Community Supported Agriculture

The term CSA has been around since the late 1980s, brought to the United States by a couple of farmers from Switzerland. It has become widely popular in Vermont in the last five years with nearly 100 CSAs offered throughout the state.

A CSA refers to a particular network, or association of individuals, who have pledged to support one or more local farms, with growers and consumers sharing the risks and benefits of food production. CSA members, or subscribers, pay at the onset of the growing season for a share of the anticipated harvest; once harvesting begins, they periodically receive shares of produce. In addition to produce, some CSA shares may include additional farm products like honey, eggs, dairy, fruit, flowers and meat.

It has become a norm in our community, asking friends and neighbors not if they are getting in on a CSA, but which one they will support this year. Having expanded our growing space by nearly 400 square feet and armed with the data of how much food we grew last year, my husband and I made the leap and decided to offer our own nano size CSA to close friends. That whole responsibility trait I have doesn't allow me to take on projects I can't complete so I pondered this one for some time. Seems I overthought it though because I sold out the eight shares I made available in just a day. Friends were clamoring to support this endeavor and I already have a waiting list for next year. 

With the purchase of a share, they invested $100 in Grow More Beets. This allowed us to procure the lumber and soil needed for new raised beds, the seeds and herb plants to fill them and the apple baskets I will use for packaging and delivery. The intention is to share the food we grow here in Jericho with the friends that took the leap of faith with us, hopefully in excess of the value of their initial contribution. 

A CSA by definition is a double-edged sword. Your investment could mean that you 'benefit' by a bumper crop or you could be taking the 'risk' in the case of a poor growing season. With the arrival of 21 bantam chicks in a few weeks, we hope to add value by sharing eggs in addition to herbs and produce. The great thing about signing up for a share with me is that if Mother Nature has plans that put a damper on the harvest, I've got access to enough craft beer to keep my friends happy. 

We started early this year, installing winter covers and planting seeds six weeks earlier than I ever have before. We typically wait to plant the garden until Memorial Day weekend here in Vermont since we have been known to have snow right up until the end of May. Good thing I had those covers because I was clearing snow off the spinach three weeks after it was planted. The existing beds are full of life already and the newly built 20' x 2' beds are chock full of seeds. I plan to take Mondays off throughout the growing season ~ due to my super awesome and totally flexible boss ~ when I will harvest, package and deliver the shares to my amazingly supportive inaugural members. 

It's been an interesting shift in my gardening practice. I am thinking about my dear friends with each seed I plant. Putting intention into the ground that this food will be feeding eight families in addition to my own. I've been to all their homes and shared meals around their dinner tables. I have a vision for where the food that I grow will land. Although this scale feels massive for me, I doubt other growers offering CSAs throughout the state know all the tables where their food will be consumed or the configuration of the kitchen where it will be prepared. Now that is community supported agriculture. 

“Love and appreciation to my friends who made this possible:
Benny, Megan and Reily O’Brien
Ashely and James Bond
Heather, Nick and Max Perkov
Troy and Vicki Porter
Joanna Thomas and Drew Brinckerhoff
Rachel Jolly, Adam Walker and Shayna
Ann Reading
Dennis and Erin Wilson”

"True friends support you because they want to see you succeed."

 

Our Honeybees are Home

The year 2016 is manifesting a few visions I've had for the past couple of years. I spend a lot of time in my head with things before I act on them. I've got that whole 'responsibility' thing as my number one strength, so I have to be sure that I have the ability to follow through on any commitment I make. This year it seems that four or five of my major ideas are coming together and happening all within a 30 day time period. I didn't necessarily plan it that way, but here I am. I've been wanting to get back to writing so I thought, why not do a few blog posts on these new happenings in my life. Though who knows if I will have time to actually write anything once I have all these added responsibilities...

First up is adding a new beehive to the garden. This time one that Chris and I are 100% responsible for, not just acting as surrogate parents. We had a hive here in 2014, but I didn't have the honor of setting up their home as I did this year. After a brutal winter, I was devastated to learn that the hive we had on our property didn't survive. I wasn't ready to invest myself into beekeeping last year, but this year we took on the challenge to be parents to what will be close to 100,000 bees at the peak of the summer. I suppose the loss of that first hive was a motivator. We've gotten books and taken classes, working together to ensure we are setting this hive up to be as strong as it can be.

I've been sharing my new found bee knowledge with my friends and it seems they were intrigued enough that they wanted to make an event out of our honeybees' homecoming. So Friday May 20th was Bee Day! We took the day off of work, stocked the fridge with awesome beer and setup the BBQ. In honor of the Queen, Ashley even rocked a tiara.

Our package was 1 of 600 boxes of bees that made the 19 hour drive from Georgia and landed in Vermont about an hour south of our home. There were 14,000 little girls (mostly) and a Queen that needed to be in the hive by 6:00 to ensure the best rate of survival. So Friday afternoon we headed south, attended a quick workshop on how to install the bees in their hive and picked up our box from the transport truck. Riding in a car with thousands of little creatures at my feet was a pretty awesome experience, though my border collie was less than impressed with the buzzing addition to our car ride.

When my girlfriends said they wanted to make an event out of this, I thought it was a bit silly, but I am always up for any excuse to have a party. There will never be another evening like this, when seven of us and our dogs got to experience the magic of a hive homecoming for the very first time together. It was epic, unforgettable, bonding and beautiful.  

Erin caught most of the installation on video, which was essentially what I thought it would be ~ open box, dump bees, close lid. I didn't envision what would happen next...

The air changed, magic surrounded us and we were all mesmerized. We barely spoke to one another, bees were everywhere and we were all mostly talking to them. Erin tended to the dying, Sonya's purple do gave them hope for pollen and Ashley watched closely as they choreographed their waggle dance. 

They hovered in front of the hive, studying the colors and shape so they knew where they needed to return after foraging. Some went right for the sugar water food, other set to work on the frames and the adventurous ones hit up the dandelions right off the bat. They were so happy to be free from their box and the buzzing that surrounded my friends and I was so calming. They were home! 

With facial recognition being another part of their acclimation process, there was more than one joke made that these southern belles must have thought they landed in Utah and got themselves four mommies. 

Many didn't make it through the trip and others died shortly after release. I guess the excitement of it all was just too much for some of them. I'll never forget the image of a bee who laid on her back in Erin's palm waving her tiny leg in the air as if to say goodbye. Another little girl mistook Sonya's hair for a flower and tried to forage her scalp. 

We were covered in bee poop and couldn't be happier about it. We stayed with the hive until the very last bee had left the box and found her way home; it was just before sunset and they finally settled in for the night. As we walked away from the hive and towards the house for dinner, Ashley said to me "It's so quiet, I already miss the buzzing."

We closed the night out with a heartfelt conversation about the qualities of meaningful friendship. A magical evening indeed, like a "little furry fairy festival" as Ashley coined it. I'm a bee mom again and this time they're all my responsibility. Welcome home girls!

