July 17, 2026

(By Skylar Bodeo-Lomicky) An ode to Queen Anne’s lace, Daucus carota , aka the wild ancestor of the domestic carrot. Leaves and stems are fresh and herbal and smell of, well, carrots. The flowers are not so aromatic on their own, but bunch a handful of their umbels together and suddenly they smell grand, sweet, and similar to honeysuckle. It’s in full bloom right about now. 

Daucus carota, July 17, 2026

As I spent time cutting out fireblight at Finley Lane, the wild carrot caught my eye. I noticed how many insects are taking a liking to their great big umbels of teeny tiny flowers: beetles in the family Cerambycidae, sweat bees (Halictidae), hover flies (Syrphidae), ants (Formicidae), and more little mystery beetles that I have yet to identify. Oh, and wasps in the family Braconidae. That’s exciting to see! 

As the sun gets low and the air gets cool, the insects start to settle in for the night. At this point there aren’t as many bugs out on the flowers anymore. If I was only out at this hour, I might not even realize just how much of a haven Daucus carota is.

July 16, 2026

Blueberries entering their magical pearlescent pink stage. July 16, 2026

(By Skylar Bodeo-Lomicky) The morning started bright and early with another round of spraying. Again our tank was filled with fermented plant teas, kelp extract, and lots of water to top it off. I may be improving at my job because we partitioned the spray almost perfectly among the trees at the Finley Lane Orchard, so that when we finished, we had almost no spray leftover. After a shower (not fully effective in eradicating the fishy smell) and breakfast, I joined Cammy in weeding the blueberry terrace, bringing the brush to the BRC and distributing it. It doesn’t get tossed just anywhere— it’s far too valuable. It doesn’t get thrown into the compost heap— the plants we weeded out are far too likely to reseed wherever the compost is later used. So, we found a spot in the corner of the BRC to lay down the brush and prepare the soil for future years’ plantings. 

In the afternoon, I ‘glazed’ a few more windows, a term I just learned to mean setting the panes into the frame. Friends and family often ask me what it is that I do in my work here, and it’s almost impossible to accurately answer. Our activities vary greatly from day to day, as well as within the day itself. After glazing and gathering more brush for the BRC, I spent a couple hours researching and devising a plan for monitoring the apple maggot flies that are likely to be arriving at the farm. 

July 15, 2026

A balm for the bees, July 15, 2026

Sprayed half the orchards today with a blend of fermented herb teas and sea products (kelp and fish). What a smell!  Enough to scare away the meanest bugs. In the middle of the day we had a flash rain storm. It was windy enough that the rain gauge was probably inaccurate but I’d guess we got about 1/3” in about 5 minutes. We can use it.

Beebalm, aka Wild Bergamot or Oswego Tea, (Monarda fistulosa) is now coming into bloom. I saw the first few today in the Finley Lane Orchard. Within a few days there will be thousands of flowering stems. It has become one of the most common plants in the Finley Lane orchard. It even competes easily with Bedstraw (Galium aparine) which is the dominant plant in the orchard and one I often wish would go away. Monarda, on the other hand, cohabitates the orchards quite well with the trees and all the other herbaceous plants. The pollinators love it, and I do too.         

July 14, 2026

Frostbite and clay, July 14, 2026

Much of the day was spent weeding apple trees and painting them with a biodynamic-inspired concoction of Jersey cow manure and clay. My hope is that the clay/manure combo will deter the round-headed apple tree borer (Saperda candida) while nourishing the bark on all our trees and healing those with damaged trunks. Fortunately (or unfortunately) there always seem to be a good sample set of trees with unexplained bark damage, perfect for testing the special “paint.”

One good candidate is the Frostbite (AKA MN 447) in the BRC. The tree has an excellent crop as well as a large bark-less swatch on the southwest side, quite possibly the result of winter injury. So it got a healthy coat of the “patented” blend. I’ll let you know how it responds.   

July 13, 2026

Daylilly, July 13, 2026

The Daylilies (Hemerocallis sp.) started blooming about a week ago on the farm. Now more of them are showing up daily. Throughout much of Maine the plain orange ones have naturalized along the roadsides. You see them almost everywhere. There are thousands of selected cultivars. We have a few dozen of them that we’ve planted over the years, mostly obtained from an amazing grower in Carlisle, MA called Seawright Gardens. Anytime I was nearby when the daylilies were in bloom, I’d stop by and purchase two or three more. Sadly they closed about ten years ago. Fortunately, there’s probably at least one grower near you.

One of the wonderfully convenient things about the plant is that you can easily transplant them when they are in bloom. You go to a daylily place, see one you like, they dig it, you take it home and plant it. Perfect. I like the strong but subtle colors. I’m not a big fan of the frilly, garish ones. But, with thousands to choose from, you should be able to find many you can love. And, they are edible!

