Spring?

It must be, because my seeds are here!  It's been a loooong winter for my family and I, and I've been miserable at updating the Mo Farm blog.  But it's a new season, and a fresh start, and I cannot WAIT to be back in fresh air, sunshine and soil.

Looking back at last season, I'm already behind! I'll be sowing my first round of seeds this weekend, (a solid week behind last season's schedule) and you can start too!  Check out this post from last year for everything you need to sow & grow from seed!  And stay tuned... because Spring is here!

 

Progress

The first blossoms open in my backyard.

So much has been happening at Mo Farm - there's hardly time to post about it!  A quick update...


Peas are emerging.


So are beets, both Golden Detroit & Chioggia.

Hopeful little Golden Detroit beets.

Mammoth Melting Sugar peas begin to emerge. I can taste them already!

The fruit trees are blooming wildly - it's like a circus and I'm in love!

Blossoms & blue sky.

I expanded the existing perennial border on the left side of the yard and added 2 yards of black loam (with the help of my small and mighty sis!)  It will now become the 'fruit forest' where I've planted rhubarb and a blueberry already, and will soon add additional blueberry varieties, strawberries, plum and apricot trees, another cherry, and an assortment of perennial faves.

My newly-acquired 'Pink Lemonade' blueberry.

The fruit trees buzz with life. It's awesome!

On the not-so-great side,  the broccoli and brussels sprouts are pretty lame.  They're doing fine, but haven't put on any growth at all since being planted... we'll see what happens!

Finally, the downer-of-the-month: my fence blew down.  Almost all of it.  It was a wild storm that impacted hundreds of homes in the area, and frankly, I suppose we're lucky.  Some folks close by had giant trees crash through their homes or onto their cars... that said, way too much time and money will need to be spent in the next week in order to repair the damage.  Ahhh, glorious homeownership...

Diggin' In

New beds were dug last weekend - good thing!

Rain, rain, go away... and take this April snow with you too!  It's a good thing that last weekend was so productive, because this weekend was a disaster!  I started creating brand new veggie beds while the sun was shining last week, and was planning to set out all of the broccoli, brussels sprouts, leeks and onions today.  Add to that sowing of some beets, lettuces, radishes and some early carrots and it was promising to be a nice, busy weekend. Hmph - best laid plans, right?

Ah well.  While I'm waiting for the weather to cooperate, here's a look at how my veggie beds are shaping up and how I went about creating them...

The season begins with planning & measuring.

 Starting new garden beds in a lawn can be intimidating.  You look across a perfect sea of green, and it takes a bit of visualization to consider the possibilities.  There are many ways to start a veggie garden, and my plans changed the moment I stuck my spade into the soil.  I had thought that I'd construct raised beds by removing the sod, building cedar boxes out of 2x6 boards and filling in with loads of compost... BUT, I was thrilled to find that beneath the monoculture of my ordinary lawn laid extraordinary native soil.  

My existing soil is lovely, rich and free of toxins or heavy metals.

Oh, the luck!!  It's a lovely clay loam that's rich in colour and easy to work with a shovel.  My friends, it would be criminal not to take advantage of this! I decided that I'd start with 4 beds, each 4' wide by 10' long, separated by 2' of space between them.  I'd turn under the sod, add some additional organic matter, and count myself a lucky gal. 

The sod is turned over with a spade and I worked it in by hand, filling in large air pockets.

It didn't take long to turn the sod over.  I methodically dug a spade-depth down and tossed the sod under, working back and forth across the width of the bed with Arcade Fire providing the soundtrack... not a bad way to burn a few calories!  After all of the sod was loosely turned, I went back over it by hand and with a small trowel, setting the chunks into place and filling in any large air pockets and breaking up the biggest chunks of clay.  Here's what it looked like after that:

The hand-worked soil looked great! 

 At this point, some may think, 'Why the hell didn't you just use a tiller?!'  Hand-turning soil is tough work, and yes, a tiller would have been much easier.  But I think that the easy way isn't always the best way - we're finding that out every day, aren't we?  A motorized rototiller rips up the soil in minutes, but the process is pretty violent.  I'd have obliterated the helpful earthworms that are in the soil (and I saw LOTS of them - a good sign!) and tilling can cause compaction of the sub-soil, which can inhibit healthy root growth over time.  So, I decided to put in the work, save the gas, and now I have beds that will never need to be tilled and will teem with life.  Not a bad deal.

Organic matter like composed manure further improves the soil.

