I'm getting out there again. . .

I'm getting back out there again.

I'm late. Later is better than never, right?

That's hip, right?

 I decided to go with some heirloom organics. . I guess that's still hip. . .

Imagine this:

• Black Krim Tomatoes
• Amish Romas
• Purple and read carrots
• Sweet potatoes

I'm gonna grow. It's important to grow a little bit of something.  There's so much knowledge in growing. Got to keep growing. . . 

It's not an original idea, but an idea that never dies. . .self-determination, cooperation. . . . 

Easter seeds sown?

I was kneeling in the raised bed. Grains of soil and worms in my hand... I took a breath. I heard the neighbors...kids crying, music from cars bumping the bass. I took a breath. This is spring.

Today, I planted lettuce, basil and beans.

I was looking for my seeds before I started. Where else could they be except in the overalls that I never wash. I never wash them, because there might be seeds in the pockets. Seeds, gloves, markers....

I've got scrapes on my arms from tangling with the raspberry canes. This ought to be a good summer for berries.

Maybe I really will have a garden party this year. 

Well, a farm party! A hip urban farm gathering.

It's coming along nicely. And that, folks, is hip!

I quit!

That's right I said it!  I quit!

Well. .. no. .  . not really. . . 

Pardon me as I rant about about quitting. I guess I'm soft.  I never said I was hardened. No not at all. I'm tired.

By the way this is one more thing that you won't heart an urban farmer say.
why? you ask.  You're my hero HUF! You can't quit! The seed catalog just came in.

Yes, I know, I know. And I hate to disappoint, but I know my limits. Well maybe I should say I know my disappointments.  For ten years I've been doing this urban farming thing and well. . . let me tell you something. I have as yet to really make this farm work.

What? What are you saying HUF?

I'm saying that I'm not like a lot of urban farmers,you know I'm. . . I'm . . . well I'm hip!


To be a hip urban farmer means that I aspire to grow all the food I can eat.  Hip means that I wear my cell phone on my hip in my field. Hip means that if something dies, I just keep trying until it works.

I know, this is nonsense, you say.  It's no reason to quit.  Have a little faith.  You can grow what you can.  Where are those words of inspiration, you say.  

HA!

Neat!

I wish my garden was neat like the squares on the paper where I plan my garden.  Four lettuce plants in this square foot; 16 carrots in a square foot for fun; lots of beans and a few tomato plants.

This winter it has not really snowed; knock on wood!  This gives me an opportunity to do some easy winter gardening.  I've been thinking about it, pondering, planning.  I think I might be getting serious, though, because I just thought about what kind of clothes or overalls I need to garden in the winter.

I thought the be beds were sleeping. . . .

Maybe, but I'm thinking it might be hip to wake them up.

Reaping what has been sown

Last winter, I decided to sow beans, because I was thinking that bean soup would be a good staple to have in the house. I also heard that rutabaga would be excellent in the soup.

And so here are my beans.

I started my tomato seeds having little faith after such a harsh winter. I was slowly going deeper into the tunnel of darkness as far as the climate was and is concerned. I'm still not  so certain. Last week's water issue also makes me think things are bleak for those of us on the planet.

 

Those tomato seeds didn't even make it to the dirt outside. After one hardening off session, those babies just curled up and died. 

And then I heard a book review on the radio, where the author basically argued that the garden to plate movement would not save the planet.   I was resigned to give up. 

And then some things happened....

A friend dropped by with tomato plants.

A co worker had some extra plants and wanted to know if I had room for them.

And then I went outside.... There were potato plants growing and dill and cilantro. Volunteers.

I planted the tomatoes, the pepper plants, the lettuce, a cucumber plant and watered the potatoes. I noticed that the strawberry patch was thriving.

I went to the farmers' market and picked up some basil.

And  then  I opened my seeds and planted the beans and rutabaga. Why not?

So this winter, if SNOWMAGGEDEN arrives once more, I'll at least have bean soup.

The Yuky part of the compost

Where've you been? Have you given up on gardening?

I bet you might been wondering. 

Well, this whole climate change-global warming has got me down in the depth of the nasty compost. I've been pondering the possibilities that my planting zone will change numbers. And that just isn't hip.

I've been trying to figure out how to stay inspired.  In January when we the abominable snow dude came to visit, I took out my seed catalog and started thinking about planting things I wished that I had right then to eat.

Imagine my surprise when my seeds came in this spring : Rutabaga? Hutterite beans?

Well, I heard somewhere that rutabaga made a good base for bean soup

It didn't seem too hip in the spring to look at these seeds, but I was thinking about the long stretch and the next possible visit by the abominable snow dude, his spouse and children.  Sigh! 

Just let that set in for a minute. The whole family of abominable snow people next year! 

Yeah.

It's enough to make you want to sell the farm and move to Hawaii. How hip would that be?

So, I've been on a journey through the dark part of the compost, right in the places before it turns to that black gold we love to incorporate into our soil. This is the yuky stuff.

