Enjoying the Harvest

Yesterday I went on a food preservation bender. It’s blackberry season! It’s blueberry season! The first corn is ripe! Since yesterday was farmers’ market day in my suburban enclave, and since I went on a berry-picking frenzy on Friday, my pantry was stocked. It was time to put some away for the winter – or even just enjoy it now by adding sugar and baking it in pastry. So, while at home alone with two children on a Sunday afternoon, I took to my kitchen.

I made blackberry jam.

Blackberry jam

I blanched and froze corn.

Frozen corn

I made blueberry sorbet.

Blueberry sorbet

I baked blueberry pie.

Blueberry pie

Hannah was “the little chef”. She wore an apron. She took her job very seriously. Jacob licked the spoon. He did not wear an apron. He took his job very seriously, and his clothes have the stains to prove it. I sampled my first refined sugar in two weeks. I will write more about that tomorrow.

Today, though, I will rest. I think it has been well-earned.

Have you done any canning, freezing or preserving yet this year? Tell me all about it!

Food as Art

A couple of weeks ago I bought apricots at the farmer’s market. This is not really remarkable. However, when I got them home, I was so struck by their beauty that I had to capture it. Their colour, their shape, their texture – they all just spoke to me. Each one was like a stunningly perfect work of art.

Farmer's market apricots

It’s not surprise that I find food appealing. After all, we’ve all evolved to appreciate food. Hunger is one of our most basic instincts, and the desire to satisfy that hunger is strong. When I’m hungry, I can hardly think about anything else. Somewhere, in the deep, prehistoric recesses of my lizard brain, someone is yelling, “Eat a sandwich already!” at top volume, and it makes it really hard to concentrate.

Another shot of the cloves

On top of the way that hunger drives us, plants themselves benefit by looking appealing. When I pick a piece of fruit and carry it away from a tree, I’m scattering its seeds. Okay, I’m not scattering its seeds, I’m most likely putting them in my smelly green bin, but most animals are not me. Most animals just drop the seeds wherever, allowing the tree’s progeny to grow in a spot that the tree could never reach on its own. So the colours, the flavours and the smells are all designed to appeal to me.

Cherries

This time of year, I think, is especially rich with food art. Blueberries, blackberries and tomatoes are ripe. I bought the first apples of the season at the farmer’s market last week, and I recently harvested the garlic from my garden. If fruit is nature’s artwork, she’s in the midst of a creative frenzy. I am loving every moment of it. You could almost say (at the risk of making a pun) that I am eating it up.

Blueberries fresh from our garden

Before I consume or preserve each little masterpiece, I pause for a moment to appreciate its beauty. It’s an exercise in delicious mindfulness, and a reminder to embrace the season you find yourself in. While fall is lovely, and winter has its charms, there won’t be fresh ripe apricots forever. You need to appreciate them while you can.

What’s ripe in your garden – or at your farmers’ market – right now? What are you enjoying?

2011 Victoria Day Garden Tour

Last year on Victoria Day I gave you a tour of my garden. It seemed appropriate, since the May long weekend is traditionally dedicated to gardening here in Canada. Also camping in the rain and drinking lots of beer, but since I hate camping in any weather and I’m not really a beer drinker, I’ll stick with gardening. There may be dirt involved, but afterwards you can retreat back inside and sleep in a warm, dry bed.

I thought that I’d create a tradition and once again seize this chance to show you what my garden’s been up to. My garden is sort of haphazard, and I really fly by the seat of my pants with my planting, but I really do try. Unfortunately, this has been a slow spring, so my garden is still in its early stages, but I’ll show you what I’ve got.

Up first, I’m still hardening off my melon seedlings in a sheltered spot before planting them in the ground. The plants on the top are canteloupe, and on the bottom we have watermelon.

Watermelon and canteloupe seedlings hardening off

I moved some of my flowering plants into pots to save valuable room in my garden for veggies. Behind the pots you can see my raised bed on the right, and some of my other garden beds on the left.

Potted plants and a view of the garden

Here’s a close-up of the garden bed that you can see on the far left of the photo above. It has sage and mint. At the top a few little corn shoots are sticking through, and at the bottom I’ve planted dill seeds, which aren’t showing signs of life yet. Fingers crossed, though.

Sage, peppermint, dill and corn

Continuing along the back of my house we have the sunniest spot in my garden. This year I’ve planted tomatoes, pepper and parsley here. On the far right of the photo we have raspberries and strawberries, as well.