  With the bed turned and ready to rock, I began adding some extra organic matter to further improve the condition and fertility of the soil.  First, I put down a thin layer of newspapers, which I hope will help to inhibit the re-growth of any of the sod.  I watered the paper well, and then topped it off with beautiful, black, composted sheep manure.  

The finished bed, ready for planting!

Finally, I topped off the whole thing with some loose triple-mix, loaded with more organic matter and bonemeal.  The consistency and texture of the new bed is perfect, with well-worked, loose soil that will allow teeny little roots to grow.

One down, three to go.  Lola Mo knows it's not as easy as it looks.

Three more identical beds will run along the fenceline, and Mo Farm will soon be producing some great food.  Starting small like this will allow me to make adjustments and plan carefully for expansion as I go along.  I would have loved to turn under the entire lawn... but I know that this is a smart start!

So, if it ever stops snowing, the next step is seeding and planting beds 1 & 2 with brassicas, onions, lettuces, and root veggies, to start.  Are you in a more fortunate climate than I?  What have you planted so far?

In the near future, I'll share my planning process with you, and discuss the benefit of my 4-bed system.  Until then, happy growing! 
 

Time to Get SEEDY!

My seeds getting packaged and labeled for the Seedy Saturday exchange table.

That's right - it's the moment I've been anticipating since I picked my last tomato in October... Seedy Saturday is tomorrow!  For me, the growing season begins this weekend as hundreds of folks will gather at Ball's Falls in Vineland to exchange and buy open-pollinated seeds.  Last year, I attended 'Seedy Saturday on a Sunday' in Toronto, and I walked away with a ridiculous amount of seeds, but also with loads of great information and a hefty helping of growing inspiration.  While the draw of the event is the seeds themselves, there are far greater benefits to being a part of the crowd.   

LT&W members pack seeds for the exchange.

If you've never been to a Seedy Saturday event, make this the year that you give it a try!  Events are held all over the country, led by passionate individuals whose hard work and drive make it all possible.  Here, the driving force is Linda Crago of Tree & Twig Heirloom Vegetable Farm in Wellandport.  Linda has worked tirelessly to organize and promote the event, and she'll be there along with the 'Lettuce Turnip & Wine' garden club members helping to run the show.  I recently joined this little group, and I'm excited to help with the event and to invite others to join us this season... but more on that later.

Back to the seeds!  So, what the hell is a Seedy Saturday, and why is it important?  Well, the fact is that many, many, many of the fruit and vegetable varieties that used to exist and thrive have disappeared.  As the modern food machine churns forward and more and more people rely solely on grocery stores for sustenance, the types of produce grown are whittled down to a mere fraction of what used to be available.  Back when folks used to grow their own food, concerns of shipping ease and shelf life didn't factor into the decision-making process for selecting what to grow.  Crops were chosen for their hardiness, adaptation to native conditions and of course, their flavour.  As fewer people grew food and more food needed to be shipped across distances to reach the masses, the standards shifted... varieties are selected for uniformity and for their ability to withstand days and weeks on trucks, leading to the elimination and even extinction of thousands of old varieties.  Many are already lost forever.  Seedy Saturday is essentially the antidote for this.  

Heirloom and open-pollinated varieties of seed are sold and more importantly, exchanged among people who value keeping the delicious, nutritious and unique varieties alive.  An 'open-pollinated' plant is one that will reproduce freely with seeds that will replicate the parent plant.  This means that when you plant an Heirloom or open-pollinated variety, you can save the seeds that it produces and plant them again and again, or as suggested by events like Seedy Saturday, share them.

In our relatively plush society, this idea may seem like a fluffy novelty.  I disagree.  I truly believe that we will witness a collapse of our food system within my lifetime.  Before you start to think me a nut, just bear with me for a moment...  our current system is unsustainable in that it relies almost completely on oil to ship food all over the world.  With resources dwindling and more frequent upsets in the price and availability of foreign oil, it's only a matter of time before the whole thing falls apart.  It's already evident, as food prices around the world begin to skyrocket in response to rising oil prices and natural disasters.  Hey, I'm not trying to fear-monger or preach, but rather explain part of what motivates me to continually attempt to become more self-sufficient.

Whether you're as hung up on growing food as I am, or you're simply interested in the fantastic feeling of pulling fresh, homegrown goods from your own backyard, Seedy Saturday is the perfect way to start your growing season.  Seed vendors, guest speakers and an inspirational buzz will surely get your green thumb itching!  I spent much of last week packaging 117 envelopes of seed that I'll contribute to the exchange table, and I hope to pick up my seed stock for this growing season there as well. I also painstakingly labeled each envelope with the MO FARM blog address, in the hopes that those who pick up the seeds will stop by to say hello and share some of their growing experiences this season.  Seeds are for sharing, and I hope to meet many new faces at the event.  So...will you be there?

