Buckwheat, greens, tomatoes, herbs and beans!

(Continued from what? Read my previous post, here.)

I'm not sure I knew then how much of an impact those times with my great grandparents and their farm-dwelling siblings would have on me. I know now. What was intended to be a way for my grandmother to give my mother some personal time (or time away from my father) also served as a glimpse into an alternative to what I was accustomed to. I could have quiet, verdancy, family, love, and good food over chaos, anger, anxiety and noise. It was a choice I was being offered, one I would have to make as an adult. I stowed these experiences away as dear memories, but they would come back to me as a sort of guide, helping navigate through the rough patches in my life and directing me to places where I would be safe and could flourish.

I don't think this type of experience is unique. I believe we all have these places and times in our lives that inform who we are to be or what we want but sometimes we fail to defer to them in moments of doubt. I don't want to give myself too much credit, but I cannot recall a single time in my adult life where I've not fallen back on these times to gain some clarity. I find myself in a tough spot and I think to myself, "How can I get back to that place? What do I have to do to get to those blue mountains again...at least in my heart?" The way often presents itself in time. Sometimes the way makes you wait. It took a long time after I first moved to New York to feel like I was treading on the right path.

Before New York, I was back in Baltimore after a failed moved to Arizona. I had cruelly left one man to be with another that I had developed strong feelings for. I was in my early twenties and frankly, I was a complete shit. I would barrel through whatever and whoever to get my way and people got hurt sometimes. It was a terrible flaw but I feel I have tempered that part of myself in my more adult years. In any case, I fell in love with a person that I had always considered out of my league. His affection was returned, and I was done for. At first it was a like a dream. It had seemed as though we wanted all of the same things (we both had a reverence for nature and a desire to live the "good life".) For the first time I saw myself with a real future with someone. We created a really wonderful home and dug up our first vegetable patch together. We took a beekeeping course and cooked meals from food we harvested. We had a routine of eating breakfast and drinking tea on the front porch every morning with the cats. I was in domestic bliss.

Except for when I wasn't anymore.

I don't know what happened. It's been a long time and I've picked that relationship apart down to it's atomic structure. I'm not even sure what parts are true and what I've allowed my imagination to embellish. But what I know for certain is this: I was immature and unfulfilled and he fell out of love with me, leaving me to contend with the ghost of our relationship. I had gotten my just deserts for all of the times I had done the same to other people, and it really sucked.

He went to NYC to start over, and I followed. It took me a long time to admit, though it was obvious to anyone with eyes, that I wanted to work things out with him. It was insane of me. I uprooted everything for a misguided attempt at salvaging a relationship that had absolutely run it's course. To be fair to myself, I also just wanted to get out of Baltimore. I had loved that city once but there was nothing there for me anymore. I recognized a good opportunity to move on and I took it. I landed a good job with a small clothing company in the Lower East Side, a great apartment with cool landlords and was doing pretty well, on paper. Behind closed doors, however, I wasn't even a person anymore. I was a pulsating, raw nerve prone to bouts of hysterical blubbering and insanity brought on by the fact that this man I was attached to had moved on and I was in a city I wasn't sure I liked very much. My friends endured a lot during that time and I'm glad to have had them around.

I tried dating again and I proved pretty quickly that I was not ready for it. I made a mess of things right out of the gate. I just couldn't do it. In some roundabout way it occurred to me that I should focus my attention on something that would make me feel like everything in the world was right where it was before. I recalled all of the times I'd lay in bed thinking about spring and tender green things and warm sunlight and the farm and I knew that instead of seeking a romance with a man, I'd do well to seek romance with the way of life I dabbled in back home in Baltimore.

That first Brooklyn spring, I started a garden with my neighbors. The next year, we set up a beehive (a total life changer) and got a small flock of laying hens. I quit my job to start teaching classes on the subjects I've learned so much about. I've documented much of it here. I continue to learn and I've remained hungry for even more knowledge and understanding.The most important thing I've gleaned from all of it is this:

No matter what hardship and drama is going on in your life, the world lives on as it ever has. You cannot let these things unravel you. None of the things that happened in my life had the capacity to ruin me unless I let them. The world beyond my own heart is still the same. There are relationships at play out there that are age old and far surpass the silly human need to chase romantic love. Our overly intense, cartoonish impression of what it should be is wrong. It's out of balance. No one person should love any one thing to their own detriment. We would do well to direct some of that intensity inward towards ourselves and outwards to the rest of the world. The world is a cruel, amazing, beautiful place and it pains me to see people take it for granted. It pains me to see people hurting themselves as I once did.

