Yesterday, Veteran’s Day, came in windy and cold in Kansas.  As I hurried toward the church door the wind caught me by the legs, scooting me along with my cape as a sail.  Although a bit bitter for a walk I couldn’t resist a few minutes out by the windrow to check on the birds and varmints that can always  be found there.

I have few memories of my childhood or stories that were told by a parent, but the story surrounding the planting of the windbreak trees is all mine.  The farm stands on a rise that just dares a gust to come along, and since many did, the only way to protect the barnyard and cattle was to plant a windrow.  My penny-pinching father went to the agriculture service office and bought some affordable cedar starts, I am sure no larger than a foot tall and in a hundred-bundle.  When they arrived on the bitter March winter day they had to be planted or die.  Since Dad had a job at the aircraft plant, it was left to Mom to dig a hundred holes, plant the trees in frozen ground, and water them in.

I am told I was a fussy baby and had a tendency to be croupy, so my mother nursed me for a few months after birth, thinking it would make me a little healthier.  The day the trees arrived, I was a few months old and am told I had a bad cold and cried constantly.  Any other woman would probably have told the trees to forget it, but Mom was a “get-er-done” gal so she spent the day digging two holes and then returning to the house to check on me.  Dig another two, check on me.  Every dozen holes she would pause to nurse me and try to get me to sleep, which was summarily unsuccessful.  Laughter bubbles up in me every time I think of the situation, although it had to have been a miserable memory for my mother.

The windrow served its purpose for many years and continues to be a luxury I allow myself as owner of that farm.  The barnyard still sits atop a rise and winds still rattle the doors of the barn, so its original value remains.  Over the years, many of the cedars have died and have been replaced by a good variety of smaller trees.  The fifty+ yard row now contains native hackberry, Osage orange, and new cedar starts.  It makes an ideal environment for birds and deer and I frequently see my old owl, hundreds of goldfinch, hummers and bluebirds there.   Today, I see the feathers from turkey, so I know they are close.  Just as I turn to leave, I see a movement and turn to see a deer moving quietly.  I smile and stand frozen and enjoy its shyness.

Many land owners have removed windbreaks and hedge rows as a tradeoff for increased production, but I have resisted that.  In the fifteen years I have owned the farm, there have been two dust seasons where the earth was dry from drought and the wind carried the top soil for miles.  Had my farm not been anchored by the trees, it would have been in another county as well. 

As habitat and as land anchor, my windbreak has value.  What makes it even better is that I know its history.  It only takes a bitterly cold and windy day for the memory to surface.  The rich animal and bird life overlays and adds to the habitat story.  I want to start a hedgerow of miscellaneous shrubs and trees at my town-house this year too.  I may not see the benefits for a few years, but I think it is worth waiting for.  I’d recommend one to anyone.

This week I was reading through my old GRIT magazines one last time before passing them on to a friend.  An article on the Homestead Act of 1863 caught my eye with some interesting statistics.

According to this author, “most of the 33 million schoolchildren today have never set foot on a farm; only two of every 100 Americans now live on a farm, and less than 1% of the 300 million people in our country claim farming as their occupation.”

“For heaven’s sake,” I thought in response. “Why is it that hundreds of families in this area are buying rural lots and building ranchettes?”  I reflected that this and surrounding counties are covered with rural homes. “What, then, are these folks seeking?  Privacy?  Freedom from regulation? More room? Perceived quiet?”  

The reasons are endless, I’m sure.  Many I personally know like animals, especially horses, chickens and dogs.  Others like to garden.  One guy I know likes to drive his tractor and “work.”

Whatever the reason, rural living seems to fit, in some way, each person’s definition of “the good life” – just like our homesteading ancestors.

It seems to me the rural quest revolves around “Work” and what we believe is meaningful work.  Our ancestors knew farming occupations, weather it was growing wine grapes or pigs.  Another generation combined industrial work with continued rural or small town self-sufficient practices.  Even today in France and England, families continue to be largely self-sufficient and in America self-sufficiency has been re-discovered with enthusiasm.  Some view it as economic survival.

The statistics given in the article covering the anniversary of the Homestead Act may well represent modern living that swung too far from the earth.  None of us want our children clueless about what a cow looks or smells like any more than we would want them clueless about whales or bears.  We certainly don’t want our children to think of ducks as animated cartoon or computer characters.

People who are seeking rural lives want meaningful lives, however that is defined.  Others do their best to get themselves and families to parks or zoos.  The difference is that a rural home affords an opportunity to “grow things,” which is a way to practice daily the care and feeding not only of self, but others, be it a bean or a dog.