All packed up and ready to share!

New, New, New!

Teeny lettuce seedlings from last spring, brimming with promise.

A new year, a new house and a new vision... 2011 is shaping up to be full of excitement and promise!  My husband and I will be moving into our first home at the end of the month, and my head is spinning with the possibilities that this change will bring.  The new lot is a gigantic 50' wide x 206' deep and already boasts loads of perennials, some mature grape vines and a few fruit trees.

As I drool over seed listings and chicken coop designs, I recognize that my biggest challenge this season is going to be pacing myself.  This is tough!  With this sudden availability of excessive space, I'm catching myself mentally planning a whirlwind of construction in the spring... rototilling vast expanses of new garden beds, a water catchment system with irrigation, a chicken coop and fenced run, a doggie area... I have to stop!  It's in my nature to want instant gratification, and keeping my expectations at a reasonable level will be crucial this season, both for my own sanity and for the household budget.

With this in mind, it's time to start making a plan.  An attainable plan.  Our 'move in' date is January 28th, and my first priority (after unpacking) will be to place my first seed order with Linda at Tree & Twig and then start my slow-growing eggplant and peppers.  Then I'll be able to start surveying the lot and planning for new bed construction.  It's an exciting time, and I can't wait to start sharing the creation of Mo Farm with you!

Stay tuned - it's going to get dirty this year, kids!

On that note, I'd like to thank everyone who stopped by the blog in 2010 to read or comment.  This year will bring a host of new challenges and learning experiences, and I hope to grow the Mo Farm community and provide inspiration to all who visit and to learn from one another.  Thanks so much for your help in making this happen!

Mo Farm is MOVIN!

For a change, I have an excuse for neglecting the Mo Farm blog for an extended period of time.  My husband and I have bought a house, and the future of Mo Farm is looking BRIGHT!  I can now begin scheming for the new layout and crops of 2011, and I'll be posting updates on the construction of a chicken coop this spring!

Stay tuned!

Baby, It Ain't Over Til It's Over

Keep on sowin'!

If I was exhibiting my normal patterns, I probably would have called it quits by now.  I apparently love quitting, and I do it very well.  The nights have been colder, the leaves are beginning to dry and drop, and much of the garden has given me all it has to give.  Under ordinary circumstances, I'd have grown tired of my microfarming efforts and thrown in the trowel.  But here's the thing - the garden has made me different.  In a single summer, I've gained a deeper, personal understanding of growing, and of the incredible rewards that are reaped through patience and persistence.  Sure, I was intellectually aware of these things before... I went to school for horticulture, you know!  But there is a substantial difference between "knowing" something because you read it or were taught it, and really knowing something because you experienced it yourself.  There is truly no substitute for first-hand knowledge.

For me, the approach of Fall always leads to a period of nostalgia.  It's a time of conclusions and of new beginnings.  I've been reflecting on the season, and I'd like to share a few of the things that I learned.  I mean really learned, this summer.

1.  Keep on sowing.  All the time.  Whether you want to or not.

Mid-season seeds for late-season lettuce.

I had a few major gaps in my garden's production because I neglected to follow this rule.  I was so thrilled with my carrots and beets as I pulled them from the ground, but as my supply dwindled, I realized with dismay that I would have been able to enjoy them ALL season if I had simply sown more in succession.  The varieties I grew take about 65-75 days to reach harvest size, and I really dropped the ball on that one.  Lesson learned, however - I sowed fresh lettuce in August that is now almost ready to cut for baby greens.

2.  Expect problems.  Embrace the chance to learn.  

What the hell?!?  Tomato trouble led to research and change.

Cracking fruit makes Kris cry.

In late July, my tomatoes were just starting to ripen and I was elated.  Then they got all bitchy on me.  Brown spots, curled leaves, dropping flowers, cracking fruit... what the hell??  I hit the forums and cracked open my books, looking for the solution to my problems, which I suspected were fungal.  The tricky part is that often garden problems can be caused by multiple factors - weather, water, humidity, diseases, insects, human error... the list is endless.  My book told me that the best course of action was to immediately destroy the affected plants, thus reducing the likelihood that the problem would spread to my other tomatoes.  Sound advice, yes, but I didn't like it.  Instead, I removed all of the spotted foliage, cut off the troublesome branches, and fertilized my sick plant with an organic mix high in phosphorus to try and coax some fresh flowers and fruit.  It worked.  Was I right and the book wrong?  Do I possess healing powers?  Not likely.  Next time, it may not work out so well, but at least I have some weapons in my arsenal that I devised from first-hand experience.

