The first spring harvest

I love that our Maine farm came with a tremendous amount of edible things already in the ground and thriving. Peach trees. Blueberry bushes. Apple trees. Pears. Raspberries. Blackberries. Grapes. 

A whole lot of grapes. 

We actually decided we needed thin out the grape vines a bit. We have grapes in the yard. Grapes down in the cutting garden. Grapes growing in the greenhouse. Grapes growing over the arbor outside the kitchen door. 

Altogether, there are 20 grapevines or so. All different kinds - cold hardy, seeded and seedless varieties of concord grapes, for the most part. We made jam with them last year - lovely stuff. But a bit much to keep up with, and we actually like to have some open space in the yard. So it was time to thin the stock a bit - I wanted to take out the two rows above and create a bit more space. So I posted a note on Craigslist last week "You dig 'em. You take 'em. Free to good home."  I had a half dozen responses within half an hour. I love Maine. 

While the young couple was digging up the grapes, I noticed the wild chives had already sprouted. If you brush them, the air was full of that lovely, spring scent. A grassy & onion perfume. Rich and heady. 

I went out and clipped an armful

This is not to go to waste - soon enough, the rest of the lawn will rejuvenate, and I'd have to pick through it more to separate "lawn" from "edible" - as it is, it was simple to snip an inch or two up from the base, and grab whole clusters of chives. 

I picked through the scrawny ones and tossed to the chickens (who never mind the tasty castoffs), rinsed them and spread them over a sheet pan. A couple/three hours in the Aga's warming oven, and I have fresh dried chives to chop & dice & add to the spice drawer. 

Now I'm eagerly waiting for the fiddleheads to appear - those will go right into the sautee pan with some butter and lemon, and maybe a sprinkling of chopped chives to boot! 

Springtime. One way or another.

Never mind the fact that it's actually snowing outside as I sit and write this. (It's the end of March, people. WHAT THE HELL). I'm thinking about fresh greens. Because it's the end of March, people, and that's what you do. 

One of the most compelling parts of the property that made us lose our minds is the greenhouse. A full on, proper-panes-of-glass, walk in greenhouse. The north wall is made of double-thickness brick, to absorb the sun's heat during the day and cast it back into the space. I was still harvesting greens and other vegetables out of the greenhouse after Thanksgiving last year. 

All I could think when I saw it was: Let's see the goddamned deer get to my tomatoes NOW. 

Honestly, I've barely even thought about a garden in our new space. The snow is still more than a foot thick on the ground outside, and everything is pretty dormant. Plus, my brain-space has been more than occupied between the new gig and trying to keep up with the renovation of the actual house. That and trying not to slip and bust my ass on the way out to the car every morning. (It's not easy looking graceful on black ice when you're wearing ostrich skin cowboy boots). 

But the other day I saw a new seed display at the hardware store, and it reminded me that in other parts of the country, people are not just thinking about growing things, they can actually see the dirt where they intend to put it. 

The inside of the greenhouse was a mess. The brick wall is actually covered by a grape vine - lovely white grapes that the previous owner plucked and handed to the kids to eat as we toured the property last summer. That's because the inside of the greenhouse actually gets too warm without something to diffuse the radiant heat from the brick, and the greenery of the leaves acts as a perfect balance. 

There were leftover tomato plants poking up through the center table, and straggly bits of wilted cabbage on the ground to be raked and cleaned up. But even with all the snow and ice we accumulated this winter, the greenhouse was lovely and intact. Even scraping off a little bit of snow from the sloping roof allowed enough sunlight through into the interior to warm it up above freezing, and let the remainder just melt right off. 

Yesterday, with a clear blue sky, the temperature outside was around 30 degrees when I stepped into the greenhouse. Inside, it was over 70. 

I started raking and sorting, and quickly shed both my outer coat, and then my sweater. I was down to a t-shirt in no time, and reveling in the warmth. It's no wonder the snow didn't stay long on the greenhouse roof - it is incredibly efficient. I could have probably gotten out and planted in the greenhouse a couple of weeks ago, even with thicker snow still on the ground. 

The greenhouse cleaned up pretty quickly - I pulled out all the detritus of last summer and swept the paths. The two long edges have felt paper down to keep the weeds out, and the center patch of soil - about 40" wide - is surmounted by the chickenwire frame above. It's perfect when the tomatoes come up, offering a great support trellis. 