 I have a great respect for families who have found a way to connect with “growing things” even though they are city bound.  Even if it is a bean plant on the patio or a rabbit in the backyard, there is hope that we could feed ourselves if we had to.

There will never be another time when the government gives land to us to homestead (pity), but perhaps there is hope as we swing back toward self-sufficient living practices, I hope that a few more children will have set feet upon a farm, will experience some aspect of life that recalls that food comes from “growing things,” that our land is one of abundance, and that each of us has a place in the process.

Schleicher, Jerry.  “Birth of America’s Breadbasket,” GRIT, July/August, 2010.

While I utilize many of the Kansas agriculture resources in my urban farming efforts, I also utilize the rich resources of the state of Missouri, a state that uses much money to supports a state-wide conservation plan to preserve and protect land for agricultural use, as well as for hunting, fishing and recreational pursuit.  

A recent Missouri publication contained a theme that has stuck with me – “I Am Conservation.”  This idea seems to strike at the very heart of what we are all trying to do.  Years ago, “conservation” was an idea linked to prevent land from blowing or washing away in the agricultural process.  The much admired Aldo Leopold is credited with changing farming practices, but even today the foundation continues its influence to develop land ethics nationwide.

The “I Am Conservation” theme addresses the conviction that as an individual, I am an actor in the process of protecting and preserving resources.  No longer can we view the responsibility for conservation as belonging to agriculture, for as we stretch to feed the world, we find agriculture has now extended to the provision of food from all sorts of sources.  We farm fish, seaweed, lichens, trees and fungus.  The control of seed and genetic modification is a hot political topic.  Every individual, regardless of rural or urban, young or old, is a steward of this earth.  How can we view it in any other way?

I think the importance of our individual actions is far underrated.  Even if we each would take a step each day to preserve by recycling, growing a vegetable or chicken, or by NOT poisoning our water supply with chemicals, it is still an important action.

My thoughts today lead me to become more involved in some local actions that I think can make an impact.  I can add just one more action, be it to plant a tree or to become involved in city planning.  Our future may well be in the learning of urban agriculture – be it roof-top and community gardens, or the making of compost.

What I do makes a difference.  I believe that.  I AM conservation. 

On August 4, 2012, a Saturday evening, my beloved farmhouse caught fire and burned.  I am still in shock and grieving as though it had been a family member.  There is almost nothing to salvage, as the wind was high and the fire made quick work of the old lumber.  I am digging through it this week and after the inspections are finished, I will need to have it demolished.

People have been loving, kind, and helpful and many others have suffered such a loss – some more serious than this in storms that have taken lives.  All the stories shared with me include the same inexpressible sadness and feeling of loss.  It is just heart wrenching to lose your home to any cause. 

As you might expect, I’m trying to analyze the loss, but I guess I have matured, as I’m sure not questioning why God would allow this to happen or thinking it was all part of the great cosmic plan.  Maybe the Mars landing by Curiosity this morning would fall in that arena, but not this.  It was just one of those accidents that occur in life that hurts like hell and changes a person forever.

I don’t know if I will rebuild, but I will keep the farm.  All the memories are still there with or without a house.  If I should rebuild, the new house will still be loved just as much as this one was. The sun will continue to rise over the pasture, the garden will still be eaten by grasshoppers in bad years, and I’ll complain about the deer thrashing my trees.  New memories will be made and hopefully, my sons will continue to say they own a Kansas farm that has been in the family for five generations.

Like all changes in life, some are difficult.  But they will take place whether we like it or not, so I am determined to get through this and adapt to the necessary changes.  I will treasure my memories, continue to farm, and yes, although I live in the city, I will always have one foot on the farm.

As August first arrives on Cape Cod, many gardeners begin to think about planting cold weather crops.  Due to the insulating effect of the Atlantic Ocean, we usually do not see a good frost until November.   This means that we can grow one last set of crops before winter arrives.

Prior to setting out the seed store, we made a cold weather crop wish list.  We turned it into a scavenger hunt for the kids.  We would plant what we could find.  Not only did they remember what was on the list, they also now have made the connection that these can grow in the cold.  I love it when they learn things without even trying.

