What is it about gardening that draws some people in and eaves others cold? There is a very real split: those who aren't drawn to it think of it as a chore, right up there, or perhaps down there with bathroom cleaning. People like me, on the other hand, cannot resist creating gardens, even in the most absurd and difficult spots, where the soil is hard as a rock and the amount of sunlight is suboptimal.
It's time consuming. Every good weather day in early spring has you out there digging. I had to smile as I thought about the state parks reopening here, in Wisconsin. They've been up and running (or rather people have been up and running in them) for a week now and Ed and I haven't even hiked the trails once. There's no time for it.
So why work this hard at something that is so ephemeral? A blooming period is quite short for most perennials. Several weeks perhaps. Of course, you stagger the plants: a good gardener will not have a week without something pretty to look at during the growing season. Still, all that work? Is it worth it?
A passionate gardener doesn't think in those terms. The weather warms the earth, you go out and dig. And there's a lot at the farmette that requires digging. Nine flower beds (two of them so huge that a chicken might get lost in them), two veggie patches, two new meadows of wildflowers. And of course, there is the new orchard and there are some two dozen flower pots with annuals -- it's a project!
I wake up to a frost outside. I wouldn't call it a hard frost, but it did go down to about 28F (-2C) for a significant number of hours. I'm not sure how it affected fruit farmers in Wisconsin. We seem to have barrelled through it mostly okay. Our potted annuals were covered or moved indoors. Our fruit trees appear unscathed.
We lost Ed's marigolds -- flowers that I plant by the sheep shed because it reminds him of childhood summers in upstate New York. I'll replace them. Otherwise, things look good.
(These are the last days of the tulips. What a run they've had!)
Oddly, we have this rather pretty Saturday stuck between a handful of rather miserable days. Cold yesterday, very wet and very cold tomorrow. True, the morning doesn't give us a porch breakfast...
Nonetheless, the day quickly morphs into something really really lovely.
I have an agenda. First, I drive over to pick up our first box of veggies from our Community Supported Agriculture farm. You know how it works, right? You pay them a lump sum and you get a box of farm products once a week -- they decide what goes in it. This particular family farm is a CSA leader and surely one of Wisconsin's first sizeable organic growing operations (if you live here, you'll have heard of it -- it's Harmony Valley). Without our beloved farmers market on the square, this is the best way to get a huge variety of fresh produce to your table.
I promised Ed that if we signed up this year, I would not waste any of the contents. After all, if you're bereft of inspiration and don't really want to fuss with fancy recipes, especially now that you're not going to the grocery store to search out new ingredients, you can always chop things up and do a stir fry, or do a soup, or roast it all in the oven. There's not much that wont work if you drizzle it with olive oil and sprinkle it with salt and pepper, with a splash of lemon or a dash of parmesan.
Still, today's box presents some challenges.
Oh, there's the stuff everyone likes. Spinach. The first asparagus. I see some chives. Okay, we have chives at the farmette, but what the heck. Then come the tricky things: sunchoke. I used to roast these little gnarled things. But you have to go easy on using them. Too many and your belly will complain. Wild ramps -- good for stirfries. Green garlic -- who doesn't use garlic of some form? Parsnips. Well okay, soup next week. But my, there are a lot of parsnips in the box! And last but not least -- stinging nettle. When I did my moonlighting at Madison's L'Etoile Restaurant, the chef loved using nettle in any number of dishes. But I've never done it. And there is a huge bunch! Enough for nettle soup if you want to make nettle soup. (I don't want to make nettle soup.) Can I cheat and toss some of the sprigs into the compost pile? Don't tell Ed, okay? [In fairness to the CSA, there used to be a place where you could put aside items you don't expect to use, but CoVid has changed all that: you go in to your pick up spot only if no one is in it, you wear gloves, take your food and run. No exchanges, no dallying.]
Bottom line: I like the variety! Tonight's dinner: rock fish from our Community Supported Fishery, and sauteed parsnip slices, with green garlic, ramps -- bulbs, greens and all, and a diced sunchoke and maybe a few asparagus bits. In olive oil and a hint of butter.
But first, there is the afternoon of gardening. Yesterday, my box of day lilies finally arrived. Ten new lilies, carefully selected by me on January 31st, plus three free lilies gifted by the growers. I have just the place for most of them: by the new path in the Big Bed.
I get to work.
And as I dig, I think gardening thoughts. I push chickens away and tell Dance to quit bothering the little kitties. I listen to the birds -- a pair of cardinals has been hanging out here since winter and their familiar calls and songs reminds me that spring hits on all our senses.
Who wouldn't want to garden on a day like this?
Well, many people, it seems. We are a diverse and complicated species, aren't we...
