How Does Our Garden Grow?

Our property is ideally suited for seed production. Ten acres in total, it is heavily treed - conifers rim the entire property, there's a two-acre wood at the back and trees & shrubs dot the remaining acreage. This has enabled us to create a dozen seed-beds scattered about the place. Tucked in amongst the trees, shrubs and wildflowers, they enable the isolation of seed varieties from each other so as to keep them from cross-pollinating. This has worked well for us for a number of years, but as our need for larger quantities of seed has increased, we've run out of pockets to plant. We love and honour the trees but they do make it a challenge to find enough large, full sun space.

Some of our raised seed beds with the perennial herb garden in the background. 

Our Elfin Glade – a carpet of ferns flourishes beneath the protective canopy of the trees. (I'm quite sure this is where the faeries live.)

What to do? Use someone else's land! The opportunity came up this year to lease two acres of the neighbouring farm. Unused except for grazing for the last 40 years, it was able to be certified organic and positions us to be able to produce much more of our own seed. And, boy, does it have sun! With hardly a tree in sight, it is a stark contrast to our little bio-diverse nature sanctuary, but the space is much appreciated. 

Into the Woods - The gate we made to join the two properties runs through our two-acre woods. This is looking into it from the neighbouring farm.

We're using it this year to grow tomato and bean crops, interspersed with lots of other veggies for our own home use. Squash and sunflowers are being planted to distract pollinators with their large, beautiful flowers. 

The east end of the main garden next door – it's 500 ft. long. We've installed trellises for our tomato plants around the perimeter; beans are planted down the middle. This is the first time we've tried trellising our tomatoes - usually we just let them grow. We're interested in observing any differences in productivity and plant health. Note the mud – like our land, this field has a high water table and the recent heavy rains have had a significant impact. Dan keeps trenching it but it makes for tough slogging to work in it right now.

We hope that the combination of the two properties will meet our seed-production needs for the foreseeable future!

 

  

In the Midst of Winter, How Does Your Garden Grow?

“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.”

- Albert Camus

I’m staring at a stick, poking up from a foot of snow. I think it used to hold ground cherries. Now it’s bare and stripped. This is the first time I’ve pulled my boots on, bundled up and headed out into the backyard to see what toll the raging winter has taken on my first garden.

I can make out the brief outline of the garden beds I painfully built last summer. Now they hold a delightful box of snow and dirt. “At least those walls held up,” I think.

It is bittersweet to look upon the garden. Part of me is filled with hope and potential. New season, new varieties to choose and new bounty to collect. “I’d love to grow Achocha this summer. I’ll stuff them with cheese.” Another part of me is melancholic. A muscle memory stirs - both figuratively and literally, cause I moved an awful lot of bricks to build these beds. But I created this garden with my husband, from whom I am now separated. Our house - our garden - is now on the real estate market. The thaw is coming, but I haven’t decided where I’m going. Will I have some green space come summer?

I laugh a little, thinking about my new garden and what I might grow. What would be appropriate for this transitory time in my life? “Lazy Housewife Bean,” I snort to myself. “Love Lies Bleeding, Moneymaker Tomato, Double Standard Corn, Red Self-Heal and Heartsease.”

I walk back to my sliding glass door to return to the warmth. My cat Rogue is ready to make a break for it as I put my hand on the door handle. “It’s spring,” she must be thinking, “let me out! I’ve been cooped up in here with you all winter!”

The next day, I’m telling my mother over a farmer’s lunch of pickled eggs and stew about my proposed garden plans. Her eyes narrow slightly - something she does when she’s choosing her words carefully - and she half-smiles. “That’s a bit of a cynical garden, don’t you think?” I teasingly ask if she had a better idea. “Cupid’s Dart. Love-in-a-Mist.” she shoots back. Point taken, Mum. Dad pipes in now. He’s jazzed and thinks we should make a new collection. “What, like the The Single Girl’s Garden Collection?” He’s chasing this idea now and wonders how to make it. “It’ll be great,” I say, egging him on. “I mean, each packet only needs one or two seeds, right? You’re only cooking for one.” He laughs, but then stops to honestly consider it. “Not happening.” Mum says, putting a much needed period at the end of all this tomfoolery.

But the conversation gets me thinking. Just like in The Secret Garden, all I want is a little bit of earth to plant a seed and watch it grow (I’m definitely singing this song in my head right now as I type this). A touch saccarine, maybe even cliche, but the thought of planning my next garden - wherever it will be - is an exciting one. I am looking forward to Celeriac Soup, with ingredients from my own green space like Evergreen Bunching Onions and Purple Top White Globe Turnips. And you know what? Forget the Forget-Me-Nots. Because gardening can be my therapy - along with wine, coffee and chocolate. So in the midst of all my Aunt Molly’s Ground Cherries, I’ll sneak in a Sweet Chocolate Pepper.


