Updates and fall gardens

The summer with its plethora of weddings and travel came to an abrupt and bittersweet end with the start of classes this week (I'm still avoiding the bookstore like the plague).  The transition this year is especially defined by the changing seasons as we wrap up the summer growing season of abundant tomatoes, squash, and cucumbers and begin planning for the fall.  

Although the weather still feels like summer, we've been busy at the farm planting broccoli (over 600 starts!), cabbage, and cauliflower; harvesting winter squash; still picking blueberries; and generally getting ready for the fall.  With so many other commitments and a busy school schedule, I'll just be working at Twin Springs one day a week for the rest of the fall.  Although it will make my time even tighter, I'm looking forward to having a break from the hectic schedule around Charlottesville to continuing learning on the farm.

Other things going on that I'll hopefully update soon include our recent trip to Chicago and the beautiful Millennium Park gardens, the UVa Community Garden that I'm managing this year, and some insights from my classes.  Hooray - lots more stories to share!  For now, though, I'll keep this short and just share some recent photos from the farm and a depressing shot of the end of my own garden plot (see below to understand.....)

Watermelons ripening at the farm...can't wait until they're ready!

Broccoli, cabbage, and cauliflower starts

Broccoli start planted with red clover as cover crop

Some of the winter squash harvest - Kabocha Orange and Delicata.

Hungarian sweet hot peppers a row of okra and close up okra plants in the hoop house.

Evidence of raccoons in my garden - most depressing day ever when I realized they ate almost all of my much anticipated sweet corn......

Pickle Making Party

I remember my mom making bread and butter pickles every summer when I was little.  I think I was always too busy eating the still warm pickles, though, to actually learn how to make them.  To remedy this, we had a "pickle making party" one Saturday afternoon on a recent trip to Arkansas to see my family.  I was definitely excited to learn some canning skills (something I think everyone should know how to do) and spend some quality time with my family.

The pickling making crew included Mom-mom (my grandmother), my mom, Pat (my aunt), Dori (my sister), and me. Mom-mom provided the kitchen, Mom brought extra cutting boards and vegetables to pickle, Pat brought fresh dill from her garden, Dori brought bags and bags of fresh cucumbers from her garden, and I showed up as a surprise!

We spent about the first hour chopping cucumbers and other vegetables to pickle and sterilizing the first set of pint and quart jars.  Then it was on to measuring, mixing, boiling, and filling jars.  The whole process was actually much easier than I imagined - basically just a lot of cucumbers, vinegar (and a few other ingredients), boiling water, and jars.  

The bread and butter pickle recipe came from my great-grandmother and has been passed down through my mom's family for years.  I forgot to actually write the family recipe down, though, so I'll have to be sure to get that later!  Hopefully one day I'll be using it to make pickles with my kids!  

We also used a ladle that had belonged to Mom-mom's grandmother - my great, great grandmother - which was probably about 100 years old!  Talk about passing on tradition!  

When we started the afternoon, I don't think anyone realized just how many cucumbers my sister had grown.  It definitely got tiring and more than a little hot with all of that boiling water, but after about 5 hours (yes 5 hours!) of pickling we finally finished our last jar for a total of ten gallons of pickles!  

Since I was flying out the Monday after our party and carrying on my luggage, I unfortunately wasn't able to actually bring any pickles home with me.  Mom is planning to mail me a few pint jars, though, so I can enjoy the fruits of our labor later.  I'll let you know how they taste in a few weeks :)  In the meantime, I'd love to hear about your pickling and/or canning experiences!

My sister and I boiling cucumbers - I think the ideas was for us to learn by repetition - I 'm pretty sure we both stood by that stove for almost five hours (note my gross sweaty armpit and our natural "glow")!

My sister, Mom-mom, me, and Mom with all of the finished pickles.

Mom, Mom-mom, and Pat with the pickles

It's a dirty job...

