I remember the excitement
of planting and harvesting string beans, chives and tomatoes as a child. My favorite was the chives. I’d snip them with a small scissor, take them
to the kitchen, and my Mom would mix them into cream cheese sandwiches and
scrambled eggs.
Yet, when I grew up and
bought my own home, somehow, that nurturing gene seemed to recede. I would attempt to garden with disastrous
results. My sunflowers were only two
feet tall, the clematis never took, and the daffodils mysteriously vanished
after one season. Forget a “green
thumb.” Mine was black and blue.
As I increased my culinary
skills, I coveted a vegetable garden, but I was decidedly gun shy. With a track record of flowers that
withered, any attempt at vegetables was a clear path to starvation. So I chose the next best alternative. I outsourced.
For five seasons now, I’ve
reaped the incredible harvest of community-sponsored agriculture. I trust my farmers Dan Holmes and Caroline
Fanning implicitly and I know there will always be food on my table, despite
the unpredictability of Mother Nature.
But, after participating in seeding and harvesting at Restoration Farm for
some years now, I begin to think that perhaps I’ve learned just enough to be
dangerous. While I would never forsake
Restoration Farm, I might attempt a small kitchen garden, just for the sublime pleasure
of having a selection of fresh herbs ready for snipping just outside my back
door.
So, in early May I take
the plunge, or perhaps it’s more appropriate to say I plunge my hands into the
soil. I choose an area of the yard that’s
already cleared and has an irrigation system, so the plants are not reliant
solely on me for survival. I’ve done my
research, and I know that certain herbs and greens will do well in my partially
shaded plot. Of course, the simple
vision of a small herb garden immediately begins to morph and grow.
I purchase parsley and
basil at the Restoration Farm spring plant sale. Next, I head to Martin Viette Nurseries on
the North Shore of Long Island where I purchased chives, mint, oregano and
rosemary. Here’s where I start to get a
little cocky, and throw two varieties of Swiss chard and six Red Russian kale
plants into the mix. That afternoon, I
dig and I plant. Two weeks later I add
several marigolds for a dash of color, and one small head of red lettuce that
Caroline was giving away at the farm.
The basil, rosemary and oregano, which need more sun, are planted in
pots on the deck.
It’s fair to say I’ve already
learned a few things in my first season as a suburban farmer:
Mint Has a Reputation: Everyone,
and I mean EVERYONE who hears I
planted mint in my garden has said, “You know, it tends to take over.” For the record, I get it. Mint is a pushy land grabber. I’m keeping the clippers handy and planning a
heck of a mint julep cocktail party.
Swiss chard is the Lazarus Plant: After
several weeks, I was convinced the Swiss chard crop would fail. The large shiny leaves were quickly turning
to fragile parchment. But, then the
plants staged a revival. And I’ve
managed to harvest a good number of healthy leaves for salads and steamed and
stir-fried greens.
Choose Flower Pots for Drainage, Not Fashion: In the back
of my head, I knew it was a mistake when I did it, but the pots I picked for my
deck herbs did not have drainage holes.
But, I liked the fact that they were Robin Egg Blue and I thought they’d
look really perky on the back deck.
Now, after every rainstorm, I’ve got to drain the water that’s pooling
in the pots. Despite this boneheaded
move, I’ve been able to liberally sprinkle fragrant basil leaves over all types
of salads and sliced tomatoes. The
rosemary looks healthy and is poised for the first potato harvest.
Aphids May Love Kale More than Humans: First
a word about the fecund nature of kale.
One kale plant can feed a family of two.
Six kale plants can feed a developing nation. The leaves are the size of Cleopatra fans,
and they just keep coming.
Unfortunately, the kale is under attack by little white aphids that seem
to be gorging themselves on the nutritious leaves. I’ve lost some, and the leaves that I have
harvested need a good cleaning. Unless I
get really inventive, there’s no way I’m going to be able to consume all
this. Next year, one or two plants
should do it.
When in Doubt, Pick Flowers: Perhaps
my most successful “crop” to date has been the marigolds. They’re tall and healthy. Too bad you can’t eat them.
July is Weed Month on Long Island: I turn my back for a minute, and the weeds are suddenly everywhere. That's what happens in July. But I can't wish it will go away. Like everything in life, you've got to take the time to kneel down, and start tugging out those weeds if you want the garden to prosper.
Lovely Lettuce:
The small head of red
lettuce, which was really an afterthought, performed remarkably well and
resulted in several fresh and colorful salads.
Note to self – less kale and more lettuce next year.
I Still Love Chives: That
burst of slightly oniony chlorophyll still pleases, and the three chive
plantings each resemble an unruly Mohawk haircut. I need to get better at harvesting the chives
so they don’t go to waste. I managed to
pull enough from the garden for this savory chive and smoked cheddar cheese
bread created by Dorie Greenspan and recently baked by Mary at the blog “One Perfect Bite.”
Is my thumb any
greener? Perhaps it’s now a faint shade
of teal if you catch it in the right sunlight.
It’s unlikely that I’ll ever grow all my own food, but what’s more
important to me, is that my garden and I have grown exponentially. And what’s really sprouted is the idea that
it’s important and healthy to tend your own garden and reap the rewards.
©2012 T.W. Barritt All
Rights Reserved