I've Got Heat

The universe provides in such amazing ways and this summer I have been on a roller coaster of learning that I've Got Heat. A workshop at the Slow Living Summit in June has had a profound ripple effect since my mother attended and pronounced this practitioner could change my life. This talk on Traditional Chinese Medicine and it's ability to effect climate change was powerful and lead me to find the speaker and his office a few weeks later.

I filled out a bunch of medical history forms indicating every pain I've ever felt since birth, but the real reason I was there was for the fireworks in my chest. As I mentioned in my last blog post, I've been dealing with some cardiac shit, but my Western docs weren't really getting me. Fireworks in your chest? WTF does that mean? So I took my prescribed medication, kept my mouth shut and went silently nuts in my head because nobody could understand me. Until I met Brendan. Sitting in his office going over my endless papers and drawing the connections together in his mind, he asks "So how do you feel?" "Crazy" I replied. "Of course you do, you've got heat." 

That night at the dinner table as I described to my husband that I have heat in my stomach and intestines and that I need to stick needles in my arms and legs and drink herbs twice a day lead to some hysterical conversation. But look, I was going nuts, I was willing to follow this man to the moon if it was going to stop the damn fireworks in my chest. My husband supported this adventure as he always does, with a shake of his head and that "I think I married a crazy hippie" look in his eye. 

I'm not an expert on any of this and my learning curve has been steep, but my life has changed and the work is powerful. Traditional Chinese Medicine is based on the concept of Yin and Yang. Yin is stillness, rest and inactivity; Yang is movement, doing and activity. A balance between the two makes for an ideal life, of which I was very far from having. So my heat diagnosis was based on the lack of Yin and an excess of Yang in my life. 

Using our energy physically or mentally to be a productive employee, caring community member, loving parent and spouse or to physically stay in shape takes a toll. This energy is warming, and when it has been overused for an extended period of time, it creates what Chinese medicine calls heat. Heat is an excess of warmth and a state of overstimulation, which can eventually cause our internal fluids, or coolant, to evaporate, as when we leave a pot of water boiling on the stove. An excess of warmth and reduced internal fluids are called Yin-deficient heat, where the internal temperature not only increases, but also the internal coolant decreases, like evaporating water. This creates a cycle where a loss of coolant increases the heat, which causes more coolant to evaporate, further increasing the heat. ~Brendan Kelly."The Yin and Yang of Climate Crisis." September 2015.

So the fireworks I was feeling in my chest was literally heat coming up from my organs desperately trying to exit my body. Sound nuts? Maybe, but once you've drank the herbs and taken the acupuncture needles, you become a believer. I'm into it and encourage you to read Brendan's book, which just came out this week. The craziest part of this adventure ~ my husband saw how powerful the change was and started down his first-ever road to energy work. Now my beast of a man, who drank coffee by the pot and refused to stay in savasana for more than a minute is taking an hour each week to lay on a table full of needles. The coffee has been replaced by large mason jars of green tea and his herbs are working to help him slow the pace of his life.

The reality is that heat is a societal issue, we are all moving excessively fast trying to keep up with everything that is coming our way. We are chronically doing too much and taking less time to just be. Today I slept in, read a book, did an intense yoga routine, walked with my dog and wrote this blog post. In the past I would have viewed this as a day that I slacked off and felt guilty for not doing home improvements, cleaning or running errands. With a new perspective I felt empowered that I was bringing some Yin into my life with this day and that I will be better off emotionally and physically for it.

Last weekend was spent on a boat with friends with no work other than to mix a good drink. At my appointment with Brendan two days later, he took my pulses and was shocked at how much energy I had. "I am writing you a prescription for boating, barbecues and cocktails. Slowing down works for you Melissa, you need to do more of it."

Hitting the Gym, with a Bag of Beets

Last year when I started taking mid-day breaks from sitting to get some exercise, I played it safe. I did cardio. Those treadmills are trusty; as long as you don't slide off, you can get in and get out without being noticed much. After a few months I even started to consider myself a runner. I could get five miles in on a lunch break and feel pretty awesome about it. Headphones in, miles logged and back to the office.

Well one way to get noticed is to leave the gym headed for the emergency room. The first week in March of this year yanked me out of the safety of land-o-cardio and vulnerably exposed me to a group of total strangers. I did 4 miles on the elliptical, then rowed for 10 minutes. In the locker room something felt off, I wasn't coming down from the exercise high. My chest was pounding and I didn't have the energy to put my shirt on. I sat on the bench and asked the first person that walked in to take my pulse. The look on her face is something that I will never forget, sheer concern sprinkled in with a little fear. The hour the ensued had me half naked on a yoga mat, eating orange slices and refusing to go to the hospital. There were a lot of people that came through the locker room in that hour. A lot of people that deeply cared for a total stranger. 

The next week when I returned to the gym with a heart monitor on and instructions not to run anymore, I needed to figure out what my new normal would be. Well if you can't hang in the comfort of cardio, where else do you turn, but weights. People that lift are different than people that do cardio, they talk. They do this thing called resting in between sets so they converse. It was a very foreign concept to me. But when you head from the gym to the ER and then return with a heart monitor and a new found desire to lift weight, conversations get started. 

People that workout at noon are a weird mix of young professionals that have found a hip work environment that encourages exercise mid-day and retired people. There isn't much in between. You may find your odd waitress that works nights, but that's really the exception to the rule. Those that have departed the working world know everyone's name, their profession, their relationship status and just enough about your personal life to make solid conversation in the locker room. Those of us still employed are more there to motivate, encourage growth and celebrate successes. 

My core people know that I am comfortable at a pulse of 120 and when it creeps to 130, I need a rest and a few minutes to recalibrate. It got back up to 170 once and boy did they rally around me. It is really amazing what you can experience when you allow total strangers to become part of your support network. My friends and family aren't with me when I am exercising, now one of the more vulnerable activities in my life, but my gym community is. They know my limits, know when to challenge me, know when to push me to rest and know when to be concerned. 

Experiencing a cardiac event at the age of 37 has changed my perspective on life in so many ways. It has also exposed me to a community of amazing people that I would have otherwise never known. Not only do they spot me when I bench, but they ask me what I'm growing this week and what veggies I have for sale. I'm hitting the gym with a bag of beets for my retired friend Pam who wants to support my market garden concept. Overhearing a conversation about someone having trouble gaining weight and thinking about incorporating Hamburger Helper into his diet lead me to some solid shaming and lecturing about sodium consumption. Not to mention the Mountain Dew, but I have to be careful how much I judge...The bottom line is that he heard me, cared what I had to say and truly took my opinion to heart.

I took an order just today in the locker room. Full nude, confirming one pound of carrots and two bunches of kale. So tomorrow I guess I'm hitting the gym with tri-colored carrots and some russian red kale. 

Impressions From My Childhood

Impressions made as a child ripple into adulthood in seemingly illogical ways at times. My mom and I had some tough days in my early years, probably what bonded us so closely together. Food was scarce at times, but we always made do. We would find a way to have a meal, even in the most creative sense of the word. I learned early on how precious food was and that you can make a meal out of anything you have on hand, as long as you have love in your heart. 