It's 9 a.m. on a Wednesday. It's raining and the chickens are in their enclosed run with dry hay. The garden is planted with tomatoes and herbs and beans and buckwheat and the linden trees are about to pop. This will be the biggest source of food for the bees this spring. I've been cobbling this blog post together for a few days now, and I'm not really sure what I'm trying to say. Maybe I just want my readers to understand where I come from so that they feel what they want is within their reach too. Perhaps what I want to say is that the choice to live this way is what saved me. Perhaps it's given me a chance to gain some perspective, to see more clearly. It's pulled me out of my own head, where I had trapped myself. It's thrust me into the world to be part of it. Whatever it is that I am trying to say, I know one thing for sure. I feel so grateful. So eternally grateful to have loved, to have been hurt, to endure and to be alive.

Reposted from BigCityFarmSupply.com

Hey folks!

I'm looking for a short-term intern until the end of July. I've been inundated with stuff to do and I could use an extra hand for about 10 hours a week doing stuff like responding to emails, starting seeds, weeding, transplanting, assembling bee gear, tweeting, entering email addresses for mailing lists, and organizing, organizing, organizing! This is an unpaid internship, but I'll do my best to make it worth it for the right person.

I'm looking for an individual who is interested in learning a bit about urban farming, self-employment and social media and is a quick and efficient worker. I'd prefer a person who is available on a weekday either a full 10 hours in one fell swoop or two 5 hour days dedicated to helping me tighten up my operation. The ideal person is well versed in Microsoft Office, WordPress and Movable Type. Someone with some interest and perhaps a little experience would be great, but I'm flexible. Brown-thumbs welcome as well. Please be able to start ASAP!

Here's what I can offer:

An opportunity to learn a bit about gardening, raising small livestock and beekeeping. This will not be the focus of the internship but you'll be brought into the loop and will be able to participate in classes offered at Hayseed's and will get to absorb information by just being around it. On days when there's no paperwork to be done, we will garden and clean rabbit cages and chicken coops and turn the compost. Farm work. So be able bodied! We lift 30-50lb sacks of feed and stuff often so if you've got a bad back, it might not be a good fit.

One paid meal for each work day...and coffee, plenty of coffee. We drink a lot of it around here.

A monthly Metrocard or cash equivalent. If we can't pay you, the least we can do is help get you around.

If you are interested and committed, please email me if interested with a paragraph or two about yourself and a resume!

I'm a mess right now. I've been a terrible blogger but frankly, I'm just too exhausted to know what to write about. My store, Hayseed's has been very busy...classes have been occupying what little free time I have and just being the go to person for everyone's questions is a big job. I love it, but it's LONG HARD WORK. As a result, my personal life is a total disaster. I've got dishes in the sink that have been there for over a week. My cats are bored and underloved. My garden is...well, it's looked better. I'm actually considering paying someone to clean my house. I feel horrified by the notion that someone else may need to do the work for me that I actually take pride in doing for myself. Instead of planting tomatoes, I just tossed a bunch of fast-growing greens and buckwheat into all of the beds to buy myself some time and get some verdancy going in the backyard. I feel like a fraud.

(Well, at least I look the part.)

I'm not happy about not being able to garden at home. I've been helping the gals at Domestic Construction with their garden (which is coming along very well), but it is not mine. I've put off doing much at Jewel Street because frankly, I am leaving and after the other landlord's freakout (which has been resolved) I just don't feel comfortable there anymore. I feel fragmented and without roots. I really look forward to August and my move to NJ. That lost sense of home has me feeling a little off-balance.

(The chickens promptly destroyed the beds I netted off so I gave up.)

But, I digress. Business has been good. I've never felt more confident in my abilities. My bees are in really fine health. My chickens are happy and robust, though not laying much anymore. I'm surrounded by kind, appreciative, helpful people. I feel really fortunate to be in a place where I can say that I am an urban farmer for a living but I welcome change. I'm ready to be transplanted to a place where I can set my tap root deep.

I've been dreaming of dairy goats thanks to Jenna's goat posts and I'm also thinking about the "B" word....babies. Who am I kidding though. I don't have time for babies!

