cold, folks.) “Every day at least one or two trailer trucks, each carrying crates with 45,000 ice-covered ears of corn, leaves Hurley’s fields for market. On a good day, Mr. Gill can get the corn from the stalk to the truck in 40 minutes,” marveled the Times reporter.

“At that time there were nearly 6,000 acres in the Rondout Valley planted in sweet corn, and ten large sweet corn operations shipping its products countrywide,” reminisces Davenport of the peak production years. Today, the picture has changed significantly; Davenport Farms keeps just 50 acres in sweet corn production; and the Farm Hub, the former Gill property, has shifted focus to other grains and cover crops, although grain corn is still being grown along 209, part of an experiment in organic feed production.

According to the USDA, New York is still a standout in sweet corn production, the fourth-largest producer nationwide; farmers marketed $72.6 million in fresh market sweet corn last year, with the Rondout and Wallkill Valleys receiving much of the credit. And throughout the Hudson Valley, dozens of right-sized sweet corn operations mean that you’re never far from a fresh-picked ear in season. As almost everyone knows, fresh is best—corn’s sugars start converting to starches the minute it’s picked. 

Nothing beats an ear of sweet corn, be it boiled or roasted, fresh from the farm stand—unless you grow your own and can have the water boiling or the grill hot before the corn leaves the stalk. Corn is a hardy crop, and one that most gardeners can manage. Local gardening wizard Lee Reich is a fan of the Golden Bantam variety, calling it “a relatively pest-free vegetable that warrants space in any garden.”

“I grow corn in hills (clusters) of three plants each with two feet between hills in the row and two rows of hills down each three-foot-wide bed” Reich writes in his blog. “With each stalk yielding one to two ears, I reap thirty to sixty ears for each ten feet of bed! That’s a lot of ears, and it’s in space in which I sow early lettuce or spinach before planting the corn, and late turnips or, again, lettuce, spinach, arugula, or other cool season vegetables to follow the corn harvest.”

That’s something to think about for next spring. Meanwhile, if you don’t want to wait till next year to experience corn grown close to home, you can probably still grab some at a farm stand, and the folks at Hudson Valley Harvest in Ulster offer frozen local corn all winter long.

It’s all part of the splendid corn-ucopia of local agriculture.

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There is no more classic way to spend an autumn afternoon than getting lost in the endless rows of a corn maze, with the blue sky overhead and the cool breeze ruffling your windbreaker. Here’s a list of local maize mazes for your enjoyment: 

ULSTER COUNTY:

DuBois Farms: Farm Market, café, and bakery; weekend barbeques; U-Pick apples, peaches, plums, nectarines, and pumpkins; expanded 2-acre corn maze; tractor-pulled wagon rides; contests with prizes; visits with farm animals, pony rides, and more. duboisfarms.com. 845-795-4037. 209 Perkinsville Road, Highland, NY 12528. Open daily 10:00am -5:00pm.

Hurds Family Farm: U-Pick apples and pumpkins, fall festival, train rides, corn maze, haybale maze, tractor-pulled hay rides, pumpkin weigh-off, gift shop, snacks and refreshment stand, restrooms, picnic area, bonfires, petting zoo, farm animals. hurdsfamilyfarm.com. 845-883-7825. 2187 Route 32, Modena, NY 12548. Open daily, 9am-5pm for U-Pick and Dutch Barn Market; activities open 10am-4pm. 

Jenkins & Lueken Orchards: Apples, pumpkins, pumpkin patch-pick in the field, corn maze, fresh produce, tractor-pulled hay rides, raspberries, blackberries. 69 Yankee Folley Road (off Rt. 299) New Paltz, NY 12561. 845-255-0999. jlorchards.com. Open weekdays, 9am-6pm; weekends, 9am-7pm.

Kelder’s Farm: U-pick pumpkin patch, apples, concord grapes, sweet corn, red raspberries, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, beans, peppers, onions, eggplant, squash, and u-cut flowers. Corn maze, tractor-pulled hay rides, hay bale maze, fresh produce, farm stand and gift shop, picnic area, tractor-pulled hay rides, petting zoo. 5755 Route 209 , Kerhonkson, NY 12404. 845-626-7137. kelderfarm.com. Open daily, 10am-6pm. 

Prospect Hill Orchards: U-pick apples, pears, and pumpkin patch; corn makes, snacks and refreshment stand; tractor-pulled hay rides; corn maze; Appleseed Cider Festival (Columbus Weekend). Payment: Cash, only.  845-795-2383. prospecthillorchards.com. 40 Clark’s Lane, Milton, NY 12547. Open weekends, 9am-4pm. 

Saunderskill Farms: U-pick apples, raspberries, and pumpkins; free corn maze; tractor-drawn hayrides daily and horse-drawn hayrides on weekends, Hudson Valley Draft Horse Association Fall Harvest Day (October 3). 5100 Route 209, Accord, NY. 845-626-7103. saunderskill.com. Open Tuesday-Sunday, 9am-7pm. 