These lessons were valuable to me as I created my own home and family as an adult. Never did a vegetable rot in my fridge or was a takeout order placed because there was nothing on hand to make a meal. These impressions served me well, that is until I started to get pretty good at growing my own food.  

I've been gardening for five years now. As a novice, that first year I barely got anything more than a few peas and some lettuce out of the ground. As my knowledge has increased with each year, so has the bounty that has come with it. What hasn't increased is the size of my family. Yep, just two of us and nearly 1,000 square feet of growing space. 

Year three is when things started to get out of hand and my husband and I felt like chewing was a second job. There was so much kale being harvested that we were eating colanders of it multiple times a day. That impression of childhood scarcity left me determined not to let anything go to waste, clouding the consideration that someone else might benefit from the excess I was growing. 

Last year I was having lunch with a co-worker; we didn't know each other all that well at the time. I brought my trusty colander to the picnic table and started in on my marathon munch. My lunch date was amazed by the amount of vegetables I was consuming and inquired about my monstrous salad. I told the story of how prolific the garden had gotten and how many veggies were coming out of the ground and how time consuming it was to eat all this glorious food. Too much organic produce to eat, poor me. She simply asked, "why don't you just give away what you can't eat?" It was like she was speaking another language. Give away food? Impossible. 

I thought for a moment before I responded. An image of my mom slicing hot dogs and adding them to a can of beans in a pot flashed through my memory. It was what we had on hand and she made it with love; it was a meal. Things were scarce, but we were happy and that was my past. I looked into my colander, took out a long purple pole bean and offered it across the table. It was a baby step in the way I adapted how I viewed food. It didn't all need to be just for my family; there was enough to share. Scarcity is not part of my present and I can grow as much food as I am able and only eat as much as I need and no more. 

This year we added over 400 square feet of growing space. All tilled and cared for with the intention of sharing this food with my friends and community members. I charge a few bucks to cover the cost of the plants and their maintenance, but nobody’s getting rich selling beets out of their garden. It is about connection ~ to the land, to my community, to the food I grow and love so dearly. 

That same co-worker I sat with at the picnic table is now a dear friend. We’ve been through a lot together in the past year. I walked into work last week with a bag full of carrots, catnip and kale; an order I was filling from my garden for a friend at the gym. She looked at me and smiled, “you’ve come a long way in a year.” 

Creating Some Killer Bud

The past couple of weeks I tapped into a super relaxing way to spend my time in the garden. Well I suppose all of my time in the garden in relaxing, but I digress. I made my own chronic catnip blend. So if you have these massive plants in your yard and want a simple way to make use of their ever growing leaves, here's how. 

Once the cat mint plant is in full bloom, snip off three sprigs for each branch of catnip you plan to use. Hang your cat mint in a warm dry location and let sit for two days.

Harvest the catnip early in the summer when the plant gets about three foot tall. Snip the catnip sprigs as close to the base of the plant as you can in order to get as many leaves as possible. Hang these in a warm dry place and let them sit for four days.

You will want one sprig of lavender once the plant is in bloom for each single branch of catnip you are using. Hang and dry in a warm location for two days.

Once your herbs have met their ideal drying time, gently remove the leaves and slightly crumble them into a mason jar. This is the super relaxing part. You'll want to mix together 3 parts cat mint (including the beautiful blue flowers), 1 part catnip and 1 part lavender. You might want to do this work far away from your cat or you won't get much done. I did my crumbling and mixing in my potting shed and my cat went nuts every time I came back in the house. She knew I was up to something with that killer herb she covets daily. The only downside to this process was that I created a catnip addict in the process of testing the ideal blend out on my own animal. So hopefully writing this post will save you that trouble and your cat can just dabble in the herb every now and again. Happy drying and blending!

Kicking Some Kudos to Kale

This holiday weekend, I ordered my locally raised turkey burger without a bun, added oyster mushrooms and blue cheese and went with the side salad instead of fries. I was drinking my calories in the form of nationally recognized Hill Farmstead's award winning beer. I'm spoiled and I know it. I live in a pretty awesome place to be a foodie, but even I was taken aback when the waitress asked me if I wanted my burger on a bed of streamed kale in lieu of a bun. Seriously? Hell yeah.

I caught this awesome reflection of the glass lettering in my beer working in the garden a few weeks ago.

I've mentioned kale in a few of my posts, but I've never given it the front and center focus I think it deserves. As much as I am known by my friends for my slight obsession with beets, I am just as teased for my excessive kale consumption. My mom got me the book 'Kale: The Complete Guide to the World's Most Powerful Superfood.' So I grabbed it off the shelf to reference my green friend's multiple health benefits and found the chapter that covers that topic is 16 pages long!

So I could list off a bunch of vitamin letters and mineral names and tell you all the bennies of incorporating them into your diet, but that would make for a really long post that reads like a medical journal. Instead I'll sum up those 16 pages by saying that kale has 22 really awesome things that your body needs and eating 1-2 cups of it 3 times per week is really freaking good for you. It makes your skin look phenomenal, increases your physical stamina, eases joint pain, improves eyesight and boosts your immune system. Research has also shown that it helps prevent and heal heart conditions, high cholesterol, cancer and diseases of the gall bladder and liver. I'm also convinced that my border collie will live a very long and healthy life because of how much kale he consumes. As soon as he hears the first kale stem break he runs into the kitchen, tilts his head and begs for his greens. 

You can drink it in a smoothie, massage it with oil and vinegar to make the perfect salad base or try it steamed in lieu of a bun. Do whatever works for you to get this superfood into your body. Personally, I swear I feel like I have plugged myself into a wall socket after I've eaten a big kale salad. My hair and nails are strong and always growing, I rarely ever get sick and I have never had to purchase a laxative.

We are growing five types of kale in the garden this year. We've increased the crop size every year as we continue to find a zillion ways to use it. It's super easy to grow and some varieties are even frost tolerant (we love that in Vermont). If you're new to this superfood, I am so excited for you to experience the benefits of bringing this healer into your life. And for those of you who have been on the bandwagon for ages, I'd love it if you would share your favorite way to enjoy it. Long before the coveted t-shirts and the battle with Chik-fil-A, farmers have been telling us to Eat More Kale. 

My Personal Growth Up the Pea Trellis

We've all heard the cheesy saying that when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Well I don't grow lemons, but I do grow peas and in their own magical way they have taught me some pretty big life lessons. A few years ago life gave me peas and I chose to blossom from it.

The summer before last I looked to my garden for solace after facing a particularly stressful event. I knelt down next to the pea trellis, connected with the earth and checked my breathing. It was in that moment that I decided how I was going to face the hurdle in front of me. I chose not to be a victim of my situation and instead found balance and control in finding a solution. Something changed in me that day, a shift in my ability to access inner strength, to stand strong and solid for what I believe in. And once you know that strength is in there, that's a lesson you can't unlearn.

