It was just chilly enough to make cleaning ramps and green garlic mildly uncomfortable. We walked back and forth along the wash table, slowly soaking the front of our coveralls as we sprayed, trimmed and bundled hundreds of allium bulbs. The pungent smell filled the pack shed, making me hungry far before lunch time. When 12:30 PM finally rolled around, we all peeled off an oniony layer of cold, wet Carhartts and decided it would be best to go without bibs for the remainder of the workday. Time to wash the farm gear.