Carrots

Potatoes

Cilantro

Parsley

Broccoli

Cauliflower

Lettuce

Swiss Chard

Mixed Greens

Mustard Greens

Cabbage

Brussel Sprouts

Beets

Parsnips

Kale

Spinach

A few days ago, in the blistering heat, the kids and I prepped the raised beds by adding a fresh layer of compost.  We use our own composted chicken manure from the girls mixed with a fresh layer of  lobster compost. Yes, even lobsters are compostable!  Surprisingly, gardening using only organic products and techniques has been much easier than I had imagined.  Not only was it for the sake of the bees and the environment but also for my family.  I love that there are companies out there that make going organic so easy.

This week during the mini-heat wave, the mustard greens began to sprout as well as the cilantro.  The lettuce and greens should be ready by September and the rest of the crops sometime in October.   This makes me a very happy girl.  There is nowhere else in the world I would rather be than in the garden with dirty hands, curious kids and sweet chickens waddling about the yard.

Last week I ordered a book written by the famous gardener, Ruth Stout, the “mulch queen.”  Although the original was written in 1961, it has now been reprinted and newly released in 2012.   I am enjoying it immensely – sort of a fifty year celebration of the ideas.

Perhaps it is the title that attracts me – Gardening Without Work for the Aging, the Busy & the Indolent.  I use Stout’s ideas extensively in my garden for a number of reasons.  First, my arthritis forces me to find new ways to garden that remove at least a part of the work intensity from the process.  Second, I have very limited well water on my farm, especially if we are in drought.  Third, her recommendations about mulching seem to produce a better garden than gardening without it.  I suppose I really should add that good mulching also produces an attractive and well-tended appearance.

This particular book is a hoot to read if you like to mix good ideas with dry humor.  She loves to offer the odd and obvious questions asked to her as the preface to the point she is trying to make.  Since some of us ask the same questions ourselves, it doesn’t hurt to laugh at ourselves while learning.  As gardeners, it probably isn’t a good idea to take life too seriously.  Of course, I continue to read her later work as well, and it is in my city and farm libraries – The No-Work Garden Book.   Now THAT is my kind of book.

My garden is looking great right now.  I planted most of it on a warm April day that suckered me into the season.  I’ve had some rain to help it along, and yes, it is mulched.  I had forgotten that I can mulch the asparagus though, so I think I’ll do that this weekend.

If you are so inclined, one of her books would make great afternoon reading – right after the afternoon nap, which is a good thing to do with the extra leisure time.

Hi there. Pleased to meet you. I’m the Fearless Farm Frau (AKA the Crazy Chicken Lady), and it’s been quite a journey to get here. I’d shake your hand, but I’m not at your computer, and asking you to shake your computer sounds like quite an imposition. However, if you were to offer me a virtual cup of coffee, I wouldn’t turn it down.

I grew up in a small German town here in Kansas. Both sides of my family grew up farming, but moved to town. As most kids do, I moved to the big city as quickly as I could. While cities have their pluses (sushi, delivery pizza, etc), I just didn’t ever feel comfortable. For a while, with an ex-husband, I lived in deep South Texas. At least there I could indulge my love of horses and meet some great folks. Alas, that deal went even farther south, and I found myself back in Kansas.

Lots of people knock Kansas. I still think it’s one of the best places to be. Open space, good land, lower cost of living, and just plain nice folks. After meeting and marrying my husband (our first date was making chainmaille — the armor, not the pesky letters), we formed a 5-year plan to get a place out in the country and get away from the constant traffic noise and sirens, plus getting our (then) future kids into good schools. Well, the 5-year plan turned into a 10-year plan.

So here we are. We bought our dream farm. (Hubby’s aunt and uncle had lived here, and we fell in love with the place.) It’s been maintained as organic for at least the last 30 years, plus being certified as a tree farm. We were so excited when we found out it was on the market. There’s such a peaceful feeling here that seems to include everyone who comes. Yes, we had quite a time selling our city house, and that’s another story. But here we are. Organic farmers at last.

I’ll be happy to regale you with more stories (mostly funny) as we get to know each other. It’s certainly been a learning experience for me, and I’ve still got lots more to learn. Hopefully stories about kids, chickens, horses, dogs, cats, and cutting and heating with wood won’t bore you. If they do, feel free to tell me so. I’ll take it as another learning experience. I’m not bored out here, and hopefully you won’t be either. Buckle in and saddle up. It’s going to be a great ride. 