Tomatoes, peppers, parsley, strawberries and raspberries

Around the corner, along the East wall of my house, I have little squash seedlings.

Squash and cucumber

There’s also my very healthy blueberry bush. I am tremendously grateful to whoever planted this blueberry bush, which produces a bumper crop year after year after year. You can see that it has blossoms already.

My blueberry bush

And finally, at the very end we have chives and potatoes. The potato plants have not yet made it to the surface.

Chives and potatoes

Let’s not forget the raised bed, though. My father-in-law built me a pea trellis, which you can see on the top right. In this bed there are sunflowers, some very healthy garlic, peas, lettuce, chard and carrots. The melons will also be planted here.

Garlic, sunflowers, peas, carrots, lettuce, chard

But you know what makes me happiest of all right now? Little white blossoms, promising strawberries in the not-so-distant future.

One day this blossom will be a strawberry

What about you? What does your garden look like right now?

Talking to a Small Farmer

Back in November I visited Skeeter Farm with my family. It’s a small farm, which I first learned about when they were selling their produce at my local farmer’s market. I was intrigued and sent an email, asking if I could come for a tour. Amy, the farmer, was kind enough to agree, although she did point out that November is not traditionally the time one visits a farm. Undeterred, I loaded up my kids, my husband and my in-laws, and headed out.

I told you about this back in November, but there’s a lot that I didn’t share. At the time I had grand plans of writing a fabulous article and shopping it around to local publications. It hasn’t happened. And, at this point, I need to concede that it’s not going to happen. But there’s a whole lot more about Skeeter Farm that I want to tell you, so prepare to learn a thing or two about local food and small farms.

Skeeter Farm
A shot of the farm at its former site

Skeeter Farm got its start in 2009, with help from the Abbotsford Food and Agriculture Connection Table (AFACT) and the Barrowtown Agricultural Development Society (BADS). Basically, AFACT wanted to try starting an incubator farm, which is an operation that provides land and support to new farmers so that they can test out their business models. Three people – Amy, Hannah and Jamie, none of whom had farmed before – decided to get on board and try their hand at farming.

They secured their land with the help of BADS, and set out to farm. Unfortunately, the plot they were given had not been farmed in a couple of decades. The land was uneven and overgrown. The soil was largely clay, and the farm lay in the shadow of a mountain. I don’t know much about agriculture, but my impression from my visit was that it wasn’t the best spot for growing things. None of the farmers lived there, and since the location is remote and isolated, they faced several break-ins during their first two years, losing valuable equipment. (Apparently thieves aren’t so interested in carrots, though, and the veggies escaped unharmed.)

Amy the farmer
Amy the farmer

In spite of their lack of experience and the difficulties that they faced, Amy, Hannah and Jamie were able to break even during their first year. They sold to farmer’s markets, and offered shares through a community supported agriculture (CSA) program. However, they didn’t account for their own time. They all had full-time jobs outside of farming, which paid their own living expenses. Amy said that lack of time was a big obstacle to growing the farming business. The market is there for local food, but it’s not easy to quit your day job and support yourself through farming alone, especially as you’re just starting out.

I was curious about how much time was involved in farming. Amy said that during the off season, there was very little work to do. During the height of the summer, it could be up to 40 hours a week. On average, though, she said that it was about 15 or 20 hours a week during the growing season. The real barrier to entry isn’t so much producing food, as being able to afford the land and finding the time for marketing and promotion and all of the stuff that any entrepreneur has to deal with. That’s what struck me the most – farming is not so different than any other business.

Chard
Chard, still going strong in November

I grow a garden, and my record is very spotty. Last year, none of my cucumbers survived. The year before, I harvested something like 73 cucumbers. I’m very hit-and-miss. I wondered what kind of learning curve there was, and Amy said that they were able to grow food. The secret to their success was planting a lot of different crops – more than 50 different kinds of fruits and vegetables. When their corn failed in 2010, it was OK because there were lots of other crops to take its place. They weren’t depending on any single fruit or veggie to succeed.

Skeeter Farm is not certified organic, but they do follow many organic principles. Diversifying is one of them. Avoiding chemical fertilizers and pesticides is another. I asked Amy about organic certification, and she doesn’t feel it’s justified. The people who buy from them through their CSA or at the market are able to talk to them about their growing practices. The extra steps required to obtain certification would increase their costs, but it wouldn’t increase their income enough to offset it. I understand this – I would rather buy food from someone I have met and can talk to, than shop based on a specific label.