Through the days that followed as I worked through the learning that this life teaching was giving to me, I took to the garden for peaceful reflection. I watched my peas climb the trellis, expose their beautiful blossoms and eventually provide me with gorgeous green pods. Their growth that season was an external manifestation of my own personal development. However, just because I took this situation and treated it as an opportunity for me to see the world differently, didn't mean there wasn't some pain throughout my journey. Seems those times with a little tears tend to be the ones with the most impact when you get on the other side. 

So I thought this one had passed, I took the lemons and made the damn lemonade so now life just moves forward right? I did the right thing, acted as an adult and did the growing thing instead of hiding in a corner. Can't I just tie this one in a bow and move ahead? Nope. Life doesn't work that way. The following summer just as my peas started their ascent up the trellis I found myself struck motionless one day. Standing there in the middle of the garden staring at the trellis and feeling all of the emotions from the prior year. No logic in my brain could cease the reaction and not a single urge to control things could stop those peas from triggering my memory. 

The good thing was that it was simply that, a memory. That summer I learned about the power of one's mind and how we store stressful events. We all have the ability to compartmentalize them if we choose, to move them from emotional to simple fact. It just takes some work, uncomfortable work at times, but we are powerful enough to make the change in how we associate with our past. We can let it control us or we can use it to enhance who we are in the present. 

This year, my peas make me beam from ear to ear. They are a symbol to me of the work I have done and the perseverance I had to get on the other side. They are a gorgeous three tone blossom of white, pink and purple. Three tones, three years. The white for the first year when I knelt beside the trellis looking for guidance, innocent and pure. The pink for the following year's trial bringing me universal love and inner peace. This year, combining the calm stability of blue and the fierce energy of red, purple has been known to represent the meanings of creativity, wisdom, devotion, peace, pride, mystery, independence and magic. This particular experience had a little bit of all of these things sprinkled in along the way. Growth is such a gift.

Mother Nature Provides Indoor Plumbing

One of the down sides to eating as much kale as I do is that my hair and my fingernails grow at a ridiculous rate. My hair stylist has used me for show-and-tell to those just entering the business ~ 'normal regrowth at six weeks would be 1/4 - 1/2 of an inch. This client gets almost a full inch because of how much kale she eats.' I thought it was cool in the beginning, but the upkeep both on the head and the nails is enough already. 

My mother told me about a research study that found working with the soil, gloves off, releases seratonin in your brain. I found this article that speaks to a strain of bacterium in soil, Mycobacterium vaccae, that has been found to trigger the release of seratonin, which in turn elevates mood and decreases anxiety. So I tossed the gloves in the name of happiness, but with the length of my fingernails growing by the day, I needed a way to get my hands clean while I was working in the garden.

My first hand selfie. Gross.

So the obvious answer was to design a rainwater collection system, with water flow powered by solar that would run through an antique water pump and into a maple syrup strainer turned into a sink. Simple of course. 

I dreamt about this project a year ago and it was finally completed this week. My husband was a saint, standing by my side all along the way researching DC powered battery packs and the most efficient rain collections systems. In my defense, he knew he was marrying a hippie-at-heart years ago so this shouldn't have been all that much of a surprise. Maybe it was the farmer-at-heart that he didn't know he was marrying, but I digress. 

So here's the nuts and bolts: 

1. We put a rain barrel on the south side of our potting shed.

   2. We installed a solar panel on the roof that faces direct south.

   3. We purchased a DC pump that is powered by the solar panel on the roof.

   4. My husband ran piping from the rainwater collection tank to the sink via the pump and drained it through the floor, which dumps into the crushed stone installed when we built the shed. 

   5. I can now turn a knob and water comes out of an antique water pump as designed. Happy. Another labor of love has come to fruition. 

Now having a sink in my potting shed is pretty awesome, but with all this infrastructure in place we have enough solar power for some lights, a ceiling fan and maybe even a fridge to support my new found love for IPAs. The rainwater collection has been so successful and the plumbing is in place to operate a hose off the barrel to water the garden in the future. As my dad so simply said, the plants just prefer the rainwater to the hose water. Totally makes sense and mother nature would approve.

When I first got married my husband claimed to hate home improvement projects. When you ask him today, he'll probably tell you the same thing, but there is a slight twist that makes projects like these enjoyable now. Patience and pride. You work the muscles of patience when you bring old stuff together with new technology. The outcome is usually bound to be pride at the accomplishment. He's got his '54 Chevy and I've got my potting shed. I don't understand why flames flying out of your exhaust pipe is cool, but I know it makes him happy so I support it. He doesn't understand why I like compost under my fingernails, but he'll build me a sink to wash it away. I'm a true believer that a little patience tossed with a touch of pride leads to happiness all around.  

The Magical Mysteries of the Sea

I spent the past four days walking around a small island in the Atlantic, taking in all the beauty Mother Nature had to offer in this magical place. There is something about the sea that inspires creativity in me. I dream up stories about the boats off the coastline or the destination of the passengers in the planes overhead. This particular island was essentially deserted and so the walks were tranquil, the beaches empty and my mind was totally open. How often do we get to experience a mind completely filled with creativity without a single distraction from the world? No screens beeping, no people talking, no cars honking; the crash of the waves the only present sound. 

Balancing stones on driftwood. Was this the creation of a single person in a meditative day of careful placement or was it a ripple effect that touched many people over the course of weeks? How long does something like this stay stable in such a changing coastal environment? Maybe it was just built yesterday and I am one of the lucky few to take in it's beauty or has it been here for years, protected just enough from the raging waters of the sea?

Stairs leading down to the bluffs on the southwest side of the island. I wonder who hung these buoys here and do they live at the top of these stairs? How did they come to have a set of private steps reaching down to one of the most stunning places on earth? Did they collect the buoys over the years from their summers spent sailing here or did they snag them from a fisherman's dock? 

Marine rope washed ashore. What type of vessel did this once reside on and what was its function? Did it simply get tossed one day in favor of something newer or was there a massive storm that claimed this for the sea? How long did it spend in the water before washing ashore here and where did it come from originally? What power the waves must have had the day this landed here and how long ago was that? How many people have walked by this before me and asked similar questions? What stories did they dream up about this simple rope and did it make them smile as much as it made me?

I stopped for lunch one day in a cove on the northwest side of the island. Sitting on the driftwood I looked down at the sand, stunned to see such shades of pink and purple in the seaweed on this beach. I never really took the time to examine seaweed before, I mean it's just the weed of the sea right, who cares? But when you take a moment to look closely, you will see hues of neon green, bright yellow and even red. The textures and the colors I saw on this trip gave me such appreciation for the beauty of this seemingly simple algae. Humans need to eat through the rainbow in order to stay as healthy as we can be. Why wouldn't the same be true for the creatures that feed on seaweed? 

I'm not really looking to get deep into phycology, which wikipedia taught me is the study of seaweed. I am however, reflecting on the power I felt in allowing myself to see the beauty in my surroundings. To capture those images in my mind and open it to think creatively about stories and journeys, without distraction, just being present and in the moment.  

Slow Living

When someone sends you an invite to something called 'The Strolling of the Heifers Slow Living Summit' that's an email I am going to open. And let's face it, with all the electronic junk flying our way every day, we have to choose what gets opened and warrants our attention. Attending this 'food, mindfully summit' in the quintessential Vermont town of Brattleboro this week was a blast. I got to hang with goat farmers, visionary entrepreneurs, medicinal healers, Masshole bikers and my mom. It was awesome. 

