Growing on a Ledge

Every spring my husband, Chris, plants a garden, and every spring I give a little moan.  Thirteen years ago we fell in love with our home on a hill in Upton MA.  Each May, I watch as my husband kills himself turning the soil on this 5 acre ledge.

His excitement about the planting season is infectious.  He starts planning his seed selection as early as Christmas.  Of course, tomatoes are his love.  We debate how many plants to buy.  I think 10 are plenty, but we settle on 20 only to find  40 more on planting day.  One year he planted 80 tomato plants.  I thought he was going to blow an artery digging into the hardpan.  

Every year we kept prospecting for different garden locations: on the hillside, the front lawn, behind the house, behind the barn – the sheep ate all the tomatoes that year.

After many disappointing growing seasons, I suggested joining a CSA or community garden.   His reply would always be, “Why do we need to go somewhere else to garden”?  This answer would frustrate me, and only recently did I understand why.

 

We grew up watching our grandparents and our parents growing their gardens.  The saying, it’s in your blood, sort of holds true.  For Chris, his garden belongs in the backyard around family.  

I delivered my husband a blow when I announced, last fall, I wanted to build a riding arena in the spot where he planted his struggling garden.  "We're going to hit ledge", he said, as he tried to defend his anemic tomatoes.  As his anxiety mounted, I reassured him the arena was a practical use of the space, considering we have the horses.  So, we flattened the garden, took down some trees, and the arena was born.   Amazingly, we didn't hit ledge, what we did find was lots and lots of rocks. 

The piles of stone were put to good use, this spring, when Chris built a wall around the arena and back filled the edges with compost, making a terraced garden.  We planted Hubbard squash, zucchini, gourds, and nasturtium.  Near the barn we planted beans, cucumbers, tomatoes, and beets.

As the growing season draws to a close, I give a sigh of  relief, the garden was a success!  The combination of good compost and new found sunlight, made all the difference. Everything we planted produced like never before.  We had zucchini and cucumbers coming out of our ears. Except for Mr. Groundhog nibbling on the tomatoes, everything flourished.  Sometimes, success comes when you least expect it.  Even though we didn't plan combining the arena and garden, it turned out to be a win-win.  I guess you can have your cake and eat it too, or in our case, your cuke and eat it too.

Joy! :)

- Trish

Pippi's Fleece

I’m crazy about wool!   I love touching, feeling, and caressing its silkiness.  I even love the smell; the lanolin makes me feel more connected to the earth.  Growing up, I remember how special it was getting that new wool coat. 

My appreciation only grew when I started to spin wool.  Every breed creates its own 
unique fiber.  Some are short and springy, others are long and curly. 

Boarder Leicester wool


 Romney/Merino mix wool


Finnish Landrace wool

When I realized every wool spins a different yarn - no pun intended- I became a wool addict, scouring fiber festivals.   In every booth I saw fleeces waiting for me to make into beautiful and unique yarns.  Boarder Leicester and Romney sheep produce some of my favorite fibers, but to my surprise the best wool came from a ewe living right in my own backyard.

Pippi's fleece

We had an old soapstone sink left on our property.    Some of our friends were remodeling their farm house.  So we traded the sink for Pippi, a Finnish Landrace ewe.   I was happy to get rid of the sink and they were happy to get rid of their ewe.

If Mary's sheep was as white as snow, Pippi's fleece was as black as coal.   Sheep, like people, can grow old and gray, and with every passing year Pippi's fleece lighten into the beautiful soft shade of silver it is now.

Pippi on left in 2004  

Pippi in 2006

Pippi in 2012

I treasure Pippi's fleece every year.  I love spinning, knitting and weaving with it.
As I was putting some woolens in the cedar chest that no longer fit the children, I noticed the color change with every sweater and scarf, and smiled knowing that Pippi's fleece has helped mark the passage of time.

Nola Fournier's  book "In Sheep's Clothing"  is a great handbook of different breeds and wool characteristics.

- Trish

Who's eating my tomatoes?

From the moment we planted our tomatoes in the spring, we have been waiting for our first red, ripe delicious tomato, but someone has beaten us to them.

We suspect the culprit is a groundhog. We can't seem to catch him doing the actual crime, so we have reenacted the offense with a simulated groundhog.

Here is our simulated groundhog leaving his hole.

Here's our simulated groundhog attacking an innocent tomato.

Here's our simulated groundhog going out on a date.

Fortunately, he didn't get them all, and there's enough for everyone.

Here's our first summer tomato salad made with our own sweet tomatoes, cucumbers, and basil.

Recipe for tomato salad:

• 8-12 medium size tomatoes cut into bit size chunks
• 1 medium size cucumber sliced the way you like it
• 1 medium sweet onion sliced
• 2 cloves garlic minced
• 10 fresh picked leaves of basil torn into quarters
• 1 tbl. dried oregano
• drizzle a liberal amount of olive oil over the salad
• add salt and pepper to taste
• toss and serve with a crusty loaf of bread!

Enjoy!

- Chris