- Rachel

I'd Hack That!

I'm a food hacker. I love to take a dish and find out how I can hack it into healthfulness.  With the myriad of diseases and food "sensitivities" (which sounds so delicate, but we all know what ugly terror these little sensitivities bring) that are plaguing us humans, we've all been forced to get a little creative with our dinners. The other night, I successfully (read: didn't burn it, totally ate it) hacked a Shepherd's Pie - I substituted the ground beef for mushrooms and edamame and changed the mashed potatoes to mashed cauliflower and turnip. It was delicious! I honestly believe you don't have to "miss" anything when you change the way you eat. Any favourite recipe can be hacked. I've included some of my favourite recipes that I've collected from our Pinterest board that offer a different take on a classic dish.

Spinach Burgers 
(or Spurgers, maybe...? No? Come on...)

Source: thevillagecook.com via The Cottage Gardener on Pinterest

Let's be honest. I like me a good ol' fashioned burger. I'm pretty sure the folks down at Five Guys Burgers know me by toppings "No onion? Extra mushrooms? Welcome again, my friend."  But there is only so much I can take before the chronic meat sweats kick in. That's why I love these Spurgers. Yes, I will keep using that term until you use it too. 

Spaghetti Squash Boats with Meatballs 
(or "Cheatballs", using Quinoa or Veggie Ground Round)

Source: alaskafromscratch.com via The Cottage Gardener on Pinterest

Where I grew up, there was a stream that ran the length of the street where our home was located. Every spring, when it thawed, my family had the Annual Spaghetti Boat Run. My brother and I would take hollowed out spaghetti squash halves and create our own unique boat, complete with masts and flags, and stick-person crew. Then we would put them in the water and race them to the bottom of the hill.  Winner got bragging rights.  You, too, can get bragging rights by making this dish. 

Oven Baked Zucchini Fries 
(with Heirloom Tomato Ketchup!)

Source: bakenoir.com via The Cottage Gardener on Pinterest

These are AMAZING. They taste kinda buttery, too, and if you add Parmesan cheese, then they taste buttery AND cheesy. You can't lose. If I wanted to be SUPER healthy, I would serve these with my Spurgers. 

Cauliflower & Turnip Mashed Fauxtatoes 
(It sure BEETS the original. That's one for all you veggie lovers out there. I'm here all night.)

Source: kitchenparade.com via The Cottage Gardener on Pinterest

I make this all the time. Sometimes, if I'm feeling fancy, I'll add a beet so that they turn this awesome pinky colour which is really attention-getting, especially for a dinner party where you want your friends to be impressed and jealous of your mad kitchen skills. 

Want more? ------>   

The Cottage Gardener is now certified as a Bee Friendly Farm!

The Cottage Gardener is now certified as a Bee Friendly Farm!

Why did we decide to take this step? We've always grown organically and encouraged bees and other pollinators to visit our gardens. But we've noticed over the last few years that we are seeing fewer and fewer bees - both honeybees and bumblebees - visiting our crops and gardens. Upon doing a bit of investigation, we've discovered that all pollinators (and there are over 1000 species of pollinators in Canada!) are under serious threat. They're losing their natural habitats and their food sources due to increasing urbanization, industrial farming, monoculture and the increasing reliance on pesticides and herbicides. Bees are responsible for pollinating a large percentage of our food crops, so a loss for the bees is also a dangerous loss for us.

The Bee Friendly Farming initiative is designed to draw attention to the plight of our pollinators and encourage people to provide supportive habitats for bees and other pollinators. It's not difficult - there are many simple steps you can take to make your own garden more bee-friendly. I found it interesting that, for example, single-bloom flowers are better than double-bloomed ones and that bees' favourite flower colours are white, yellow and blue. Heirloom and native plants are particularly appropriate for pollinator plantings because of their flowers' simplicity, fragrance and - believe it or not - their pollen. Yes, modern breeders are starting to produce pollen-less flowers! Don't go there. Also be sure to have plants that flower in all three major seasons so that the bees have a constant source of food. Leaving parts of your land undisturbed encourages native bees as the vast majority are ground nesters.

Want to find out more? Visit Pollination Canada's site at http://www.pollinationcanada.ca/  for some great resource information.

