Harbingers

Spring is coming. It really is.

Ice crystals under the workable topsoil

Rhubarb!

Perennial garlic chives

Fresh Start

Mark finished the second gate and laid these gorgeous pavers in the entrances on either end of the garden. It feels like we're starting with a clean, organized canvas this year. Let's see how long it stays that way!

Microfarming and the New Markate Estates

Microfarming. You won’t find the term in Webster’s Dictionary just yet. But that’s exactly what we’ve been doing without knowing what to call it. It’s not like we coined the term, either. The blogosphere is awash in aspirational folks like ourselves, some coaxing out a little slice of agricultural heaven on much smaller parcels of land than our two acres. We’ve struggled for years to define what we do with our own little scrap of Earth for years; we’re more than gardeners, not quite farmers. Definitely permaculturists, but that term doesn’t resonate with a lot of people. So--”microfarmers” it is!

A full-time farmer friend of ours was the one to call our fledgling homestead a “microfarm.” (My heart fluttered a little that he thought us worthy of any name with “farmer” in it.) This was a watershed moment for us. Being human (for all intents and purposes) we adore classification. We’ve got to slap a label on something before we can wrap our brains around it. We knew we were onto something big with the long-term “more than just veggies” approach to gardening. Besides, the term “garden” conjures up images of Better Homes and Gardens, or of your Great-Aunt Rosie outside in a floppy hat, kneeling before her rosebushes on a little mat with a pair of shears in her neatly gloved hand. Our garden isn’t quite like that; it extends beyond the boundaries of the eight-foot-tall deer-proof fence, encompassing our entire yard, our sensibilities about what to eat, the most ethical place to buy it, and the ever-expanding boundaries of self-sustainability. We may move compost, dig holes, pinch grubs, and curse flea beetles, but I’ve always cringed at the notion that our little project is something as delicate and Victorian as a “garden.” On the other hand, it sure would be nice if our effort were as attractive as one of those.

Enter the microfarm, which is simply a tiny version of its much bigger predecessor. Microfarms exist in all settings, rural or urban, in zones 3-10 and beyond. A microfarm emulates the techniques of larger operations on a scale that’s realistic for a few people to oversee. In our case, our mentors include several local biodynamic/permaculture-based CSAs. We watch them closely, impressed by their accomplishments, and strive to replicate them on a smaller scale in our own front and back yards. This year, we attended the NOFA NJ Winter Conference in Princeton as proud practitioners, primed to absorb as much practical knowledge as the largest professional farmers in attendance. We no longer make excuses for the size of our endeavor, nor do we apologize to friends and family about our eccentric forays into all manner of organic agriculture. While our process hasn’t changed (although the scope of our work has), the microfarmer label has inspired a small but significant shift in the way we define ourselves and move forward.

Seedy Neighborhood

Hard to believe our seeds are already here! We even planted the first leeks under lights last week. This mild winter is tricking us into thinking that spring is near. I'm trying really hard to keep in mind that there's a good six weeks left before we can really expect warm weather. Winter is bleak, but it's easier to deal with if I brace myself. So instead, let's talk about SEEDS! If anyone reading this is as excited by this list as I am--call me!

We're proud to say that we've saved a good third of the seeds on this list from plants we grew last year. The rest we ordered from Seed Savers Exchange, Fedco, Southern Exposure, and Seeds from Italy. The last is a new place that gets rave reviews from the well-respected Garden Rant. Seeds from Italy sells heirloom seeds from--you guessed it--Italy, and some varieties are hundreds of years old. We're looking forward to seeing the good germination results they're known for. If you're curious about any of the varieties on here, give us a holler and we'll be happy to opine on why we love it.