July 12, 2026

The Yarrow (Achillea millefolium) is now in bloom throughout the orchards. It’s time to harvest it for its healthful, but bitter, winter tea. Or maybe I should say, healthful and bitter tea. As all cider-lovers know, “It’s always OK to be bitter.” Or “Bitter is better.” We snip off the plants just above the ground, dry them in bunches and then strip off the frilly leaves and flower-heads for tea.

‘Super Chilly’ Yarrow? July 12, 2026

We use the wild, native, white-flowered yarrow for tea. The colorful pinks and reds are selections that don’t show up on their own. Or, at least I didn’t think so until a couple days ago when a pink-flowering yarrow showed up in row 7 in Finley Lane beneath the Malus sikkimensis tree. I’m positive we didn’t plant it. Maybe we’ve found a new yarrow cultivar: “Super Chilly” !   

July 11, 2026

I was in the orchards solo today. Well, not entirely. I was joined by two goldfinches. Both seemed quite happy to see me. Or maybe they were just happy to be alive and didn’t actually notice me at all. They are so yellow!

The pace was slow. It is Saturday after all. I bounced from one small task to another. It was so nice to be there. More fire blight cutting. It keeps coming back. It’s been a nuisance throughout the state this year. Irrigating thirsting trees. It’s been dry despite the rain a couple nights ago. So happy when it does rain. The trees are happy too. Stapling down landscape fabric between rows of newly grafted cultivars to keep those pesky weeds down and keep that good moisture in.

I took the time to look at the hand-pollination I did this past May. Black Oxford x Redfield and Wealthy x Redfield. Both crosses have the potential to produce pie/sauce apples of the future. I have about a dozen small, good-looking apples of each. With two dozen apples, I could wind up with 50 seeds of each cross. I’ll save the seed this fall and plant them all next spring. One day I may have several red-fleshed Black Oxford-types as well as red-fleshed Wealthy-types. This is fantastic. But, help, what will I name them? I’ll need 50 clever new apple names. A new generation of the world’s best culinarialistic apple cultivars coming to every farm-stand, Walmart and gourmet grocery store near you.

July 10, 2026

Last night it finally rained. We got a third of an inch. Not a lot but it came down over the course of several hours which likely meant that all of it soaked it. We needed it.

Weeding and scything continued in the orchard. Later I met with my orchard preservation colleagues from across the US for a two-hour zoom meeting. One of our many on-going goals is to correctly identify the historic apples we’re constantly finding. Today we were working on what we call the Sorrento apple. It’s one we’ve found through DNA profiling in multiple locations across the US. We don’t yet know its identity, but we suspect that it may be Pennock or Wine. It would be great if we can identify it someday.

Asclepias syriaca, July 10, 2026

Meanwhile the milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) is now blooming, and I’ve seen the first Monarchs (Danaus plexippus) in the orchard. I’m eating broccoli and peas as I wait for the first apples. Although I heard today that the Yellow Transparents are dropping in Iowa, our first summer apples are still about a month away. I’ll be ready.

July 8, 2026

I spent the day in the big orchard up at Finley Lane scything, weeding and inspecting. It’s a huge job. Over four hundred trees. I dive in, and move along at a meditative pace. If I look ahead I might wonder if I’ll ever get done. With different eyes I can see how much joyful life still remains to be experienced. In any event the trees always seem to respond very well to the TLC. Weeding the trees is a wonderful way to spend these summer days.

Surefire cherries, July 8, 2026

Today was also the day to harvest the Pie Cherries before the birds finish them off. Pie Cherries have mostly not done well here, but some years we do get a small crop. This year the “Surefire” tree is fruiting. They are incredibly tart. I’ll cook them up tomorrow and eat them with my oatmeal.

July 7, 2026

Spy exploring the new path

Skylar and I finished a path in the BRC orchard that I had begun two years ago by laying down a “corduroy” of rotting beech logs. You could call it a version of a hugel-mound (aka Hügelkultur). The side-by-side logs provided the base of the path. Today we covered the logs with a layer of old hay and then covered the hay with about four inches of fresh chips from our recent chipping effort. The new path will serve a number of functions. It gives us access to several apple trees that weren’t easy to get to. It will provide those trees with soil nutrients for the next thirty or forty years. It also creates an edge at the east end of the central pond in the orchard. It’s a job I’d been scheming about doing for years and it was great to have the opportunity to do it.

The weather has been prefect for working outdoors - not as hot and lots of sun. However, it is getting dry, and we do need rain. We could use a couple inches or more.

