Fall’s final farm days

Posted on November 16, 2014

The season is wrapping up for the work farm. Seth and the other farmers have spent the last month plowing under crop residue, seeding winter cover crops, and cleaning up the greenhouse. There’s a winter share for November and December, mostly of squashes and bitter greens and brassicas, and then that’s it. Seth’s hours at the farm are half of what they were; he’s taken on a seasonal job at a local grocery store until the farm starts up again.

I haven’t been to the farm for a while, although thankfully not because of migraines, which is the first time I think I could say that in a decade. It’s because we have just one car, and Seth’s new job keeps him busy when I have free time.

This weekend though, Lily and I dropped Seth off at the grocery store and then went to the farm to say hello during the first winter share pickup. It’s lovely to see a piece of land that I love change through the seasons. We went for a walk and gathered some herb seeds. Much later, we collected Seth and went to the year-end party.

I’ve said it before, but farm people are lovely people. I don’t think I’ve felt as relaxed with a group of friends in a long time — but everyone was there and loved Seth and loved Lily, and we all loved the food. We talked about the house and joked about the farm and looked forward to a season off. It was a good way to kick off the holiday season.

Categories: The Work Farm

Introducing Earth Morning v.2.0

Posted on October 18, 2014

We decided to give up our garden plot at the community garden. It was complicated this year with just the one car and Seth’s farm job, and I can’t imagine that will get any easier as we add a house-building to the list of factors.

However, just as we decided this we came across a new apartment that fits us very well. It’s smaller than our old place (just 2 rooms!) to help in our downsizing process, it’s on a quiet street which is better for my head, it has a backyard for the dog, and — wonder of wonders — it has a garden plot with a landlord who would like us to turn it into something beautiful.

Moving? Bah. Who cares about lifting things when there are plants to grow and soil to amend! I wanted to start digging right away, but had the presence of mind to send out a soil sample to UMass Extension for a routine soil analysis. And it’s a good thing we waited. Our soil results came back with unsafe lead levels. Not extremely high: right around 650 ppm. But high enough for us to have to do some major work on our new garden plot in order to get it into growing shape. We’re talking liming the soil, carting in organic matter, and building raised beds.

If you grow in lead-contaminated soil, some of your plants will take up the lead, particularly leafy greens and herbs, and there’s always a danger of eating the dirt that doesn’t wash off of root crops. Fruiting plants are ok, but tomatoes and peppers are not on my good list here, and I definitely want herbs for my budding herbalism studies. Phooey.

I’ve taken a few days to digest my report. I think the next steps are to confer with the landlord and see what measures she’s comfortable with. No sense in hiring a dump truck to deposit 6 cubic yards of compost if she nixes the idea (although that would be my first choice). And beyond that it’s growing as usual, just in pots instead of in the ground. And, of course, trying to prevent Lily from rolling in the dirt, and then sleeping on Seth’s pillow. She’s good at that.

Categories: Garden News

Dirigible Plums and Snargaluff Pods

Posted on October 6, 2014

Calendula. It’s a gateway drug, I tell you. I grew some in the garden this year as my first foray into flowers, and because I had a vague idea that I could make soap this winter. Springtime is full of optimists. What was I thinking? I’m not going to make soap. There are lots of good soapmakers already, and I’ve got a tiny house to build. But hot damn, my calendula plant produced dozens and dozens of flowers over its lifespan, and this last bit of warm weather has lengthened its staying power.

So here I am, drying out the flower heads thanks to a compulsive need to preserve as many garden products as possible. Then it occurs to me that I have to do something with these fibery bits and bobs. I remember reading a post about calendula salve on The Nerdy Farm Wife, and then another about comfrey…

Next thing I know, I’m knee deep into books about medical herbalism and wildcrafting. I have oil infusing on my windowsill, herbs drying in the pantry, and freshly-dug roots waiting to be roasted. I’ve pulled out the castor oil. My bottle of glycerin is ready for some action. How did it come to this? Oh yes, calendula.

Thanks to this happy flower, I’m delving into the study of herbs for healing. I like learning about Western Herbalism, which has the plants and herbs I’m familiar with, but I think Eastern Herbalism has more of the depth that I want. Western provides many approaches for each ailment: “Did calendula not heal your sore muscles? Try comfrey! Is comfrey failing you? Give cayenne a shot!” Eastern treats the cause of the ailment: “Your muscles are sore because you have too much cold in you, try cayenne which will heat you up, instead of comfrey, which will cool you down.”

