In Defense of Bad Blogging

Much to the chagrin of my mother, who has (ever so subtly) purchased two cameras for me as gifts since I moved to NY, I'm terrible when it comes to taking photos. Shaky hands aside, I'm just not one of those folks who can relish moments through a lens. I've been blessed with a good memory (though pregnancy is making me think twice about that claim), so I've never been one to reach for the camera.

Over the past few months, I learned that the same can be said for my blogging habits. I guess I'm just not one to reach for my laptop in the moment either. By blogging standards, I'm way behind. But for me, some of writing's greatest virtues stem from the acts of rumination and retrospection. (I know! What a Luddite!) I came across a passage in The Art of the Commonplace where Wendell Berry writes, "I seem to have been born with an aptitude for a way of life that was doomed, although I did not understand that at the time." In a world littered with ENDLESS status updates and impetuous tweets, I can't help but feel this way about my relationship to the written word. I feel a certain ambivalence when it comes to being a blogger for this reason. With all due respect to my current medium and readership, I'll take being an unfit blogger over being an unfit writer any day of the week. Call me old fashioned.

That being said (phew!), this has been my fullest growing season to date, and there are plenty of memories and projects to write home about. With the Harvest Moon just a week away, I'm looking forward to curling up in my favorite chair and reflecting upon the Spring and Summer that have been.

Growing Green

What are you growing this year? Friends, I'm dying to know. You see, my own growing season has taken some very exciting turns. The past two months have found me too excited and exhausted to even talk about this...until now.

I've been rehearsing a fond memory as of late. A few years ago, I was standing in a greenhouse at one of my favorite North Fork nurseries one day in mid-March. After a treacherous morning at my desk, I decided to escape for my lunch hour, hoping that a brief glimpse of Spring might work some magic. I remember the rain hitting the plastic roof with serious force, and I remember that aside from a few violas, not a thing was in bloom inside. I looked to the back of the house and saw a woman watering plants, swaying with the Joni Mitchell song playing over the sound system. I stood there, watching her, astonished. “This woman is working,” I thought. “This is her work. She is working right now. It is her job to listen to Joni Mitchell and take care of plants.” Envy crept in, and I crept back to my desk that day.

Fast forward to the present, and I've taken on the role as the opening Manager for Garden of Eve Landscapes, an independent garden center with the organic home grower in mind. On a daily basis, I get to talk veggies, compost, annuals and perennials with folks who, get this, are excited about growing things in their yards. In other words, I'm going back on my, "if I can't eat it, I don't want to bother growing it" credo and making space for ornamentals in my life. Though if you ask me, Nasturtiums still rule. So what am I growing you might wonder? I'm really not sure. But I can tell you that I have a hand in several gardens between here and Massachusetts and that is a wonderful yet burdensome feeling. Speaking of burdensome feelings, there is much more to share. Take a look at this photo, carefully. This is me, days before Easter. In fact, this was the first day that Garden of Eve Landscapes was even open. Our offerings were humble but pleasing. There is a great deal on my mind I am certain (SO MANY BULBS), but I don't know if I have ever looked so content. (I'm glad Eve caught my sentiments on film). Little did I know at the time that I was pregnant, and therefore going to be growing way more than flowers between now and December. (Insert "FRESH EGGS" joke here). So there you have it. Me and my Little Green, or Microgreen as Mark has grown fond of calling him or her. And let me tell you, this little bugger is holding on one hell of a hormonal concert in my body. But I must tell you, we have a great time watering together. And though there aren't any loudspeakers, I can't help but hum, "Little Green, like the color when the Spring is born" and think of the many "icicles and birthday clothes" to come.

This Blog's For You!

