Category Archives: Small Farming

The woods of Maine

Am I the one behind the times?

Backwater. Backwoods. Out of touch. Out of date. Woods queer. Stuck in the past. These are terms used recently to describe people like me. Obviously, they are not terms of endearment. They’re not positive images as they’re being used in these conversations.

Here’s a little about me, in case you’re a new reader. I hunt, fish, paddle, forage and have a one-acre garden. I raise chickens, ducks and turkeys for meat and eggs. I’m a dumbass with a smart phone I barely know how to use to make a call (it’s not set up well).  I don’t care to know more. I can make calls, text and send pictures. Apps? I have a great flashlight… All the other apps came pre-installed. My name is Robin, and I am an app failure…and I like it that way.

Fawn Runner Ducks

Fawn Runner Ducks

I’m on Twitter. I thought I’d enjoy sharing #TreestandTweets but it was annoying. I’m not sitting in a tree to tweet; save that for birds. I’m there to hunt and be aware of my surroundings. I have followers but I don’t follow the rule of following back everyone who follows me. I’ve never been to a Tweetup and have never felt the need to, even “for my career.”  I have a Facebook page for my writing but don’t post there a lot. No need to inundate anyone with reminders about me; they know where to find me.

Out of date. I’m anti-genetic engineering, anti-Monsanto, anti-food lot, anti-antibiotic in factory farms…I’m anti-factory farms. I know what’s in my food. Like a growing number of people who are paying attention, I provide at least some of my own food.  If you aren’t already providing some of your own food, you are behind the times.  I can feed myself with food I grow, raise and buy locally. So I’m out of touch, backwater, backwoods, stuck in the past, but I can feed myself.

I’m out of touch. My kids didn’t get cell phones until they were driving. We live 20 miles from the high school, further from their jobs. They had cell phones with limited amounts of minutes so that they could call us in an emergency. We <gasp> were pretty insistent that they communicate with people face to face. I’m not used to this commonly accepted bad habit of ignoring people in favor of someone else.

I’m out of touch even with a cell phone. If your phone rings in a restaurant and interrupts someone’s meal I won’t hesitate to tell you we are not in a phone booth. If someone else is more important than the people you are with at the moment, do the unimportant people a favor and leave. Get off the phone and communicate face to face.

Backwoods. You bet! Forty-five acres in the middle of thousands of acres, no neighbors in sight. I can feed myself from the land. We heat our home with wood, a renewable resource. I’m not depending on anyone to keep me warm. Or fed.

firewood

We burned four cords of firewood in the winter of 2012-13.

Woods queer: (adjective) a milder form of insanity that results from living in a rural isolated environment, typically the woods or forest.  Ok, I’ll claim that, but I don’t think I’m any more insane than the city or urban queer. We’re all a little insane (but some of us don’t know that yet) no matter where we live.

Backwater. Backwoods. Out of touch. Out of date. Woods queer. Stuck in the past. Happy. Satisfied. Fulfilled. Content. Well fed. Warm. Self sufficient.  It works for me.

The woods of Maine

I live here.

 

Diplomat broccoli seedlings

Vegetable Seedlings

The seedlings from seeds I started a few weeks ago are ready to be separated and moved to individual containers. These plants will be transplanted into a high tunnel next month with the possible exception of the leeks. They’ll probably go into a low tunnel outdoors. The plants are under grow lights during the day. I turn the lights on when I get up and off before going to bed. I’ll write a How-To as I work with the seedlings this afternoon.

Bush slicer cucumber

Great for containers

Astia zucchini is great for containers and small spaces.

Astia zucchini, small enough for containers and small spaces.

little jade cabbage

Little Jade cabbage from Renee’s Garden

Butterhead lettuce

Butterhead lettuce from Renee’s Seeds

diplomat broccoli

Diplomat broccoli

opalka tomato

Opalka paste tomato

tatsoi kale

Tatsoi on the left, kale with fringed edges on the right

Bleu de Solaize leeks

Bleu de Solaize leeks

1020 tray, seed starting

Seed Starting

I’ve started a few seeds here and there but nothing remarkable. Steve brought in a 3.8 cu ft bale of ProMix for me yesterday (I have an arm in a sling, limited in what I’m supposed to do.) before he left for a snowmobile ride. My plan: fill all of the trays, pots and six packs I’d need, soak them and let them set while I sorted seeds, then get all of the seeds planted before he got home. Then I’d clean up the mess since I’m doing this in the kitchen rather than the roofless greenhouse (Thanks Nemo, you sucked.) and be ready to cook supper when he got home.

My accomplishment was sorted seeds and this:

1020 tray, seed starting

1020 tray. It’s 10″ x 20″ inches.

One 1020 tray with 3/4″ of ProMix and two kinds of seeds. The ProMix, stored in the roofless greenhouse where no heat collects, was frozen solid. The bale is shrink wrapped with heavy plastic making the bale solid. It took two hours for the top of the bale to thaw. I planted Revolution bell peppers and Opalka paste tomatoes and called it good. I retreated to the couch to read. Steve brought the stand in this morning. I put cardboard down as an insulator underneath the heating pad.

High tunnel

The seedlings will be transplanted into one of the high tunnels.

The bale has thawed and ready to be used this morning. Steve is ice fishing on a new pond and I’m playing in the dirt…I mean I’m starting seeds. I have a long list of what I’m starting today but most of them will have only a few seeds. It’s too early to start them for outdoors planting as we’re still three months from the last average frost date. These seedlings will be transplanted into high tunnels in mid to late April, depending on the amount of sun we get and the temperatures.

Here’s the list and a little info on some of the varieties.

Opalka  (paste tomato) and Revolution  (bell pepper) are in one tray. I need more than a few of these plants, and they both benefit from a heating pad. The seedlings don’t look alike so I won’t confuse them. I can’t put two kinds of tomatoes in one tray; I screw up when I’m transplanting to six packs and mix them up every single time if I start them together.  “A butterfly! ummm….what end of the tray did I pluck this from?”

Butterfly Rudbeckia Cappuccino

Photo by Renee’s Garden. Butterfly Rudbeckia Cappuccino.

Unless noted, seeds came from Fedco. For full disclosure, all seeds from Renee’s Garden were sent to me as a media package. They give me seeds, I write about them. I don’t give them my approval just because they were given to me. If I didn’t like them I’d say so.

*Johnny’s Seeds
**Renee’s Garden

  • Bleu De Solaize Leek  A lot of people start them in January or February. I don’t like cutting them back several times before transplanting outdoors. It will be late April or early May before they can be transplanted. I’ll direct seed in a high tunnel later this week and compare production at the end of the season. New to me.
  • Little Jade. Baby Napa cabbage. ** Seeds from last year’s media kit.
  • Diplomat broccoli *
  • De Cicco broccoli (48 days, it will be out of the high tunnel before the hottest summer heat)
  • Kolibri purple kohlrabi
  • Shuko pac choi (A favorite for stir fry)
  • Tatsoi
  • Kale Mix (I’ll start more in the summer for fall transplanting into a high tunnel for the winter)
  • Snow Crown cauliflower. Cauliflower is a little more tender than the other brassicas. It will be fine with the warmth of the tunnel, and will be out in about 50 days before it’s too hot inside. *
  • Rhapsody butterhead lettuce. ** I’ll direct seed leaf lettuces later in the week. **
  • Brush Stroke pansy. Pansies are some of my favorite flowers. I’ll move the seed tray to the high tunnel in a week or so. They prefer cool weather.  New to me.
  • Helen Mount Johnny Jump Up. Also being moved to the tunnel. I’ll randomly plant these around the homestead. They’re self-seeding perennials.
  • Starlight echinacea ** Left from last year. I tried some, like them and used the last of the seed today.
  • Cappuccino rudbeckia. ** Left from last year.
  • Broadleaf Sage
  • Greek Oregano **
  • Lavender Hidcote **
  • Lemon Balm
  • Panorama Red Shades bee balm
  • Bush Slicer cucumber. ** Great in containers. The first cucumbers I picked last year were these, grown in a hanging basket on the back porch.
  • Astia Zucchini ** A bushy plant great for containers and small spaces.
  • Super Bush tomato. **Another container plant. Super Bush survived three frosts last year. The leaves looked terrible in the morning and just fine by noon. Nice slicing tomato, determinate that maxed out at 3′ tall. The stems are thick and strong, needs little staking. I put one dowel in the container.
  • Chianti Rose tomato. ** An heirloom. It’s a big “beef stake” type. It will be grown clipped to twine in the high tunnel. It maxes out at 7′ so I won’t be chasing it to the 13′ peek to drag it back down.  New to me.
  • Stupice tomato. ** Another heirloom. It is early, cold tolerant and great for containers. New to me.
  • Juliet tomato. My garden wouldn’t be complete without Juliet. It’s the first tomato to ripen. Juliet is a grape. It’s excellent eaten alone, dehydrates well, and is my fantastic in sauce. I wish there were a large paste tomato that tasted exactly like Juliet. It’s wild, suckers like crazy and will grow to 20′ long in the high tunnel if I let it. It’s worth the work. I’ll climb the ladder to grab the top and bring it back down to clip to twine.
  • Sunset Mix sweet peppers. ** Heirloom. “…elongated plump peppers are perfect for pizza, salads or roasting.”
  • Early Jalepeno. I’m not a hot-food person…but I’m starting to appreciate it. I can eat a Jalepeno popper now. A few years ago I wouldn’t try one. I like these best when they’re red. The plants branch out and reach 4′ to 5′ tall in the tunnels. I have to stake them to keep them upright.