My mother-in-law finds a tomatillo
My mother-in-law holds a tomatillo

Next year, Skeeter Farm is moving to a new plot of land. They’ll be leasing a couple of acres from the Fraser Valley Duck and Goose Farm. Jamie and Hannah, two of the three original farmers, are heading off to pursue new projects. Amanda, who was an intern with the farm in 2010, is partnering with Amy to continue the farming operation. They’re glad to have land that has been cultivated recently, with good quality soil and without all the weeds. They’re continuing their CSA program (I have a share!) and they’ll be back at farmer’s markets.

Talking to Amy, I can see hope for local agriculture. There are people who want to get into farming, and there are people who want to buy their food. If we can find ways to support new farmers, and connect them with local markets, I think they can succeed. Like any business, there will absolutely be learning curves and obstacles, but they’re not insurmountable. I hope that with help, and mentorship from people like Amy, local agriculture will continue to grow.

In Search of Colour

It feels like we are on the cusp of something right now. Or maybe not on the cusp, exactly, but nearing the cusp. I can feel that change is coming, but it’s still a ways off. So right now I’m reading the signs (some real and some imagined), and hoping for what I dream lies ahead.

My garlic
My garlic is growing – one of the signs that change is coming

It is mid-March, now, and we’re on Daylight Savings Time. Spring is just around the corner. But it’s not here – yet. Although promising omens are appearing, the world is still quite drab and brown. And so, I am in search of colour. Little splashes of brightness to let me know that I don’t have to wait too much longer before daffodils, tulips and cherry blossoms colour the world around me.

Me, March 2011
My scarf makes me smile

Sunny primroses
Some yellow primroses brighten our yard

Nature is moving slowly, but I trust that she is holding up her end of the bargain. And so, in an act of faith, I am taking action. I have started my seeds for my 2011 garden. They may not look like much, spread out on some plastic in my sunroom. But like the world around me, they are on the cusp, too. They are biding their time, but I know that soon enough they will be here.

2011 seed starts
My seed starts

In fact, if you look just a little closer, some of them already are here.

Wee seedlings
The first seedlings burst forth

I am not the only one who is counting on spring, and searching for colour. My wee little seeds are, too. They are the embodiment of hope and trust in the world. The small but certain knowledge that colour will not elude us forever.

One day, this will be lettuce
Small plants are the very embodiment of hope

Do you see any signs of spring yet where you are? And are you starting seeds, too? Fill me in on your dreams for a warmer season ahead!

Autumnal Thoughts

The other day I planted garlic. It’s actually tremendously easy. I buy a few bulbs at the farmer’s market, so I know it’s suited to my local climate. I break them into cloves and plant them sometime in October. The shoots come up before the last frost, and by late spring the scapes are ready. Finally, sometime in July I harvest the garlic. Easy-peasy. And who doesn’t love garlic? Except maybe vampires.

Planting garlic makes me feel introspective. It’s one of those things that I do as I set about winterizing my garden – putting it to bed for the year. I pull up dead squash vines and lay down leaves for mulch and generally bid farewell to the fruitful bounty of summer. Nature is going dormant. I feel kind of like I want to go dormant, too. I want to curl up inside with a blanket and some hot chocolate (or maybe some tea and Tim Tams) and ride out the dark and cold. It’s time to hibernate.

Our squash harvest
Baby blue hubbard squash from my garden

Gardening is one of those things that ties you back to the earth in a tangible way. It forces you to mark the seasons, and follow their guidance. You can’t plant lettuce in January and expect it to grow. You can’t harvest pumpkin in March. Nature is on her own timeline, and you’re merely along for the ride, doing your best to work within the constraints she sets for you. And yes, of course nature is a woman. She is fertile, she gives life and she’s … full of slugs? OK, maybe the metaphor doesn’t hold in all cases. How awkward. Ahem.

Hannah holding up our huge sunflower
Hannah holding the one sunflower we got to before the birds did

Fall is rife with contrast. My pantry is full, and so is my deep freeze. I’m surrounded by the bounty of the harvest. And yet the world outside feels very stark. The leaves are falling, and the trees are going bare. The tomato plants are withering, and the flowers have disappeared. The abundance of summer has moved from the outdoors to the indoors, as the world around me slowly fades. It’s all canned peaches and pears and frozen blueberries in my kitchen, and shriveled vines in my garden.

Home-grown pumpkin
Look, we grew a pumpkin, honest and no joke!