Today's entry takes the form of a personal shout-out to my friend Seth Miller, who might be embarrassed that I am writing an entire entry in his honor. Seth and I were classmates and co-workers at CWU, and could not have been more different people at the time. I was an ENFP he was an ISTJ. His pants were always WAY cooler than mine. Today he's my most supportive reader, in spite of the fact that I am the world's most intermittent blogger. I think we're kindred spirits actually. We garden, we drink great beer and we both keep up with Paul Krugman (!!!!). What's more? He has an intelligent wife who makes an array of incredible handbags, and I have an intelligent husband who makes an array of incredible things that aren't handbags. It is as though we are living parallel lives on parallel coasts! With our powers combined, we'd be a force to be reckoned with--or at the very least, a great group to share a beer and an otherwise lousy board game with. When I get around to taking the NW by storm again, I might insist that he be my business partner. But for now, let's give it up for Seth and his amazing setup that brings 'Farm-to-Table' to a whole 'nuther level...

...that level being underneath! Yes, that is Seth's dining table, and yes, those are cartons of seedlings--peppers and tomatoes. Those are also simple shoplights, which I gather Seth can adjust by height as his seeds really get growing. Bra-VO. Since we've moved, I no longer have my bathtub seed starting setup (sniffle). I'd considered using a bookshelf to attach the lights to, but this allows much more space to work with. By putting the lights side-by-side, he can get work additional row of seedlings in between. **One hint, Seth: start some basil, marigolds and nasturtiums too. You won't be sorry. And, if you need to extend the reach of your light, go ahead and attach some side flaps made of aluminum foil. It really worked for me.** At the present, I have several friends who are short on would-be greenhouse space, scrambling to find a way to get things germinating. To those friends I say, forgo formal dining etiquette and steal Seth's idea. You're probably eating in front of your laptops anyhow.

Putting Up With Mark

A second blizzard is poised to hit Long Island this afternoon, meaning that Mark and I are going to be stuck behind these wood paneled walls for an indefinite amount of time. Although we used to harbor romantic notions of being snowed in with nowhere to go, having actually been snowed in this year has been sobering. For as much as we enjoy a good book, better bourbon and hanging out in our PJ's all day, we eventually reach the point where we need a good project to keep from quibbling over the cat and whatnot.

As of late, my go-to book of choice has been The Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook: Stories & Recipes for Southerners and Would-be Southerners. I clearly fall into the latter category, whereas Mark falls somewhere in the middle. Bottom line--I'm smitten with the gastronomic likes of Matt Lee and Ted Lee. They pay attention to the right stuff, not the least of which are collards, buttermilk and home food preservation. When introducing their chapter on Pickles, Preserves and Relishes, the brothers Lee write:

"The act of preserving and pickling today seems tinged with the old ways: the dusty jars, boiling cauldrons, dank cellars, and hardscrabble days of the era before affordable refrigeration. But 'putting up' was often just the opposite--a heady time of great plenty, when the garden was overflowing with color, a time for optimism and maybe a little pride."

Though I'm stuck with more snow than I care to consider, and the fields are overflowing with nothing but blankets of sopping wet white, I happen to have a couple of things going for me--a stockpile of root veggies that I harvested a little while back and MARK. I don't know too many gals out there who can boast about their partners' preserving prowess, but I'm proud to say that my husband can CAN. And how! He may have his faults, like leaving dishes and open FOOD on the FLOOR, but a good brine heals wounds (though, not when applied topically). So, on this freezing February day, without further ado, I'll introduce a new series of entries on this blog-o-mine that I'd like to call, Putting Up With Mark.

Who Wants Trident? (I do, I do!)

Being fairly snowed in for much of the winter has forced Mark and I to get to know the neighborhood a bit at The Beach House. We're really getting to know our backyard neighbor as of late. You might have heard of him. His name is Poseidon. Call him Neptune if you'd like. Poseidon has brought us plenty of gifts to make us feel welcome, like the busted up green plastic tub pictured here:
Just lovely. Other gifts have included a 3' x 2' chunk of orange foam insulation, and an array of fashionable buoys. (They're all the rage with the Joneses on our beach). How fortunate we are to have such a generous neighbor. Mark is quite fond of spotting new offerings through his binoculars and daring me to dash out in my PJs to receive them formally. Being the gullible dork that I am, I tend to oblige. I mean, a gift is a gift!