So what is the concept behind Slow Living? 

“Slow is the opposite of ‘fast’ - fast food, fast money, fast living - and all of the negative consequences ‘fast’ has had for the environment and for the health of people and societies. ‘Slow’ embodies cooperation, respect, sustainability, gratitude and resilience.

When we Live Slow, we give back and become more strongly connected to the Earth, to our communities, to our neighbors and to ourselves. A Slow Life is one that seeks the right balance between spirituality, sensuality, introspection and community.”

— 2015 Slow Living Summit ~ Food, Mindfully

Taking a break for a few days from the fast-paced, computer-focused, intensive way I live my life from 9-5 was really a welcome change. I was surrounded by hundreds of people interested in seeing a change in the way we are in this world. A more intentional way of being, making informed choices and inspiring others to do the same. The opening remarks at this conference left two impressions ~ coal is dead and Vermont is #1 in the country leading the local food movement. Hell yeah, there is momentum towards change and I am living in the place.

I have to admit, for as many positive statistics about the progress we have made in the last five years, I heard just as many daunting stories. Climate change is affecting our farming operations and we have to stay resilient and adaptive to changing weather patterns in order to ensure we have a stable food system. The cool thing is that these changes in our weather have forced farmers into creating some pretty incredible systems. One farmer in Washington has coined the phrase 'cover crop cocktail' where he mixes between 8 and 20 different species, which ultimately enhance the soil quality. Five years ago his soil was able to absorb a 1/2" of rain and last growing season his soil was so rich that it absorbed 8" before running off into streams and lakes. This not only helps with potential flooding, but also provides great water reserves for the plants in times of dryer weather. 

One of the breakout sessions was for food entrepreneurs ~ you have the big idea, so now what? I was the first to arrive, sporting my 'Can't Beet It' canvas bag with all of my conference swag inside; I wanted a seat at that table. Well what a small table the panel speakers must have expected. There were about seven chairs pulled into a circle with a panel of three at the front of the room. The first thing that popped into my head is "these people must be from out of state, how could they expect only seven people to arrive with a 'big idea and wonder what is next?' The room topped out at around 30 by the start of the discussion. People have big food ideas and are ready to take the leap, it was amazing to feel that energy in the room. 

So I didn't actually stay to watch the heifers stroll, which they do down Main Street as part of an intensely hippie attended parade each year. I was in it for the inspiration and the knowledge that so many talented and dedicated people gave me over the course of three days. Eat more kale, grow more beets, slow down often, put down the screen and talk to people, make more love and take that risk you have been too scared to take. It won't be easy and you'll have some lessons to learn along the way, but you are going to learn those lessons in this life anyway. Wouldn't you rather learn them doing something you love? 

Responsibility and the Ripple Effect

I absolutely love personality assessments; taking them, analyzing them, sizing up my friends and co-workers based on theirs. All aspects of it, love it. The most recent one I took was focused on my top five strengths. My number one ~ responsibility. By definition those strong in responsibility 'take psychological ownership of what they say they will do and are committed to stable values such as honesty and loyalty.' Obviously I see this trait play out in various scenarios in my life, but last night I was thinking about it in the context of this website, my blog and the recipes I have been writing. 

I was asked the other day why I started this site in the first place. My initial answer a few months ago was simple, it combines my love of food, photography and creative writing. But it has become so much more since then. My 'psychological ownership' drives me to think every day about what content would be meaningful to those following GMB. What message might alter a behavior or open someone's eyes to something new. The result, being driven by my 'commitment to stable values' has been that I have altered my own behavior in as much the way I had hoped those reading my posts would do. I can't put information out there that I myself am not following, it wouldn't be 'honest.' 

Nothing has been drastic, just more consistent. Responsible choices about food have been more at the forefront of my thinking each day. My husband said it is starting to get to the point where I need to know the name of the chicken, not just the farm and the farmer before I will eat it. And he's never even seen the Portlandia episode about Colin the chicken.

I have to admit, the small ripple effects of starting GMB has really been touching. I got both of these pictures just yesterday, small children of close friends saying "look Aunt Lissa, I'm eating my beets." Our next generation of healthy eaters, warms my heart. 

A lengthy email came from a dear friend I haven't spoken to in almost a decade. "It is so cool to see you working with all those beautiful plants and writing about your garden and food with such reverence.  You know I feel the same." He went on to tell me about everything he was growing this year and his desire to work with bees in the future. Awesome connection. 

Walking meetings are happening more frequently at work and people are taking 'smoke breaks' by walking to ask a question in person instead of sending an email. If this one is lost on you, give my last blog post a read. Shared language leading to culture change.

A woman I worked with 15 years ago read my post about honeybees and wrote "I have a lot more respect for bees now. Thank you for sharing." Power to our pollinators, without them our food system collapses. 

Bumblebee on my hyssop plant. 

The ironic thing about starting this site is that I have never really had any actual success growing beets. This season, feeling the literal responsibility of honoring the name now hanging on my potting shed, I planted four varieties of beets in three different ways. Early signs are pointing towards growing beets successfully. Phew, my integrity is still in check.

Sitting Is The New Smoking

A colleague of mine attended a conference last week where one of the speakers proclaimed that 'sitting is the new smoking.' She returned invigorated, talking of standing desks and treadmill desks encouraging all of us to talk about how to quit sitting so much. 

“Sitting is more dangerous than smoking, kills more people than HIV and is more treacherous than parachuting. We are sitting ourselves to death.”

— Dr. James Levine, Inventor of the Treadmill Desk

I was a smoker for 18 years and I'm working on just over 7 years without my trusty Parliaments. I have been sitting professionally for 15 years, but do all the years in a chair during college and school before that count? If they do, I have been on my butt for a long ass time. 

Last August I lost feeling in my right arm. I walked around the office shaking it like a mad woman and making my co-workers visibly uncomfortable. Two weeks into being a one-armed woman I was asked if I had seen a doctor. Who has the time to see a doctor? I must sit in front of this screen and compute for eight hours each day, then sit in my car while commuting to get home so I can sit in front of a TV. By the third week I made an appointment with a doctor and learned I had a bulging disk in my neck that was causing nerve damage, which is why I lost feeling in my arm. How did this happen? From sitting. In a crappy chair not made to support my body, in a posture not suited to care for my neck. I got injured doing a desk job. Eye opener.

The following months were filled with physical therapy appointments, strange chicken exercises of my neck, revamping my work station and procuring a new chair. I got a doctor's note that told me I had to break the pattern of sitting every day and exercise for at least 30 minutes in the middle of the day. You mean super type-a, eats at her desk, doesn't make time for small talk, task-oriented me is supposed to stop working and go to the gym? Well I tell you, it changed my life in so many ways. 