It’s all jumbled in my head, and compounded by the fact that I have one thousand sensitivities. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m here, learning about herbs, giving Seth an earful every night, and cooking up remedies in my free time. So if you see an increase of herbs and things in my social media feeds — WHEN you see an increase — you’ll know. Thank you calendula.

Categories: Herbology

Tagged: calendula, herbalism, herbs

There are people, and there are farm people

Posted on September 26, 2014

The annual Stearns Farm fall potluck picnic and work day takes place at the end of September. This year it was the last warm day. There were jars of pickles, bowls of watermelon salsa and kale salad and quiche, and plates of honey cake and carrot cake and plum cake. There was music. There were families. There was a pet rabbit running loose that Lily couldn’t keep her eyes off of, so we had to keep her close for a good part of the afternoon.

Whenever I’m at a gathering with farm people, I realize that I’m with my people. It’s a big distinction to make for someone who hasn’t felt at home here in the Boston area. Farm people are people who care more about dirt and food than they do about cars and bars and cafes TV shows. We were outside, and everyone wanted to be outside. Maybe it’s like that where you are, but it’s not like that for me every day. I imagine Boston is a lot like other cities: the focus is more on being inside, going from building to building, seeing what cool thing happened, or what new restaurant opened, or a show or a movie or something else indoors because all there are are buildings. Nature is presented in carefully controlled parks and plantings, and even when you’re in a green space there are so many other people that it’s difficult to breathe.

The sheer number of buildings, I think, influences the people who live in cities. I don’t come across very many who spend the weekend pulling up weeds, or hiking a mountain, or cooking up jellies and jams. For the most part, that’s ok. But sometimes it makes me feel like I’m too different for Boston.

And so when I’m with farm people, it’s like settling into a comfortable chair with a well-worn book and a mug of tea. I’m thankful.

Categories: The Work Farm

Tagged: bees, farm, food, honey

The BIG Tiny House Festival

Posted on September 22, 2014

Some of the kind folks in Somerville put together a tiny house festival for the Boston area: The BIG Tiny, organized by Miranda’s Hearth. And thank goodness. As excited as we are to live in a tiny house, we’d never actually stood inside of one. I mean, if you’re going to live in a 160 square foot dwelling with your partner-in-crime, you’d better figure out if the proximity makes you want to pie each other in the face, you know?

We went later in the day. I was dizzy on my feet thanks to the migraine meds I’d taken earlier, but Seth looked at home among the beards and flannel shirts of Somerville.

We stood in line for an hour before we stepped into the one tiny house on display, which was owned by a very patient man named Drew. (By the end of the day, about 2000 people toured his house.) Seth and I walked through with six other people. That makes nine total in the house at one time. Nine! And his house was only 6.5 feet wide on the inside. At that point, I was ready to throw some pies.

Drew answered a few questions for us and then Seth and I edged out and let a half dozen more people take our place. I was hoping to stay at the festival for the screening of TINY: The Movie, but I still hadn’t regained my land legs and there wasn’t any seating, so we took off.

It was a quick visit but a good one, and it gave us plenty to discuss for the weekend. The verdict: yes we can! So thanks, Miranda’s Hearth, and thanks Drew. Looking forward to next year.

Categories: Little House

Tagged: tiny house

Damn Fine Spaghetti Sauce

Posted on September 19, 2014

When Seth and I were first dating, we ate spaghetti nearly every meal. We were young, poor college students. That was the main reason. But we also had an 8 lb. jar of homemade spaghetti sauce sitting in Seth’s refrigerator. That was the other reason. It was Seth’s dad’s recipe and Seth was not very adventurous with foods at the time, so Seth’s dad made him a massive jar of sauce, promising to refill the jar any time Seth brought it back. We ate a lot of spaghetti. I’m sorry to say it took about a month to go through a jar. How is it possible that the sauce never went bad? I still think about that now, ten years later.

Seth’s dad has since passed away. He was an excellent chef and a good friend, and he lived to see us go from spaghetti every meal to vegetables every meal, to growing our own vegetables and falling in love with tomatoes all over again. Now, he was the type of guy who cooked from the supermarket, whereas I cook from the field. And so you can make my father-in-law’s tomato sauce both ways — with canned or with fresh tomatoes.