Well, over the weekend, our tides turned in the literal sense, when we noticed that Poseidon cooked up one hell of a freezing sea storm and made off with OUR STAIRS! Mark's Mom had commented the week prior that she didn't like the looks of our stairs, but apparently Poseidon did. I'm sure they've been bestowed upon some nice couple in Connecticut.

So until we get around to building a (retractable) ladder, we have a lovely platform diving board for all of you polar bear types out there. Thanks, Poseidon. No really, you shouldn't have.

One Year Down, One Lifetime to Go

This being our first anniversary and all, my partner in crime and I would like to thank our amazing family and friends, near and far, for making our wedding day such a delicious and lovely affair.

We consider ourselves truly lucky folk to have such talented, caring and generous people in our lives.

Now, who wants cannoli?

Oh, Nine.

I spent the first day of this new year in a way. I was up to my ankles in slushy snow, harvesting kale, broccoli and cauliflower. I could hear ice melting down the rows, making a really freaky chattering sound. I could see thousands of starlings mobbing and swarming the boughs of the trees along the field's edge. I'm sure that there was a stray chicken someplace nearby (there is ALWAYS a stray chicken), but for two solid hours, I was the only person within a half mile of where I stood. What with all of the nature sounds, solitude, communion and all that, I was feeling downright reflective, thinking over the year that had just gone by. 2009 was HUGE, a year of many firsts, that's for sure. Wrote a blog about it. Like to hear it? Here'goes.

I kicked things off in January by getting married to this guy I met...eight years ago. His name is Mark Green, and if I tell you how wonderful he is, he will be embarrassed. He now has a wife named Katie Green, and 363 days later, she still can't sign her name correctly. Should'a practiced more. After getting married to my very first husband , I took my first trip to Vermont, where I met two new loves--wood-fired ovens and water buffalo yogurt. After our Maple Syrup was confiscated by security at the Burlington Airport, we made our way back to Long Island, newlywed and well fed.

As Winter came to a close, my Dad passed away. I won't say much, but I will say that his passing was a strong reminder of how much I hope to do with this life of mine. Soon thereafter, my Mom came out East for a vacation. I took her on her first trip to Vermont, where we were lucky enough to experience our very first salamander migration. It was awesome.

Months went by, and I started to feel like I was running circles inside of a barrel that was headed for Niagara. On one hand, the farm I'd called my home away from home was doing better than ever. On the other, I wasn't. So, I decided it was time to leave my job with Satur Farms at the end of August. I wasn't sure what life would look like, but I knew that I needed to shake what was weighing on me. Right around my 28th birthday, the deer who jumped out in front of my car decided that my first head on collision ought to do the trick. I said goodbye to my first car, which as folklore would have it was my aunt's first new car.

I forgot to mention that in 2009, Mark Green learned to drive tractor. You might not realize what important Philosophical training this is. In early Spring, Mark began working at Garden of Eve one day a week, repairing and transplanting things. My very first husband, as it turns out, looks better in overalls than I do.

In the Fall, after a wonderful visit with my families, I too found myself in the field at Garden of Eve, doing things that I never dreamed I might--things that otherwise terrified me. I drive trucks now--big trucks with trailers attached to the backs of them. I cavort with all sorts of animals, from giant dogs to tiny goats. I raised turkeys in my backyard. I help maintain a beehive. I can lift nearly half of my weight, repeatedly. Deciding in your late twenties that you might want to farm might sound a bit capricious. As my uncle likes to say, "Good thing they've got all those college degrees between the two of them." But let me tell you, I've learned that you can sort out a lot of stuff when you're picking string beans. Farming, I should add, is humbling work. But, it does me well. I'm a stone lighter than I was just a year ago, and I have my peace of mind most days. For farming, my family, my friends and my very first husband who looks cute in overalls, I am super grateful this year.