Farmed and Dangerous Read Online Free PDF Page B

Sunday study hall.”
    Cam explained the Moran Manor dinner. “Help me cut greens in the hoop house, and we can talk while we work.”
    â€œLead the way.”
    The two women grabbed scissors and baskets in the barn and trudged to the hoop house. Cam carefully shut the door behind them. The three-foot-wide beds of greens stretched in front of them the full length of the structure. Bright green baby arugula, reddish-green kale, dark green mâche, each row with knee-high mini hoops placed every couple of feet. The bunched-up white row cover ran down the middle. The small electric motor that blew air between the layers of plastic overhead hummed. The air smelled damp and earthy, and Cam welcomed the warmer temperature now that her sweat was drying and chilling her.
    As they stooped to cut, Cam told Lucinda about falling into the stream. “That frigid water about did me in.”
    â€œThis skiing thing? I don’t get it. Where I come from, we like to be real warm. We don’t have any snow in Brazil, except on the high plateaus way in the south.”
    â€œWell, I love it. You can’t beat it for exercise, and the woods are quiet and beautiful, covered in snow.”
    â€œUntil the ice gives way under it, you mean.” Lucinda held a finger up. “Hey, I saw a news article about an herbicide last week. I’ve been doing a bit of research in the library when it’s not busy.”
    â€œThe one about G-Phos? I heard a bit on the news but never got around to reading the paper that day.”
    Lucinda nodded. “Conventional farms use it to kill weeds.” She straightened and stretched. “The main chemical is glyphosate. There’s studies that show it causes Alzheimer’s disease and other old-people problems. It looks like it’s responsible for killing all those honeybees lately, too.”
    â€œThat’s the reason I farm organically. I have lots of reasons, actually, but that’s one of them.” Cam worked in silence for a moment. “Can you imagine? You work trying to grow food for people, and instead you’re poisoning them. And yourself.”
    â€œThat’s why I eat local food. I can see what the farmer’s putting on it. I can buy something labeled organic from California, but I have no idea how it was grown.”
    Cam frowned and stopped cutting.
    â€œWhat?” Lucinda asked.
    â€œMr. Slavin. You know, Felicity’s father. He has Alzheimer’s. And he had a career as a landscaper. I bet he sprayed a ton of that stuff in his lifetime.”
    â€œBad news.” Lucinda shook her head. “The study said they have a blood test for it.”
    â€œI wonder if Felicity knows. I’d much rather have a few weeds than add that kind of chemical to my soil and body.”
    â€œYou know what they say. Weeds are only a plant you don’t want.”
    It took an hour to cut the greens in the hoop house, even with Lucinda’s help. They had to bend over and cut carefully, and Cam’s back ached before they were done. They moved on to the leeks. Even though she’d loosened them in their beds and mulched them heavily before the ground froze, they were difficult to get out intact. When they got to the rosemary, half of it was frozen, despite the mini hoop house she’d erected over the perennial herb bed so she could continue to cut during the cold months.
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    Two hours later calm and energized no longer described Cam. She’d worked too hard, too fast, on top of the skiing and slogging through the snow on foot. Her head pounded, and her hands ached from the cold. Lots of farm tasks didn’t mesh well with wearing gloves, like using scissors to cut greens. She’d cut the tips off of a pair of gloves, but it meant the ends of her fingers stayed chilled. A lot rode on this dinner going well, and she worried the amount of food she’d gathered wouldn’t be sufficient for Moran Manor. She hadn’t