This is a good simple recipe, and a way to use up a glut of tomatoes. Dress it up with herbs or dress it down with meat to your heart’s content. We serve it over pork cutlets with a slice of gluten-free bread to sop up the extra sauce, or I like it on a bowl of cooked spaghetti squash.

Damn Fine Spaghetti Sauce

Ingredients:

1 large onion, chopped fine
3-5 cloves of garlic, chopped fine
olive oil
5 lbs. fresh tomatoes diced into 1-inch chunks, OR four 28 oz. cans crushed tomatoes
1 small can tomato paste
1 lb. mushrooms, chopped fine
1 large green pepper, chopped fine
3 T. sugar (optional)
salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

In a large pot, heat 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil. When hot, add onions and garlic. Cook over medium-low heat until onions are soft. Add mushrooms and peppers, stirring until slightly softened. Add tomato paste and stir well. Let cook for several minutes, stirring often. (If you don’t have tomato paste on hand, throw a handful of chopped tomatoes into the pot with the vegetables and cook the tomatoes down until they are very thick.)

Add tomatoes. Stir well, bring to a boil over medium heat, then drop heat to a simmer. Keep lid cracked on pot and stir occasionally. Watch that sauce does not stick. After an hour, taste sauce and add sugar, salt and pepper. Simmer until sauce is at desired consistency. If you have an immersion blender, blend up the sauce to shred the tomato skins, or pass the sauce through a food mill, or leave it be if you want a rustic sauce. Will thicken more upon cooling. Tastes best after sitting overnight.

This recipe is easily halved or doubled.

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Categories: Food

Tagged: gluten free, paleo, recipe, sauce, tomato

Food and No Food

Posted on September 5, 2014

I love this time of year. The garden outperforms itself with tomatoes and green beans. I’ve been getting a couple of eggplants, dozens of cucumbers, and several handfuls of jalapenos. Even the endive has held on. Enough food, in short, to make me love summer.

In related food matters, I went to the allergist for some help with my recurring stomach troubles and consequent migraines. I tested as allergic to tree, grass, and weed pollen, and the allergist says I have oral allergy syndrome. Eating certain foods triggers an allergic reaction because the food protein is so similar to the pollen protein that my immune system thinks it IS pollen and reacts accordingly. In my case, GI trouble.

I’m pretty sure it’s a huge cosmic joke. The foods in question: Tomatoes, peppers, avocados, artichokes, cucumbers, zucchini, endive, and a whole host of fruit. In short, the foods I eat the most (minus the fruit, of course). It sure is something to have a garden full of food you can’t eat.

Me? I’m pinning my hopes on the broccoli. It’s going gangbusters. Still no heads yet, but i have faith that we might get some “early” broccoli (these plants were supposed to give us a spring harvest, but they were nibbled to nubbins). I put in a few seeds for late broccoli too, and have reduced the incidences of rabbit invasion by securing our gate a bit better. Maybe all this will come to something. And in the meantime, I’ll eat my way through the 6 lbs. of green beans I picked this week and beg Seth to bring home more kale, cabbage, and cauliflower. Mm mmm.

Categories: Garden News, Harvest Time

Tagged: allergies, allergy

This weekend at the farm: Late summer planting and harvesting

Posted on August 18, 2014

I woke up feeling good on Saturday morning, and expecting my brother Nick for the evening. What do you do right before your house guest arrives, when you unexpectedly don’t have a migraine? Because my answer was, “go to the farm to plant broccoli seedlings and harvest curcurbits.” This was instead of my more typical, “scrub the toilet and sweep the cat hair out of the living room.”

I joined Seth’s crew, along with a volunteer, an intern, and two work-for-shares. The process goes something like this: Use the tractor to form beds, then use the dibbler to dibble holes in the ground. Fertilize your seedlings by submerging them in fish fertilizer (not pictured because it looks as bad as it smells) then lay out a seedling at every hole you want planted. Plant the seedlings up to their first sets of leaves. Walk away like a champ.

The farmer’s wife’s supposed to set a good example, right? That’s what I kept telling myself as I hustled. And let me tell you, Seth knows how to get his wife moving. “All the way back there?” he says to me, eyes twinkling, as he’s planting seedlings at the speed of light. I lag by about half a dozen holes. My fingers don’t have quite the single motion of his: dig, push in plant, pinch dirt closed. Of course no one else was affected by Seth’s gentle ribbing. Guess that’s my competitive side coming out.