If I were more evolved, I’m sure that I would see some greater wisdom. We all need time off to rest – why should nature be any different? It’s all very circle of life, death-rebirth, in order to create we must first destroy, that kind of thing. But I am going to admit that I don’t like destruction. I don’t like death. And I don’t like cold, dark days – mystical significance notwithstanding.

So I draw my blanket around myself. I dig out the warm hats and the winter coats. I stock up on hot chocolate and mini marshmallows. I plant garlic and lay mulch. And I hold out for spring. It can’t get here fast enough for me.

What about you? Do you have a favourite season? Do you enjoy the descent into winter, or are you a summer person like me? And do you have any warm socks you can lend me? Tell me in the comments!

My Raised Garden Bed

Way, way back in April my husband Jon and his father built me a raised garden bed. After last year, I knew that I wanted more space to grow food. And the best way that I saw to do that was to lose a little bit of lawn. Grass is nice, but it just doesn’t hold a candle to home-grown veggies.

But I was at a loss. I mean, the concept of a raised bed seemed simple in theory. But I have never built anything on my own. Plus, we lack the necessary tools. So I was thrilled when my in-laws stepped in and offered their tools and experience. Then I stood back and watched them make it happen. At the end of the day, I had a 9 foot x 4 1/2 foot plot of dirt and potential.

New raised garden bed
The new raised bed on April 10

That was over two months ago, and that potential has been transformed into pea, carrot, dill, squash, corn and sunflower plants. And I am thrilled at the additional bounty that I will be harvesting this year.

Raised garden bed 2 months later
The raised bed two months later

Jon was kind enough to take my extremely amateur video footage and turn it into a lovely, polished video. Check it out – the making of my raised bed!

Have you ever built your own garden bed? Or are you as non-handy as I am? Tell me all about it!

After the Rain

We had a very cold and rainy spring this year. Even the first half of June was mostly wet. In fact, it was so wet that we had a flash flood in our neigbourhood, as seen in this video from my husband.

My garden wasn’t terribly happy about the excess of rain and lack of sun. Some of my strawberries rotted on their vines, never ripening. The corn drooped sadly. The peas didn’t flower. Of course, rain is necessary for a garden, but it’s not all that’s necessary.

And then, one Friday afternoon, the sky cleared. Don’t you love it when these things manage to happen right in time for the weekend? The sun came out and the world glistened, including my garden.

Raindrops on my flowers

Dewdrops on my leaves

Post-rain droplets

Broccoli bathed in rain and sun

Dewdrops on dill

More dewdrops on dill

They say that into every life (and probably onto every garden) a little rain must fall. Thankfully, that’s only part of the story. Sooner or later, the sun comes out and all is forgiven.

How are things growing in your garden?

Victoria Day Garden

If you are Canadian then you know that today is Victoria Day, the holiday that brings us the May long weekend. This is when water parks open and people bust out the white shoes. It’s traditionally a weekend of camping, and the weather usually does not co-operate, but no one cares because of the traditional beer they’re consuming. All drunk to the honour of the late Queen Victoria, after whom the holiday is named, of course.

For the more sedate among us, such as myself, this is also traditionally a weekend of gardening. All across Canada this weekend, people are packing into their local garden centres and buying seedlings and mulch. The risk of frost is over and it’s time to get your plants in the ground so that they’ll be ready for harvest in the fall.

Since the Victoria Day long weekend is associated with gardening, I thought that I’d seize this chance to show you what my garden’s been up to. My garden is sort of haphazard, but I’ve crammed a lot into it. Like parsley, basil, sage and lots and lots of mint. Word to the wise: mint grows like a weed.

Parsley, sage, basil and mint

I also have two each of two different kinds of tomato plants. Also pictured: super-glam slippers, because my feet like to be cozy, yo.

Two different kinds of tomato plants

There’s also broccoli and chard.

BroccoliChard

And my new raised bed boasts peas, carrots, dill, baby blue hubbard squash, sunflowers and corn.

Peas, carrots, dill and squashSunflowers and corn

The big challenge with the raised bed is keeping Jacob out of it. Apparently, garden beds are like magnets for toddlers.

I grow children, too

My strawberries and raspberries are coming along nicely.

StrawberriesRaspberries

The bees are hard at work turning blueberry blossoms into tiny, green blueberries.

Blueberries

I have celery and tiny cucumber sprouts.

CeleryCucumbers

Here are my oregano, chives and thyme.

Oregano, chives, thyme

And finally, I have some large and healthy garlic, and some itty-bitty onions.