Wallkill View Farm Market: U-Pick Pumpkins, free weekend hayrides, family picnic area, Corn Maze, mums. 845-255-8050. wallkillviewfarmmarket.com. 15 Route 299 West, New Paltz, NY 12561. Open weekends, 9:00am-6:30pm.

DUTCHESS COUNTY:

Barton Orchards: U-pick apples and pumpkins; free hayrides; concessions stands, a food/grocers market; mums; petting zoo, a live band on the weekends; haunted house; corn maze; field of screams. 63 Apple Tree Lane, Poughguag, NY, 12570. 845-227-2306. Open Monday-Friday, 9am-5pm; weekends, 9am-6pm. 

Hahn Farm: Corn maze, hayrides, hay maze, pumpkin patch, gift shop, farm stand, picnic area, pony rides, petting zoo. Cash only. 845-266-5042. hahnfarm.com. 697 Salt Point Turnpike, Salt Point, NY 12578. Farmstand open weekdays 9:30am-6pm; farm open for events on weekends 11am-5pm.

Kesicke Farm: Farmstand, U-pick pumpkin patch, corn maze, hay bale maze, horse-drawn hay rides, tractor-pulled hay rides, wagon rides, picnic area, petting zoo, farm fresh goodies (doughnuts, grass fed meat, eggs). 845-590-9642. kesickefarm.com. 221 Middle Road, Rhinebeck, NY 12572. Open weekends, 10am-6pm. 

by Aileah Kvashay   

Some of the deepest joy and satisfaction I’ve experienced in my 34 years has come from work parties. One work party in particular stands out as one of my truly happiest memories. Fresh from a weekend of dancing at the Grassroots Festival, some friends and I visited Six Circles Farm on the day of their big garlic harvest. A day of unforeseen magic ensued as 15 to 20 people from far and wide converged for a day of collective work. There was singing and dancing, new friendships were made, and a LOT of garlic got harvested! As we all held hands around the dinner table singing Amazing Grace, I cried from sheer happiness-overload. 

Work parties have the potential to awaken some deep primal instincts, as together we meet our shared needs of food, shelter, and connection. As long as humans have been living on Earth, we’ve depended on each other for survival. In more directly land-based cultures, work parties are simply a way of life. Together we hunt, pick the berries, harvest the corn and potatoes, thresh the wheat, build the structures, and weave the blankets. Doing these things alone is illogical, lonely, and often impossible. Together is better! 

Throughout the world there have been countless manifestations of the work party. Quilting bees and barn-raisings are both classic examples from North American culture. A community work party in Finland is called a “talkoot”, in Ireland a “metheal”, in Cherokee a “gadugi”, in parts of South America a “minga”, and in Norway a “dugnad,” to name a few others.

I once spent a month in Norway living in a community of around 50 people and was lucky enough to experience a dugnad. Most days everyone in the community worked in smaller groups at their specialized tasks such as baking, gardening, cooking or woodworking. But one day the currants ripened and every member of the village gathered to harvest the berries. What could have taken a few people all week was accomplished by all of us in one fun day. Everyone was obviously happy to spend time with people they don’t usually get to see, and it truly felt like a party. 

Over a cup of iced chocolate from his farm in Ecuador, local permaculturist Gregory Landua described the minga he formed with 15 to 20 other cacao farmers in the same region. Without fail they have a work party every 15 days, rotating among the properties of the members of the group. It is the “sacred responsibility of the host,” Gregory explained, to provide a meal for everyone who helps. As with most work parties, the focus of the minga is to accomplish tasks that would be particularly difficult or time-intensive alone. 

Sustainable agriculture often requires more human energy than systems dependent on modern machinery. As Gregory pointed out, fossil fuels and chemicals are essentially “concentrated energy,” and a transition back to regenerative systems requires additional human-power. It’s been thrilling and heart-warming to experience the power of many people focused on an otherwise overwhelming task. As a single farmer who has chosen no-till and hand-scale systems, I have often needed to call upon my community to accomplish jobs that I couldn’t do myself. 

I have also often erred on the side of doing too much alone, until early this spring when my hands and wrists started hurting. What finally drove me to tendonitis was months of solitarily carrying enough wood to heat both my home and my greenhouse. I will never forget the terrifying experience of aching hands before the farm season really even started—I felt like I was about to run a marathon with a sprained ankle! I recognized the divine intervention and knew I had no choice: I needed to start growing food in community and not in isolation. 

At around this time I was invited to a work party hosted by the Long Spoon Collective at the homestead of some dear friends. The Long Spoon Collective is a working group of the Saugerties Transition Movement that collaborates to steward 11 or so plots of land, pooling their efforts to produce and preserve food, build sustainable housing, and educate the community. They meet every Friday to both connect on a personal level and to plan. Throughout the week they live intertwined lives as they help each other with building and gardening projects. Every few months the collective hosts a community work party called a “blitz.” 