Plant Profile: Ground Cherry

"Aunt Molly's Ground Cherries"

The first frosts of the season have arrived, the last of the seed crops have been pulled and are currently drying in the greenhouse and our ground cherries have finally succumbed to the cold. How I'll miss my daily forays out to them, peering under each plant for the fallen, ripe fruit nestled in the straw. Ground cherries have to be one of my favourite plants in the whole gardening world! What's not to love about a plant that's easy to grow, is largely disease-and-pest-free, produces prodigious quantities of incredibly tasty fruit and takes all the guesswork out of when to harvest?

Yet, more often than not, I'm met with blank stares when I offer it up to others. “What's that?” they ask suspiciously. Well, I tell them - it tastes really good; don't eat the husk; it's kind of like a tomato but not; try it – you'll like it! And they invariably do.

The ground cherry, also known as a husk tomato or cape gooseberry, is actually a relative of the tomato. Native to the eastern U.S., it has been cultivated in North America since the 17th C and was a staple in the cuisine of the Pennsylvania Dutch, who used them in soups, pies and preserves. I have never baked with them, as I like them much too much fresh from the garden. The tiny little 1/2” fruits have a solid flesh and are incredibly sweet. Each fruit develops inside a papery husk that turns brown as the fruit ripens. Because it's protected by the husk, the fruit is largely blemish-free and, once harvested, will store for several weeks inside the husk so don't remove it until you're ready to eat. The fruit has another unique characteristic: when it's ripe, it falls off the plant and onto the ground (hence the name). Harvesting is so easy – each day, I make the rounds of my plants and search under them for the fallen fruit. I find it's best to lay a solid layer of straw under and around the plants; that way, the fruits don't land on the ground and get dirty.

Ground cherries are prolific producers: 1 – 2 plants should suffice a family. The only real maintenance they require, I've found, is to watch for potato beetles. These insects like all members of the Solanaceae family and ground cherries are no exception. In early summer, they'll lay their eggs on the underside of the leaves and the hatched larvae proceed to feed on the leaves voraciously. However, I've found that a daily inspection of the plants for a couple of weeks will break the cycle. I turn over each leaf and remove those I find with either eggs or larvae. I then drop the leaves on the ground and grind them into the ground (I wear rubber boots for this, being the squeamish sort). The effort is worth it - once the cycle is broken, I find no other problems with the plants; they basically take care of themselves. Ours did well this summer despite a severe drought and were still producing loads of fruit until the hard frosts.

These plants are sprawlers, growing to 2' and spreading to 4', so give them a bit of room. They don't need staking, preferring to spread out over the ground. They like full sun. Like tomatoes, they need to be started from seed indoors 4-6 weeks before the last frost. They're not frost-tolerant, so transplant them outdoors after all danger of frost is over. 'Aunt Molly's', the variety we offer, has orange-yellow fruits and has a taste reminiscent of tangerines. It's renowned for its flavour and productivity!

Nature vs. Nurture, or "Back off, bunny. Get your own garden."

When I first moved out to the 'burbs, I was so excited to finally have some green space! I was even more excited to discover a little baby bunny living underneath our deck – I fed it carrots and lettuce. And then there were these adorable squirrels and chipmunks! Such delightful creatures – I fed them cashews and sunflower seeds. One night, I looked out my dining room window to see a fat raccoon sauntering down the sidewalk without a care in the world. “Keep on keeping on, little scrounger,” I thought with a smile.

How naive I was.

I see these woodland creatures differently now. They are mini mongrels, set to eat my Orach and steal my squashes while I sleep.

At first, I noticed dig marks in my freshly seeded beds. Then I noticed that my turnip greens looked nibbled on. But the final straw came when I noticed deep gashes in the skin of my baby Delicata squash. That's too far. You do not get in the way of a woman and her winter squashes.

The first thing I tried was to put up barriers. I collected sticks and branches and laid them over top of my containers to try to deter the dirty little culprits. Surprisingly, this was somewhat successful. It kept the raccoons at bay long enough for the little seeds to germinate and stand on their own. For the starter plants I had (pepper and ground cherry), I put tomato cages over the small plants.

But the dig marks in the raised beds were more tricky. I had heard that bone meal was a good deterrent, because it made the ground smell like death to the animal nose and, naturally, that's not very appetizing. I generously tossed the bone meal into my gardens. I was happy to discover that it did not smell like death to the human nose. It seemed effective for about a week. But once my squashes in particular started to bear fruit, it was too tempting to the raccoons and bunnies and other little nibblers. They braved the stench of death and carried forth to scratch up my squashes.

Finally, I acquired some row cover – a thin, breathable, opaque covering that basically acts is a blanket for my gardens. Bonus points: it raises the temperature of my raised beds by a couple of degree, says Dad, so my late season plantings have a bit more time to cook.