This is a quick post until I have time to upload some photos from my pickle making extravaganza!

I went to the grocery store this evening with a rotten zucchini blossom smashed on the front of my shirt.  

Not a big deal, except I didn't notice the mushy mess until I was checking out.  Awkward.

Thank goodness I was only buying a few things and could quickly scoot out of the store before the checkout clerk had time to make any comments.

These are the kinds of things that happen when I try to cram too much into my schedule.  I had just made a mad dash through my garden before running to the grocery store tonight to try to take advantage of the last few minutes of day light.  Of course I hadn't been to my garden for a few days and everything was growing out of control so I harvested the monster zucchini (note to self:  do NOT leave zucchini unattended for a long weekend unless you are trying to grow softball bats), pulled a few weeds, propped up the tomato plants, and jumped in my truck to head to the store.  I never even thought to brush off my shirt.  

Oh well, I should be getting used to this type of thing by now.  I never seem to transition well from working in the dirt to being in public.

For instance, a few weeks ago I went to buy printer labels at Staples after work one night.  As usual, I was running late, squeezed in a quick trip to my garden, and didn't have time to go home and wash up before the store closed.  All was good and well until I got to the check out counter.  Conversation with the checkout guy sounded something like this:

Checkout guy:  "Dang!  Your hands are dirty.  Were you just fixing a car?"  

Me:  Glancing down at my hands and brushing a little chunk of dried mud on the counter "Oh, no, I was just working in the garden"

Checkout guy:  "Oh.  Geez, I didn't know gardening was that dirty."

Thankfully by this point my transaction was done so I could just nod, smile, and walk out the door leaving a small cloud of dust in my wake.

And even more recent.....

Just last week I went downtown to try to catch the showing of Fresh (the new foodie documentary).  Of course I didn't buy tickets in advance for what I knew would be a popular event, so I was once again running out the door to jump in my truck at the last minute.  On this same day, I had gotten stuck in a torrential downpour at work and was soaked through when I drove home from work less than an hour ago.  Well, needless to say, as soon as I sat down again in the driver's seat my clean, dry shorts were soaked.  No time to run back inside and grab a towel or change, though, had to get to that show!  

After parking about three blocks away, I briskly walked to the theater hoping if I walked quickly enough no one would really notice my very obvious wet bottom.  I didn't get any crazy looks or comments so I guess my plan worked - or people just felt sorry for the poor girl who sat in something wet.  

When I finally go to the theater, the show was sold out.  Dang!  I did, however, get to see a few people I knew outside (who all had thought ahead and bought tickets in advance) and chatted for a little bit, all the while strategically standing with my still wet bottom towards the brick wall.  Once everyone started to go inside, I slowly walked back to my truck feeling a little frustrated and deflated about missing what I am sure was a good event.

On my way back to the truck, I felt a little better when a guy on sidewalk was obviously checking out my legs.  I usually am totally aggravated by this, but just for that night, I smiled and thought to myself, yeah, I do have nice legs.

A few short steps later I realized I had mud streaks down my legs and a very obvious ring around my ankles where the rain had washed all the dirt earlier.   Sweet life.

Yeah, it's a dirty job sometimes. I better go take a shower. 

Chickens!

When I started working on the farm this summer I was not surprised to see movable chicken “tractors” on my initial visit to the farm.  Each of the four handcrafted movable hutches had about a dozen four week old chicks aimlessly pecking around and staring at me with little beady chicken eyes.  When I first peered in at the chickens and exclaimed, “Oh, Barred Rocks,” I think my soon to be boss was a little surprised.  His immediate response was, “So you know about chickens?”  I smiled politely, shook my head yes, and said, “Yes, I know a little about chickens.”

Quite frankly, I have a history with chickens.  As far back as I can remember we had a small flock of chickens and a rooster (mostly Rhode Island Reds for you chicken folk out there).   I think my mom just liked them for being, well, chickens.  The fresh eggs were a nice added bonus.  In fact, I vaguely remember seeing a white egg for the first time and asking my mom if it had been bleached.  I think I was at least twelve.