I didn’t start a lot of seeds today. They fit on two shelves on the plant rack. I’ll start the majority of the seeds on April 1. Direct seeding in the garden depends on the weather. The ground is usually dry enough by late April. Remember, when the package says “as soon as the soil can be worked” you should be planting those seeds. Soil that “can be worked” doesn’t drip water when squeezed in your hand. I’ll talk more about that later, and about seeds I plant while there’s still frost in the ground.

I’m going to give away some of my favorite seeds. I’ll have Juliet tomatoes, Ministro cucumbers (49 days to maturity!) and a few others. Watch for a blog about it later this week.

boc choi dill seedlings

Fedco Seeds Order 2013

Here’s the 2013 Fedco Seeds order. I order the majority of my seeds from Fedco for several reasons.

  • It’s a cooperative, not a conglomerate
  • Monsanto
  • They buy from/support small seed growers, some of them Fedco staff
  • Maine business: local starts at the beginning, not at the grocery store.
  • Staff is wonderful. And funny. Helpful, informative and are folks who are just like me and maybe you
  • Best prices I’ve ever seen, and I’ve looked at hundreds (some repeats, different years) of catalogs in the last 25 year

I’ll eventually move some of this list into new blog entries. One will be varieties that are new to me, seeds I’ll plant in February and March in the high tunnels, varieties I grow only in high tunnels, and who knows what else might cross my mind.

boc choi dill seedlings

Boc choi and dill seedlings

This isn’t a complete list of everything I’ll grow this year, it’s just the order from Fedco. I’ve ordered from Renee’s Garden (A media kit so I’ll be writing about that order, too.) and will order from Johnny’s (which is not owned by Monsanto). I have some seeds in stock.

204 – Provider Bush Green Bean
265 – Indy Gold Bush Wax Bean
577 – Fleet Bicolor Sweet Corn
680 – Painted Mountain Ornamental Corn
710 – Coral Shell Pea
818 – Oregon Giant Snow Pea
1234 – Cross Country Pickling Cucumber
1302 – Ministro Slicing Cucumber
1407 – Golden Arrow Zucchini
1504 – Saffron Summer Squash
1611 – Zeppelin Delicata Winter Squash
1633 – Eastern Rise Winter Squash
1655 – Blue Hubbard Winter Squash
1672 – Galeux dEysines Winter Squash
1687 – Waltham Butternut Winter Squash
1702 – Wee-B-Little Pumpkin
1710 – Diablo Pumpkin
1713 – Lumina Pumpkin
1716 – Jarrahdale Pumpkin
1718 – Winter Luxury Pumpkin
1719 – New England Pie Pumpkin
1727 – Rouge Vif d’Etampes Pumpkin
1740 – Cheese Pumpkin
2108 – Early Wonder Tall Top Beet
2310 – Harris Model Parsnip
2378 – Purple Top White Globe Turnip
2398 – Laurentian Rutabaga
2425 – Bleu de Solaize Leek
2447 – Whitewing Onion
2490 – Rossa di Milano Onion
2498 – Walla Walla Sweet Spanish Onion
2510 – Space Spinach
2728 – Red Salad Bowl Lettuce
2980 – Lettuce Mix
3220 – Tatsoi
3260 – Shuko Pac Choi
3303 – Tendergreen Broccoli
3338 – Falstaff Brussels Sprouts
3352 – Golden Acre Cabbage
3375 – Ruby Perfection Cabbage
3410 – Snow Crown Cauliflower
3469 – Kale Mix
3471 – Kolibri Kohlrabi
3764 – Early Jalapeno Hot Pepper
3837 – Revolution Sweet Pepper
4135 – Opalka Paste Tomato
4207 – Juliet Tomato
4418 – Genovese Basil
4530 – Bouquet Dill
5152 – Helen Mount Johnny-Jump-Up
5211 – Crackerjack Mix African Marigold
5305 – Brush Strokes Pansy
5355 – Carnation Rose Poppy

Thankfulness and Gratitude

At the end of the Thanksgiving weekend and beginning of the Christmas season, I have much to be thankful for.

It started with the makings of a Christmas wreath. It was 45* last Sunday afternoon. The air was still and the sky clear. I found a clean, empty grain bag in the shed and called to Ava, our English shepherd. “Let’s go tipping.” She, of course, knows nothing of tipping. She’s a dog. Ava is energetic and enthusiastic and will follow me anywhere. She’s a good companion in the woods. We walked to the back left corner of our open three acres of land, followed the grassy trail Steve keeps bush hogged, and onto another cleared trail. The second trail trail was made by a skidder in the winter of 1996/97 when our land, not ours at the time, was last logged. The ruts are deep and collect water, making small pools where wood frogs lay their eggs in the spring.

Ava explored while I walked from tree to tree, down the old rock wall that fell over long before we bought the land, snapping off the tips of balsam trees. I’m thankful for My Creative Diva’s interest in a how-to article on Christmas wreaths. This led me to thinking about the choice I made to give up market farming to pursue writing full time. It could have gone both ways, and thankfully it has gone well. I love what I do and I’ve had a good year. “Paying my dues,” is a phrase I’ve repeated many times in the past year. Without a college degree to prove my worth, I have to pay my dues. Mind you, I know a few college educated people holding writing degrees who can’t write a grocery list, but they’re worthy because they are educated. I’ve been paying my dues and I’m not for one second complaining. I’ve enjoyed the hard work.

Tipping is mindless work; snap the branch off in the right place with my right hand, pile tips on my left arm until I can’t balance them, place the pile on the ground. I go back to get them when I think I have enough to fill the grain bag. There’s a lot of peaceful time to think when I’m tipping.

I’m a little thankful that I miss being a market farmer. It means I enjoyed my work. I’m thankful that I still have two of the three high tunnels that I’ll continue to use to feed my family.

My land is nothing special, but at the same time, it is. I’m thankful that I can feed my family from my 45 acres. We have wild blackberries, raspberries and strawberries growing on our land. There aren’t a lot of any of them but I can make a batch of jam or jelly and eat the fruit fresh. The land supports cherry and apple trees that provide us with fruit, and apricot, peach and plum trees that will produce in a few years. I enjoy the wild mushrooms I pick each summer and fall. Snowshoe hare, partridge and bear give me opportunities to hunt on my own land. I can hunt for deer here but there are very few.

Even in dry years, my piece of land provides water. Natural springs dot a large portion of land close to the house. We can snowshoe to one particularly productive spring, lower a bucket through an opening in the four foot deep snow and pull up fresh, clean water.  We’d melt snow first, but I’m thankful for the option.

A large medical bill nagged at us soon after we bought the land. Steve borrowed a skidder. Talk about something to be thankful for—friends who have skidders and generously let us use one when needed. I learned to drive a skidder during the cedar cut. I’m thankful I didn’t hurt myself or break anything. I did turn the skidder into a unicorn when I drove over a 10′ log that somehow, through a series of magical moves as far as I can tell, speared itself to the front of the skidder and stuck up at an angle. Steve thought I’d probably driven the skidder enough and took over. I agreed. He cut cedar trees, sold them to a local sawmill and paid the bill in full.  Forty-two of our 45 acres are wooded. We can heat our home with wood from our woodlot if necessary.