(Supper stir fry)
Tonight's thoughts are with the farmers who grow this stuff. Their markets are disrupted, their supplies are missing, the seasonal workers have a hell of a time getting to their farms. And yet they continue. Thank you.
With love.
It's time consuming. Every good weather day in early spring has you out there digging. I had to smile as I thought about the state parks reopening here, in Wisconsin. They've been up and running (or rather people have been up and running in them) for a week now and Ed and I haven't even hiked the trails once. There's no time for it.
So why work this hard at something that is so ephemeral? A blooming period is quite short for most perennials. Several weeks perhaps. Of course, you stagger the plants: a good gardener will not have a week without something pretty to look at during the growing season. Still, all that work? Is it worth it?
A passionate gardener doesn't think in those terms. The weather warms the earth, you go out and dig. And there's a lot at the farmette that requires digging. Nine flower beds (two of them so huge that a chicken might get lost in them), two veggie patches, two new meadows of wildflowers. And of course, there is the new orchard and there are some two dozen flower pots with annuals -- it's a project!
I wake up to a frost outside. I wouldn't call it a hard frost, but it did go down to about 28F (-2C) for a significant number of hours. I'm not sure how it affected fruit farmers in Wisconsin. We seem to have barrelled through it mostly okay. Our potted annuals were covered or moved indoors. Our fruit trees appear unscathed.
We lost Ed's marigolds -- flowers that I plant by the sheep shed because it reminds him of childhood summers in upstate New York. I'll replace them. Otherwise, things look good.
(These are the last days of the tulips. What a run they've had!)
Oddly, we have this rather pretty Saturday stuck between a handful of rather miserable days. Cold yesterday, very wet and very cold tomorrow. True, the morning doesn't give us a porch breakfast...
Nonetheless, the day quickly morphs into something really really lovely.
I have an agenda. First, I drive over to pick up our first box of veggies from our Community Supported Agriculture farm. You know how it works, right? You pay them a lump sum and you get a box of farm products once a week -- they decide what goes in it. This particular family farm is a CSA leader and surely one of Wisconsin's first sizeable organic growing operations (if you live here, you'll have heard of it -- it's Harmony Valley). Without our beloved farmers market on the square, this is the best way to get a huge variety of fresh produce to your table.
I promised Ed that if we signed up this year, I would not waste any of the contents. After all, if you're bereft of inspiration and don't really want to fuss with fancy recipes, especially now that you're not going to the grocery store to search out new ingredients, you can always chop things up and do a stir fry, or do a soup, or roast it all in the oven. There's not much that wont work if you drizzle it with olive oil and sprinkle it with salt and pepper, with a splash of lemon or a dash of parmesan.
Still, today's box presents some challenges.
Oh, there's the stuff everyone likes. Spinach. The first asparagus. I see some chives. Okay, we have chives at the farmette, but what the heck. Then come the tricky things: sunchoke. I used to roast these little gnarled things. But you have to go easy on using them. Too many and your belly will complain. Wild ramps -- good for stirfries. Green garlic -- who doesn't use garlic of some form? Parsnips. Well okay, soup next week. But my, there are a lot of parsnips in the box! And last but not least -- stinging nettle. When I did my moonlighting at Madison's L'Etoile Restaurant, the chef loved using nettle in any number of dishes. But I've never done it. And there is a huge bunch! Enough for nettle soup if you want to make nettle soup. (I don't want to make nettle soup.) Can I cheat and toss some of the sprigs into the compost pile? Don't tell Ed, okay? [In fairness to the CSA, there used to be a place where you could put aside items you don't expect to use, but CoVid has changed all that: you go in to your pick up spot only if no one is in it, you wear gloves, take your food and run. No exchanges, no dallying.]
Bottom line: I like the variety! Tonight's dinner: rock fish from our Community Supported Fishery, and sauteed parsnip slices, with green garlic, ramps -- bulbs, greens and all, and a diced sunchoke and maybe a few asparagus bits. In olive oil and a hint of butter.
But first, there is the afternoon of gardening. Yesterday, my box of day lilies finally arrived. Ten new lilies, carefully selected by me on January 31st, plus three free lilies gifted by the growers. I have just the place for most of them: by the new path in the Big Bed.
I get to work.
And as I dig, I think gardening thoughts. I push chickens away and tell Dance to quit bothering the little kitties. I listen to the birds -- a pair of cardinals has been hanging out here since winter and their familiar calls and songs reminds me that spring hits on all our senses.
Who wouldn't want to garden on a day like this?
Well, many people, it seems. We are a diverse and complicated species, aren't we...
(Supper stir fry)
Tonight's thoughts are with the farmers who grow this stuff. Their markets are disrupted, their supplies are missing, the seasonal workers have a hell of a time getting to their farms. And yet they continue. Thank you.
With love.
