Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
100 Degrees and the First CSA share
It is supposed to be 100 degrees tomorrow. Tonight I pick up the first share of the summer of the CSA we are a part of. Why is the first share coming near the end of June, you ask? Because we had snow and freezing temps until just about a month ago. This land is a crazy beautiful land.
I finished planting my bit of a garden, beet seeds and potatoes in the ground. The peas are pushing above the earth, and I counted 95 calendula sproutlings that I have planted so far. The well is still broken, so we've been hauling water in 5 gallon blue jugs to feed the oh so delicate (and oh so hardy) green life that faces 24 hours of light, and recently has been facing temperatures in the high 80's and early 90's.
Hauling every bit of water that I feed my plants, in blue jugs that grow heavier before they grow lighter, from the spring in Fox gives me a new appreciation for the generations of farmers and gardeners on whose abundance we humans have built so many different civilizations. I think of pioneers in the midwest, where a well meant the difference between thriving and starvation, and where each bucket was hauled up hand over hand before a windmill was built to do the job. When I come home to sunbaked seedlings that are beginning to wilt in onslaught of light and heat against their wee root systems despite the previous evenings watering, I start (very distantly) to feel the overwhelming sense of futility and despair of a farmer in a drought. I think of farmers (and mothers for that matter) in places even today where running water is unknown and drinking and gardening water must be carried long distances, in buckets or atop one's head. I think of the archtypal old lady with her herb garden, living alone on the outskirts of the village, with her little roofed well: and I imagine 70 year old arms hauling up bucket after bucket of liquid life from the depths of the earth. So much respect.
All in all, I am increasingly grateful for my luck and foresight to find a home with a plentiful well in light of my homesteadly gardening plans. A friend of mine who runs a small CSA out of his garden was telling me that last week he hauled 600 gallons of water in the back of his truck because he does not have a well. Now we just need to figure out how to fix a broken plumbing system. Which means first learning to diagnose a broken plumbing system.
I finished planting my bit of a garden, beet seeds and potatoes in the ground. The peas are pushing above the earth, and I counted 95 calendula sproutlings that I have planted so far. The well is still broken, so we've been hauling water in 5 gallon blue jugs to feed the oh so delicate (and oh so hardy) green life that faces 24 hours of light, and recently has been facing temperatures in the high 80's and early 90's.
Hauling every bit of water that I feed my plants, in blue jugs that grow heavier before they grow lighter, from the spring in Fox gives me a new appreciation for the generations of farmers and gardeners on whose abundance we humans have built so many different civilizations. I think of pioneers in the midwest, where a well meant the difference between thriving and starvation, and where each bucket was hauled up hand over hand before a windmill was built to do the job. When I come home to sunbaked seedlings that are beginning to wilt in onslaught of light and heat against their wee root systems despite the previous evenings watering, I start (very distantly) to feel the overwhelming sense of futility and despair of a farmer in a drought. I think of farmers (and mothers for that matter) in places even today where running water is unknown and drinking and gardening water must be carried long distances, in buckets or atop one's head. I think of the archtypal old lady with her herb garden, living alone on the outskirts of the village, with her little roofed well: and I imagine 70 year old arms hauling up bucket after bucket of liquid life from the depths of the earth. So much respect.
All in all, I am increasingly grateful for my luck and foresight to find a home with a plentiful well in light of my homesteadly gardening plans. A friend of mine who runs a small CSA out of his garden was telling me that last week he hauled 600 gallons of water in the back of his truck because he does not have a well. Now we just need to figure out how to fix a broken plumbing system. Which means first learning to diagnose a broken plumbing system.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Garden Planting!
Someone who loves me very much is working four ten-hour days for the summer and spent some time on his work-at-home friday getting a truckload of topsoil for me, and unloading it into the spot that will (starting next year!) house perrenial asparagus and strawberries. This weekend, I planted peas - sugar snap and soup peas both - along the back of the bed, so they will hopefully use the dog yard fence as their trellis.
All this gardening work, while earning my myriads of mosquito bites, was done barefoot in the dirt. Oh, the feeling of earth between my toes!
In front of the peas I planted by 6 squash starts, and a few calendula sproutlings.
You see here the back 1/2 of the eventual bed. One more truck load of dirt will finish the dimensions of the bed and house potatoes that have sprouted in pantry, the 9 beet seeds I got from the seed swap and the rest of the calendula sproutlings.
Hopefully I'll get that load of dirt this week! Its a bit late to be planting out, but better late than never. The squash are supposed to be ready to harvest in 50 days, and the peas in 72, so both should be producing before the first frost. (*fingers crossed)
These five pots on the stairs, plus another 4 pots on upstairs porch, a few handfuls already in the garden bed, and I've still got at least 30 sproutlings to plant out. Maybe this year I'll let some of them go to seed, and save my own seed!
All this gardening work, while earning my myriads of mosquito bites, was done barefoot in the dirt. Oh, the feeling of earth between my toes!
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| Misha has strong opinions about the relative value of time spent planting green things vs. time spent hiking with a husky. |
In front of the peas I planted by 6 squash starts, and a few calendula sproutlings.
| Half the bed |
Hopefully I'll get that load of dirt this week! Its a bit late to be planting out, but better late than never. The squash are supposed to be ready to harvest in 50 days, and the peas in 72, so both should be producing before the first frost. (*fingers crossed)
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| Calendula sprouts! |
Saturday, June 15, 2013
In the Mail: "Its All About Fantasies and Deadwood: chopping up useless thoughts, clearing room to dream"
I got two lovely letters - or a letter and a package, really - in the mail many weeks ago from two dear East Coast friends. I promptly took photos, and never wrote about it. Today, I finished writing my second response, and will have it in the mail on monday.
There is something about the speed (slow) and the tangible immediacy of paper and ink in hand - as opposed to the very different immediacy of electronic communication - that carries love and friendship so well.
There is something about the speed (slow) and the tangible immediacy of paper and ink in hand - as opposed to the very different immediacy of electronic communication - that carries love and friendship so well.
| Lovliest letter, with a four leaf clover and a sprig of sister cypress |
| Such Goodies! Buckwheat pancake mix gourmet coffee : roasted April 14th organic maple syrup and a book mark |
| Words on a card |
Friday, June 14, 2013
Thursday, June 13, 2013
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