Christmas wreath

This Christmas wreath has sprigs of cedar and pine wrapped in. It smells beautiful and will last well past Christmas day.

The balsam I harvest comes from wild trees I managed to supply the tons of tips I used to make thousands of Christmas wreaths. It’s been a good source of income at the end of the growing season, and one I can fall back on at any time. The cedar and pine I tuck into wreaths and the cones from the white pine trees I decorate with also grow here.

I’m thankful for all I’ve learned about nature here. I’ve learned wildlife tracks, habitat and habits. Dead trees provide homes for three kinds of woodpeckers that I can watch when they start peeking out of the tree in preparation for leaving the nest.

For our family and friends, our careers, the food on our table, warmth in our home, clothes on our backs, my 10 year old reliable vehicle, and the freedoms we’ve chosen, I am thankful.

Nine week old meat chickens.

Slaughtering Day for the Meat Chickens

It was cold the day we killed the chickens. Steve finished a few projects he’d been working on outside while I did some housework and cooking. With those tasks done, we could concentrate on the birds. I put the dogs in the house. Ava, our English Shepherd, spent a lot of time with “her” birds, and I didn’t know how protective she’d be of them when they squawked as we picked them up or when they were killed.  She has epilepsy, and stress and anxiety induce seizures.

9 1/2 week old Cornish Rock meat chickens

These 9 1/2 week old meat chickens are full grown. The roosters were starting to crow.

Steve found a large, heavy firewood log that hadn’t been split yet. He pounded two large nails into the top, outside edge of the log to serve as the chopping block. The chickens should die instantly, not be wounded. The nails serve as a holder for the bird’s head.

The chopping block, equipped to hold the chicken still.

The chopping block, equipped to hold the chicken still.

Nine and a half weeks’ worth of time put into raising the chickens ended quickly. Steve set the chopping block down by the high tunnel. The first chicken squawked and flapped for a few seconds before it relaxed. He carried it to the block, put its head on the outside of the two nails, picked up the ax and with one small swing, cut off the bird’s head. Its wings flapped violently for three or four seconds. When they slowed, he placed the carcass on its back to bleed out.

I handed him one of the two birds I was holding, he killed it, and I handed him the next one. While he killed that one, I retrieved two more chickens from the high tunnel. With five birds ready to be butchered, we headed to the makeshift table.

We don’t eat the heart, liver or gizzard. We don’t know anyone who wants these organs so we no longer gut the birds. It’s kind of a shame we don’t like them but they don’t go to waste so I don’t feel bad about not using them. More about that later.

The air temperature was 40* and the breeze blew. I dislike butchering in warm weather so the cool day was most welcome.

I cut the bottom half of the legs off at the joint. They’re supposed to be great for chicken stock but I’m not able to get past the fact that they step in manure. I dropped them into the offal bucket. I cut the skin open from the bottom of the breast to the top and pulled it away from the meat. It takes a bit of strength to move the skin from the legs. I remove the skin before cooking chicken so there’s no point in going to the trouble of plucking the carcasses. I pushed the bird down the table to Steve. He removed the leg and thigh quarter as one piece, then fileted the breast meat from the bone. That’s it; that bird is done. The meat goes into a large bowl until I’m done with my portion of the work and  move it into the cooler filled with 45* well water and a block of ice where it will cool. We worked through five chickens in a half hour, picking up speed with each bird.

Tammy, a friend of mine, arrived to help us at the end of the fifth bird. We caught five birds, handing them one at a time to Steve. I removed the bottom half of the legs, Tammy cut the skin and pushed it back out of the way, and pushed the carcass down to Steve. We had ten birds finished. On the third trip to the chopping block, Steve asked for seven birds, about half of the 15 left.

Butchering the meat chickens

With the skin removed from the breast, the meat is easy to remove from the carcass.

It takes about 30 seconds to remove both halves of the breast meat.

It took two and a half hours to kill and butcher 25 birds. The roosters were impressively large weighing between 9.5 to 10.5 pounds each. The hens were seven to eight pounds each (live weight). We had more roosters than hens. I hoped for 100 pounds of meat and was very pleased with the end total of 117 pounds.

When the chicks arrived as three day old fluff balls they were kept in a plastic bin in the house. They had a heat pad for warmth. The moved outside to grass during the day and came in at night. I was eager to get them out of the house. They moved to a chicken tractor, then the high tunnel. The weather was unstable for part of the time they were in the tunnel so I had to be careful to open the doors to let the breeze cool the tunnel. There were days warm enough to make it hot inside the tunnel so the birds were outside on grass and in the garden. In the end, most days were cool and cloudy. I opened the doors on each end for air circulation and to let them out, and they often stayed inside if I gave them food. If I didn’t give them food they went out to eat but returned the extra warmth of the tunnel. The high tunnel made my work very easy. It was nice to not move the tractor twice a day at the end when they were at their biggest and messiest stage.

I let the dogs out when we finished. Ava sniffed around the table where we’d cleaned the birds, and had no interest in going to the high tunnel to see that the birds were gone. She seemed to already know. She didn’t look for them. Our morning routine involved tending the meat chickens first, then the laying hens and turkeys, then the ducks and bantam chickens. Ava rounded the corner of the shed and raced to the tunnel first each morning. She hasn’t done it since the birds were killed.  We killed chickens a month after we got her as a pup and again last year. As a two year old in her third season of working with meat chickens, she remembered how this works. She’s an excellent asset to our homestead.

The meat was cooled overnight, drained and packed in Food Saver and Ziplock freezer bags. I used quart Ziplocs that are made to prevent freezer burn. A small hand pump sucks the air out of the bag. The Ziploc bags are easier and faster to use than Food Saver bags (which you have to make individually). If they work as well in the freezer at preventing freezer burn I will use Ziploc exclusively next year.

This is the first year in many years (I don’t remember how many.) that we didn’t lose any birds to predators. It was by far the easiest, most successful year we’ve had with meat chickens.

Meat Chickens – Three Weeks Old

Ava’s charges, also known as the meat chicks, have been here for three weeks. They’ve grown from tiny yellow puffballs weighing in the neighborhood of two ounces to an average of 15 oz. Yes, I weighed a few. I was curious. They’re 20 days old as I write this and are growing well.

English Shepherd and Meat Chickens

Ava herds the chicks out of the tractor.

The chick starter I’m feeding the meat birds is powdery. I dislike it a lot but it’s the only starter available locally. By locally, I mean within 50 miles. The dust floats through the air and creates a film on everything in spite of the air purifier a few feet from the chicks’ bin. And, they stink. Before I had all of the newspapers under them changed they’d already pooped on the fresh papers. It was too cool at night to leave them outside. I’ve shuffled my poultry around to avoid a chicken and duck-killing skunk until I can catch it. Having the chicks in the barn wasn’t an option. I moved them to the enclosed sun porch.

Two days after moving them to the sun porch, I moved them to the small high tunnel. They’re outside all day every day with the exception of one rainy day. We got 4.5 inches of rain in 18 hours. During the day they chicks are on grass. They’re closed into the tunnel in late afternoon. They sun warms the tunnel. At sunset, I move them into the plastic bin, place the cover upside (so it can’t clip on and suffocate them) on top of the bin, and they’re toasty warm in the morning.

This is a lot of extra work. I probably should have ordered them a month earlier. Next year. I’ll remember this next year and avoid the constant chick shuffle.

At this point, extra work excluded, the chicks are still very easy to care for. I started with 26 and still have 25. The chick with black spots didn’t look good one morning and was dead a few hours later. It happens.

During the day I feed and water them, count them to be sure none have squeezed out, and walk away. These are meat birds. They’ll always be well cared for but they’re not pets. It’s important to be very clear in the difference between the barnyard hen that lays eggs and stays a few years, or maybe her entire life, and the birds that are here approximately eight weeks.

English Shepherd and Meat Chickens

Ava keeps the chickens safe from predators.

