It’s 6:30 in the morning. The sun isn’t up yet, but
it’s time to be getting ready for another day of garlic planting. A glance out
the window reveals a foggy morning. It’s going to be chilly out there. Better
get an extra coat this morning, and pack a hot lunch…
For a few weeks per year, yours truly and her fab
sister (aka should-have-been twin) dive enthusiastically into the muddy,
grueling, long-houred, back-breaking, oh-so-satisfying, and totally enjoyable
role of Garlic Farmer. We love it! There’s an organic garlic farm just across
the little valley from our home, so we get to help out with everything from
planting to harvesting to weeding to cleaning the heads of garlic after they
come out of the ground. We’re sore and covered in dirt by the end of the day…but
it’s SO worth it. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of planting that last
clove into the ground with the feeling of winter in the air!
That was a few days ago. We’ve just finished the last
task of the year – the planting process – and now we’re in that waiting phase
of watching the weather and hoping it doesn’t get warm enough in November for
the cloves to sprout. (it’s okay if they do, but harder on the young plant
through the winter.)
Garlic work here is also a fascinating cultural
experience. The other workers (five of them) are Bhutanese, straight off the
boat, who immigrated here after living for years in a refugee camp in Nepal.
Many of them cannot speak any English; at least they understand bits of it. The
sing-song of their friendly chatter can be heard all throughout the day,
accompanied by peals of laughter as jokes and stories are shared. I wish I knew
their language. I asked them what it was, and one said Indian, and another said
Nepalese. Perhaps it’s a combo… :)
They asked (with sign language and a curious
compilation of broken English words) what I was studying. I said French. This
launched quite a spirited discussion; apparently they find French quite
fascinating! They wanted to know many things about it, and from then on I would
hear periodically throughout the day: “Émilie!” (interestingly
enough, they always pronounce my name like the French do) “What is ____ in
France language?”
In two days we planted over 50,000 cloves by hand,
working down on our knees in the rich soil, pushing the cloves down through
small holes in black plastic-covered rows. At noon everyone would stop for a
break and a quick bite to eat. Ibs and I, sitting out in front of the barn,
where we could enjoy the last bits of Autumn sunshine, were enjoying our
sandwiches when one of the Bhutanese came over.
“Here,” he said, handing us a paper plate with
something funky on it, “our food. You like?” He waited, watching us taste it,
seeing if we approved. It was a unique little flatbread, sort of like a cold pancake
with a spicy taste, and some Indian-like curry with potatoes and unidentifiable
flavors. Not bad at all! We assured him that we liked it, and he went away all
smiles, joining the other Bhutanese at a picnic table and jabbering to them
excitedly (at which they all looked over at us and grinned).
The afternoon was spent in more planting. And more
planting. And more planting. Until every clove was in the ground and every row
was covered in straw…
At last we were finished! It is SO satisfying to look
back over all the rows and know that everything has been planted for the year!
And at the end, I was hanging up my gloves when I
heard a voice behind me. “Picture?” he said. It was one of our new Bhutanese
friends, grinning shyly and holding up a Smartphone. “Selfie!” he added, and
Ibs and I gathered round as he happily took one of all three of us. Apparently
the concept of a selfie spans many diverse cultures… :)
It’ll be several months before the garlic requires
tending again, so for now we will settle down and enjoy the long winter.
Speaking of winter, there’s something white and fluffy and freezing coming down
outside the window as I write… one of the first snows of the season!!! Pics of
that coming soon (I hope).
Happy Weekend, people!
[along our walk home from the farm]