LETTUCE
Tom Thumb (saved) (butterhead)
Rouge de Vif (saved)
Cimarron (saved)

BROCCOLI
Fedco mix (saved) (interplanting with spinach)

SPINACH
Bordeaux (saved)

CHARD
Leaf Beet

SHELLING PEAS
Green Arrow

SNAP PEAS
Sugar Snap (saved)

FAVA BEANS
Sweet Lorane

HARICOTS VERTS
Masai (bush)

DRY BEANS
Hidatsa Shield Figure

SUMMER SQUASH
Romanesca

WINTER SQUASH
Kikuza

POTATOES (experimenting with hugelkultur this year)
Yellow Finn
Purple Viking

MELONS
Boule D’Or (honeydew style)
Petit Gris de Rennes (cantaloupe style)

TOMATOES
Japanese Trifele Black
Brandywine
San Marzano (saved)
Blondkopfchen (yellow cherry)
Principe Borghese (for drying)

GROUND CHERRIES (saved)

BEETS
3-root Grex

CARROTS
Scarlet Nantes

CUCUMBERS
Suyo Long

PEPPERS
Aji dulce (saved)
Burapa (saved)
Marconi Rosso
Devil’s Kiss
Santa Fe Grande
Gigante Ancho

ONIONS
Walla Walla
Yellow of Parma

SCALLIONS (saved)

LEEKS
Bleu de Solaise

OKRA (saved)

SUNFLOWERS
Titan (edible seeds)

HERBS & FLOWERS
Marigolds
Calendula
Genovese basil (saved)
Holy Basil (saved)
Queenette (saved)
Sweet peas
Empress of India nasturtiums

PERENNIALS/ALREADY PLANTED
Garlic
Shallots
Asparagus
Rhubarb
Blueberries

NEW PERENNIALS
Rubel blueberries
Earliglow strawberries
Jewel strawberries
York elderberry
Adams elderberry
Caroline golden raspberries
Gooseberries
Blue Ray blueberries

I Believe

The Daily Record was nice enough to let me go on at some length about Long Valley Green Market, a marvelous, exhausting experiment that just wrapped up its first season. Time for a long winter's nap to regroup before starting up again in the spring!

Home Fires Burning

I've been neglecting this space for too long. Now there's something of a lull in my work and the green market is winding down for the season. That leaves more time for wintry activities like baking garlic-rosemary potato bread and stoking the home fires, which desperately need some attention. Seed catalogs are already appearing in the mailbox; it seems like they come earlier every year. Mark is already taking furious notes for next year's garden.

Our goals for 2012 are to devote some energy to the aesthetics of our garden, especially as we put in more islands of perennials. Last year saw we firmly established asparagus, rhubarb, and blackberries in the big garden; this year we'll be installing blueberries and stone paths. The soil is already being acidified with pine needles so the blueberries will have an easy transition to their new home. We'll also be planting more vegetables with food preservation in mind, now that we're set up with a pressure canner and dehydrator. What a treat it is to eat jam and salsa and pickled peppers in December made from produce we grew or picked ourselves and were able to save for later.

Stinking Rose

Hard to believe it's garlic time already. Wasn't it just summer, like, last week? But no, we have to accept that we're deep into October and it's time to start planning for next year. We have the good fortune to call Roman from Valley Fall Farm in Johnsonburg our bee mentor and source for obscure and interesting varieties of garlic and shallots. Allium hipsters! Did you even know we existed? Because, for the record, we grew French Gray shallots way before they were cool.

Roman gave an enlightening (and delicious) talk at a recent Transition Newton event on the health benefits of honey and garlic. But you know what? We mostly think they're tasty--really tasty--which is why we're cultivating both in as large quantities as possible. Every year it seems like we're planting a ton of garlic, but when harvest time rolls around in July it seems like such a pittance. Which is why we're tripling next year's crop. We've got German White, German Hardy, Georgian Fire, and Mark's inevitable favorite, Korean Mad Dog Red--about 175 cloves all told. Along with 75 shallots. Didn't somebody say it was time for a break after the insanity of late-summer harvesting and putting up? Apparently not yet.

What are we doing differently this time? The weeds got the better of us this year, so we're putting down black plastic for a weed barrier. We're also mounding the beds, putting in irrigation and composting the heck out of the soil (Roman grows his garlic in what he calls "black muck"). Instead of growing shallots from seed in the spring, we're planting whole shallots in the fall, the same as garlic, which means they can get an early start putting their energy into forming bulbs that will split into more bulbs next year, resulting in bigger shallots and more of them.

Stinking roses indeed. Give me a bunch of garlic over a bunch of roses any day.