Image credit to ~ http://www.kelseyads.com/10-ways-sit-less-work-infographic/

It has been nine months since I got the diagnosis and I have been following doctor's orders. A minimum of three days a week I hit the gym mid-day, but mostly it is four or five. I incorporate yoga on the weekends and when it's gardening season, I am working my ass off outside. I am stronger than I have ever been in my life, I make time for small talk with my co-workers and I've reduced my office-related intensity (still eating at my desk though). I am human after all and sitting and computing is not what life is all about. 

All these change in my lifestyle have really paid off in managing the pain I was experiencing months ago. I've been operating with both arms since I finished PT so my nerve damage wasn't permanent. My neck still hurts a few times a week, but it is just enough of a reminder to make sure I hit the gym that day or suggest a walking meeting at work. 

Smoking never got me in all the years I was crankin' butts, but sitting did. Try taking breaks in your day by making time to walk around the building. Office yoga in ten minute increments with a simple app on your phone is a great way to break from sitting. If you see a co-worker's intensity with their screen compromising their health, encourage them to adjust their posture. In whatever way makes sense for you, be mindful of how much time you spend on your bum and try to find ways to reduce it.

The Sunday Soup

The idea for our Sunday Soup was hatched a few years ago out of pure necessity. Our garden had gotten so prolific and only two of us to feed. I got into the habit of doing a major harvest on the weekends, taking whatever was on the cutting board and turning that into something that would feed us during the work week. By the end of the summer we had gotten so used to grabbing those perfectly portioned containers every morning that we carried the tradition on past our growing season. 

The concept is simple and there are a million variations ~ create a low-calorie, low-fat dish with a balance of protein and vegetables in large enough quantity to feed you for lunch for the next five days. It ensures that you’ll have a nutritious balanced meal to get you through your work week and you don’t have to worry about grabbing an expensive lunch on the fly.

There are a couple of recipes on the Harvest section of the website, but you don’t really need to follow a recipe. Just keep a couple of concepts in mind and you’ll be ready to whip up a Sunday Soup:

• Use a low-calorie base for your concoction. We love Rachel Ray’s low sodium chicken stock or Pomi’s crushed and strained tomatoes. If you aren’t into soup one week, try quinoa as a starting place.
• Use lean, low-fat proteins and cook them in a pan before adding to your dish. This gives you the chance to drain any fat before adding it to your healthy meal.
• Throw in whatever veggies you have coming out of the ground or that you can find at your local market. You can’t go wrong here, just add what you love. Shredded cabbage is a an easy and inexpensive way to bulk up your dish if you are looking to go big one week.
• Change up the spices so you don’t get bored. Curry works great, standard Italian spices are always a winner or go for a cayenne kick and make a chili.
• Low-sodium canned beans are an awesome way to change up the textures and add in some extra protein.
• Most importantly, have fun. This isn’t meant to feel like a Sunday chore. You should be proud of yourself for making the time to care for your body in the coming week. 

Since I started posting some Sunday Soup recipes on the website, people have been sharing what they have created and I have gotten some great ideas. If you have anything to add to the discussion, share your thoughts on facebook or email me through the website. I would love to spread the word about what’s cookin’ on Sundays amongst the friends of Grow More Beets. 

What'cha Growin' This Year?

One of the great things about living in Jericho is that driving through the countryside is a daily occurrence. My commute to the 'city' is longer than most people would care for, but when I cross that town line into Jericho I feel at home. The larger farms with their heavy machinery are hard at work this week prepping the soil for plants. The smell of manure no longer bothers me and the 'shit-spreading trucks' that you get stuck behind make me smile now instead of grimace. I think it is the transformation from being a flatlander (which I was called for the first 15 years I lived in Vermont) to being a local (which I feel I have earned even if the natives won't allow me the title).

What has become increasing more apparent in recent years is the small scale growing operations that are happening virtually everywhere. From immaculately organized raised beds to perfectly rototilled plots, more and more people are growing their own food. Our conversations are definitely changing to reflect this uprise of gardeners and small scale farmers. It used to be that you asked your co-workers and friends "do you have a garden?" and now we ask "what'cha growin' this year?" In fact, I don't think a single person has answered the later question with a "no" in recent years. It may be as simple as some basil or as complex as 13' pole beans, but people that run in my circles are talking about growing food. 

I have to admit that I actually know more about the growing conditions and crop preferences of the people that I work and socialize with more than I do about their children. One friend sticks to herbs only, that's her thing and she loves it. Another has a small amount of lead in her soil and doesn't want to invest in raised beds so she avoids growing root crops. My co-worker thinks her husband doesn't place the tomatoes in the optimal lighting location and is left with a freezer full of green tomatoes, but she chooses her marital battles.

So what am I growing this year? I installed a new elevated raised bed on my deck that will serve as my Chef's Garden full of herbs, salad greens, rainbow swiss chard, carrots and beets. Plans so far for the main garden are blueberries (blue and pink), raspberries (red and yellow), horseradish, catnip, catmint, hyssop, garlic, peas (pod and shell), kale (curly red, meadowlark and westlander), carrots (dragon, atomic red, white satin, yellowstone and orange jeannette), pole beans, sunflowers, asparagus, parsnips, poppies, snap peas, cardinal climbers, nasturtium and beets (chioggia, golden, bull's blood and tall top).

We are coming alive with the knowledge that we don't have to rely on big business to feed us. We are empowered to make choices about the food that we put into our bodies and we know that 'real food' comes from farms, big or small. I respect and rely on the larger farms in my community that I know can grow the crops that I am unable to cultivate in my small space, but I know that I can take responsibility for growing what I can, locally in my own backyard. We all need to take responsibility for the vitality of our local food system so try growing some of  your own food, in whatever scale is possible for you. 

Glorifying Garlic

One of the first signs of spring in the garden is the garlic planted the previous fall. Snow may still be sprinkled throughout the yard, but those determined green bursts have broken through the soil. Growing garlic is satisfying in so many ways. Typically I forget that I planted something in the fall that will emerge in the spring, so the green surprise is always a welcome confirmation that winter is finally over. 

The great thing about this harvest is that it comes twofold ~ scapes and bulbs. Garlic scapes are stunning in the way they curl out of the green tops of the plant. They are a delicacy, only experienced for a couple weeks out of the year, yet useful in any dish where you would add those trusty white cloves. Just finely chop the green scapes before cooking and enjoy! 

When I first added garlic to the garden I actually stumbled upon plants in the spring at Gardeners Supply, which is not the typical way to start experimenting with this crop. The more conventional route is to purchase seed garlic, which you plant in the fall. You can then use cloves from your own harvest as seed to increase your yield the following year. It's amazing to see how one clove planted in the fall can turn into an entire bulb the following spring. Starting with six plants three years ago, we have built up to 35 this year. We diversified our crop with three rows of our own started from those original six plants and two of a Turkish Red variety from Green Mountain Garlic. 

Harvesting garlic typically happens in the late summer once the bottom few leaves have turned yellow. It is important to hang your bulbs in a dry area for two to three weeks before using it for cooking. Once dry, storing bulbs is pretty simple, just keep them in a brown paper bag in a cabinet and they will last you the year until your next harvest (if you can keep them around that long).

