Back To The Circle

With growing interest in growing one's own food, I'll share a bit of my second year on New England soil.  From the Midwest I came with little remnants left of my former farm.  I felt shame in uprooting plants and didn't want seeds tainted with whatever might have been floating around the fields bordering my well missed old farm possibly tainting my new pristine environment here.  And so, I pretty much started from scratch...again.

With that mindset, why not follow through then, in all ways in my it's-a-new-day life? Starting from scratch isn't truly the beginning of a beginning when you're just this side of 50, no- it's more like taking life as a huge compost pile and using the best of the steaming hot mess you're left with.

Kale and garlic scapes, lovely neighbors.

This year, the Big Fish and I started our whole garden from seed, with the exception of Kale seedlings from a local organic grower as the slugs and deer combined devoured my tiny starts again and again.  And some local, though with deep regrets as the man brought these suspect seedlings home- canning cukes.  If I don't give the man a little leeway in the garden, his pride and feelings seem to get a little sore, so of course- comprises were made.  The Big Fish never thinks I plant enough cucumbers, (although I must have set out close to 40 plants) well, not enough to thoroughly wet his appetite for pickles.  I wonder if I would have entered into this relationship so heavily if I had only known of his pickle obsession?  Too late now, I'm in deep with canners, ball jars and a highly sought after prized recipe for Russian Bear pickles with a flavor such as I had never encountered before- sweet, spicy and fruity.  If it were up to him, I suppose several thousand jars of these pickles would be as good as money in the bank, trouble is- he'd never let anyone else withdraw.  He is by far one of the most giving guys I know, except when it comes to pickles...a chink in the armor, my prince has fallen from grace, he is seriously deeply pickled.
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Winter rations

Oh there I go again, off the subject...I intended to write this post as a welcome to new and old lovers of food and gardening;  of nostalgic stuff with a touch of sentimental craziness.  When you start a new venture from scratch or leftovers- in the beginning,  it is exciting!  My seed shack in the hoopcoop started just this way- spruced up and everything in it's place.  Labels- got it.  Water source- got it.  Organized set up with stereo to boot- got it.  Photo albums full of used seed packs, with hand written linear notes included! Got it!  It looked really swell and I sure enjoyed my late winter days out there with the seeds and smells of compost mixed with unhibernating dirt;  a soily earth perfume wafted all around and kept me romantically in tune with my surroundings.  (Including my chicken and guinea neighbors as they shared  the next compartment over in a Florida like winter home- their music of soft clucks and scratching was as fine as any melody.)

March lingered a little longer than need be, April sure as heck didn't kick up her heels hardly at all, but May whispered first with Raven's call, when I hear and see more of those big birds- to me, they are the harbinger of Spring. ( A well written observation of a Raven's nature Ravens In Winter- I highly recommend.) I could go into a whole interesting to me tirade on my neighboring Ravens, but I won't...yet.  Like the Ravens and every other bird, lizard and bug around this farm- I got down to the business of Spring. Earnestly and gleefully, composing the garden seed by seed and row by row.  Every day, something else half haphazardly compiled in the seed-shack while little transplants exited out into the protected cool air of a hardening off room and then finally out into the great big world of wonder.

Disarray in the seed-shack.

Chaos consumed the formerly tidy seed-shack, and like life- there is now little order to be found in it.  My winter gardening plans include a much needed clearing of that chaos, I plan to spend many a hard winter day occupying that room, trying to make some sense again of the clutter.

Gardening, growing your own food is a circle, not semi or partial-  but full.  It takes you through all seasons if you are truly sincere in your occupation of it.  In my experience, it is best to not become dismayed by all the troubling chaos of any aspect of life.  In the fullness of time it takes to tend to any endeavor- the moment will come and it will feel and be right, you will recognize it if you but learn to trust your self and your surroundings.

 I always come back to the circle, not where it started or ended- that is invisible as it should be;  I come to the center and try to see it all.  It was a good year I can clearly see now;  of trying new things, experimenting with new ideas and expanding old ones.  That my friends, is what growing anything- is all about.  It's a well thought out plan turned upside down by the experience of actually doing it.  Sometimes you trust your self and other times you simply just have to trust the moment and work with it as best you can with your two good hands and brain muscle. Two quotes I am left with and may be worth pondering to others-

Weather plays havoc with organized plans, but loosely made ones stand to reason with a stormy day.

Leaps of faith are not reasonable or well planned after all- their opportunities often come unannounced.  I don't think you can be too prepared, but it helps to be open and ready to rise to the occasion.  

Little chick lifts off towards some high oats.

An essay of a post by golly, I need to write more often...see you then.  Take care-

Ruth Stout is my hero

Good morning. I'm thinking this day too much of gardening. I want to put my cloches up, those are like little mini hoop houses. They're easy to install- I just take welded wire, shape it into long caves, insert wire edges into ground and cover with visqueen or whatever random plastic that may be laying around. I'm very technical. Sometimes, before I put the metal "caves" down- I put down black paper or loads of hay, to keep the weeds out and the insects guessing. Mostly I use tons of hay, the Ruth Stout method...she had hay mulch down to an art. She wasted no energy fretting about weed invasion, nope! She'd just plunk a flake of hay on top of an emerging weed and simply walk away, whistling. She is my hero. Her books, if you can find them- are full of common sense and humor. I wished I could have met her- she seems like such a lovely woman, glad to be alive while poking good clean fun at the "experts". She was a sharp old dear, and didn't take any crap from anyone- unless it might help her garden grow. Then she'd just plunk it down, and yep...cover it with hay.
Yes, this day finds me yearning to begin the farming...but, it is cold and solid and frozen outside. Snow is on the ground again. I'd sure like to at least get in a cold frame(again, my technical example:) Take 4-8 bales of straw or hay, make a rectangle with them, make sure the earth within their frame is clean of debris and weeds. Now, go out to the corn crib- find an old storm window, wash it so the glass is clear, not so anciently dusty opaque...lay it atop those straw bales. Wait. In a few days, the sun will have efficiently heated the earth there, now- scatter some seeds like lettuce, arugula(my very favorite!), radish, kohlarabi, etc. Moisten the ground. Place window back over the bales. Come back tomorrow. Where there is no condensation, there is an air leak...pull out a handful of straw and stuff it right around the air leak. Do this for several days. After several days, condensation should take care of your watering needs. If it should snow, leave it atop there- that is a wonderful heat insulator. In 3 weeks +, eat some baby arugula or lettuce- enjoy the winter growth with a homemade vinagrette- remark to the children, "I grew this!" Watch their faces say-"So what!!" Shrug it off and enjoy the peppery arugala, be glad. (Though, vow to make the children sorry some day for not appreciating winter growings. Vow to take their children aside in confidence and share all the horrible growing up stories, shock their children, validate the feelings that their parents are crazy...make them see, that yes! Parents are a mess... rebel! You must rebel! (Grandma is sweet and always right...) and then send them home to their unsuspecting parents. That's my plan, my evil get back at them some day plan...)

 How do I know all of this? I don't. I just try it, see how cheaply, frugally, simply I can get by. Let the sun and the earth and all the elements do most of the work for me. The straw bales just end up as compost later, so it never matters if they get wet and boggy...just throw them on the heap or simply work them into the ground where they're sitting. I'm quite the lazy gardener. I'd rather get it planted and watch. Sit. Be amongst it. Take it all in, nibble or graze while I'm out there. AAhhhh, dreaming my farmer's dreams in February...seed catalogs will have to suffice for now, kind of like the pin up porno stuff of gardening. Stay warm. Take care-