Well friends, the day has arrived. After months of planning and hard work, Hayseed's Big City Farm Supply is opening today at noon! I can scarcely believe it. For those of you who are scratching your heads wondering what I'm talking about, Hayseed's is a store dedicated to urban farming created by me and my partners Gwen and Chase from Brooklyn Grange Rooftop Farm. The store is hosted by and styled by Domestic Construction, a Greenpoint-based design duo. At Hayseed's we'll be providing seeds, soil and amendments, tools, books, beekeeping supplies and weekly workshops. To read more about it, check out our website.

Tonight we will be having our opening party from 6-9, which so far looks like it will be very well attended. The fine folks at The Drink, Breuckelen Distilling," Red Jacket Orchards and Brouwerij Lane have been swell enough to provide some wonderful libations for the celebration. If you plan on coming by to embibe, PLEASE BRING A DRINKING JAR OF YOUR OWN. Sorry, but the idea of buying a bunch of disposable solo cups makes us cringe...besides, drinking out of jars is the bees knees! We'll also have some live music later in the night...some banjo pickin' from Hillary Hawke and friends to be exact!

If you cannot make it to the grand opening today, please feel free to come by during our normal business hours; Wed-Fri 12-8, Saturday 10-6 and Sunday 12-5. We're located at 218 India Street in Greenpoint, Brooklyn

I feel kind of goofy getting all excited about it, since it might seem somewhat arbitrary, but today marks the vernal/Spring/March equinox. Even though we've been downright summery here in the city for the past few weeks (seriously... I saw neighborhood kids in a blow-up pool yesterday), I can't deny the bit of magic in the air today. We're springin' out!

Life is absolutely insane these days; I feel like one of Meg's bees. I may not be coming home dusted with pollen, but with the farm season picking up serious steam, a few family guests visiting me the past few weekends, and the rushed search for a new apartment, then subletter, then new apartment, then subletters for April 1, I'm empathizing with those little ladies.

But what would Spring's first calendar'd days be without a homestead update?

Today, I got down on some homemade crop covers. May seem pointless given our sunny warmth lately - and perhaps it will be after all - but with a last-frost date of April 10ish this season, there's still chance for a few freezes here and there.

Crop covers that are at least semi-transparent can function as mini-greenhouses, trapping in sunlight and maintaining a warm atmosphere inside even when the air chills outside. But even fully opaque covers can help in a pinch; if a hard freeze is predicted, throw them over plants to insulate and cross your fingers.

Covers can be made using scavenged or repurposed materials and a minimum of effort. There are truly a bajillion ways to go about it depending on your living situation and growing space. For those of us with smaller balcony, fire-escape, and rooftop container gardens, stuff like yogurt cups, soup take-outs, and milk jugs are awesomely sufficient.

Yogurt cups and take-out soup tupps
It doesn't get any easier than this. Take off the lid, remove labels to allow more light in (washing soda really helps with any stubborn ones), and turn upside down over the plant. Press the rim into the soil a bit to anchor it; weigh down with a stone or something if it's super windy. Le voilà.

Milk jugs
I learned this one from my be-bop on his farmstead in North Carolina. Remove labels and cut off the bottom of the jug. Set over plant and press into the soil a bit to anchor. The benefit of this system is the lid... it can be removed during the day when the sun is strong so the plant doesn't steam to death, and replaced in the afternoon to maintain warmth inside during the cooler night. But you can also make two covers from one jug by cutting in half; only one will have the lid of course, but you'll get more bang for your non-buck.

The materials you use can vary widely, but you'll want to make sure that whatever it is is at least semi-transparent; this will allow light in and warm the interior. Some kind of venting mechanism can help make temperature management easier, but it's completely unnecessary. For larger tracts of garden space, you can invest in floating row covers using Reemay or Agribon, weighed down with stones or bricks. You can use non-transparent materials like milk cartons and opaque yogurt cups too to help insulate on a particularly bitter night; just don't leave on for days at a time or your plants will suffer from lack of light.

Keep in mind that on warm, sunny days like today, no covers are needed. Remember, if you use a cover (unless it's floating like with Reemay or Agribon), and it's unvented, the warmth during the day inside the container can stress or, more likely, kill your plant. Make a few covers to have on hand and plop over plants before temperatures drop. Vented, transparent covers can be kept on all the time and just sealed shut in the mid-afternoon for night protection.

Onward, seedling soldiers!

P.S. One great way to celebrate the warm Spring weather is to make a tank top. Take an old t-shirt (I stick to crewneck) and cut a curve from around the neck to below the armpit on either side. Try it on and cut more if necessary. Once you have a good template, you can use it to make more by laying it on top of another shirt and marking where to cut. No need to finish edges, especially here in Brooklyn.