The potatoes that we planted in the fall were ready for harvesting this weekend. Fresh potatoes have a wonderful, snappy texture and flavor that I have never found in store-bought potatoes. They are such an easy and rewarding crop to grow. Here in the south, we plant our seed potatoes in November in raised beds that are rich in compost and healthy organic matter. Check with your local extension office to determine the best time to plant in your zone. Once the vines grow a few inches, we give them a good 4-6 inches of mulch to keep them cool and protect them from the sun. Other than that, regular watering is about all that is needed to encourage potatoes to grow strong and healthy. An occasional, maybe monthly, feeding with compost tea or manure tea helps, too. We use Moo Poo tea, as it is natural, easy to use, and good for the soil.

How does one know when to harvest potatoes? Well, the plants tell you. As long as the potato vines look healthy and green, the potatoes are still growing deep in the soil. During this time, you may harvest baby “new” potatoes if you like. This year, I left all of my potatoes in the ground for a main harvest. Potatoes take about 120 days to fully mature, depending upon the growing environment, weather, watering practices, and other elements. Once the vines begin to flower, the tubers underneath the soil begin to swell. Shortly thereafter, the vines will slow down, and begin to turn yellow and brown and fall over. They don’t look nearly so pretty. This is natural, and a sign that the taters are ready.

Several days before you plan to harvest, discontinue watering the potato bed. This is a big help in harvesting, as it is much easier to dig through light, dry soil than through heavy, muddy soil. To begin the harvest, remove any mulch, and pull up all the potato stalks. They are great to add to your compost pile. Then, the fun begins. Most people use a flat tined fork or pitchfork to harvest potatoes, but because I plant a small crop in raised beds, I start the treasure hunt for those beautiful tubers by putting some gloves on and searching through the soil by hand. This does take a little more time, but I enjoy the hunt, and it has a major advantage in that my gentle hands won’t damage the delicate skins of the tubers. If the skin is damaged, the potato will not store well.

Once I have worked my way methodically through the entire bed and found all the potatoes I can, I go back through it again with a pitchfork, slowly and methodically.  I dig section by section, getting the pitchfork as deeply as possible into the soil, carefully turning it over, and piling it on the previous section. This process serves two functions; first, to find the rest of the potatoes that are deep within the bed, and second, to prepare the soil for a new crop by removing any debris and weeds and turning over the soil. Once every every last potato is removed, I finish preparing the soil by adding compost and organic starter fertilizer, turning it into the soil, and smoothing out the bed. Now the bed is ready for a new crop.

Storing Potatoes

Once you have harvested all your gorgeous, fat tubers, you will probably want to celebrate and enjoy some of your harvest immediately. I always do, and last night I made a lovely leek and potato soup, rich with home-cured pancetta, cream and fresh thyme from the garden. I made enough to freeze a batch for later, too. The remainder of the crop should be cured for storage. Gently wipe off most of the remaining soil, and spread the potatoes out in a cool, dark and dry area that has good ventilation. Examine the tubers for any damage, as damaged ones will not store well. Don’t throw these away, but do cut away any damage and use them immediately (I used these for my soup). Unblemished potatoes should be cured for a few weeks, and then stored in well-ventilated sacks in a cool, dark place. Properly cured, they will store well for months. It is not recommended to store potatoes in the refrigerator, as the cool temperature encourages the starch to turn into sugar.

Leek and Potato Soup with Pancetta

Ingredients

3 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup of diced pancetta or bacon
4-6 leeks (white and pale green parts only), halved lengthwise, thinly sliced (about 4 1/2 cups)
2-3 large potatoes peeled and diced
4 1/2 cups (or more) organic chicken stock
1-2 cups half and half
3-4 sprigs of fresh thyme

2 tablespoons chopped fresh chives (for garnish)

Preparation

This year I’ve tried many different things in both my vegetable and herb garden so some of things have been trial and error. I’ve never had a specific place to grow herbs or have grown and harvested the amount I have this year. I’ve dried the majority on my herbs on my drying rack that I made with a dowel bought from the hardware store inserted some cup hooks and then used twine to hang it up with.

Most of herbs have dried well except the chives. I read last week that a lady dried her chives under a sheet in the shade and it took about a day. So I gave it a try – after a week they are a mess and still not dry. Michigan weather can be humid so maybe that’s the problem.

For now I think we will just enjoy the fresh chives while we can and maybe I’ll bring some inside to grow for the winter, unless I come upon another method of drying them.

In the vegetable garden we’ve decided to go organic. We have not used any fertilizer (we used compost), and we haven’t used any chemicals for the bugs. So far, so good, the vegetable garden is growing with out a problem. Though when we first planted the garden and it was too cold for anything to grow, we thought, it if we had put fertilizer on it – would that have heated the ground enough for it to grow? We almost went and bought a bag of fertilizer to see if it would work! The temptation was there, but we were strong and held out, and, you know, the garden is beautiful.