If you’re familiar with raising Cornish rock crosses or similar breeds in backyards, you’ve probably heard how gross, dirty, disgusting, fill-in-the-blank they are. I raised them that way the first year. I kept food and water in front of them all the time. They had room to roam but with unlimited food, they had no need to get up and move. They really were repulsive. The following year was better. I took their food away from them in the evening, leaving only their water. They were less disgusting. I made more changes the third year. I put up a portable fence around the tractor, opened the door and let them roam during the day. And roam they did because they were hungry. I fed them in the morning to help with morning chill. They were fed again in early evening to get them to go back into the tractor without having to be herded in by one of the farm dogs. They spent the day chasing grasshoppers, beetles and other insects. Just like “normal” chickens, they took dust baths. They behaved like the laying hens. I let them into the portions of the garden not being used. It’s a great set up. They scratched up grubs, ate weed seeds and deposited manure. As soon as they’re full feathered out, the tractor is moved to the garden when the soil is dry enough. They’re moved back to grass before rainy days.

Twenty five chicks have eaten 50 pounds of food in three weeks, plus whatever they’re finding on their own in the grass. They’re still too small to manage grasshoppers alone but a few chicks competing for the same one can catch it and pull it apart by fighting over it. It takes effort on their part but eventually the grasshoppers they catch become a meal.

Ava helps me in the evening by herding the chicks. She brings them to me to move into the bin for transfer to the high tunnel. She stays nearby and checks on them often during the day. When they’re old enough to be turned loose into a large area, she’ll spend several hours inside the fence with them. The rest of the day, she’ll be outside the fence to chase away hawks, eagles, late-migrating turkey vultures and anything else she thinks is a threat to her birds. I’ve corrected her twice for picking up uncooperative chicks to bring to me. She used to drag a mean rooster around by a leg when he didn’t cooperate. I stopped that habit but could see she was still tempted. He was mean so…well…off with his head. Problem solved then. I’ll probably have to remind her to “let it be” a few more times. She’s stubborn.

 

 

 

 

Ava and the Meat Chicks

August 25, 2012. The day Taylor, our youngest daughter, moved back to campus. Moving day is busy. We loaded the Jeep and put a few things in the truck and hit the road. Taylor left ahead of us to make a stop in Bangor. I waited for the phone to ring, but it didn’t. Someone calls to say “Come get them” or “Billy’s on his way by, he’ll drop them off,” but not this year. This year our mail is delivered through a different post office because of cutbacks.

My phone number was on the shipping label. I thought they’d call. They must not have come in. Would they survive until Monday?

We pulled into the drive late in the afternoon. “There they are,” Steve said. Instant relief. He picked up the box of loudly peeping chicks and set them down on the kitchen counter. Ava, our two year old English Shepherd, was ecstatic. She knows peeping means she has work to do. She stood on her back legs, right front foot pawing the air, wanting her chicks. I moved the box to the floor.

Ava tipped her head from side to side, ears perked up, and listened for a few second before the work of getting the box open began. She sniffed the top and sides of the box. She pushed it around the kitchen floor. She found the weak spot, a corner with a lip big enough to get her snout under. She pushed the box to the cupboard for stability, stuck her snout under the edge and pushed up the corner.

“Be easy,” I told her. “They’re babies, Ava. Be gentle.” Ava is an intense dog. She’s one of the two most intelligent dogs I’ve worked. She’s a thinker and a planner, and she’s stubborn. Give her an inch and she’s off on her own. Her way is usually better than mine. Ava has epilepsy. I can almost pinpoint when the changes in her brain started. Stress and anxiety induced seizures. A second medication got her back on track two months ago but I’m still careful to watch her anxiety level. This matters in our story.

Ava snuffled every chick she could reach inside the mostly closed box. A few of them got baths. Poor things weren’t even out of the box yet and they were dealing with an energetic dog that was excited about her 25 new charges. I know she isn’t going to hurt them. She’s very protective of her chickens, ducks and turkeys. And I know the chicks are fine. Ava does this every time we get poultry and they never panic. Maybe they don’t know she could eat them in one bite.

I brought the plastic tub into the house, lined it with newspaper and added food and water. I don’t use a heat lamp in the house. I know two people who lost their barns because of heat lamps. I put a heating mat I use for seed starting under the bin. One by one, I moved chicks to the tub. Ava sniffed each one. After three or four chicks were moved she’d go to the tub, stick her head in, look at them and return to the box. She spent the first six hours watching them. She likes order, and being a herding dog, she puts everything where I want them or where she thinks they belong. She nosed the chicks to one end of the tub. They got to know each other well.

Ava started to become anxious when she couldn’t keep 26 (they throw in an extra in case one doesn’t survive shipping) chicks in the “right” place. I changed their newspapers, took the food and water away and put the cover of the tub on, leaving enough room for fresh air to flow through. To be on the safe side, because she’s Ava and intense, I added a few objects to the lid to help persuade her to leave it be. She hasn’t had a seizure in two months. I want to keep it that way. She relaxed and went to her pillow in the corner. When I got up the next morning she was peeking through the open edge. I don’t know how long she’d been standing there. It was still dark and the chicks were asleep.

In the next few columns I’ll be writing about raising meat chickens in my backyard. It’s a simpler process than many folks realize. I’m sure Ava will turn up from time to time along with battles with raccoons and the resident skunk we’ve yet to trap.

Growing Plums, Even in Maine

When I decided to give up market farming on a full-time basis, I knew I didn’t want to let the soil I’d worked hard to improve just go back to field. I don’t want to have to mow it, so simply throwing down some grass seed wasn’t an option.

I’ve long thought of fruit trees from my childhood. We used to visit a long-ago-abandoned homestead to pick fruit. The house had fallen into its foundation. The fruit trees were in need of pruning and didn’t produce a lot of fruit, but what they did provide us was delicious.

My love of truly fresh fruit, picked when ripe, started before I turned 10 years old. We picked apples, pears, plums and blackberries. One day, after warning us kids to be careful of bears before we wandered off to pick in another patch of canes, my aunt almost bumped into a bear as it feasted on the big, juicy berries. “Don’t run,” she’d told us, but that’s exactly what she did.

Fast forward 40 years and it’s my time to plant fruit trees. Last year, I planted apricot and peach trees. I planned to dig them up this spring to move them but after opening the box containing my trees from Fedco, I might not.

I realize now that those trees, purchased elsewhere, are marginal in quality at best. I will order new peach and apricot trees next year. These trees survived winter, though not well. Some of the tips of the peach trees are dead and the apricot trees didn’t grow at all last year.

I purchased 200 strawberry plants, three kiwi vines and two grape vines this year. And the trees? Plum.

I knew little about growing plums in Maine and admit to knowing only a little more now. Most of the catalogs I looked at gave only basic information such as height and width, USDA Hardiness Zones, and when the fruit would ripen. I need more. I haven’t done this before, and nobody around here grows plums. “They grow in Maine? I didn’t know that,” is the comment I hear most often.

So, armed with little information, I chose an American Plum, Prunus americana. It’s a big tree that reaches 15 to 20 feet tall. The fruit, according to the Fedco catalog, is good for eating fresh, canning and freezing. I plan to make plum sauce and jam. It’s hardy down to zone 3, and since I live in 4, I’m confident this variety is going to do well with our unpredictable winters.

American does well in acidic soil, a critical piece of information in highly acidic northeastern Maine. American is going to take a bit of work. It’s a “vigorous” tree prone to suckering and needing heavy pruning to keep it under control. We have heirloom apple trees that require yearly pruning, so I have that covered. American is an excellent pollinator and heavy bloomer. It sounds like a good choice for a beginner. I can’t wait to see this huge tree covered in white blossoms each spring.

Toka, another variety of plum.

My second choice is Toka, another very hard variety that does well down to zone 3 or 4, depending on which catalog I read. This is the variety I’m most looking forward to eating. The fruit is said to be excellent in flavor and meatiness. It’s larger than the other varieties I’ll be growing at 1.5 inches in diameter.

The plums will be ripe about a month after American. Toka is a large variety that grows 15 to 20 feet tall and 10 to 12 feet wide and requires heavy pruning. Anything that takes me outside on a sunny, still day in February is good, including pruning plum trees.

Kaga caught my attention quickly. I kept going back to it in the catalog. I wish I’d ordered two, and according to some information I’ve read since ordering the trees, I should have ordered two or more. Kaga apparently needs another Kaga for pollination. I’ll add it to next year’s order, or I’ll buy one if I happen to come across one in my wanderings.

