Hey there, how's your week going?
I've just returned from Vicent's fields, where the cucumbers are having their final growth spurt. They need a few more days; you see them nice and green, shiny, and you know that next week we'll be harvesting.
I also passed by Genaro and Paco's striped eggplant beds. Those purple and cream bands are taking on an artistic shape. Same diagnosis. A few more days and they'll be in the basket.
I'm excited to tell you about it because I like you to be a part of this daily life.
Visiting my colleagues always stirs something inside me. I come back thinking about family, about how much it shows when there are hands and love behind the work.
Farming has always been a family business, but not just among us farmers, but among the plants...
This makes sense, I promise. Let me explain.
Here, several farmers work across Spain. And we support each other, even if one has orange trees, another grows tomatoes, or cares for avocado trees. Today I help you by lending you the tractor, tomorrow you give me a hand sorting fruit, the day after we coordinate so we don't harvest everything at once.
This is how we protect our fields and fair prices.
But back to what I was saying, between visits, this idea came to me that I want to share with you. Just as farming families support each other, plant families also stick together in the garden bed. I'll explain it simply.
Striped eggplant belongs to a family with a lot of character, the nightshades. When you place it with another family, like beans, beautiful things happen.
Beans are like the neighborhood chef. They are able to take part of the food from the air and deposit it in the soil in just the right, highly usable portions.
The eggplant, which is quite demanding, appreciates this. Plus, the roots of each plant share the space; the eggplant searches a bit deeper, the bean explores higher up. They don't fight, they collaborate, and the soil stays loose and happy.
Something similar happens with cucumbers. They are from the cucurbit family and really appreciate not being alone. We usually combine them with other plants and aromatics because the soil works better when there is diversity.
And it's not just pretty. When you cover small gaps between crops, the soil retains moisture better, heats up less, and there's more life moving around. Cucumbers, which quickly suffer in strong summer heat, greatly appreciate this balance.
Additionally, when you intercrop different species, the field becomes smarter. There are more good bugs around, more movement, and less monotony. Like a neighborhood where not everyone has the same profession.
This isn't textbook theory. It's what you see when you visit people like Vicent, Genaro, and Paco, who observe, try, share, and try again. One plants a little earlier, another a little later, another opts for a different variety.
Together, we stagger harvests and coordinate so you get cucumbers and striped eggplant at a good pace and with the quality you expect. And meanwhile, in the soil, the plant families have their own get-together.
The bean provides food, the eggplant transforms it into fruit, the aromatics set the mood, and the cucumber, being a good eater, stays fresh and crunchy. If this isn't networking, may grandpa come down and see it.
I like to think of it this way because it reminds us why we do what we do. We are farmers who follow traditional methods thoughtfully. No foolish rush. With real calendars, those of the sun on your neck and the earth in your hands.
And with logistics that feel like a dance.
Every morning we look at what you've ordered, go to harvest, assemble each box one by one, and send it out. And now with refrigeration, which was also a lot of work to achieve.
Working this way isn't easy, but it has magic. You know that behind it are families of people and plants caring for each other.
Next week, if all goes as planned, we will start harvesting cucumbers and striped eggplant. They will go straight from the field to your home. You'll see what color and flavor they have.
I must go, the field calls me. I hope this little window has taught you something useful about how we organize ourselves.
Nature is collaborative, and we, as part of it, are too.
Thank you for being on the other side, supporting Spanish agriculture and this profession that is done with patience and much enthusiasm.
A big hug,