My husband and I joke that the reason we rarely get sick is because of how much garlic we consume. It is multiple cloves daily. When a recipe calls for two cloves, we add eight. My coworkers swear my garlic consumption isn't an issue, but I wonder just how polite they are being. Studies have shown that garlic consumption has been linked to lower risk of cancer in the prostate, stomach, colon and breast. However, if you are looking to fight off cancer with a clove a day, make sure to let it rest on your cutting board for 15 minutes after you chop. Exposure to the air gives the anticancer agents a chance to form before they hit the oil in your pan. The sulfur compounds in garlic produce a very healing gas, which when released by our red blood cells help to keep our blood pressure under control. Keep calm and grow more garlic. 

There are tremendous cardiovascular, anti-inflammatory and anti-viral benefits to garlic consumption as well. It's basically a rock star when it comes to health-supporting foods. I suppose that's why Hippocrates, our Father of Western Medicine, was known to prescribe garlic to treat a diverse array of medical conditions. I justify my excessive garlic consumption knowing the health benefits, but I do wonder if this stinky little addiction of mine may have played into the location of my office at work. Is it a coincidence that spend my 9 to 5 tucked away in a corner of an otherwise open floor plan? 

Romancing the Beet

This is the time of year when I start reflecting on what I learned last summer and what I hope to trial in the coming growing season. Each year builds on the ones that came before, making small tweaks to perfect something that was almost right last season or trying something I've never done before in hopes of learning something new. It is the natural progression of my skill building fed by curiosity and nurtured by practice and patience. 

As I look at the seeds scattered across my dining room table I am thinking about what they will need to flourish, where they might fit best in the raised beds and who should be their neighbor. One of last year's lessons was understanding the distinction between pole and bush beans. In early July I recall my husband examining the purple bean stalks that were close to 5' tall and saying "Lyss, I think they grew a foot overnight. What kind of magic beans did you buy?" I swore they were bush beans, meant to only grow a couple of feet tall. In typical style I didn't do any research to learn how tall these beans might actually get and just went to the local hardware store to buy 8' bamboo poles. The vines took those over in a few weeks and they collapsed without the proper support. Staple guns and twine were deployed weekly in hopes of keeping these monsters standing tall. In the end, they grew to be over 10' with a yield like no other beans I had ever grown. I loved the heightened look those plants gave to the garden and decided to go with pole beans again this year, but I bought the proper support system and I actually read the seed packet instructions carefully. Rattlesnake Pole Bean and Blue Lake Pole Bean are on tap for the 2015 season with a support structure that will look something like this.

As you may have gathered from my earlier post of how building my garden oasis all started with a dusty old produce scale, I have a passion for hunting out the unique. My watering hose is purple, there is a bath for bees made of antique marbles and the potting shed is secured with a skeleton key. A few years ago, during a trip to the architectural salvage warehouse I stumbled upon a beautifully faded yellow whiskey barrel. The obvious thing to assume when you buy something that is 100 years old is that it would make the perfect water-tight rain collection barrel. What it made for was a very soggy yard and a high water bill that spring.

This year the barrel will become a planter for brightly colorful vines of Sweet Pea Royal Blend and Cardinal Climber. My rain collection system will be brand new and made of plastic; though it will be powered by solar and plumb to a sink made from an antique maple syrup strainer, but that's content for another post.

Most importantly, over the years I have learned which plants I want to spend my summers with and the ones I would rather just buy as an end product from the farmers market. Choosing your seeds in the spring is like entering into a relationship with each little packet. You need to ensure you have the proper soil, support and sunshine in place for them to thrive and then you must commit to giving of your energy to them for months. They will show up in your kitchen daily and you have to be prepared to embrace them no matter how you may be feeling about their constant presence on your cutting board. You chose them to be part of your family for the season and you can't abandon them no matter what challenges they may be presenting. Those challenges are just lessons for next year. Either you adjust the soil, support or sunshine they need or you just cut them off of your growing list completely. I have broken up with broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, radishes and zucchini over the years for various reasons. Cucumbers may be on the chopping block this year since I haven't been able to look a pickle straight on since last year's massive yields and endless mason jars in my fridge. I know for sure that I am definitely romancing the beet, three ways in fact ~ golden, red and chioggia style! 

Ground your gardening in your experiences and each year you will gain new perspectives that enhance both the aesthetics and the harvest yields in your own personal oasis.  

Honoring Our Honeybees

The name Melissa comes from the Greek word (μέλισσα), which means honey bee. I've known this since I was a child, getting trinket gifts for years referencing the origin of my name for holidays and birthdays. I was 36 by the time that I actually connected with my namesake and it wasn't by way of a hallmark inspired card or a candle with a cartoon bee. It was with a simple pale yellow beehive with a copper roof and 30,000 honeybees that landed in my garden oasis. 

Last April a friend that knows my passion for gardening asked "Any chance you would be into having a beehive on your property this year? Their pollination should increase your harvest by 20%." "Hell yeah! Just tell me when they are coming." For the month that followed I borrowed a bee suit from a friend, read two beekeeping books cover to cover and purchased a half dozen perennials that my local nursery assured me were the honeybees' favorites. 

In mid May a black pickup backed into my driveway with the beehive strapped down in the bed. Two men in white suits carried my queen and 30,000 of her babies to their new home on the south side of my potting shed. My friend Matt was an amazing teacher, spending hours showing me all the intricacies that go into maintaining a healthy hive. The large majority of the bees are female and they do all of the work within the hive. The remaining slightly larger bees are males, called drones. They have a real attitude sometimes and my theory is that they have no real function in the hive itself so they have to exert their dominance on humans. The only times I was chased out of my own garden by bees were by drones. Their only purpose is to mate with the queen once a year and then they promptly die after mating. Hell of an existence right?

The females that actually do the work have five jobs that they perform throughout the spring, summer and early fall. Their first job is to clean cells, then as a nurse she tends to the larvae, the scout is alert for danger that may be coming, the undertaker removes the dead (and deadbeat drones before winter) and the forager gets the pollen. They rotate through these jobs and progress as they get more mature. The scouts take their job very seriously. Throughout the summer, I would lay on the ground near the hive entrance and watch the foragers return with bright orange legs covered in pollen. If I got an inch closer than the scouts were comfortable with they would fly out and poke me in the forehead. They knew me so there was no danger of being stung, just a 'step it back mom, you're getting too close.'

I watched my bees daily and studied the hive with Matt. They doubled in size in the first month and 60,000 beauties were working hard, building up the hive and pollinating the land. They were amazing to watch and brought such a calm presence to the garden. I would often find my dog sleeping next to the hive, he could feel it too. Once I understood all of the complex work they were doing inside the hive and how much energy it took for the foragers to pollinate the plants, my own existence seemed simpler. It literally takes one honeybee at least 20 visits to a single flower in order to fertilize one cucumber properly. Knowledge like this made me honor the food I was growing even more than years prior. 