I’m most excited about this variety. The fruit is supposed to be “exceptional” for eating right off the tree, excellent for jam and jelly and canning. It’s a “profuse bloomer,” something I’ll enjoy a lot. Kaga originated in the Kaga region of Japan. It’s an excellent pollinator, so with three varieties that are good pollinators, I think I have that covered. The plums are ready to pick after American and before Toka, good timing. It’s a dwarf variety that reaches only 10 feet tall.

I’ll plant Kaga in front of American and Toka so that it gets full sun and can be seen well from the house. Each little Kaga tree produces up to two and a half bushels of fruit when mature. This is the only plum tree that included a yield in the description in all of the information I read. I’m impressed by the amount of fruit such a small tree can provide. I hope our family and friends love plums as much as we do.

The thought of Kaga’s sweet and juicy fruit makes my mouth water. It’s good for cooking, baking and especially in desserts. I seldom make dessert, but this sounds worthy of an extra tart now and then. It’s hardy to zone 3 (I’m taking no chances).

The trees will be planted as soon as we get past a few 25-degree nights in the forecast. Until then, they’re safely tucked away in the dark shed where I hope they don’t break dormancy quickly.

I’m Not a Farmer Anymore

An hour on the tractor this morning was a sharp reminder that I’m not a farmer anymore. I loved being a farmer even when farmers were thought of as too stupid to do anything else. Someone told a friend a few years ago that Maine was full of farmers because we’re not very smart people. She’d starve to death if she had to be responsible for her food so while it was an insulting comment, it was also quite hilarious.

Part of what I miss is the short and long-term planning involved in growing vegetables. Choosing varieties is complicated if you’re a market farmer. One year everyone wanted heirloom tomatoes because they read about them in New York Times, but I didn’t have them. I grew a few plants of a bunch of varieties the following year so that we could taste test them. Customers liked some, not others and the consensus was overwhelmingly positive. They wanted lots more heirlooms the following year. I cut back on Early Girl, the round, red, traditional tomato in this area and grew lots of heirlooms. They didn’t want them. Maybe they really did like that Early Girl better. It’s always a guessing game.

Along with what to grow is the puzzle of where to grow everything. Crop rotation is an important part of natural growing. I don’t use petrochemical 10-10-10 fertilizer so I had to keep track of what used a lot of nitrogen (corn) one year so that I could help replace it the following year (legumes). Keeping track of pests from one area to another was a challenge, and I love a challenge.

I miss the busloads of kids who pulled up out front and started asking a million questions before half the kids were off the bus. Pony rides and picnic lunches. Cracking duck, chicken and turkey eggs, no two ever looking alike, was always fun. They learned that an eggs is an egg is an egg is not so overall. A green chicken egg looks like a blue egg, and a blue egg looks like the brown egg, which looks like the green egg…when the shell is gone. But duck eggs don’t look like turkey or chicken eggs when you crack them open. There are visual and textural differences. They pet 600 pound pigs, goats in various sizes, milked goats, learned about herding dogs and different breeds of cattle. They learned about white versus red turkeys and big yellow chickens compared to tiny, fluffy white chickens. When the pre-k and first grade came from Peter Dana Point, a Passamaquoddy school on the reservation two towns over, they same to me. They sang in Passamaquoddy, a language I in no way understand. I didn’t know what they were singing but loved their adorable faces and their little voices singing through big smiles. And then, I knew the song. “E I E I Ooooooo.” I miss the kids.

Sometimes I miss cattle, pigs, goats and horses. And 30 seconds later, I’m over it. I was not cut out for livestock farming. It’s not sad when a tomato plant dies but when you have to put down a beautiful buck that got tetanus in spite of being vaccinated, it’s rough. I never imagined myself reaching into the back end of a goat to turn her tiny unborn babies so that they could be born, but I did it. I miss piglets but not pushy 300 pound pigs. All three of our equines were rescues that we rehabbed. They died here and are buried here on the farm. I found Cola dead, without any sign of what might have been wrong. I spent two days with vets coming to the farm to save our much loved, stubborn as hell, cute and funny pony named Andy. A friend was with me when I checked on him last, waiting for the vet to come out third time and put him down. We stepped away from the barn door, took a few steps and heard him hit the floor. I don’t know that the friend will ever really get over that. If I bring it up now, nine or ten years later, she gets teary. The worst loss was Gia, Kristin’s AQHA mare. I’m not talking about her today, but I will tell her story here eventually.

I don’t miss moose walking through the electric fence during the night and not discovering it until the cows were up the road. I don’t miss mucking stalls during January thaw but I do miss all that manure and straw for the gardens. I don’t miss forcing myself to work when it was 90* and farmers market or a restaurant delivery was coming up the next day. I hate the heat and think I might just die if I have to work when it’s 80*. So many things that were critically important when I was a farmer just don’t matter anymore. I’m a million times more casual about the garden now.

You know what I really miss? The money. You might be amazed at how much money you can gross on an acre of garden using extensive season extension to stretch the growing season.

I’m going to finish planting this afternoon. The garden is small, about a third of an acre (not counting the high tunnels), and it won’t take long. Beans, corn, carrots, zucchini, yellow summer squash and a few other things are left. It’s late to plant but I’m glad I didn’t have to stress over a cold, wet start to month of June.

Extending Your Homegrown Harvest

Originally published in Lancaster Farming on April 14, 2012

Do you remember spending several days on a project, cutting pictures out of magazines and gluing them to poster board?

You carefully wrote a caption under each picture, trying very hard to not make a mistake so that you didn’t have eraser marks on your poster. There were hours spent pouring over “three sources” for information, and properly citing those sources.

I remember a lot of these projects. By the time I was done, my projects were so big I either struggled to take them on the school bus, or my mom felt a little pity for me and drove me to school.

It’s not like that anymore, unfortunately.

In spite of making a lot of changes in text, there were no eraser marks on my presentation. I served as my own source. I missed the paste and glue, Mum’s old magazines and a pair of scissors, colored pencils and Magic Markers.

I spent several days learning how to use PowerPoint, browsing through folders of my digital photos, taking new photos, resizing said photos, and inserting them into a PowerPoint presentation.

When I finished the 21st century version of cutting and pasting, I had a presentation called “Extend Your Homegrown Harvest — Grow Your Own Veggies February to December.” It was a little bit disappointing. Seven megs of information should require more space than a folder on a thumb drive.

It was worth my time and energy and, in the end, turned out to be a pretty good presentation, if I do say so myself.

Last Saturday I gave my presentation to a fantastic audience at the Bangor Garden Show. I was surprised by the number of people who came to see the show. I have wonderful family and friends who came out to support me and lots of people who were interested in learning how to get a head start on the growing season.

They took notes on the back of my handout and in notebooks they brought with them. One person dozed off while I was speaking, but she was awake and taking notes when I looked in her direction a few minutes later.

I started out with the big stuff — high tunnels — and compared the snow outside Feb. 7 with what it looked like inside with spinach growing, bare ground and beds ready to plant. The additional warmth and lack of snow give overwintering plants a tremendous head start.

We moved on to smaller hoop houses, more appropriate for a backyard garden and much easier to build. You can grow anything in a hoop house that can be grown in a high tunnel. We looked at the “skeleton” of a hoop house made with PVC conduit to see how simple a hoop house can be.

Neighbors joined the ribs to the purlins and ridge pole using wire ties, then wrapped the connection with duct tape to keep the ties from rubbing holes in the greenhouse poly. It’s important that everyone see how simple this really can be.

For those looking for a smaller project because of size, need or zoning restrictions, I brought 10-foot pieces of electrical conduit bent into ribs that are 4 feet and 6 feet wide and no more than 4 feet tall. These sturdy ribs can be stuck into the ground to stand on their own or clamped to the frame of a raised bed for additional stability. A line of these ribs, placed 3 to 4 feet apart, form a low tunnel. Low tunnels are covered by spunbond material or greenhouse film.

I seriously thought about bringing pre-cut boards, brackets, screws and a cordless screwdriver so that I could build the frame for a raised bed. Now that it’s over, I wish I’d done it. It would have been a great way to show everyone how easy season extension can be.

Build the frame, fill it with soil and compost, plant. The soil in a raised bed warms earlier than that in a flat garden. If you add a low tunnel over it, you can extend the season by a month on each end of the growing season.

If you add a cover to a raised bed, you’ll have a cold frame. Cold frames are great for seed starting, overwintering plants, growing in the ground and in pots. Cold frames and raised beds can be any size that suits your needs. I recommend making them no wider than 4 feet, so that you can reach the center of the frame or bed from both sides.