GarlicOnion sprouts

What are you growing? Please share! And, of course, Happy Victoria Day!

Why I Save Seeds

Seed-saving is as ancient as human agriculture. Basically, it is the practice of setting aside a portion of a crop, or the seeds from its produce, for later use. For example, some potatoes are set aside as seed potatoes, or the best corn kernels are put in reserve, or the seeds from inside a cucumber are saved. These seeds are sown at the beginning of the next growing season, yielding the next crop. Seed saving preserves variety and allows growers to choose traits they want to propagate. If you want early-ripening tomatoes, you choose seeds from the earliest ripening plants. Over many seasons of growing, you cultivate your own variety with its own characteristics.

There are a lot of advantages to saving seeds. The most obvious, to me, is self-sufficiency. Seeds aren’t expensive, but the ones from my garden are free. Using them not only saves me money, but it means that I’m not depending on someone else. But that’s on the small scale. On the large scale, the real reason to save seeds is to preserve genetic diversity in food plants.

Beefsteak tomato starts
Tomato plants grown from saved seeds

Books like The 100 Mile Diet and The Omnivore’s Dilemma discuss how we rely on far fewer species for our food than we used to. My own experience bears this out. If I visit the grocery store, there are only 2 or 3 kinds of tomatoes to choose from. If I visit a farmer’s market, where growers practice seed-saving and grow heirloom varieties, I see more than a dozen types of tomatoes.

So what? Do we really need so many different kinds of tomatoes? Yes, we do. Not because we crave variety, although variety is fun. We need all of these different tomato varieties to protect our crops. Genetic diversity protects species. When we depend on very few specific food plants for our entire global diet, we are putting our food supply at risk.

Sugar pie pumpkin starts
Pumpkin leaf from saved seed

To compensate for this increased risk, we use technology. One example of this is genetically-engineered crops, such as corn, soybean and canola. Multi-national conglomerate Monsanto manufactures the pesticide Roundup, and also produces genetically modified ‘Roundup Ready’ seeds that can resist it. This means farmers can spray Roundup on their crops to kill any other plants that might decide to grow there. But this comes at a price – Monsanto owns a patent on their seeds. They expressly forbid farmers from saving their seeds, and require anyone using these seeds to pay a fee. More seed is purchased, more pesticides are used, and more chemicals end up in our environment.

Here in Canada canola farmer Percy Schmeiser was sued by Monsanto for patent infringement. Schmeiser never purchased seed from Monsanto, he saved his own seed for decades. However, some Roundup Ready seed made its way into his crop, from a neighbour’s farm or by other means. And in the US Midwest Monsanto has sued soybean farmers for the same reason. Farmers are being forced to buy their seed from Monsanto, or face crippling lawsuits.

Baby blue hubbard squash starts
Heirloom squash plants

I am not a large-scale grower, but even in my own backyard garden I can see the effects of the way we now breed plants. This is my first year growing saved seeds. I saved seeds from the tomato plants I bought from the farmer’s market, seeds from pumpkins I bought at the farmer’s market, seeds from some cucumbers I bought at the farmer’s market and some from my own garden, and seeds from some ground cherry plants my friend started from an ordinary seed packet. I also planted some squash seeds that a local organic grower saved and passed along.

I just planted the cucumbers, so it’s too early to say how they will do. The pumpkin, squash and tomatoes, which were all sourced from local, organic growers, are doing well. The ground cherries are not. They sprouted, but then the plants just keeled over. It turns out that most commercial seeds are hybrids. Hybrids are bred to produce well in the first year, but do not do well in the second generation. My ground cherries were probably a hybrid, hence their ill health.

Unhappy ground cherries
Sickly ground cherries

The trend towards standardized, hybrid varieties at all levels is disturbing. It emphasizes to me how thoroughly we have washed our hands of our own food. A lot of the stuff that we buy at the grocery store wouldn’t even be recognizable as food to our great-grandparents. I wonder if the current state of affairs is sustainable. If wonder if we can continue to rely on chemicals and technology and a few plants to feed a hungry planet. The prospect scares me more than a little bit, so I save seeds. It’s a small action, but it makes me feel like a revolutionary in my own garden.

Have you ever saved seed? Would you? Or do you think my concerns about limited genetic diversity are alarmist? Please share!

I wrote this post for the Green Moms Carnival, which is being hosted over on Green Talk in mid-April. Head over there then to read some other thoughts on spring and new life.

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