Early in the fall I discovered that my hive had not made enough honey for the bees to survive through the winter. The honey they make throughout the spring, summer and fall becomes their only source of food during the winter months. I read everything I could about how to save it, but the only viable option for their survival was to combine my hive with another. When you combine hives, you then have two queens and only one can survive. A fight to the death obviously causes stress on the colony and those who lose their queen will either die along with her or submit to their new leader. 

Throughout the winter, the bees form a ball in the middle of the hive with the queen at the center. They rotate from the outside, which feels the frigid Vermont temperatures, to the inside that warms them at nearly 90 degrees. They keep this rotation up all winter in hopes of lasting through the brutal cold. Last weekend, after a very harsh winter my hive was opened and they didn't make it. All the love and attention I gave to my honeybees and they didn't survive the winter. The whole system is so fragile and when just one element goes wrong, the entire colony can collapse. 

This spring when you see a honeybee pollinating a flower think of her and her struggle. How she may have started as a nurse to the young in the hive, worked her way up to pollinator and may eventually be the queen's attendant. Think of the winter she may have endured rotating through cold and warmth with 50,000 of her siblings. She is dedicated to her craft and works hard during her very short lifespan. Without our honeybees we would lose 60 unique agricultural crops that need pollinators to survive. Respect and honor the honeybee; we need her in order to keep our food system alive. 

"Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don't they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers." ~ Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

The Natural Progression of a Gardener Gone Blogger

The constraints of social media platforms force us into defined boxes in order to build a page profile. Predetermined categories are somehow the way that your online persona now presents you to the virtual world. When I started Grow More Beets I answered a series of questions leaving me with a profile on my screen that dictated I am: "Gardener, Foodie, Lovacore and Blogger." What gave me the right to really adorn myself with any of these descriptors? I spent the past week exploring that question and realized that these terms describe my natural progression.

Gardener: any person who gardens or is skillful at gardening. Anyone that read my last blog knows that I didn't wake up one day being a gardener. I thought that since I had some raised beds on my property and seeds in my hand that a garden oasis was inevitable. I wish it were that simple, but it isn't all that hard either. All you really need to become successful at growing your own food is a sense of curiosity. Ask those that know what they are doing how they do it, try some things out, fail at some trials and succeed at others. Eventually you'll find your groove and know what you can grow well in the space you have with your unique set of talents. 

Foodie: a person keenly interested in food, especially in eating or cooking. One can't really be a gardener without eventually becoming a foodie. You have tremendous amounts of food coming out of your garden with only once place to go ~ your kitchen. Since you aren't a farmer selling your harvest you must logically become obsessed with how to turn your bounty into amazing meals that feel constantly different than the one before using the same five ingredients that are currently in season. You may wonder why kale seems to be in almost all of the recipes on my website, because it is literally in season all summer long. 

Locavore: a person who makes an effort to eat food that is grown, raised, or produced locally, usually within 100 miles of home. Living in a land-locked state that is frozen a good part of the year makes meeting this definition to the letter a tall order. We do our best in Vermont to source local whenever possible, but that's just not happening with all of our proteins. I trust these guys that own a meat and seafood shop in town. They appease me weekly when I inquire about the origin of the food in the display case. "I visited the farm Melissa and the pigs were free to roam the fields and feel the sun on their backs." I've gotten so into the routine that I found myself asking where the Alaskan king crab legs were from. My husband was mortified, but my guys just smiled and simply replied 'Alaska.' So we eat local produce spring into fall, roots and squash from the cellar in the winter and do our best year-round to know where our protein came from and how it was treated before it hit our table. 

Blogger: a website containing a writer's own experiences, observations, opinions, and often having images and links to other websites. I suppose I struggle with this one the most. I can count on one hand the number of blog posts I have read in my life and honestly never researched what the proper structure of a blog really is. My intention is to share my own experiences, observations and opinions so I believe I am true to the definition, but the real reason I write is in hopes of inspiring others to move along their trajectory. I didn't know what I was doing the first time I put a seed in the ground, but eventually I became a gardener. My initial harvest of kale left me stunned and confused, but research lead me to meal planning that used every last leaf. Understanding what free-range care for animals meant and choosing to get carrots from my local farm stand instead of my chain grocery store were all adjustments I chose to make. It seems that the logical evolution is to take what I have learned, put virtual pen to paper and hope inspiration will bring about some change in the lives of the people reading this. Will you make a new meal from scratch this week? Might you look closer at the label of the food you buy to understand it's origin? It could be as simple as talking about food with your friends, family and colleagues. It is the fuel that nourishes our bodies and we need to be empowered to make smart decisions about what we put into our physiological engine. Be curious, ask questions and feed your natural progression. 

It All Started with a Dusty Old Produce Scale

The first year that I grew my own food I pretty much had no idea what I was doing. There were cauliflowers the size of cherry tomatoes, lettuce greens adequate for a family of eight (ours is two) and 1/4 inch carrots because I saw thinning as killing. The one thing I did know at the end of that growing season, we saved money on produce and I was determined to assess just how much.

How does one assign a value to the food you grow, well with a dusty old produce scale of course. The December following my first growing season I was armed with an authentic 1920 John Chatillon scale from New York City. My mother was horrified, having been part of the procurement of this gift in cahoots with my husband. She knew it wouldn't fit the decor of my home, but didn't want to question his choice in a present. After the holiday passed, she asked "Where will you hang the scale?" I hadn't fully thought it through, but "Somewhere in the garden makes the most sense." Well once you've invested in an antique Chatillon you can't just leave it out in the elements. So I designed the perfect home for my scale, which would become my beloved potting shed.

A labor of love over the years by many friends and family members, the shed is affectionately referenced by my neighbors at the country store. Most wonder where the chickens are because they were convinced we were building a coop by the shape. The door is from a 1934 farmhouse and has a dimension that changes with the weather. The stained glass window took 11 hours to refinish coming from a local architectural salvage warehouse. The center ceiling panels are transparent for seed starts in the spring. The doorknob cost more than the lumber and the front stone step landed there via toboggan. I have big plans for a rainwater collection system feeding a sink made out of an antique maple syrup strainer to be installed on an 8' piece of barn board. Coming in 2015!

There is something about walking through that garden gate that transforms me. Seeing how the plants have grown overnight is spectacular. Kale is trustworthy and never disappoints; it is always dependable for a harvest. Carrots are surprising, never knowing which color you will pull and how big the root will be. Pole beans even have a sense of humor in the way they wind their vines in every direction except the one I had intended when I supported them. 

So what have I learned after years of growing my own food and enhancing my garden oasis? That I don't care about money when I am working with the land. When I put my hands in the dirt, everything else sinks away.  I have no idea how much money we save growing our own food because I am sure I have spent all that savings on the adornments needed to house my dusty old produce scale. I love that scale and I still weigh everything I grow, but really only to share harvest yields with my mother. What I do know is that it is extremely therapeutic to grow and prepare food you have tended to yourself. It truly nourishes the soul. I got my hands in the dirt for the first time this year just yesterday. Tiny little bright green chives were poking through last years debris looking for the sun. Just those few moments clearing the space for them to thrive made me dance around the lawn ~ spring is finally here!