The unplanned stop - Meadow Sweet Farm

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It's 22.20 on the 14th of May. Today I'll give a little summary of the last 3 days - up to, but not including today.
On Monday we got up for breakfast and to pack. Being severely hungover we didn't feel like doing it the night before, but we were packed with good time to leave the hostel with time to reach the bus terminal. The clouds were heavy and low over the towering buildings in the city centre, and it rained sporadically as we hauled our packs the 20 minutes to Bank St, where our bus left at 11.40, due to arrive at 12.30 in Stouffville - just down the road from Meadow Sweet farm.
The bus, more like a comfortable coach, made its way pretty swiftly out of the city, and onto the sprawling concrete freeways that surround Toronto. Soon enough we were passing through small towns along the Main Road, each with massive outlets at the edge of the town, then growing residential areas sandwiched between the road and the railway. The clouds were still hanging low and the view was not particularly beautiful.
Stouffville is not a pretty town, and is much like the ones I just described. However we weren't waiting at the bus station long as, with a few minutes, a large, white Chevvy pulled up and our host, Mel greeted us and loaded our stuff in the trunk. On the 15 minute or so drive back to the farm Mel, who was around 30, blonde and tall, asked us the familiar questions about our plans and where we had been. We answered all her questions with responses which are now very well rehearsed. As we pulled into Meadow Sweet we passed a young guy, also with blond hair, on a tractor who was introduced to us as Mike, the farm manager. Shortly up the road, and nearer the family house, was Sandy - Mels husband. Sandy was also tall, with longish curls of brown-grey hair and dark, sun beaten skin. We dropped our bags off at the cabins in which we were to stay, and followed Sandy and Mike around the farm for a tour.
The farm consists of several large barns, two houses (one for family, the other for interns and WWOOFers) and a clutch of greenhouses, as well as a large back field. The farm has pigs, cows, llamas, and an assortment of fowl. In terms of plants - name any vegetable or herb and they grow it, as well as a bunch more no one has ever heard of. Mike told us they often host big name chefs to pick their crops and cook onsite.
We unpacked and briefly met the 4 interns who we were sharing living space with, all a little older than us - 1 guy (Dakota) and 3 girls (damn I've forgotten them all). They all are very friendly and helpful, and are spending the whole summer gaining experience on the farm. Before long Mike came round and showed us our first job of the day, which was to take the tomatoes growing from seed, and plant them in bigger pots to allow them to grow further. We did this for around an hour, making use of the portable stereo in the greenhouse and chatting to Mike about ourselves and our plans. Mike is one of these people who take a genuine interest in anything you are saying - and is never in too much of a hurry to help out wherever is needed.
After a while we walked over to the other side of the property where Sandy was tossing lines of rope over another line strung up 12ft high by poles - these lines were to be used as an anchor for the growing hops in the garden, and we spent a little time cutting out lengths of rope, throwing them over the line and twining the longer hop shoots with the ends of the rope. It was 4pm by this point and Sandy had put a few home grown sausages and pittas on the barbecue. Once we'd worked for 30 minutes or so he called us over to eat with Mike and himself out in the sun, accompanied by cold local beers and salad just pulled from the garden. We chatted a little about the farm and Sandy's plans for it, before we packed up and had the rest of the afternoon to ourselves.
Being respectable 19 year olds we of course headed straight for the trampoline and generally goofed around on it until the two kids, Molly and Max (7&6) came over with Mel to meet us. They then showed us the chicks and ducklings they kept in a pen on the garden before they went off to bed. We cooked pasta and spaghetti sauce for dinner and talked more the interns. That evening Adam, a guy that lived at least partly in the intern house upstairs, came home and he, Kate, Rosie and I (Matt was already asleep) talked for at least an hour at the kitchen table over a couple of glasses of red wine. Adam is around 30, and another genuinely nice guy.
We got up to go out at about 8.30 the next morning, having a quick breakfast and cup of coffee to set us up for the day. Tuesday was the day that the farm delivered boxes of produce to residents, so we spent the day prepping the boxes. The first job was to clean the containers that the food was put in, which didn't take long, and quickly we moved into the dry barn to cut and wash the veggies.
The first product to prepare were the wild leeks, which looked a lot like spring onions, but were a lot tastier. All that needed done was peeling the first few layers off, then washing and stacking them. However there were boxes and boxes to get through - so this took us all the way up to lunch. It was good work however, everyone was around and there was a dock to play music, so time flew past.
We grabbed a quick lunch then headed back out. By this point all of the interns were helping out with the prep too, so we sailed through it. I was on prepping green garlic (which also looked suspiciously like spring onions) which was similar to leek prep, except the leaves had also to be trimmed, and the plants bundled into groups of 5. The others got on with washing, cutting and bagging salad, herbs, ginger etc, and we finished by packing each of these into 42 boxes ready to be shipped. By this point it was gone 4, and our work for the day had finished.
We relaxed for a few hours after work, eating and drinking and reading and training and the like, then called a taxi at around 7.30 to take us into Stouffville town so we could find a bar that was playing the Habs game. We finally did, it was a small, quiet bar with a line of old reprobates sitting up on barstools and who we duly joined. The bartender was jovial and talkative to just the right degree. I wish I could say the same about the guy sitting next to me, who kept going on and on about British stereotypes and customs as if I was going to find them original and witty observations while his wife looked increasingly embarrassed and uncomfortable. Unfortunately, Habs suffered a conclusive 4-1 defeat at the hands of Tampa Bay Lightning, knocking us out of the Playoffs in the Eastern Conference Semi-Final. Such a shame. At least the night itself was a bit of a laugh.
We got up at the same time yesterday morning, and spent the whole morning up till lunch at 12.30 potting up myriad varieties of peppers - each more whimsically named than the last - including lunchbox, purple and Yankee bell. Again, with music and good company this was pretty agreeable, and time past quickly. Greenhouse work was particularly welcome that morning as the day started cold enough to dust the coats off again. The last couple of days had been veritably balmy, but it seems Canadian weather perpetually threatens to plunge back down into single figure temperatures, then shoot back up to t shirt and shorts weather in the space of 24 hours.
We had a lunch of soup and sandwiches, then headed out to spend the rest of the afternoon in one of the cool houses (greenhouses with walls only 1 sheet thick). We just needed to do general clean up work in hear, hoeing out weeds between the beds and pulling up harvested lettuces. Then, much to our great excitement, Mike showed us who to drive the Gator (a six wheel quad bike - a hex bike if you will) and the manual, right hand drive mini truck. Thus, we spent a couple of hours thinking up reasons to drive around too fast - picking up soil and delivering it to the grape bed we were making, taking cutting back to the compost pile etc, until we finished around 5. At this point we just drive the gator around as fast as we could (I actually over-steered and tight corner at one point and went head first into a bush but no one noticed so it's all good) before heading into the house to cook and drink.
Mel and Molly came round that evening to bring us some honey mead and cider made from the farms hops (which was so good), and we chatted in the kitchen for a little while until dinner was ready. We had roasted veg and chicken breasts I cooked on the barbecue outside while being harassed by Bella the Collie and the Barn Cat of no name, but which Matt has dubbed Catlington. And so the rest of the night we sat around the kitchen table drinking our cider and talking, before finally hitting the sack at around 11.
This place is certainly better than Scales.

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