Somehow the chickens my mom enjoyed so much became my job– I guess she thought feeding and watering them everyday would teach me responsibility. 

Instead, it taught me to despise chickens with a passion.

I’m not really sure what went wrong.  I think it was some combination of one very mean rooster and the fact that I loved to run barefoot through the yard, something that didn’t mix well with our “free range” chickens intent on also fertilizing the yard.  I still clearly remember the little squish and slip of chicken poop between my toes – yack!  It’s probably a good thing I didn’t know any curse words at the time or I’m sure my mom would still be washing my mouth out with soap.

The roosters added an extra element of adventure to the chickens.  We had one beautiful mostly white rooster for a long time named Lucky (I think my parents named him, I didn’t get it until a few years ago – oh, the innocence).  Lucky was really very friendly for a rooster, he just milled around his hens and did general rooster business.  I think he eventually died of old age, or maybe was killed by a fox, I don’t really remember.  In fact, I don’t really remember how any of the chickens died.  Hmmm, I’ll have to ask my parents about that.  Anyway, when Lucky died we replaced him with Ernie.   To say Ernie was mean is to put it lightly - Ernie was evil, and I’m still convinced he was out to get me.  My dad gave me a cane to carry for a while when Ernie was out in the yard “just in case.”  Well, that didn’t last long, and neither did Ernie.  I do know how he died, and it wasn’t from old age.

Despite my rocky past with chickens, I somehow became a member of the poultry judging team for my FFA club in high school after we moved to Arkansas.  I think it was mostly because I was new to the school, they didn’t have enough people on the team, and I at least knew a beak from a tail feather.  Judging involved everything from grading eggs to looking at chicken carcasses to determine if they were “plump” enough.  Fairly needless to say, I wasn’t very good at poultry judging.  I’m pretty certain the team probably would have done better without my score tallied in the total.  For whatever reason, though, I stayed on the team for at least two years and looked at a LOT of chickens.

So here I am again, my life intersecting with chickens. I only occasionally feed and water the chickens on the farm if it hasn’t been done before I get there in the morning.  Sometimes I collect eggs, sometimes I move pens and fencing, and sometimes I chase and catch the ones that get out, but other than that, mostly I just get to watch the chickens be chickens.  It looks like a decent life – eat chicken food, wander around, look for bugs, eat bugs, drink water, dust yourself, lay an egg when you feel like it, repeat.   

There is one chicken, though, that has a much more interesting life – Queenie.  She’s the only chicken on the farm with a name, and the only chicken consistently allowed to roam wherever she wants.  She gets her food and water out of dishes especially for her, finds her own worms in the compost pile, and lays her eggs behind an old truck door leaning against the garage. All the chickens on the farm have a pretty good life – plenty of space to run around, organic feed, and shelters, but Queenie really does live like royalty. 

Well, I think that’s enough chicken talk for one night.   I’ll try to keep you updated on the chickens at the farm and tell a little more about Queenie at some point.  I’ll just leave you with one last chicken thought:

You know that brown spot on top of chicken shit?  

Yeah, that’s chicken shit too.

Queenie

One of the roosters - much nicer than Ernie from my past.

Some of the hens....

One of the chicken tractors below next to a real tractor which has no relation to the actual chicken pen, just happened to be parked next to it.

Harvesting

The sun is shining, the bees buzzing, and it's harvest time!  It seems almost everything is ripe right now and we've been busy harvesting squash, zucchini, cucumbers, tomatoes, lettuce, green beans, potatoes, peppers, and blueberries!  Needless to say, it's been busy and my little fingers are getting quite the workout :).  

I also finally remembered to take my camera to the farm......and then the battery died - bah!  I did get to take a few pictures though to share today.  I hope to take my camera again soon and get the back fields (with much more produce) and the chickens.......