Yesterday was a big day. I took Neil to our future home for the first time. I was fairly certain that he would be happy with what he saw, but I was concerned that the realization that we would be moving outside of Brooklyn would be met with cold feet. Fortunately, that didn't happen. He's just as stoked as I am.

The drive to New Jersey was unlike the picturesque voyages I made frequently to the Catskills last summer. There were no mountains, creeks or unkempt fields of wild grasses. Our path to Locust was mostly made up of 10 lane highways and dollar store strip malls. Only right as we turned onto the road that Seven Arrows is situated on did we feel we were in a place where the word "farm" could be uttered without irony. I can still appreciate the area. Just because it's no Catskill Mountain region, it doesn't mean it can't use a couple farms. I can't wait to venture around Middletown to see what's out there. Oh yeah, did I mention there is surfing within a mile of the place? SURFING. (yesssss!)

Seven Arrows abuts Hartshorne Park, which spills out onto the roads and encircles the dozen or so homes around it's boundaries. Wild animals venture out to graze in backyards and hunt for their meals in the open. This will be one of the challenges of farming here, but I've got plans. What farming enterprise doesn't have it's fair share of challenges? We'll just have to do our best. I also see the park as a blessing. I've been told of fiddleheads and maitake in them thar hills!

(Part of the old orchard and a nice site for some beehives!)

While there I spent some time surveying the grounds. I use the term "survey" loosely. I measured the garden plot in paces. 40 paces by 70 paces. I estimate that makes the plot 80×140 or nearly 12,000 square feet. Not a bad size to start with. We could probably get a 20-30 person CSA out of it, what with the eggs, honey and foraged edibles from Hartshorne Park. We'll have to plant intensively and get creative to maximize yields, but I feel up to the challenge. Failure is not an option!

(The garden plot, overlooking the Navesink River.)

The best thing about this place is undoubtedly the location. We drove there late in the morning, looked around, had lunch and were back in Brooklyn by 3 p.m. Our friends in the city will be able to visit us easily (and hopefully help us build some outbuildings!) I'll still be able to teach classes and keep some hives in the city and Neil won't have to leave his job. We can have city folk come for weekend intensives and farm getaways. We're so fortunate to have this opportunity to farm without having to completely remove ourselves from the place we've worked so hard to thrive in. I don't know that I am ready to completely leave the city behind. This is a good in-between.

August feels so close now!

Like for Meg, there's lots of hustle going on over my side of the fence. Work at the farm I manage, Brooklyn Grange, is ramping up pretty quickly as the season approaches. Which means finishing up the hoophouse, starting and nuturing seedlings, finishing up crop plans and maps, organizing interviews for summer season interns... and we haven't even started tilling. But, it's the best kind of hustle in the world. I ain't complainin'.

Speaking of the hoophouse, here we are applying the skin... a gnarly (seriously) process involving a thin, delicate plastic sheet, a large metal and wood frame with lots of pokey edges and corners, and this ingenious but also devilish stuff called wiggle wire. Don't ask:

Anywho, I somehow managed to make a quick farm field trip last week to Maine. It was an experience I'll never forget.

Clara Coleman, a great CO-based farmer and daughter of extended-season (well, year-round) farming guru Eliot Coleman, invited Brooklyn Grange head farmer Ben, myself, and fellow farm friend Zach Pickens, up to visit her father's Four Season Farm.

Visiting a farm in winter, in Maine, in a foot and a half of snow. What the what?

Eliot Coleman is a pioneer and authority on organic/natural/sustainable and winter farming. His books, The New Organic Grower, Four Season Farming, and The Winter Harvest Handbook have a cult following. And they deserve it.

We headed to the farm expecting to help him build one of his famous movable hoophouses in exchange for some wisdom and ideas to take home...

Instead, we got to the house, peeled off our coats and boots in the mudroom, and were invited into the dining room where Eliot's wife Barbara Damroch (a master gardener in her own right, and amazing chef to boot) was cooking up a city-block-wide pork roast, which turned out to be from one of their own hogs. We ate more than our fair share of heritage pork, salad from their kitchen garden (also, under a hoophouse), and potatoes, and washed it all down with Eliot's own homemade wine from grapevines he trellised along the back patio. The only thing not grown on grounds was the vanilla ice cream for desert, but it was topped off with Barbara's homemade, homegrown grape conserve.

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