July 6, 2026

I spend a lot of time with plants here on the farm. Some days, I am with them for ten or twelve hours or more. Day after day. Deeply, deeply intimate. I typically spend more time with plants than I do with people. It’s not that I don’t like people. I love them. But this is a farm of plants, set on a planet of plants. The plant planet.

Now and then I hear of plants being called “sentient beings.” Sentient here suggests that plants have some sort of consciousness. That they are like us. Would “being like us” be a good thing? Would it be an indication of some sort of advanced nature? Would it put plants on our level? Would being like us be something a plant would aspire to?

The chipping crew, July 5, 2026

Maybe the question might be, “Are we like plants?” Or, better yet, “How can we be more like plants?” As I was sitting in the BRC in my old rusty metal chair this evening, surrounded by the deer flies and the apple trees, nettles, comfrey, the long blackberry canes, the bracken fern and so many others including the indigo plant that Cammy gave me this spring, I was thinking about how little I know. I wondered, “Will the plants forgive me?”

July 5, 2026

Chipping day is an annual event at Super Chilly Farm. We gather a crew, borrow a large pull-behind chipper from a friend and then chip up all the apple prunings from the past winter. Chipping the branches helps to break them down quickly and makes them perfect for mulch. The prunings become food for the orchard. Nothing goes to waste.

The chipping crew, July 5, 2026

Someone (mostly me) stands by the chipper and feeds in the branches one right after another while everyone else drags material from the closest pile. It’s extremely loud, hot, fast, and relentless. It’s a marathon and a sprint rolled into one.

Today I was joined by Skylar and her friends Tsering and Asi. The four of us chipped all day and miraculously got everything done by 6:30. Nearly two hours to spare before dark! It was a gargantuan effort, but we had time for a delicious cold, noodle salad lunch on the porch.

July 4, 2026

Elderberries, July 4, 2026

I worked in the orchards all day with a quick trip to John’s Ice Cream at mid-day. (It was joyfully crowded.) I was again cutting out major amounts of fire blight. I fear this will be an ongoing task for the rest of the summer as more strikes appear.

The Elderberries (Sambucus canadensis) are now in bloom. The medicinal plant is naturalized throughout the orchards and the farm. We’ve also planted various cultivars over the years although, if you have the wild native seedlings, you’re probably all set. And if you have more flowers than you need, you can dip them in batter and make elder-flower pancakes - a great breakfast for a warm and sunny July 4th. 

Speaking of which, while it can be challenging to remember the dates of some of our US national holidays, this is one I never forget. Maybe we should rename all the holidays as dates. I suppose that would present its own set of challenges since quite a few of them vary from year to year, depending on when Thursdays show up in November or the first Monday of September.

Anyway, July 4th is a special day in the orchard. Or maybe I should say, the root cellar. Today is the day we traditionally pull out the last of the Black Oxford apples (aka The July 4th apple) and put them to the test. Tonight Skylar and her friends made Black Oxford pizza. It was delicious. As expected, the apples fared well after eight months in storage. What a great apple.  

July 3, 2026

Valerian, July 3, 2026  

The Valerian (Valeriana uliginosa), aka Marsh Valerian, is now in bloom. Valerian is native to New England though apparently rare. Although the white flowers vaguely resemble Yarrow, the foliage is quite different. I dug up a clump by the side of the road in Lincolnville (about 25 miles from here) 45 years ago. It liked the farm and though it spread slowly, it is now well-established. Occasionally I dig up part of a clump and move it to another part of the orchard where it generally seems happy to relocate. It then spreads by seed. The root is medicinal. Today’s photo show one blackened stem where ants have collected and are feeding on aphids.

Today was another early spraying of the same mix of herbs, sea products and Dipel on more of the orchard. Though still hot, the temperatures weren’t quite so brutal as in the past few days. We also collected brush for our upcoming chipping party.

July 2, 2026

It’s early July, and that’s Codling Moth time in the orchards. If left unchecked, CM (Cydia pomonella) can be quite destructive to apples, rendering them unfit for anything but the cider press. (Is that a bad thing?) Even though we love to press apples into cider, we also love to cook them, eat them fresh and sell them. So we’re forever exploring ways to minimize CM impact on the fruit. 

We got up early and sprayed all the orchards with Dipel (Bacillus thuringiensis, subspecies kurstaki) combined with liquid fish, liquid kelp, effective microbes and a chilling array of fermented herb teas, including comfrey, nettles and others (you name it.) The trees seem to enjoy the refreshing, reinvigorating shower despite the intense “fragrance.” If for no other reason, I think the Codling Moths are going to be so baffled by the smell, they’ll leave in dismay. I hope.

