Red bok choi, Cabbage, Daikon, Garlic, Leeks, Lettuce, Onions, Poblano pepper, Potatoes, Rutabaga
We have spent a lot of money looking for life in the universe. Or, to be more precise, intelligent life. Sure it is kind of exciting to discover a drip of water on some other planet’s surface or possibly even traces of ancient bacteria on a rock from space. But exciting in a slight dry academic sort of way, like when someone finds more digits of psi or a really big prime number. You can appreciate the work that went into it, the hard science, the theoretical ramifications. But it doesn’t really make you want get a new outfit and throw a party. It doesn’t really change anything. We are not sending all those probes out into deep space just to find we share the universe with interstellar mold.
We want friends. Smart friends. Cool friends. Aliens with great ideas about stuff that matters, like how to pull off nuclear fusion, how to save the panda, how to eat cheese without getting fat. We are willing to put up with some pretty strange stuff like extra arms or eyes on stalks just as long as we can have a new pal in the neighborhood, someone to hang out with who will understand how tough it is for a sensitive person to put up with a galaxy like this.
It is unclear what makes us think we will run into creatures like this out there. Even if they have existed on some other planet, there’s no particular reason to believe they will be around when we make contact. We have had life of one sort or another on this planet for around three billion years and, unless we have seriously underestimated dinosaurs, the possibility (and I stress the word possibility) of good conversation for all of ten thousand of those years. Given our current behavior, it will be something of a miracle if that possibility lasts another hundred centuries, and it is hard to say how long it will be before it appears again. Meaning the chances of coming across intelligent life on our own planet at a randomly chosen moment in its history are pretty lousy.
But let’s say we get lucky, run into someone out there with something to say. Given our own experiences with social interaction, why on earth would we think they will want to have anything to do with us. Oh sure, they’ll be polite, express the usual pro forma delight over running into us, what a pleasant surprise, so nice to see us, gosh we’re looking well, have we lost some weight, love what we’ve done with the planet. But when we, needy little creatures, press them about getting together again for dinner they’ll get that evasive look, say it sounds great, they’ll have to check with the wife, things are really busy right now, you know how it is, let’s get in touch, and they’ll still be making that universal hand to ear (or whatever it is they have that pass for hands and ears) I’ll phone you gesture as they hop into the spaceship and rush off.
Why even bother? Who needs to be humiliated by a bunch of snooty aliens too cool to hang out with us? Let’s forget the whole thing, spend that money on our own planet. God knows it could use some help. With that kind of money, even without the help of extraterrestrials, we could find better ways to generate electricity, clean up rivers, provide basic health care for kids, build schools, teach people to farm properly, all of which would help us here and now. Plus if any aliens every do drop in they are a hell of a lot more likely to stick around and share their ideas with us if we have kept the place looking decent.
Perhaps when they get here they will be able to tell me how to get reliable crops of rutabagas. Some years rutabagas work (too well, even), some they don’t work at all (I once harvest a grand total of two rutabagas from four hundred bed feet of perfectly healthy plants). They are somewhere in between this season, but definitely on the less productive end of the scale. Which I know comes as a great disappointment to you. You’ve been waiting all season for a really big rutabaga and all you get is this runt of a root. Hardly enough to go around if the aliens decide to stay for dinner (I have a strange feeling aliens would like rutabagas). I trust the daikon will help to ease the pain.
Plus you have that red bok choi. I know it is not a big rutabaga, but it looks good and probably even tastes good too. I don’t know for sure. I have never eaten one. It is unusual for me to hand out something I have never tried (yes, I have actually eaten rutabagas and daikon). But they were a total failure last year—the whole bed bolted before they sized up—and we only just picked these. At least I know now to wait and grow them in the fall (figured that out all by myself, no help from aliens).
We still have one or two other crops that seem to do well in this weather, a couple of greens, some parsnips, a last bed of carrots. Enough, together with the storage crops in the barn, to do one more week of the share. Next Thursday’s delivery will be the last of the season. We will have some storage crops for sale after the season (mostly onions, shallots, garlic and potatoes). I will send out a price list next week and if we get a reasonable number of orders we will do a delivery shortly before Thanksgiving. Or you can come out to the farm to get your order.
We also have several rows of potatoes that need to be harvested for Community Action’s food pantry. Anyone interested in helping with that project should get in touch with me about coming out to dig potatoes. And if you have any aliens staying with you feel free to bring them along. Since they’re so smart maybe they will know how to get potatoes out of the ground without getting themselves dirty.