3.  You will always make mistakes.  It's ok.  Write them down!

My peas needed more sun.  My cucumbers did terribly because they needed more space.  I don't really like dry beans, so I probably shouldn't grow them.  I need more herbs, peppers and greens and way fewer tomatoes.  Eggplant seedlings need to be started in January, because they are sssllllooooowwwww.  I'm not ashamed that many of my backyard endeavors didn't work out this year, but I'm determined not to repeat the same mistakes.  After all, I need to save room for NEW mistakes! 

4.  Share the load, share the harvest, and share the joy.

Farmer A.

Farmer C.

     
One of the greatest things about growing food is that it fosters connections.  You connect with the earth.  You connect with a real food source and a sense of sustainability.  You connect with people, both familiar and strange.  Sharing the work of Mo Farm has been vital, and sharing the JOY of Mo Farm has been life-changing.  I'm so lucky and so grateful to have been able to depend on my sister and my husband for a hand in the dirt.

These are just a few of the things that this garden has taught me this season.  I know now that this is a way of life for me.  It's not a phase, a fad, or a hobby.  Growing food is something that I'll always do.

And baby, it ain't over til it's over.  

The sun is still shining, the vines are still full, and I've got work to do.  Time to get these hands dirty!

    

Tigerella

She's as sweet as she is pretty... Tigerella gets the K-Mo stamp of approval!

Black Krim - The Queen of the Heirlooms?

Do you suppose it's possible to fall in love with a tomato?  This is the culmination of the gardening/farming season - the moment that growers and eaters of fresh food most anticipate.  Yes, folks, it's officially tomato season, and you'll be hearing much about mine in the coming weeks.  On Monday, I picked and ate my very first 'Black Krim' heirloom tomato, and I'm trying to find a way to describe the experience without sounding absolutely nuts.

I think this tomato just changed my life.

It's bulky and surprisingly heavy for it's size.  It's beautiful in an ugly kind of way.  It's perfect.

There is a very good reason why gardeners and growers so highly covet these prized fruits.  Of all the edibles that you can grow in your backyard, the tomato by far offers the most exceptionally rewarding harvest.  If you've never grown your own tomatoes, I have to insist that you try.  Even just one.

For weeks on end, you watch carefully as the smallest plant begins to grow and change.  You can't help but giggle with excitement  when you glimpse the first, tiny yellow blooms that appear - a hint of the glorious fruits to come.  Finally, little green globes begin to form, and you know you're in the home stretch.  They swell, blush and ripen, twisting on their vines.

You've made tomatoes.  You.  All by yourself.  Congratulations.

It's difficult to explain the first bite of a homegrown tomato.  It's warm in your hands, full of sunshine and sweetness, a miraculous and compact package.  Biting into it, the flavour rushes throughout your mouth, juices running down your chin and arm.  It's impossible not to smile as you savour this reward for your efforts - this remarkably delicious fruit that was alive and breathing just a moment before.  Everything you once thought you knew about a tomato was wrong.  This is what makes life worth living.

My 'Black Krim' became the ultimate toasted tomato sandwich, but only after I ate half of it while standing on the warm deck with the summer sun on my hair.  I'll never again be without this variety.  She's the Queen of the Heirlooms.  But that's just my opinion... what's yours?

On The Wild Side

My garden has gone feral.  In a way it's a relief, but it's an odd realization that all of my planning, preening and care is in many ways completely irrelevant.  Throughout the summer, life gets in the way of my good gardening intentions, and I'm left with little choice but to allow my garden to thrive on neglect.  (Oh... did you think you were the only one?)

With vacations, a busy work schedule and old-fashioned summer laziness taking up my time, I've been able to let the garden just... be.  To my chagrin, it remains lush and productive without my intervention.  Who knew?  Yes, the tomatoes are out of control.  Yes, that IS a bolted, flowering head of lettuce in the middle of the photo.  But that's ok.

Here are some additional pictorial updates.  Summer madness - it's good stuff!  

Carrots, mixed beans and thyme for the dinner table.