The blitz I was attending was largely focused on clearing a pine grove in order to plant fruit and nut trees. Without heavy machinery, many hands were needed to move the fallen pines. I was hesitant to go since the last thing my hands needed was to carry more wood, but I knew there was nothing more important to do. We moved one giant log after another, sometimes with up to 14 people carrying one tree. There was music, food, people of all ages, and lots of beautiful connection. Another happy day, another big project accomplished.

And then a miracle happened. For months I had been plagued by two mountains of wood my hands just couldn’t stack, one of which was practically blocking the entrance to my home. One day a man named Nitsan, who had been at the pine tree blitz, appeared unexpectedly at my door and asked if I needed any help. He devoted much of the day to moving one mountain and returned the next day to move the second! Later that day a spontaneous work party of 10 people helped disassemble and move a tomato hoop house, another task I thought might never happen. From then on the farm has been blessed with more community support than ever, and my hands have almost completely recovered.

I recently reconnected with Nitsan at another Long Spoon event, and we sat peeling garlic and envisioning the formation of a group similar to the Long Spoon Collective here in the Rosendale/High Falls/Accord area. I believe we will do it, but it will require a paradigm shift for us all. It’s so easy to get swept up in our own lives and projects and not have time for helping others. But together is better, and I’m reminded of this every year at our Garlic Planting Party. I could spend an entire day or two breaking apart cloves, preparing beds, planting, and mulching. But instead I spend the day cooking, and together we do all the work in just a few hours. And then with big open hearts we share soup and sing around the fire! 

Aileah Kvashay is the farmer for Clove Valley CSA in High Falls, NY. For info about the farm and the CSA visit clovevalleycsa.org.

by Maria Reidelbach   

The longest days of summer are a busy time of year for Hudson Valley farmers. There’s plenty to to do: the early summer crops like turnips, blueberries, greens and more greens are already being harvested; and at the same time farmers are planting waves of veggies like squash, beans, cole crops, and corn to extend the harvest. This is also the time of year we non-farmers are most likely to get stuck behind some massive piece of farm machinery on one of our local two-lane roads slogging along at 25 miles an hour. You’d think that being so busy they’d hurry it up! How come they go so slow? What are they doing on the road to begin with? 

I always assumed a farm was a contiguous piece of land, but the reality is that most big farms have fields scattered here and there, sometimes miles apart. This happens over time because of inheritance splits and real estate pressures or opportunities. And when practiced on a large scale, farming utilizes lots of big equipment—machines that cultivate the earth by turning and breaking it up in different ways, machines that plant seeds or small plants, those that add water, fertilizers and pest control, and those that harvest. Farmers have to get that machinery from field to field. That’s why they’re on the road. And farm machinery is made for power; speed is secondary. 

To help while away those slow-motion minutes next time you’re chugging along behind a blazing orange SMV (slow moving vehicle) triangle warning, I’ve made a visual field guide, or really a road guide, to identifying exactly what it is that you’re gazing upon, and I’ve spoken to a few farmers to get their perspective. 

The Poop

It’s totally legal for farm machines to use the roads—they have all the rights that cars and bicycles do. Farmers are driving as fast as their rides can go, and are usually as far off the road as possible when they’ve got traffic behind, but the machines are huge and heavy, limiting these strategies. Chris Kelder, of Kelder’s Farm in Kerhonkson, said that people don’t realize how very slow the machines are and often approach too fast—as soon as you see that triangle, you’ve got to slow way down. Technically, it’s against the law to pass if you’re driving across the center lines, but of course it’s often done. Be aware that they may have poor visibility due to loads and equipment, and might sway alarmingly. I asked one farmer if there are any hand signals that they use in these situations and he showed me one I can’t mention here (he’s just kidding!). Jack Schoonmaker, of Saunderskill Farms in Accord has been driving tractors for probably 70 years. He told me that recently there’s been a big turnaround in people’s attitudes and he more often gets a wave rather than...the other hand signal. It’s an encouraging sign that there’s a growing awareness and appreciation of the value of our local agriculture.

The Field Guide

Below are some of the most common types of machines you’ll see—and there are lots of variations among these major types. Many of these huge gizmos are pulled behind or attached to the front of a tractor, a machine named for those enormous sculptural wheels that enable dragging or wheeling heavy equipment across shifting terrain. 

Many thanks to John Gill and the Hudson Valley Farm Hub for allowing me free range to photograph their fleet, to Chris Kelder for help with identification, and to Theresa Venditti for creating the silhouettes from my photos. The illustrations are roughly to scale.

Maria Reidelbach is an author, a maker and a local food activist. Her Stick to Local Farms Cookbook is new this summer.