I hope everyone found something useful in the presentation. I certainly learned a lot while putting it together.

Bangor Garden Show

It’s almost time to leave! I don’t speak until 5 pm but need enough time to walk through the displays and vendors and see some of the demos. The Power Point presentation is on a thumb drive in my pocketbook, hoops are leaning against the Jeep, props are waiting to be loaded into a bag and, oh wait! I can’t forget that thing that most of us keep in the fridge. It’s one of the simplest, most productive tools in season extension…

The End is Near

9/10/2011 10:00 AM
By Robin Follette Maine Correspondent

The end of the “warm” growing season is near.

The average annual first-frost date jumps around so much now that I no longer know what it really is anymore. I’m sticking with Sept. 15. The 10-day forecast shows nights in the mid-40s.

There isn’t a lot left in the garden. Most of the extra bush beans I planted specifically to feed the soil are now … feeding the soil. Sometimes I get the “I’m done” bug and watch out garden, you’re going down.

Until the something-or-other on the three-point hitch came undone, I was a rototilling wild woman one afternoon. I called Steve, my husband, to explain to him what was wrong in hopes that he could tell me how to fix it.

“The blue one is hanging down, swinging back and forth.” He asked which blue one. I hadn’t noticed that all three are blue. He asked what was happening, or not happening. The tiller wouldn’t pick up. It turned, but I couldn’t lift it anymore. That was the end of tilling that day. I’ll never claim to be mechanically inclined.

My kitchen looks like a cannery. There are two roasters full of tomatoes in the oven, a pressure canner cooling on the sideboard, another canner heating up, jars of tomato sauce popping and salsa verde waiting to be put away. The countertops are lined with empty jars, boxes of shiny new lids and a bowl of rings, all waiting to be used.

I’m reasonably sure there’s a sink under the pile of dirty dishes in front of the window. I vaguely remember seeing the bottom of the sink for more than five minutes, though that was days ago.

The tomatillo jungle, a double-wide row of plants in one side of a high tunnel, will be pulled this week. I’m looking forward to that monstrosity being nothing but a bad memory. In their place, I’ll plant spinach, boc choy, turnip, baby beet greens and other cold weather greens.

I’m ready for the tomato plants to be, too. I have most of what I’m going to can put up. The cherry and grape tomato plants will stay in so that kids at a local elementary school can have them for snacks. I’ll save a couple of Jet Star tomato plants and two cucumber vines. The rest will be gone soon.

Opalka produced very well again this year, both inside the tunnel and outside. More cold weather greens will be planted when these plants are pulled.

Pumpkins, squash and gourds are my favorites. This year, thanks to aged poultry manure, I have beautiful pumpkins and gourds. Cinderella pumpkins are red and the warty Galeux is very warty. It’s a little too soon to be sure of what the seeded winter squash will do. They need more time than Sept. 15; I hope they get it. The winter squash I transplanted are just about ready to be cut.

For the first time ever, the watermelon have done well. They’re not as sweet as we’d like them to be because of extreme rain, but they taste good.

The onions are beautiful. I learned this year that I’ve not watered my onions enough. A very wet August finished off the onions beautifully. They’re spread out to dry now. Soon, the storage variety will hang in the dark pantry in mesh bags. The red onions will be eaten fresh and another variety will be sliced and dehydrated for use when the whole onions run out. The garlic is disappointingly small. I’m blaming the soil. The best garlic has been set aside as seed and will be planted in October.

The corn is taller than me this year. It’s nice to look out the kitchen window and see it standing there. I’m holding my breath, hoping it fills out before frost. I’m eager to have my fill of late-season corn and to cut the stalks for fall decoration. They’ll look nice bundled and sitting beside the great pumpkins on the back porch and out by the mailbox.

There’s still time for radishes, salad turnip, cold-tolerant lettuces, spinach and more out of the regular garden. When frost threatens, I’ll put low tunnels over the plants. They’ll be opened in the morning, closed in late afternoon and give me up to two months of additional growing time outside. Or maybe longer.

We’ll see how early the snow starts and if it stays or melts.
 

After The Rain Farm

Robin Follette
Previously Published in Lancaster Farming newspaper.

ALEXANDER, Maine — Route 9 is a busy highway. It’s the main route used by chip and log trucks traveling to and from Woodland Pulp and 18-wheelers carrying goods to eastern Maine. Canadians on their way to Bangor use Route 9, as do the majority of tourists entering and leaving the area.

A few miles before Route 9 meets U.S. Route 1 in Baring sits a small farm. It’s out of sight for most drivers traveling 60 to 70 miles per hour. If you know it’s there, you might catch a glimpse of a low tunnel through the trees on your way by.

The Carters move the cover off a pod they use for season extension.

Just when you think you must have gone past it, the driveway to After The Rain Farm appears. You drive past a neighbor’s home and follow the driveway away from the busy highway and into a different world. The noisy trucks are barely heard. The wide road is replaced with a narrow gravel driveway, soft in spots because of recent snow and rain. On the right, those low tunnels you might have seen from the road are protecting a very early planting of peas, cabbage and kale. Nearby, apple and pear trees, grapevines and strawberry plants are waiting for spring. Spring is about a month late this year. They grow a variety of vegetables, fruits, herbs and flowers.

After The Rain Farm is home to Ted and Liz Carter. They’ve lived here since 1979. Liz is an artist and homeschooled their two children. Ted taught first grade for 31 years before retirement.. They started a “full service” CSA in 1996.

“We let ourselves into homes, put food on the counter and in the refrigerator and flowers in the vase,” said Ted.

“At the time, CSA was enough for us,” Liz said.

Ted was still teaching. The CSA worked well for them through 2003, when they decided it was time for a change. That year, they operated the CSA and became vendors at Sunrise County Farmers Market in Calais.

“The market in Calais was doing well and we wanted to support it as it was growing,” Ted said.

A cold frame is used to extend both ends of the growing season.

After a year of running the CSA and attending a farmers market, it was time to make a decision.

“We liked CSA, but we can’t do both. We were stretched too thin,” said Liz. Ted still had a full-time teaching job at the time, so they decided to stay with the farmers market. They returned to the market in Calais in 2004, but took 2005 off when Liz was diagnosed with breast cancer. The Carters returned to the farmers market in 2006 and are still there. In 2010 they became members of Machias Valley Farmers Market, their second market.

“Machias has been very accommodating,” Ted said. “It’s open Friday and Saturday. We’re there on Friday because it works with when we have vegetables to pick. We’re usually the only ones there. People stop on their way to Hannaford (grocery store) and get what they want. Then they pick up the rest at Hannaford. The customers are dependable.

“We’re limited to two markets because it takes so much time to pick and clean the vegetables. We’ve upped our production by 50 to 60 percent to add the Machias market,” Ted said.

The Carters enjoy farmers markets very much. They both went to market in the beginning, but soon realized one of them needed to stay home to work in the garden. Liz continued to attend the market, while Ted worked in the garden.

“Farmers market is like a garden party. You get to hear other people’s stories. They tell you about their gardens. It’s a sense of community. People are visiting while they’re waiting in line,” she said. Ted goes to market now. “He’s good at sales,” Liz said.

“I enjoy the personal interplay at market,” Ted said. “I’m a social being. It’s gratifying to know people are eating our food.”

Ted and Liz work together as well as separately in their day-to-day farm work. “We dovetail,” said Ted. He organizes seeds, chooses most of the varieties, starts seeds, manages succession planting and works outside in the garden and high tunnels. Seed starting begins in late February or early March. The last succession is seeded in August. They work together when needed.

Liz adds and deletes varieties on the seed list depending on their popularity and how well they produce. She tends to watering the seedlings. “She’s the one who notices what’s happening,” Ted admitted. “She notices plant health and pests.”

Liz laughed and added, “I’m the one who comes in and says, Oh my God! Did you see the potato bugs or the flea beetles or the sick plants or whatever I find going on.”

Ted retired at the end of the school year in 2009. “Our customers made it easier to retire,” he said. “They told me how much they loved our vegetables and how good they taste. There’s a lot of gratitude.”

Liz and Ted have found a rhythm in working together. “I don’t go into Liz’s world,” Ted said, smiling. “She grows the herbs and flowers. I don’t know what they are. I was pulling them up when I was weeding.”