I hadn't planned extensively on what to plant this year. Given that we only moved in last October, I don't know the property well enough to have developed an overall garden plan. There are plenty of grapevines, raspberry canes and blackberry vines to keep me busy. Plus 30 or so blueberry bushes and a smattering of fruit trees. So I figured I'd limit my annual vegetable planting to keep things manageable while I get my head around what might go where. The previous owner had a potato patch, as well as several squash varieties going behind the barn, and I'll probably do that as well. Maybe I'll go crazy and add beans or peas to the mix. But all other vegetables this year will come from the greenhouse. 

I had picked up a couple of packs of spinach and arugula, and thought I'd try my hand at starting tomatoes from seed, since I was beginning the season a bit early. Some of the seed I put into the egg carton cups with a bit of fresh soil. Others I planted underneath the framework, along with all the greens. 

After my previous pleasure at what a simple cold frame in the garden could do to extend the season a few weeks, my pleasure at getting into the greenhouse and having all that delicious room to grow things literally a month or more before I'd otherwise be able to get my hands dirty is positively visceral. 

From my initial simple list, I've added peppers to the ambition for this year, and probably one or two other staples that would be out of reach due to such a short season after The Winter That Will Not End.  But right now, I'm just daydreaming about what those first tomatoes are going to taste like, and discovering that I'm suddenly a bit more patient with the melting snow than I was before. 

Guantana-pig

Since the great pigscapade 2014 (part I, part II, & part III), the pigs & I have settled back into a friendly routine. I walk out in the morning - a little more nervous than I once was as to whether or not they'd still be there - and breath a small sigh of relief when I spot their growing spotted backs, nestled in whatever convenient spot they have created a nest in that evening. Always together, like three little sardines when they lay down at night. 

To keep them from going walk-about once more, we got a little bit more aggressive with the fencing. Last year, the two piglets came a little older, and they were already fence-trained to the electric line. Or we were just luckier. Who knows. I thought about a half dozen ways either strengthen the current on our line (which has something to do with improving the grounding of the charger. I don't really pretend to understand how this actually works outside of some theoretical knowledge. But I'm pretty sure I could add another copper pole and really juice the little buggers up. On the other hand, I don't seem to be able to work on my electric fence without delivering several substantial shocks to myself along the way. Usually because I'm really too lazy to walk ALL THE WAY into the barn each time I want to switch it on/off for testing. So I end up just leaving it on. Because, how much shock can it really give me if I'm carefu-OHHOLYHELLTHATISGONNALEAVEAMARK.) 

Besides, these pigs were still small. And I wanted something a little more foolproof. Or pig-proof. I wanted something that was going to keep out the bad things, and keep in the good, growing bacon, without me worrying too much about the next time they got spooked.

I thought about guard towers, spotlights and motion sensors, but I figured that might be taking it a little far. 

I left the piglets in a small enclosure the first few days, and had the Critter help me set new fence posts. I cut standard 4"x4" pressure treated posts into 4' lengths, planning on burying 18".  I dug holes; she hauled posts. She complained about this arrangement. I handed her the post hole diggers and went to get a Diet Coke, telling her that I'd set all the posts that she dug holes when I got back. She was hauling posts when I returned. 

At our house, we believe in empowering our children with making their own choices. Also: we believe in less complaining. 

Between each post, I ran a 2" x 8" as a bottom rail, and a 2" x 6" on the top. The bottom rail set flush against the ground, and the top rail set flush for a fence height of about 30". Those rails were just simply drilled into each post, on the inside of the posts, to make it easier to add the mesh fencing. 

The Critter may not enjoy digging post holes, but she enjoys using power tools. 

"Oh, daddy - can I screw?" 

"Not til you're married."

"What?"

"Nothing. Here's the drill. I'll fetch the fencing."

I had some coated fencing wire that I stapled all along the top and bottom rails, all the way around. It comes in convenient 30" wide rolls. All told, I used about 160' of the fencing, in a large U-shape that took advantage of the stone wall of my barn to form the 4th side. 

The pigs have been content as can be - the fencing provides a convenient accessory for scratching their backs and sides - a common pig pastime. You can see Tocino mouthing the fence above - I really should an electric line along the inside to keep them from getting too close, and to train them to the electric fence. That'd allow me to further expand the pen at a reasonable cost as I did with last year's crop of bacon. I like giving them extra room to root and explore when I can - though this enclosure is plenty big at this point. 

The final advantage of this set up - besides the low cost and relatively easy setup, plus ease of removal later on down the road - has been that the footer rail gives the Boy a nice step to scale the fence. Since the return of our little critters from their jaunt in the woods, he's been out a couple of times a day to scatter a handful of peanuts and count their backs. He's smiling when he runs back up to the house. 

"They're all still there, Daddy!" 

Good. But let's check again in a little bit.

Just to make sure.