So I've been focused on another principle of hip urban farming...

Making your own!

I've been sewing, knitting, making lotion, dishwasher  soap.

I've also been telling myself stories to keep me trudging through all the yuky stages of compost creation.  Yep! New stories to live by that explain how I got to this yuky place and how I can get out of it.

Storytelling is something hip that you can do on a dark night. Retell an old story in a new way, where you are the shero/ hero. I mean you are the main character of your life.

So I write a story or two and then I put some plants in the ground, make my own clothes, socks, lotion and then go water the crops. Sooner or later this is all gonna be black gold and I'll pour some compost tea on the crops.

Truly, that will be hip.

Get down on your knees....

Oh me of little faith....

This year has been rough for the hip urban farmer. I'm posting on Facebook about environmental apocalypse, I've killed some seedlings, and dare I say it ... I bought some tomato plants.

So today was my first real day out on the farm. I've been procrastinating, though I did throw some lettuce seeds in the ground earlier. Those lettuce plants are doing well.

I kept bending over and complaining.....ugh I'm too fat....man it's hot out here.....how did I do this last year.....

Yep. It wasn't hip at all. And then the thought came. Get down on your knees! Get in the dirt. Take your time and be present. Nothing matters but this moment.

I still was thinking ugh I'm too fat....man it's hot out here.....how did I do this last year.....but I made progress. The farm looks better. Not great, but better. Never would've made it, if I hadn't got down on my knees....in the dirtiness my overalls.

 

Yep, that was hip.

Invasive plants and learning to be ruthless.

Invasive plants. Sometimes, I have choose  them, because they have properties I like. I always think I can contain them, but they require a vigilance that only Mother Nature can provide. Their roots contained are always pushing the container to the breaking point. And if they can't break it, they just  take a toe, or a foot, or hand and squeeze themselves out just enough to make contact. And then before I  know it they have rooted in places and taken over. They strangle anything else I was hoping to grow. And the only way to get rid of them is to rip them out of the ground.  I might want to scorch the earth they walked upon, because being anything less than ruthless with an invasive plant  leads me back to facing their rudeness, their greediness, their ability to take up the ground where I might grow some other plant that also has properties I admire or need. 

Mint is an invasive plant. I love the cool fresh smell of it and the ability to make tea with it. And I refuse to be nice to it any more. I rip it out and plant in its place something else. I hope to give that new plant a head start on the mint, though the little feet of the mint may have remained. I pluck it out at every opportunity, because the new plants can't grow in its place. Without such ruthlessness, no other plant can grow. Mint is a rude, invasive and pushy herb. It wants it's way, which to me is to take over my garden. Nothing else will grow if mint has it's way. It knows no other way.  

There are many invasive plants. I have had success in training some to their space, by ripping them out of the area of another plant. Always, I must be ruthless in pruning invasive plants. They are indifferent to nice. They think everything belongs to them. And I remind them that on this little patch of ground, they shall keep their phalanges to themselves or be ripped out again and again and again. I show no mercy, because keeping them out of mercy or niceness shows them hope of invasion. And honestly, I need space for other plants to grow.

Trust Yourself? Why not?

I've learned a few things from being on the farm.  For example, Basil.

Basil is a fantastic herb.  I usually plant it from seed, because I think that is the hip thing to do.  After careful observation and experience, I have been able to discern the true leaves, not just that first set that grows.  Inexperienced hip urban farmers, might think,  Oh wow, Basil! Not yet grasshopper.

 And once those true leaves start to sprout, that's when you can try a little spritz of fertilizer.  And then I watch it grow; I wait to see what it's going to do after I've done my part. Hopefully, that little basil plant will really stretch itself toward the grow light and get too big for the indoor greenhouse.

 And you might think, Oh wow! I can plant this in the ground now.  Nope!  Not yet, little one.  


 Now is the time I show that plant the real light- the SUN and the outdoors. . . but only a little at a time.  this process is called hardening off.  This makes those seedlings strong.  I'm not gonna be out there to protect that plant from the bugs and microbes and whatever else Mother Nature brings once I plant it in the dirt. These seedlings must learn to get tough for the big bad and good microbial world.

 And then, once this is done and after careful observation, I just gotta decide to let those seedlings get their little feet or roots in the soil and play with the big boys.

But how do I know if they will be okay, you ask.  

Well, maybe they will, maybe they won't.  I do trust in my experience- years of observing seedlings and learning from my mistakes.  And in addition, I read, read, read about growing basil  and any other plant I want to grow.  I learn what that seedling will need.  And I trust in my ability to learn, change and adapt.

So go on . . . Trust yourself. Learn, Change, Adapt.  It is the hip thing to do.

Planting New seeds for a Hip New Year

Who's received their seed catalog?

I have and I bet you have too.

This year has been the coldest winter ever !  Somebody thinks that is really hip!  It might be.  The way I see it is like this:  If it's really cold then the bugs in the summer will be smaller. Preferably, less mosquitoes. Don't quote me on this one, because I didn't research it as fact. I'm just intuiting.