Liz no longer interplants herbs and flowers in the vegetables. “I’d plant something and go back to check on it and it would be gone. He thought he was weeding,” she said.

Liz’s hard work in the herb and flower gardens shows even in mid-spring when few plants are growing. The farm is beautiful.

There are several challenges to face each year. Ted was quick to say the weather is the biggest challenge of all. If you don’t like the weather in Maine, wait a minute. It will change. In a two-hour span, the sky cleared a bit and the sun peeked out. That was soon followed by heavy rain, a temperature drop that brought heavy snow and then a steady sleet that pelted the poly covering the high tunnel.

Liz planted the first seeds on March 31, the day before the April Fool’s Day nor’easter. They placed low tunnels over the rows to give the seeds protection and a little added warmth. Steam escaped the low tunnel recently when they pulled back the cover to show rows of 1-inch-tall seedlings.

Season extenders are used to start the growing season in late March and continue into May. By November, they’re ready for a winter break. The greenhouse used for seed starting is attached to their home. They harden plants off in cold frames they’ve built. There are high tunnels and solar pods in use.

The soil is another challenge. They have a small mountain of aged horse manure that would make any gardener envious.

“There’s never enough compost,” said Liz. “We’re always working to improve the soil.”

In addition to the aged manure and compost, they use cover crops and foliar sprays of compost tea and an amendment called MPM from Lancaster Agriculture Products in Pennsylvania.

“Cancer made us step it up,” Liz said. “The soil will help heal us.”

“We’re dependent on the top 6 inches of soil,” Ted said. “We have to take care of it. If not, we’re in trouble. So we make the soil the best we can.”

“Two markets is perfect,” said Ted. “A week between markets is too much. The beans get too big, so we pick them and drop them right there on the ground. A second market a week means nothing goes by. We’re at our limit now with two markets.”

There’s room to expand the gardens. After a working visit last year from Mark Fulford, a soil scientist, they have started using strip tilling in a new area. They’re expanding the barn to build an apartment on the top floor to provide residence for two interns, preferably a couple. They’re hoping interns, or possibly journey people, will like the area and want to stay at the end of their internship.

“A motivated couple could start their own garden here and add a third market a week,” Ted said.

The apartment will be ready by the beginning of the 2012 season. The Carters are eager to share their knowledge of growing and love of farmers market.

First Order of the Year

Let the ordering begin! I’m on a mission. Steve mows too much. There are better things to do than mow the lawn. It’s pointless. I don’t care about the lawn. I think clover in the grass is good for attracting bees and dandelions.Dandelions make me smile. And they taste good. Less lawn, more perennials, more beauty. Here’s a start on this year’s no-mow plans.

I placed the first order of the year through Fedco’s tree catalog. It would have been much easier to do with the printed catalog but since I couldn’t get one, I settled for the pdf online. I’ll be busy planting things this spring. I haven’t dug a hole or done anything I should do before ordering. I’ll get busy as soon as the ground thaws.

I’ll be writing about each of these plants in my column in Lancaster Farming. Once the articles are published I’ll link to them.

First up, grapes. I’m not sure where most of the new plants are going yet but I do know that the grapes are going to have a rustic arbor. We have cedar trees in the forest that we can cut and strip. I think some of the dead cedar might still be useful. I ordered Sipaska, suitable for juice and wine. I probably won’t be making grape wine soon but I do love grape juice and want them for wine later. I ordered two plants. If I like them as much as I hope, I’ll add more.

I failed at kiwi last year. I bought marginal plants because I got a spend $50/get $25 free coupon with a catalog, my first mistake. I won’t be ordering from that company again. I couldn’t bring myself to put the poor quality plants in the ground. If they hadn’t done well I’d agonize over ripping them out. Pulling weeds sometimes makes me feel bad. This year I’ve ordered good plants. I’ll have two female plants called Red Beauty and one male called Arctic Beauty. Are you surprised that kiwi grow in Maine? A lot of people are. These varieties are good down to zone 3. I’m on the edge of 4/5. These will probably be supported by a trellis. They’ll be planted in the perennial garden I’m working on behind the house. My plans for that garden are still evolving as my plans for less lawn to mow are worked out.

The third vine I’ve ordered is American bittersweet. Unlike Asian bittersweet, American is not invasive. I love bittersweet vines and wreaths. They’ll have a few years to get established before I start cutting them. I have no idea yet where these will be planted. I ordered two vines because they aren’t self pollinating.

I’ve also ordered strawberries, asparagus and fruit trees. More about those later!

Dear Ava

In September, 2010 we drove from northeastern Maine to the Finger Lakes region of New York to get Ava, our then eight week old puppy. Ava is the English shepherd I wrote about last winter. She turned a year old a couple of weeks ago. We’re half way through puppyhood. I think I’ll probably survive another year.

I have had a lot of dogs over the years. Sometimes just one, one time five when we had livestock, and three now. None have ever been like Ava. It took me two months to break her of jumping on the dining room table to look out the window when left alone in the house. I booby trapped the table with stacked soda cans thinking the noise would frighten her. She chewed the cans. So much for those five cent deposits. I balanced my biggest cookie sheets precariously on the edge of the table and against the chairs so they would make a huge racket as they crashed to the tile floor when she jumped up. It worked. She doesn’t get on the table anymore. Now she gets in the bay window. Imagine what the neighbors think when they drive by and see a 40 pound dog standing in, not just in front of, the window.

Ava bounces tennis balls as though she’s dribbling a basketball. Bounce catch bounce catch bounce catch. She also throws the ball to us so that we’ll throw it for her. If I neglect to warn visitors about her throwing talent, it catches them off guard. One of our training lessons involved teaching her that chicks, although round, do not bounce.

Steve, my husband, called from Tractor Supply one evening asking if I wanted silkie chicks. Ava immediately claimed them. I showed them to her, pried her head out of the box, put them on the top of the five foot tall desk and left the room. Ten minutes later she was carrying the box around. She’s strongly bonded with those chickens. She sniffs them, one by one, each morning. I still don’t fully trust her with anything having feathers because she’s the slowest-to-mature working dog I know.

Last summer, at 3:30 am, a raccoon killed one of Ava’s chickens. I heard it happening and let the dogs out. Ava spent two hours looking for the raccoon. During that time, she checked on the silkies, meat turkeys, ducks, laying hens and Bourbon Red turkeys many times. At 5:30 am, I made the dogs come in with me. She whined at the door so badly that I let her back out.

The attack changed Ava. She bounds out of the house in the morning with a bark and growl I hadn’t heard from her before the attack. For her age and immaturity, she’s been a good guard dog. She’s now excellent and takes guarding very seriously. Until I catch the raccoon the silkies and poults stay in the greenhouse at night. This morning I caught her trying to open the greenhouse door using her teeth. Last night she saw Steve carrying chickens by their legs. This morning she tried to carry a chicken by its legs. I’m still watching her closely with the birds and made her drop it immediately. The chicken didn’t care much. It shook itself off and kept walking toward the chicken tractor to find its breakfast. They like Ava. She naps outside their chicken tractor in the afternoon and they crowd against the side to be close to her.

Ava herds all of the poultry easily now. She has a route she patrols several times a day to mark her territory and look for predators and pests. Crows, hawks, eagles and vultures are chased with lightening speed if they fly over the farm.

There are two serious drawbacks that Ava will not mature out of. She’s too small. I thought that I would eventually get another dog from Ava’s breeder but she doesn’t have the height and weight to grab a raccoon or ground hog by the neck, give it one sharp shake and break its neck without getting hurt. The second is her ability to see a problem and think it through. It would be ok if she and I agreed on problem-solving methods. Regardless of how many times I show her how I want something done, she’s going to do it her way. Her way always works but it’s not always efficient.

Ava had three seizures during the summer of 2011. In late December, 2011 she had three more. She’s been diagnosed with epilepsy and takes medication. As of January 1, 2012 we’re working to adjust her med to keep her from being a zombie. I’d rather have her have a seizure once a month than have a poor quality life.

A silkie hen

Oddball, the white silkie hen

A Morning Walk

I don’t know if it’s late winter or early spring. I’m leaning toward spring but we still have more snow than open ground.