These broccoli plants will produce right around the start of November. Stearns already has more mature broccolis in another location for an earlier harvest — probably towards the middle of next month. This way, they can stretch their harvest over a longer period of time, which will be nice for people who love broccoli and can’t get enough. AKA me.

Once we were through with the broccoli, we spent our last hour before lunch harvesting and then washing squash, zucchini, and cucumbers. The farmers say that harvesting is an every day chore this time of the year, and I don’t blame them. Leave them on the vine overnight and it’s like each zucchini has an aspiration to become a 2×4. That there is 90 lbs. of cucumbers at the lovely, shady washing station.

My brother joined us on the farm for lunch, and then the two of us headed home for the afternoon, while Seth stayed to weed strawberries with the farm manager. Later, we took the dog to the river. Equally as enjoyable for everyone but the dog, who couldn’t understand why we weren’t spending the entire day outside as usual.

Categories: Harvest Time, The Work Farm

Downsizing and current events

Posted on August 15, 2014

It would be untrue to say that we’re downsizing because we’re affected by the news lately: Robin Williams committed suicide. Lauren Bacall died. The people of Ferguson, MO are protesting the police murdering a young man, and the police are reacting with a disproportionate, terrifying, unsurprising amount of force.

And yet.

Somehow, these things are related in my brain. Somehow, living smaller seems to me a way of being kind to our neighbors, caring more for other people than ourselves. I know that’s not the panacea to depression, death, racism and violence. But it feels like a start to me. It feels like we’re saying, “I notice I’m not the only one here. I notice you.”

We’ve spent the last two weeks downsizing. Seth, that wonderful man, has embraced reducing our stuff. This is HUGE. I mean, I’d be happy with a fry pan, a good chef’s knife, my kindle and knitting needles. I’d sit on the floor in an apartment with blank walls, and that would be perfect. Seth on the other hand needs a bit more to feel at home. And that’s fine.

It’s a constant source of discussion for us thanks to my attempts to trick Seth into getting rid of our furniture. And over the last two weeks, as we’ve been finalizing the details of our little house on wheels, Seth has jumped in. So I spend my weekends posting items on Craigslist a few things at a time so that we’re not overwhelmed. And we come together in the evenings to sell items and strategize. It’s working for us. It’s slow, but humans move at a slow pace. Give me humanity any day.

Categories: Little House

Rustic summer jam tart

Posted on August 4, 2014

I’m not a dessert person. With all things sweet or starchy off the menu, dessert becomes repetitive (another tomato, anyone?), so I don’t bother. If Seth is craving something sweet, he’ll eat a bowl of ice cream, or snag a handful of blueberries, or a slice of gluten-free bread with jam on it. But every so often, we decide to go all out and make a treat for our friends and neighbors.

The first time I made this easy tart, I cooked up a strawberry-mulberry jam and spread it straight from the pan onto the tart crust. It was a farm lunch hit. Our friends bombarded me with praise as they pulled on their hats and headed back out into the field. “I was almost licking the pan,” one friend said, “There was no butter in it?! It was so good!” If I don’t have homemade jelly on hand, I sub in Bonne Maman, which is Seth’s favorite, and gets the same rave reviews.

I like this dessert recipe because it showcases seasonal fruit, comes together quickly with ingredients I usually have on hand, and by all accounts tastes amazing. This particular recipe is gluten free and dairy free, but it’s not hard to adjust to your preferences.

Rustic summer jam tart

1.5 C. Pamela’s gluten-free bread mix
1 T. molasses
2 T. maple syrup
6 T. coconut oil, melted
1/4 C. ice water
about 1/3 C. of jam or jelly of your choice
1/3 to 1/2 C. of slivered almonds and walnuts

Turn on oven to 350ºF. In a large bowl, combine the bread mix, molasses, maple syrup, and coconut oil. The mixture should resemble coarse sand. Add the ice water a little at a time to the flour mixture until it forms a dough ball. You may not need the entire 1/4 C. of water.

Press the ball of dough into a tart pan or pie plate. Your crust should be between 1/8″ and 1/4″ thick. Prick the crust all over with a fork and then put into heated oven for 12-16 minutes.

Remove the crust from the oven, spread the jelly over the crust, and sprinkle with chopped nuts.

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Please note: I linked to certain items in this blog post, but they are not affiliate links and I received nothing in return for sending a little traffic their way. It just so happens that I like these products, and I figured you might like to see their product packaging in case you want to head out and buy them yourself.

Categories: Food

Tagged: jelly, recipe, tart