Anyway,

I've decided that I have to grow those red carrots this coming spring. Ok, so they are called Purple Dragon Carrots.  Anybody who knows me knows I love purple and all the glorious shades of purple.  It's my thing, but you do what you want to do.

And you know that is hip!

Winter on the urban farm

I shoveled. Yesterday and today, I shoveled. 

There hasn't been this much snow outside since I lived in that small town in the tip of urban Appalachia. I think I must have been about 9 years old. I liked being in the snow then. I played in the snow then. Today, I shoveled out of necessity.

It was quiet and there were birds chirping and the squirrels were making this clicking noise. I was thinking about the peace I could have out in the snowy quiet. But as I pulled out the snow blower, I mumbled a few curse words that my brother says no God-fearing person should say.

I thought about how the snow used to get shoveled with my ex husband who hated shoveling more than I did, but it is so much easier to move the snow now.  I thought about my father and how he wired up the house so the snow wouldn't sit on the roof of the house as I reached my shovel up to the garage roof and moved the snow that was hanging there.

I was thinking about being woman and embodying my dream of self-reliance on my own piece of property. It's okay to ask for help, but for this . . . Nah. That just wouldn't be hip.

I shoveled. I blew the snow in the alley into piles between the garages. I was thinking how cool it would be if everyone shoveled their part of the alley, so no one would get stuck in the snow as I have so many times before.

I didn't even bother to move the car today even though I  thought about it.  I thought about going out and then decided to wait.  I've been outside on the farm more in the last two days than I have most of the spring and summer. And I thought about what it might be like to start a seed or two or four in a greenhouse on the farm. I smiled to myself. . . That would be a hip urban farm thing to do.

Seeds are not meant to stay in the earth.

There's that bursting through the ground that seedlings do.  I find it so miraculous to see. It is similar to a child breaking the protective barriers of childhood. It is a time when the seedlings break through the earth to become plants.

No longer needing the cover of darkness and warmth inside Mother Earth, now they need the sun. The outside world has much to give the seedling, but they need the right conditions to make them strong and harden them off without killing them or giving them a fungus that will kill them.

The seeds sown in the earth grow from the warmth and darkness of the earth to become strong enough to create their own gifts and give them to the world. Mother earth does not cry with this separation or individuation. It is the cycle of life.

The lesson in this? Let go enough to let your seed become strong in who they are.  What you will realize is that as they give their gifts to the world they may return with seeds of their own. And the cycle will continue.

A seed is not meant to stay only in the earth. If it does, it will shrivel and die.

And that my friends, is not hip at all.

 

It's not spring any more

No, it's not spring any more. It's winter and I took a break from writing and had a hip sabbatical. And now, I think I'm back!

But worry not fellow hip urban farmers, I have more hip urban farmer inspirations. Just in time for the season where it is so cold that we snuggle up in blankets with our seed catalogs and dream about the next harvest to come. For now, enjoy the holiday feasts. 

This week on the urban farm. . .

I love this time of year. It's so full of potential. What could every urban area look like if we changed how we think and feel! Beauty could be everywhere!

So out on the farm. . .

I was out in the fields of raised beds this morning. Got my pitchfork out.

 Oh my beloved pitchfork! Tines piercing the ground, push and lift and turn over the dirt. 

Yeah. I love that pitch fork.

Also talked to the seedlings today. Told 'em they don't know nothin' about the outside, but it's time to learn. Those seedlings shivered in the sun on the deck, while I mowed the lawn. Yep, time to get them hardened off. They gotta get strong!

Ah, so much work to do on the farm. . . . .


Yeah, it is hip.

It's an intense crop

Why I can only be a hip urban farmer. .

I'm way to attached to every plant. And that's it.

Who's been in the dirt?

Finally, I have a day off and I won't waste it, I think. Do I go to the gym or to the hardware store?

That old bookcase raised bed finally died. No time to mourn its frugal loss. If I'm working I might as well allow myself the guilty pleasure of purchasing another raised bed.

Guilty pleasure indeed.

Ah, the gym, it's right near the hardware store. Do I jog for thirty minutes at the gym or do I go whole hog and get to the hardware store in my dirt encrusted overalls?

Hmmmmmmm. . . .

It is time to start the seeds!

As I look through the seed catalog this year, I just don't know what to grow. 
Once again, this is another thing that a conventional farmer would not say.

I should have a plan ready to go, but I don't. Remember how last year, I told you to get out that graph paper and plan where to put things?  Well it's still a good idea. And I just might follow it, but uh. . .

Winter activities. . . .

Make Your Own Grow Your Own
So while I've been waiting for Spring, I've been making my own.
Making my own what thou may ask?
Well winter season is knitting season for me. And what better thing to make than mittens.
Yep, I bet you're very smitten with the idea of a mitten.  No?
Well here's my first pair. . .