Steve isn’t here very often (only to eat and sleep during the week) so there isn’t a lot of time to talk about what’s going on with my business (the farm). We took a walk around the farm this morning. I pointed out where deer have been eating the tips off branches on an apple tree at the pond. That lead to us walking the tree line and discovering tips over most of the apple trees. I knew I’d be putting cages around the apricot and peach trees when I plant them this spring. It reinforced my plan and made me start thinking about paying better attention when Ava barks at 4:45 am and wants to go. She must be sensing the deers’ presence like Maggie did. Steve flagged four wild apple trees that we’ll keep and pointed out what he’s going to cut down and brush hog. If we don’t keep up with brush hogging the forest creeps into the open space.

We talked about my plans for Christmas trees and how I’ll acquire them. I was going to pull them from a certain spot in the forest to thin out the seedlings. I’ll still do that because otherwise they’ll be in worthless clumps but the trees I’ll plant will come from a spot that is more gravely so that the roots let go easier. I’m going to plant a dozen this year and six a year plus whatever needs to be replaced each year after.

I pointed out how much more space I’ll be using for the raspberry patch. We have Heritage, Latham and Kilarney. I’m going to dig up and plant Heritage suckers first. I haven’t yet decided if I’ll start a new row of Latham or not. I won’t be replanting Kilarney.

I showed him damage to roofs on two small buildings. Actually, it’s a lack of roof on both buildings because of the last heavy snow. One building is coming down, the other will be repaired. If money fell from the sky I’d replace the barn.

We talked about where the apricot and peach trees will be planted. We discussed a change in my business plans. More about that later.

Steve surprised me with plans to buy a bed shaper for me. Nice!

The strawberry plants were just delivered. I have 75 Fort Laramie plants that have runners. If I like them I’ll snip the runners to make new rows. They’re supposed to be good the first year, great for two years then decline. I’ll till them under at the end of the third year. I don’t have much to lose. I’ve never grown them before but they were only $15 for 75 plants with a sale and coupon. I’m disappointed to read on the receipt that my apricot trees are not available. It doesn’t say if they’re not available at all or just right now. I’ll email to ask.

I’m put out by the garlic. I’ll write about that next.

Steve isn’t here very often (only to eat and sleep during the week). We took a walk around the farm this morning. I pointed out where deer have been eating the tips off branches on the apple trees, how much more space I’ll be using for the raspberry patch, which wild apple trees have been flagged to save and to cut down. I showed him damage to roofs on two small buildings.
11 minutes ago · Friends Only · ·

    • Robin Follette We talked about where the apricot and peach trees will be planted and ideas of where I’ll put the Christmas trees. We discussed a change in my business plans. He surprised me with plans to buy a bed shaper for me. Nice! The strawberry plants were just delivered!

Let the season begin!

Let the season begin! The growing season – not spring. Spring refuses to begin. Just when the ground was alllllllllmost bare, it snowed. The snow won’t go away. That’s ok though (I keep telling myself this). There are greens growing in the high tunnel and seedlings under lights in the house. Something’s growing!

In trays, six packs and 5 x 5′s:

  • Tomatillos
  • Peppers – Jalepeno and Revolution
  • Broccoli – Arcadia (using old seed to experiment with early planting times under Agribon and 6 ml poly low tunnels)
  • Tomatoes – something similar to Big Beef whose name I can’t remember and am too lazy to look for, Juliette, Sun Gold, Jet Star, Super Bush (container)
  • Herbs – German thyme, Greek oregano, lemon balm, sage
  • Flowers for the new gardens – Veronica, Bee Balm, Victorian Posy, Bergamot, French lavender, Pixie Sunshine Zinnia (container)
  • Greens – tatsoi, boc choi, Swiss chard
  • Little Prince Eggplant (container)

Some of the plants I’ve chosen for flowers are herbs.

The peppers, tomatoes and tomatillos are going to be planted in the two larger high tunnels. The greens will be under low tunnels. The flowers and herbs will be moved into bigger pots as necessary until they’re planted outside. It’s a pretty good start. The rest of the seeds that are started indoor will be seeded around the first of April.

The lettuce in the high tunnel is tough. I’m going to pull it on my next tunnel work day. The tatsoi looks like it might bolt soon. The boc choi, kale and lettuces are doing well.

If you have spring, please share!

Four Feet & Drool

Four feet and drool. That’s what my evenings have become. Ava and Scooter have a lot of pent up energy from not being outside enough. Ava brings me the tennis balls and we play. We play until Scooter is bored and Ava is tired and drooling.

Ava’s doing well. She’s still timid with new people. She knows who likes her and who doesn’t almost immediately. In a previous life she had to have been a mountain goat. I caught her on the verge of climbing the long tunnel while I was pulling snow down Saturday. She was doing her fox hop thing (the way a fox hops/pounces on mice in a field) up the snow bank against the tunnel. I turned to see what she was doing just before she got to the top of the bank. She doesn’t do it when the tunnels are clear, only when they’re snowy. I wish I knew what she’s thinking.

We had Ava spayed two weeks ago. Surgery went well but healing has been delayed because she’s such a busy body. She was supposed to stay on a leash but Steve forgot to put the leash in the Jeep. I didn’t know it until I was at the vet’s office. I hoped she would go from the Jeep to the house (hahahaha) but of course, that didn’t happen. She went to the barn to see her ducks. Another morning she howled at the door because I left her in. When Steve opened the door she slipped by him and dashed to the barn to see her ducks. I was on my way to the hen house by then so she left the barn and ran down the path to me. She’s not going to stay put unless she’s sleeping or watching tv. She’s done a few things since then that make me kind of sad that she’s not passing her great genes on to pups, but it’s for the best. We’ve had two litters totaling 18 puppies and had a great time with them, but I don’t want the responsibility again. Spaying was the right choice.

The fence around the duck pen has two low points from me leaning over to get their pool. We have enough snow now to cover the low points. The ducks take advantage of the opportunity to roam the snow-covered garden and check out the edge of the woods. The exercise is good for them and the dogs are out to keep them safe. A few days ago I wanted the ducks in the barn. I took Ava out back, told her to bring the ducks in and left her to figure it out on her own. I know a lot of herding dogs are trained to specific commands but I just don’t have the patience for formal training. “Bring the ducks in” works for me. She went over the fence, to the ducks, gathered them into a small group, circled behind them and tried to lead them back to the barn. When she looked behind her she realized they hadn’t followed her. She went over the fence, to the ducks, gathered them into a small group, circled behind them and tried to lead them back to the barn. Again, they didn’t follow her. She went over the fence, to the ducks, gathered them into a small group, circled them until she was behind them again, and herded them to the fence. They missed the low spot and waddled off into the woods.

On the fourth try, Ava gathered the ducks, stayed behind them and herded them into the pen and the barn. Once the door was closed I praised her and made a big fuss about her. She’s a seven month old high-energy pup that doesn’t have great recall yet. It took a lot of faith to stay out of sight, be quiet and let her do her own thing. Like every other working dog I’ve had, we’re learning together. Dogs are individuals, not cookie cut or molded. As long as they do a job well I don’t care how they do it.

Scooter is the dominant dog for now. He pushed ahead of Maggie. Ava has started asserting herself with Scooter and Seb. She snapped and growled at Seb when she thought he was getting a mouse she wanted. (There wasn’t a mouse.) He couldn’t care less about being the boss. She growled a slight warning at Scooter and pushed him out of the way over the weekend. A week ago she wouldn’t have gone after the tennis ball if it landed between Scooter and the wall. She pays attention to his growl and goes for the ball now. I won’t let them fight but I am letting them work this out on their own. Their encounters last a second or two, nothing serious. Bo was tested by Maggie, Maggie by Scooter and now Scooter by Ava. It’s the way it goes in the canine world…and my living room.

Front Page

An article I wrote about MOOMilk appeared on the front page of this weekend’s edition of Lancaster Farming. It’s the first time I’ve made the front page since my first article appeared September 4. I’ve struggled with reporting because I didn’t like calling people at home out of the blue. Advice from members of a writers group helped immensely. I think I’m over that hurdle.

MOOMilk pg 1

MOOMilk pg 2

Also in this weekend’s edition, a story about Jana Markow’s Calais Farmers Marketplace. Jana’s provided a great service for farmers, producers and consumers in the Calais area by starting up a buying club.

CFM pg 1

CFM pg 2

I need to write my column, submit my February invoice and start some cinnamon raisin bread. When I get done I’ll come back to tell you about the dogs.