Farmer Gene

I grew up on a farm.

Surrounded by farmers.

Autumn was a time of much activity. Corn and beans were picked, with combines and grain trucks running late into the evening. The slightly musty smell of dusty cornstalks and freshly tilled earth filled the air and settled on all the furniture. The grain bin fan was my lullaby.

Consequently, even though my 'farm' consists of four raised beds no larger than 6x8 each, when November rolls around, I have the uncontrollable urge to put up 'crops' and put the farm to bed.

I manage to refrain from the desire to run out and buy a pair of overalls...

Our garden was pretty sad this year. I got a passable crop of lettuce and radishes. I think we managed to find about 8 grape tomatoes. But where Miracle Grow dirt failed at zucchini and peppers, it excelled at carrots.

Weird, toe-shaped carrots.

But no matter their anatomical shape, they remain sweet and crisp.

Which is why I am roasting them for dinner.

I am just not sure how much longer I can open the crisper drawer and see that zipper bag full of orange tarsals.

 Roasted Carrots

as many carrots as will fit on a baking sheet

toss with enough olive oil to coat

sprinkle with salt, pepper and around 1-2 Tbs of fresh, crushed thyme and rosemary

roast at 400 for 20 minutes or until of desired doneness.

Drizzle with balsamic vinegar reduction

I had better luck with my herbs.

If you have never gardened and have the tiniest desire to give it a try, I highly recommend herbs. They are forgiving of most transgressions – failure to water, feed, weed, water... And there is nothing better than adding a fresh picked handful of basil to spaghetti sauce or lording it over a co-worker that you have fresh tarragon on the sauteed mushroom...

I mean adding some freshly picked rosemary to homemade bread.

As it was, I nearly missed getting the last of my basil picked.

Thank you 39 degree day last week.

But the basil stood strong with only a few brown leaves. And once it was picked and cleaned there was just enough for one last batch of pesto. 

 Pesto

1- 2 cups fresh basil

1-3 cloves of garlic

1/4 or so cups of pine nuts

drizzles of olive oil

blend to a paste

Add to pasta sauce, salad dressing, or use as a topping on toast when the hipsters have nabbed all the avocados.

(As you can tell, pesto is not an exact science. But, it tastes wonderful and smells even better. You can keep it in the fridge for around a week or bag it in small zip lock baggies and freeze for later use. Preferable in the dead of winter when the scent of fresh basil makes you forget the fact that you haven't seen the yard flamingo in 3 weeks as its buried under twelve feet of snow.)

Rosemary also outperformed this year. 

Sadly, rosemary does not over-winter on this Coast. I have tried repotting and bringing it inside but I just can't bear to watch as those beautiful fragrant leaves pine for the great wide open and slowly shrivel and die.

This year I cut the plant back to about 6 inches in height, mulched it with half a ton of leaves (leaving only 17.5 tons on the grass to be mulched) and brought the remaining stalks in to dry. Where I can watch it shrivel and turn brown but without the guilt of seeing the entire plant fade to a pitiful twig.

I have only recently arrived at a love of rosemary. But I am making up for lost time. I love adding it to roasted veggies (see carrots above) and homemade breads.

Or if you are short on the homemade bread department, you can add it to softened butter and spread it on whatever bread type product you have.

Plus it just looks so homey hanging in the window. 

I managed to finish up my tiny harvest just in time to watch as the storms began to blow in.

See all those leaves on those trees?

Tomorrow morning they will all be in our back yard.

Even though they are on the neighbor's trees.

Across the street.

And I will enjoy watching Rob push the mulching mower over them as I eat pesto toast for breakfast and prepare to clean all the furniture which is coated with leaf dust.

Its not grain bins and combines, but it will do.

Fah-harm Living is the Life for Me...for about a day...and a half...

It is official. I have an addiction.

Every spring I get the undeniable desire to plant a garden.

I grew up on a farm.

My parents grew a garden the size of a city block.

My Dad worked in the farm supply business. I spent many afternoons surrounded by the heady aroma of potash and anhydrous.

No wonder meth is so addictive.

I am pretty sure this is the root of my problem.

Ever since we moved into our house, nearly 30 years ago, I have had some sort of garden. There have always been herbs in the tiered beds beside the house. One year we dug up 2/3rds of the back yard and planted all the vegetables. Problem is vegetables require sun. Our back yard is all shade.

The only truly sunny patch is the strip of yard between our house and the neighbor's. One year we hand dug a garden there with moderate success. But the following year, with the prospect of re-digging the area...well, let me tell you, if meth-heads had to cultivate a 10x10 patch of yard, now covered in violets and creeping charlie, they would think twice about cooking.

This year, thanks to Dad-the enabler, we decided to try the newest fad in gardening – the RAISED GARDEN BED!

(Of course, this is not really anything new. Raised beds have been around forever. In fact, Martha Stewart herself has a number of them. We have just been too cheap to bother. Because hand digging a YARD is so much easier.)

Just look at the dirt. You could almost bury a body without breaking a sweat.

I did a little research and settled on a 4x8 bed, which according to Rob is much easier to construct as the boards needed are actually 8feet long, thus requiring a minimum amount of math to cut. Plus this size bed, according to various container gardening sites, allows me to plant enough vegetables to feed a family of 4 plus most of the Duggars for a year.

It only cost us approximately $45 for the lumbar that should be 'lumber' (it seems I have been working the back surgery recovery a little too much!) and weed retardant under-cloth. But no worries, I can spend that much on vegetable in a month. 
Of course, filling the frame is it's own project. You can fill it with plain old dirt but seriously? I live in the land of clay. Digging clay is similar to stabbing a shovel into a bucket of concrete. I have watched a fair share of Martha Stewart and her gardens are never difficult to dig. In fact, with one delicate gloved hand she dips her trowel into the rich black dirt and in the next two minute segment has planted an entire row of heirloom butternut squash. So...we bought fancy dirt with fertilizer. And topsoil. And peat moss. I could bury Martha Stewart in the bed with my bare hands that soil is so light and fluffy. (But I won't. I love Martha. Please don't put me on a list.)

The dirt was another $80. So, that's another two months of veggies. I break even this summer and next year I will actually be MAKING money off this bad boy.

Of course, this does not take into account the money I will spend on seeds for the 47 varieties of vegetables I plan to plant.

Or the plants I buy when I get too antsy waiting for the seeds to sprout.

But, think about all those fresh vegetables, warm off the vine and straight to my table...Take THAT you locavores.

The raised bed only took about an hour to construct. (It took three hours to purchase. At Lowes. On the nicest Saturday in April thus far.) And with all the extra time, and a little left over dirt, I did the prep work on the herb beds. And weeded the shade garden. 

Imagine this filled with flowering plants, ferns, hostas...

The shade garden is my white whale. I have been in this house forever and finally, FINALLY, have the super shady side of our yard almost looking like a lovely, shaded fairy-friendly landscape. Except for the grass. Which does not grow in shade. Unless it is in the GARDEN part of the yard. Then grass grows like crazy. Just like those damn violets.

There has been much research done on plant's ability to communicate with one another. I am here to tell you, this ability exists. And those conniving little violet bastards are experts at telling each other where to sprout because the nice lady sometimes lets one of their adorable brethren bloom in the shade garden. 

Sometimes in my sleep, I can hear them laughing...

It only took another three hours but I got them all.

Hah!

Which is the reason I am writing this sitting on the couch with my feet up, in my pajamas, floating on a fine cloud of ibuprofen, tylenol and a small rum drink.

Which adds another $30 to the price of the garden.

Which translates to 6 organic, heirloom, single source zucchini.

So anyway you look at it, I win!