July 1, 2026

Fleabane, July 1, 2026

(By Skylar Bodeo-Lomicky) We dedicated the day mainly to the BRC orchard - the area of the farm that I have spent the least amount of time in this year. A pair of Common Yellowthroats called to each other from the Tolman Sweet tree. A sweat bee (family Halictidae) visited a patch of yarrow. Another sweat bee joined the first, this one further along in her expedition, hind legs thick with pollen. I walked down the rock steps to the pond. It didn’t take long to see the life this water fosters: green frogs, tadpoles, mosquito larvae, whirligig beetles and backswimmers. The collies waded out into the pond, drinking and trying hard to cool down. Behind the Trailman tree, a cluster of chest high fleabane bloomed, as if existing in its own dimension. How does this vast landscape fit inside the BRC when I know a row of apple trees grow not far behind? 

By dinnertime we had cleared brush around a dozen or so BRC trees; established a bed of shiitake mushrooms in the raspberries by the house; harvested a handful of plants for experimental use in water kefir, plant dyes, and tea; and watered the vegetable gardens. Satiated by the sun and daylight dwindling, we called the workday done. 

June 30, 2026

Be careful where you lean that ladder. It might be the ladder that broke the old Camel’s back.        

We weeded several dozen young trees at our neighbor’s orchard up the road. I’ve planted nearly a hundred trees up there in recent years, filling in blanks in their old family-orchard of Ben Davis, Stark and Wolf River. The original trees were planted about 1900. Most are gone but about twenty remain. I’ve added mostly traditional central Maine cultivars with a few odd favorites slipped in here and there. I also brought up the ladders and pruned out dead wood from the old trees. A few of them look as though 2026 might be the end of the line, but they’re hanging in there.

June 29, 2026

Dianthus armeria, June 29 , 2026

We continued weeding the youngest trees up at Finley Lane. We also cut out more fire blight on a number of the older trees. There are fire blight strikes throughout the orchard though, so far, knock on wood, it seems manageable. 

The low-growing herbaceous Deptford Pinks aka Mountain Pinks (Dianthus armeria) are now flowering. They have small five-petaled soft-pink blooms. They’re scattered here and there in clusters throughout the orchard. The flowers are always worth a close examination. With their tiny red ring and white dots surrounding the center, they are absolutely amazing. We just call them “Pinks.”      

June 28, 2026

This morning Cammy and her friend Deb Soifer went to Sheepscot General in Whitefield to pick strawberries. We grow strawberries here on the farm but have never had the kind of success that the commercial growers do. I think it’s something about having many row-feet of plants. Over the course of an acre or so, you’re bound to get some decent production. When you have only a few rows, there are not enough to “share “ with the birds, chipmunks, slugs and ants who always seem williing to eat them the day before they turn ripe. And, of course, it's always fun to get out there and see the crowd of humanity all picking on a summer morning.

And what about the name “straw” berry? After decades of extensive research and deep thought, I’ve come to the conclusion that the name stems from the convention of laying down straw mulch between the rows of berries for the pickers to sit on as they “sample” the fruit and chat with fellow pickers. And maybe even pick a few berries to take home for the freezer. Which Cammy did. We were de-stemming strawberries well after 10 PM as the Sox came from behind to beat the Evil Empire (the Yankees) four in a row. Four in a row! 

Papilio glaucus, June 28, 2026

You may have noticed the tiger swallowtail butterflies (Papilio glaucus) are back. We’ve been seeing them for a couple of weeks now throughout the orchards and even along the driveway. They are black and yellow. Not the yellow of the potentilla but still, quite stunning.  

June 27, 2026

It’s summer in the orchard but still not too hot to spend all day out there. I spent the morning cleaning up prunings that are still scattered around and cutting out more fire blight. Vilberie is a one of those apt to get hammered, and this year it did. It’s a late-season English bittersweet that leafs-out late and blooms late. We have two trees. Both got hit. Still we keep it. I like late-ripening fruit, and Vilberie has great potential for our cider despite the challenges.

In the afternoon we mulched and covered the potatoes with row-cover fabric. We use the “Agribon” year after year, taping (decorating?) the inevitable holes with pieces of duct tape. The fabric does a good job of protecting the plants from the Colorado potato beetle (Leptinotarsa decemlineata) without resorting to spray or picking the beetles and larvae off the foliage which is laborious (and gross) but does work. We prefer the fabric. We also weeded and back-filled in a new asparagus trench. We plant the asparagus in foot-deep trenches, filling in the soil as the plants emerge. It’s an old method that has proven to be tried and true.

Fenway Park lives! June, 2026

Meanwhile the Sox beat the Yankees for three in a row. Unexpectedly good news. (The Sox have had their challenges this year.) I did make it to a game with a good buddy a couple weeks ago on the spur of the moment. Fenway Park is a living orchard too. The grass is so green! (They do need a few apple trees.)