A 'Dusty' eggplant.  It was a 'cheater' I planted in mid-July when I realized that my 'Little Fingers' were definitely not going to reach fruiting size this season.  A good score from the garden center saves the day... there's nothing wrong with a back-up plan!  I don't feel guilty!

Another ringer.  'Sweet Cherry Pick' peppers I bought at the same time as the eggplant, just because I couldn't resist.  C'mon, look how cute!

'Bright Lights' swiss chard.  Indeed!

Remember how I planted some watermelon in the space left by the spent lettuce?  It's gone bananas, and I couldn't be happier...

Little 'Malali' watermelon.  More where this one came from, too.  There WILL be home-grown watermelons this season, and by any account I can think of, this officially makes my summer gardening effort a success.

Anatomy of a Local Dinner

It started with a small inspiration.  I was wandering through the garden in the golden hour of the evening, absentmindedly pulling a few weeds, munching a few peas, when I spotted it... the telltale rounded crescent of the top of a Golden Detroit beet, the first of the season, peeking from the surface of the soil.  I crouched down and prodded it with my finger, making sure it was loose enough to pull.  It was.  With a gentle tug, it popped out of the earth, and I literally gasped - it was so pretty!  Bright orange and perfectly round, it demanded to be turned into something special.  The wheels in my head started turning...

I foraged around the rest of the garden, looking for more ingredients that were ripe or big enough to consider harvesting.  I managed a bowl of crisp baby greens, a small handful of carrots, and a giant of a green onion, curved and beautiful.     

After a quick consultation with Jamie, I set to work washing and chopping, seasoning, wrapping, heating, and singing, filled with the simple joy of cooking for myself and my husband with fresh, delicious ingredients that promised to nourish our bodies and delight our palates.  Here is the result:

Fresh, roasted veggies in olive oil with sea salt, pepper, garlic and a splash of balsamic vinegar.

Local chicken from Fenwood Farms, buttered sugar snap peas and roasted peppers, zucchini and mushrooms from Hildreth Farm Market, and Mo Farm baby greens, beets, green onions and carrots.

Good food = good marriage.  The math is simple.

Little City Girl, Big Country Dreams

Once in a while in my life, I find something that awakens a passion in me that I forgot was there. It happened the day I was invited to try riding a horse after helping to pitch fresh, sweet-smelling straw into the stalls of a barn just outside the city. It happened the first time I saw a band I'd never heard of play live music that plucked strings in my heart and stomach in a small, intimately crowded bar. It happened when I first picked up an SLR camera and managed to capture a candid portrait of a child in soft, beautiful window light. We've all been there. The spark occurs unexpectedly, in seemingly unremarkable circumstances, and perhaps it's because it catches us so completely off guard that it strikes so deeply.

Most recently, passion grabbed hold of me when I was reading a book. In Defence of Food by Michael Pollan had sat, collecting a fine layer of dust, on my bookshelf for months, waiting patiently for me to find the time and desire to pick it up. On the ordinary, unremarkable day that I finally opened the book, I wasn't expecting my life to change. Nor was I expecting to finish the book in the wee hours, after becoming so engrossed in it I was unable (and unwilling) to put it down. I closed the cover and laid back onto by bed with eyes closed and slightly burning, wheels turning in my head, and an itching, restless feeling in my legs. I felt compelled to move. To write. To run. To scream. To ACT. But what to do with all of this new information? What actions could I possibly take to even begin to offset this frantic, sick feeling that was spreading in my stomach?

The book was the first contact I had with a movement that is now growing into a revolution - it's the story of food. Our food, and how we get it. It's something we think so little about, and yet is so important... vital for our survival as a species on this planet! Our industrialized food system is horrifyingly broken, and in becoming aware of this, I found my life forever altered. I dove headlong into a new world, and each new discovery in this world further cemented my suspicion that I was finding the biggest passion of my life. I began reading everything I came across on the subject, each new piece of information adding fire to my belly. Novella Carpenter's Farm City. Thomas F. Pawlick's The End of Food. Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle was the last straw. This brings us to present day, and my realization that I have a new direction in my life that will inevitably lead to new discoveries, great joys, and heart-wrenching disappointments.

And so, dear reader, I invite you to join me in this adventure. I am now a little city girl with big country dreams, living in the suburbs of Southern Ontario. I want to grow food. I want to feel connected to the earth again, and to find a better way of life for myself and my husband. I want to wake up in the morning and relish the thought of living. I'm not sure yet what this means, or even what it looks like, but while I figure that out, I'm going to do the best that I can with what I've got.

This is the birth of Mo Farm.