Make overs on the farm...

Pruning is a necessary evil if you have a green thumb.  No one likes to mention it since it is alot of work and makes your plants look like crap, but it is necessary for growth.  Pruning necessary for growth you say?  Yep!...a contradictory concept, but true, nonetheless.

We all know the benefits; gets rid of dead, lifeless, diseased scrap, strengthens leggy branches, brings new life to otherwise struggling vegetation and always promotes better and bigger fruit.  No one argues these merits but, it is painful to say the least.  You can't help feeling like you are destroying the very thing you have nurtured from a tiny seed to become this lush green specimen where bigger must be better.  (Well, that is only true in Texas, apparently.)

So it starts.

Whenever I begin, I wince, taking just a little snip off here and there, afraid to induce irrevocable damage.  But then, as time progresses and some amount of courage sets in, I start wacking away, with little regard to any plant's feelings.  "I am woman" and I can't stop myself.  I am on a mission to restore life, to bring back form and airiness, to force my plants to follow every gardening principle known to all farmers everywhere...TO GROW THE BIGGEST AND BEST BERRIES EVER PRODUCED!

I take it too far.
(Take a look at my camellias and you'll understand.)

Let's hope the "makeover" I just gave my blackberry bushes tonight is more forgiving and not a cruel joke created by my rabid pruning shears!  (It will be our little secret if blackberries are conspicuously absent from my market this year, ok?)

Building in sustainability my way...

According to Wikipedia here's the unofficial definition...

Sustainable agriculture:  The phrase was reportedly coined by Australian agricultural scientist Gordon McClymont.^[1] It has been defined as "an integrated system of plant and animal production practices having a site-specific application that will last over the long term.

So, how do we actually do this?  It appears that it may be put into practice differently for each specific location according to the above definition and I must say, I agree with that concept.  I watched an interesting and somewhat controversial video today called "Back To Eden" and it addresses sustainability, mostly in the form of composting with wood chips.  There were many references to the original "Garden" and that God apparently intended for this very thing because it was good.  Whether you agree or not is not my intent, really.  What I did want to point to were the ways that I could apply a similar principle to my site-specific location.  I believe that I could incorporate the general premise but not necessarily all the details. I don't feel, as one urban gardener stated in the video, that this concept was given to us now because of the state of the world.  As far as I can tell, people have mulched and composted for centuries because it eliminates the need to water.

Right?

Right.

I would not want to introduce "foreign" wood chips, made from any old tree.  Here's why...people cut down diseased trees and I don't want a truckload of that. But, I would consider looking at what I already have here on my land to use.  I have some rather beautiful live oaks that drop some leaves, but not all, hence the "live" reference.  I could conceiveable rake up a load of leaves and composte all my garden beds.  Also, I have alot of pine straw at the back of my property.  This would make the perfect blueberry mulch.  To me, it makes sense to use what you already have to sustain your land, if at all possible. I have two huge brush piles that will degrade soon enough to use as mulch, too.

So, now the wheels are turning and I have thought of some other ways I can encourage sustainability.  One way is to adopt a "no till" stance.  In other words, no tractor, no tiller, no tilling. Eek! (I don't have a tractor, anyway!)  Instead, I will dig the garden beds I need to plant my vegetables by removing the surface grass and using those clods of grass upside down on top of other areas to mulch and remove grass over time. I'll get two for one...using a practice that will have a longterm affect.  Tilling actually ruins your soil, over time.  Instead, I will heavily mulch my garden beds in the winter or possibly plant a cover crop to restore nutrients. My rows are wide and deep, heavily mulched and I should get great yield in less space.  In the spring, I will be ready to plant by removing the mulch.  Unfortunately, all the hard work is happening now, digging the beds.  (My knees and back aren't thrilled and are rebelling, big time).  My melon patch looks like circular mounds cut out with a cookie cutter!  Unconventional but sustainable, all the same. 

As time goes on, I will keep expanding on the concept of sustainability because I want to be able to sustain my farm, my health, my love for farming and to offer only the best produce for others.  Here is a great point made in the video that I have been saying over and over...Remember, if a piece of fruit or vegetable is so perfect that there aren't any blemishes or evidence that a bug may have taken a bite, then it only means that bugs won't go after something that tastes like poison, so why should you?

Perfectly imperfect...as nature intended. That's my motto.



I dread crossing over...in the non-afterlife sense.

I dreaded today.

It's my 56th birthday and I can barely say it out loud let alone write it.

So I dreaded it happening because it crosses one over, so to speak, to your late 50's. Eww. Ick. Ish.

But it happened and I couldn't do anything about it.

Nothing good about it.

Nada.

Ok, so I may be overdoing it but tomorrow is a new day.

I will be over the shock and the feeling of utter aloneness will subside. {It better or I may have to kick my own ass!}

I should be glad, really.

{Trying to convince myself here.}

This may be the year I meet my smart, funny, dashingly handsome and rugged man that loves farming and is the love of my life.