A portion of the hoop house and garden with squash, tomatoes, cucumbers and lettuce (about 100 feet long) and a little closer to see the squash below

Blueberries!  They look and taste fantastic, but gosh are they time consuming to pick!

The barn, one chicken tractor, and hoop house from a distance

A row of tomatoes and a few squash plants

Romaine lettuce above and red leaf below

Community Garden Plot

I rented a plot at Meadowcreek Community Gardens this year.  Charlottesville Parks and Recreation Department manages two community gardens (Meadowcreek and Azaela Park) each with about 50 plots available for residents to rent for $40 a year.  Only two plots were available to choose from when I went to sign up - wonderful for the gardens, so not wonderful for selecting an "ideal" plot.  We'll just say it's making an interesting gardening experience!

My triangular plot is at the end of a row where I was told the city previously kept a brush pile.  They neglected to mention much of the brush was still on the plot......  thankfully it only took a few hours to remove all of the branches and the half decomposed leaves left behind made a nice little pile of mulch.  The little bit of mulch was a welcome gift, but I still needed to work on the rest of the rock hard Virginia red clay in the plot.  Fortunately, there is an enormous compost pile on site for gardeners to use.  If you dig deep enough into the pile, there's plenty of

 nutrient rich "black gold" hummus or fully decomposed leaves.  After adding about as much as I could shovel into my raised beds, I began to plan my plantings.

After about two months, many smashed squash bugs, and a few replantings due to deer "damage", things are finally coming along.  I've only harvested radishes thus far, but I'm anxiously awaiting zucchini and tomatoes that are coming along.  Later in the season I'll hopefully have purple runner beans, melons, okra, and cantaloupe if the deer and groundhogs will leave them alone long enough to let them grow!

Zucchini plants and radishes.....

The garden two months ago (above) and two days ago (below)

Deer damage!

and deer control.....(fencing over transplants)

A day on the farm...

Since I started interning three days a week on the farm this summer, several people have inquired about my experiences.  My initial response is usually, "Oh, I do a little bit of everything," but I've gotten enough quizzical looks to realize that this does not sufficiently answer the question.  In fact, I'm not sure there is a short answer to explain what I actually do on a nearly daily basis - hence this blog to share some of my experiences. For good measure I'll share daily activities, include some of the adventures (like chasing chickens!), and hopefully some pictures if I can ever remember my camera!

Twin Springs Farm is located in Shipman in Nelson County, VA - about 45 mins. south on 29 from Charlottesville.   The total farm is 76 acres, but only about 2 acres are currently in cultivation (the rest is mostly wooded).  Along with seasonal produce and blueberries (yum!), the farm also has about 60 laying hens in movable "chicken tractors" (more on the chickens in later posts). We sell produce at the Lovingston Farmers Market on Wednesdays and the Nellysford Market Saturday mornings.  We also have a handful of CSA customers and sell to a few local places including Devil's Backbone Restaurant  near Wintergreen.  

I'm the only hired employee on the farm - I'm still trying to decide if this is a good thing or not.  On the up side, I have the opportunity to learn a lot and do everything; on the down side, I do everything.  Each day is a little different, but usually involves some seeding, planting,watering,  weeding, and harvesting.  For example, a typical day (this was my actual Tuesday this week):

8:15 - 8:30:  check in with the owner and go over the to do list for the day

8:30-9:30:  harvest cucumbers, tomatoes, zucchini, and squash

9:30-11:30:  transplant lettuce (about 300 plants)

11:30-12:30:  weed, rake, and fertilize a bed for planting tomorrow

12:30-1:00: lunch!

1:00-4:00:  seed broccoli trays (over 500 seeds)

4:00-5:00:  water lettuce beds and check chickens

5:00-5:30:  harvest cukes and squash again

5:30: head home - tired, dirty, and happy!

And that's a day on the farm......