But yesterday, walking through the garden, I’d noticed more holes in the potato plants and realized just squishing the potato beetles is not working. Our usual way is to get some Sevin insecticide and sprinkle it on top. You can just see the bugs drop off, but now we are looking for a better solution.

Well, you know me I got to researching on line and heard about the beer thing. You place containers around the garden filled with beer, and the bugs go to it and drown. So on the way home from church yesterday, dressed in our Sunday finest, I asked Bat to stop and get some beer. After I explained real fast what I wanted it for, so he would stop giving me wild looks, I realized he wouldn’t stop even for the sake of his prized Yukon Gold Potatoes.

So back to more research and I found a website that suggested shaking flour on the plants. I put flour in a canning jar and Bat put small holes on top with a nail and hammer. Now my vegetable garden is sprinkled with flour, it kind of felt like the old days with the Sevin.

So far this has worked – you have to make sure you first kill the bugs you see and then sprinkle heavily with the flour. Then, of course, the bugs just traveled down the road to the beans so I spread some on them also.

Every year, right around the peak of spring, we do a whole bunch of yard clean up work in our front yard. It’s usually in that period around Mothers day when we pick up a few trays of annuals at our local nursery and it usually takes the good part of a weekend to do. This year was no exception in that regard.

An interesting thing happened this year when I got to this part of the garden though. It’s one of my favorite places because it's all Columbines that self seed and get bigger every year. As I was cleaning up, I was wondering why the flowers didn't look quite right this year. So I looked a little closer.

Holy Crap! Infestation! The aphids were here and they were here in force!

Now it's not uncommon for me to get some aphids. Not even uncommon to find them out in force from time to time and I deal with the problems as they arise. This was by far the earliest and most intense infestation that I've ever had though.

At first glance I found that almost all the columbines on this side of the garden were under siege. In fact, I was about to break into the organic pesticide. I rarely ever do that, but this just seemed overwhelming. Before I did, I luckily looked a little closer and found something incredible. An ecosystem had developed right there.

Because of the abundant food supply, the ladybugs (Yes I know they're not bugs, they're beetles. That's the name I grew up with so that's what I call ’em OK?) had moved in and were reproducing like rabbits. They are natural predators to the aphid, so I thought it best to let them do their work. Also, I'm willing to sacrifice a few flowers in order to foster a healthy population of these beneficial insects for the rest of the season.

In that vein I decided to remove all the flower stalks from the plants and place them upside down in a bucket, then off to the trash. They were the most infested part of the plant so I wanted to give the beetles a head start on clearing them up. Aphids generally don’t have wings, although they can develop them for purposes of relocating when the food source is endangered or depleted, so I wasn’t worried about them coming out of the trash and returning. Don't worry, there were plenty left for the bugs to feed on.

WARNING ... EXPLICIT photos follow ...

Ok, they’re not really “explicit”, but I did find a regular lady bug love fest happening on some of the under story branches as I was pruning them.

I kind of felt a little peeping Tom-ish for taking these, but in the interest of education I'm willing to go the extra mile for you.

And this is "The act." If you look closely you'll see the two bodies of the beetles protruding from under their wing covers. And that kids, is how the birds and the beetles goes... MMMM K?

Here you can see the collection of yellow egg sacks lain neatly under a leaf and Mom heading off to eat more aphids no doubt.

So then, who’s this handsome little guy? Well, he is the larvae form of the Ladybird beetle. From this phase it'll go through a pupa phase and then emerge as the lady bug that we're all familiar with. So, if you see these guys crawling around the garden, they are your friend!

In the Short term, I had to make a concession to the aphids in that I gave up my flowers for this year. I have others. The bigger point is found in the long term view however. In that perspective I've helped to foster a natural ecosystem and life cycle that will benefit me and my garden later this year.

If the problem had persisted, I’d have had to go to the next step which, to me, would be to entirely cut off all green growth and let the plant try again. I’m happy to say however that this battle seems to have gone in my favor. The aphids have moved on to other plants where the battle continues but are in no where near the same numbers. And as for the lady bugs, well, I’ve seen more this year so far that I think I have in quite a few springs. So far so good I’d say!

All the best.

Paul~

You can reach Paul Gardener by email, or check his personal blog at A posse ad esse