So far, using the row cover has been the most effective way for dealing with my hungry late-night visitors. It's my own fault, to a degree. I encouraged these little beasts, with my sweet voice and delicious vegetable choices (because as we all know, heirlooms taste a gazillion times better than any of the hybrid, grocery-store veggie fare).

Hopefully the woodland creatures and I can share this green space peacefully... as long as they leave my squashes alone.

The Best Laid Plans... Require My Mother (Reflections from a First Time Gardener)

 

Growing up, I would sometimes join my parents at their seed shows to help out. I figured I’d do some cash sales, hang out with the folks, maybe they’ll buy me a hamburger later - you know, easy peasy!  After my first jam-packed Guelph Organic Conference, I knew this wasn’t gonna be easy. I was being asked questions, like “What was this?” and “How do I grow this?” and “Why don’t you know what zone this is appropriate for?” I would stare back at the inquisitive soul, smiling, completely at a loss for words. Sure, if asked, I could sing the entire score of The Phantom of the Opera on the spot to this gardening aficionado , but tell them which tomato is good for making sauce? Oh heavens no. You need to ask my mom. So to assist our customers best, I made myself a name tag that said, “I’m friendly but useless. Ask my mother.”

Fast forward to this year, and I’ve officially joined my parents at The Cottage Gardener handling a lot of administration and customer relations. Slowly but surely, I am learning about dirt and all the wonderful things you can do with it. And with the new house I had just purchased with my new husband, I knew what I had to do: build my first garden .I surveyed my yard. Typical, suburban greenery. Easy, right?

I made my garden plan and proudly showed it to  my mother. She looked at my plan: squash, herbs, tomatoes, ground cherries, and peppers. She paused. "Can I dig now?" I asked her, impatiently. She smiled - uh oh - and began to explain the litany of things I needed to consider. What is my soil quality? (Cement-like) How much sun do I get? (6 hours - a good thing) How far apart was I going to plant things? (I needed more room) What tools do I already have? (Tools, you say?). 

I redid my garden plan. Four raised-bed 4x6 gardens, plus some containers for last minute things I just couldn’t resist growing. To fix my soil, I carted home bins full of compost dirt from my parent’s house every night after work. I made a detailed shopping list for these "tools" she spoke of and on a Friday in May, my husband and I trekked off to Canadian Tire - plan in hand. There we stood in the Gardening section, amidst all the tools and gnomes and decorative pots. The pressure was on. I had to make some snap decisions in Aisle 12. After living in a box in the sky in downtown Toronto for many years, I was ill-equipped to navigate this enticing but confusing section of the store.


For example:

1) Question: Do we get a wheelbarrow?  

Considerations: My husband wanted it.
The Final Decision: I said no. “Our yard is so small, and the wheelbarrow is so expensive!”    

The Repercussions: The grueling task of carrying load after load of discarded weeds across our yard in a old laundry hamper.

2) Question: Which of these pole-like tools should we get?  
Considerations: I’m very short.
The Final Decision: Purchase the tiniest shovel in the world. “I’m tiny and this shovel is tiny and it’s so cute!” I say.
The Repercussions: After several hours of digging up the raised beds, I look to the sky and cry, “Why why why did I pick the tiniest freakin’ shovel in the world?! This is so hard!” Painful regret. Even a tiny person needs a big shovel in this world.

3) Question: We need to till the garden. Should we get the The Garden Claw?
Considerations:  “I’ve seen this on TV!”, I say with excitement. “It looks amazing!”
The Final Decision: Made for TV means made for me!
The Repercussions: It was too tall for me to use. In fact, I would shove it in the ground and then could do acrobatic balancing work on it because that thing was NOT gonna move. Oh yes, it’s all fun and acrobatics until someone breaks The Garden Claw.  Which I did, trying to be funny.  

And outside we went, our loot in tow. After three hours of exhausting work just harrowing the garden, we took an omelette break. Back to it. Three more hours. It was getting late and the sun was waning. I stood up to assess our work and a furrow came across my brow. With a whimper, I dropped to my knees and dug my hands into the dirt and looked up at my husband with glassy eyes, “Isn’t this supposed to look like dirt? How the hell are we supposed to turn this grassy mess into nice brown dirt? This should look like dirt. This isn’t dirt.”

After a moment, I knew what to do. I took a picture of our gardens so far and sent it to Mom.  “Is this right?” I texted her. “Yes! Everything looks good! You did it!” she texted back. I smiled, relaxed, and looked upon our gardens with satisfaction. See? I just had to ask my Mom.