The ONE that "sees me" for me, gets me and embraces it all.

I imagine he will love blueberries and be magnetically drawn to me at the farmer's market this year. 

{...because I sell blueberries?}

Don't be mistaken.  I am completely happy living here on my farm.  It is just that loneliness and living alone are two very different concepts.  And I am lonely at times still waiting for that one that is out there and needs me, too.

This is downright depressing, so please forgive me!  It is just real, realness. It hurts a bit more after just losing my father.  He may have been the last real man in my life.

Let's keep hoping the blueberries do the trick. 

I keep hoping.

Mother Nature forced me to do my taxes today!

When you live on a farm, you spend alot of time outside...no kidding, right? Well, not today and I'm pouting.
I had plans...big plans to keep expanding my new garden bed.  But last night we had snow and although it is all melting away today you'd think business as usual could commence. Nope! Frozen ground...frozen everything, in fact! (I thought I could prune some grapevines but my feet froze, too!) So I am here, stuck inside, sharpening my pencil and about to begin the second most certain aspect of life...my taxes. At least I won't have to waste any good weather days on them!



My "door" to my blueberry patch.



My way to Le Farm was paved by a very courageous woman...

I bought Le Farm in May 2012 from a man that has never lived in this beautiful spot but enjoyed this wonderful property, nonetheless.  He was an ambitious, retired engineer that exercised his green thumb and his ability to design and layout irrigation lines and electrical boxes reaching every corner of its 4.15 acres. It certainly has made my job much easier, having the hard stuff already done, allowing me the freedom to pick the fruits of his labors from the hundreds of blueberry and blackberry bushes he planted. But his mark is small compared to the extensive family history attached to Le Farm and the wonderful legacy, I recently discovered, about the special woman that paved my way here.

Mrs. Edith Parrott Savely was born on this farm.  Her father, T.H. Parrott, built my home for himself and his fiance, Mary Frances Jones in 1869.  They raised their family here; five daughters and one son, who died in infancy. After the parents passed away, three of the daughters lived here until their deaths.  With all this living and dying one might think that would present an element of "creepiness" to this house.  That could not be farther from the truth.  One only feels the warmth of  "home" and complete and utter serenity here. As Gaston Bachelard writes, "...the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace".  This is that house.

Mrs. Savely, as it turns out, was a champion for farm women.  She was the first South Carolina Home Demonstration Agent, teaching other agents to give home demonstrations to farm women and girls. Their mission was to disseminate educational information on agriculture and home economics to rural women and girls who did not attend college.  Here is a picture of Edith Savely and an "unnamed kitty" in front of my home.

I used to wonder what the Parrott patriarch would have thought about a single woman, originally from NewYork state, now owning his farm that held generations of South Carolinian Parrotts.  Having raised an enthusiastic daughter like Edith, who ended up running this farm by herself after her own husband passed away, I think Mr. T. H. Parrott would be pleased to see me here and the progress I have made in a short time.  This is a place that was meant for a woman farmer.  I am that farmer.



Starting seeds...the hope of spring

There is something magical about seeing seeds poke through new soil as slender green sprouts. No doubt about it, time seemed to stand still as I waited for the transformation to occur. And then, as if on cue, when the conditions were just right for moisture, heat and light, the show began.  It is particularly rewarding when the seeds I'm growing were saved from my own garden the summer before. There's nothing artificial added or needed to recreate new plants for this year's crops. That is amazing to me and a bit of a miracle.
Does it matter what phase the moon is in to have the most success? I imagine seasoned farmers have their own opinion of the recommendations the Farmer's Almanac puts forth each year on this subject.  I wasn't sure, so I decided to follow their advice to see for myself. 

Last year, no matter what I did, it felt like my timing was off and I couldn't get good results.  (I should rephrase that...I couldn't get any results!)  The heat, the flooding, the pests, all took a toll on my garden. I started to worry that I had lost my touch; that my proverbial green thumb had picked up and left the building with Elvis. 

This year, at least for now, has started off well and I am still diligent to pay attention to the moon.  I planted these little beauties on "good planting days" per the Farmer's Almanac gardening calendar.  Within 7 days they sprouted and they are continuing to grow quite well! Biological science works closely with mother nature and experts say it is predictable, but I prefer to suggest that there is a little magic involved and what springs forth is more than just a result of scientific practices. It is hope...the hope of spring...and that puts a smile on my face.

Figs...glorious figs!

Looking forward to my next crop of figs.  This was my first time growing them. I now cannot live without them!  They taste just like honey to me...I believe these are Celeste.  There is a trick, though.  You have to beat the birds to them.  They wait until they are perfectly ripe and drooping on the twig and then use their beaks to peck out a chunk and give the ants an open invitation.  There is a curious thing about figs.  They will not ripen off the tree.  So, it is a race to see if the early bird will always get the fig. Not this year, if I can help it!