Yancey County Farmers Market — Burnsville, NC

Posted on Jul 2, 2013

Last Saturday we visited the Yancey County Farmers Market. Our new rental house sits right between two weekly markets, this one in Burnsville and the other in Spruce Pine, NC. You may notice it’s been a long while since I posted to the blog and that I’m posting today from a new place! We have moved back “home” to NC after eight wonderful years in Fayetteville, Arkansas.  Let me say that preparing to move, moving, setting up a temporary abode from which to hunt for our next homestead…it will eat your life! But now that we’ve settled in enough to locate dishes and clean socks, the next task is finding local food!

After a few years of eating primarily from our own garden and from the fields and pastures of the local growers of Fayetteville, we are completely spoiled to the tastes and experience of it and eating from the grocery (even the organic one) or take-out on a regular basis  just doesn’t feel as satisfying.

Not to mention that in the weeks prior to moving and during the process we ate more packaged foods than in the last few years combined with the exception of meals brought by during those crazy day by kind friends!

Note to self: If you hear any friend, family or neighbor is in the process of moving and you bring them over a meal of any kind, you will be forever remembered with great fondness! 

Once we were back in front of tables piled with fresh food, things start to feel normal-ish again. Including noting that by arriving in the last hour of the market, we almost missed some tasty favorites that sold out earlier! But we snagged some sugar-snaps, kale, collards, homemade mustard (yum!!), pork, grass-fed beef, candy-roaster squash bread (like pumpkin bread)….as well as some shortbread biscuits and cheddar scones that, um, never made it to the house.

I loved the shopping totes made from feed bags and picked up a “hillbilly” wine bottle tote made from the same. The prices couldn’t be beat! I am looking forward to being a regular at this market. Hope you enjoyed these iphone snapshots and hope to see you here at the blog again as I post more regularly…lord willing and the creek don’t rise!

—A Larrapin Garden…currently in search of a new home in the Blue Ridge of North Carolina.  My posts on this blog may be boom or bust depending on the season, but if you subscribe here you’ll get one weekly email—usually on Wednesdays—to let you know what’s new. You are also invited to get garden related miscellany and recipes at the brand new Facebook page or on Twitter.

Last Days of Winter Snapshots…

Posted on Mar 17, 2013

It’s nearly, but not quite, Spring. The plum tree has jumped the gun a bit and is demonstrating why plums are prone to being hit by late frosts around here in the Ozarks. But isn’t she lovely in the meantime and the bees are not complaining about it either. On a lucky year without a late frost, we could be blessed with plums. We still have a bunch in the freezer from last year, one of the lucky ones, from a friend’s tree.

I’ve been so busy the past months, getting ready for the Dig In! Food & Farming Festival which happened the first weekend in March. It was a great time and a wonderful crowd! That festival is something I’m so pleased to have co-created. I hope it will go on and grow abundantly in future years, even though I’ll likely be back on the homeward side of the country by then. Our planned move back home to the Appalachians is creeping closer. It’s hard to imagine leaving the birthplace of Larrapin Garden, but we hope to find new owners who will love it and cultivate it as we have. If you know of anyone who might be looking for a place like this later this Spring, please send them this link: http://minifarm4sale.wordpress.com/

Looking around I seem to see good memories that pull at my heart from every corner of the garden and woods. Writer Stephen Levine calls this ‘the consequences of love.’ Indeed. Right beside that sadness about leaving is the excitement of a new adventure and a new landscape to fall in love with the way I have this one.

I invite you to join me over at the brand new Facebook page , on Pinterest, or on Twitter…however you happen to roll in cyberspace. Leigh

The Gardener’s Dilemma: To plant or not to plant.

Posted on Jan 17, 2013

Santa Fe Honey

I remember standing at a farmers market in Santa Fe New Mexico in front of a table lined with jars of amber and gold honey. I was surprised at how much honey the high-desert produces, given the dry scrub covering so much the hilly terrain.  The bearded beekeeper in a cowboy hat explained how nearly all of what I saw as “scrub” bloomed, and the bees flourished. He was sharing samples and the tastes were spectacular.

Like the honeys in any region, the different waves of flowers throughout the seasons created different tastes, bouquets, high and low notes, like wines. “But the very favorite honey of my customers, hands down, is autumn clematis honey.” He shook his head slightly, “You can just open the jar and you smell flowers.” He closed his eyes as he said this, as if he was inhaling the scent just now. Before I had time to speak a single word he answered my next question, “I just get it in the fall and I sell out right away, so I can’t offer you any. But people are asking me if I have any the rest of the year.” That was 2010 and I’d never even contemplated keeping bees.

Sweet Autumn Clematis blooms in September and October across the Ozarks and as I drive through town I spot the big green mounds of vines on fences covered up with so small frilly flowers it looks like a blanket of white foam. It is a weedy green vine unremarkable for most of the season. Come autumn, it explodes into a starry blanket of creamy blossoms with a delicious scent. I think back to the Santa Fe honey. That trip was in 2010, before I ever contemplated keeping bees.

These days I look for good things to plant for my bees. I looked up Autumn Clematis only to find that is not native to the US can be invasive/opportunistic in some climates and I’m not really sure if it is a problem in the Ozarks. But then there’s Virgin’s Bower (Clematis virginiana) also called woodbine, which is less showy but native. The native variety has an added bonus of being good for songbird food and nesting materials, though I’ll have to find a special spot to plant it given that it loves a moist setting…. But this is all part of the pleasant mental wrangling gardeners engage in for fun when it’s too cold or wet to dig.

But the thought of new plantings immediately runs into another, one that says I may not be here to see it. By the time it blooms I may be breaking new ground yet again on the home we hope to find when we move back to the Blue Ridge Mountains in the next year.

Ahhh, the gardener’s quandary: If you know you are going to be in a place a relatively short time, do you bother to plant things you will likely never get to see fully grown, or bearing fruits or flowers or shade?

I once read a story about a Quaker gardener, a woman, who lived in a town about to be invaded by German troops in World War II. At least that’s the way I remember the story began. Just before she left her home to escape to a neighboring country, she was planting seeds in her vegetable garden. I don’t remember what. Neighbors thought she was crazy to be planting just before leaving and said, ‘You won’t be here to eat it!’ Her answer something like ‘Whoever lives in this house next, they will need to eat.’

Oh those beautiful Quakers. This story has stuck with me for decades, the compassion of this woman willing to plant food she would never eat. Another way I’ve heard this belief is that ‘true wisdom lies in planting trees even if you will never live long enough to sit in their shade.’ It’s very hard to remember to lift up my attention from my wants, wishes and worries and to think of this land going on into the future without me. But when I do, it feels right. And oddly, I feel better—lighter—about how long I will be here. As a hospice nurse, I can’t help but note the larger echo of that realization.

So let me plant more stuff I may or may not be here to see bloom. If only for the reason that when the wash of white frilly flowers appears in some future autumn, bees will arrive at each bloom. There will be nectar for them.

Not clematis, but welsh onion blooms. Not sure how that affects the honey!

Flashback Post: Winter Kale & White Bean Soup Recipe

Posted on Dec 8, 2012

The weather may have been colder back in January 2009 when I first posted this, but this soup recipe is good anytime! Hope you enjoy. —Leigh

Good Link: Janisse Ray’s New Book!

Posted on Dec 5, 2012

You bet I’ll be posting a [glowing] review of this book soon. Since the gift-giving season is soon upon us though, wanted to put this out there and say if you have a someone on your list who loves gardens, real food, and heirloom seeds then this book will be a total hit under the tree!  Text from the publisher is below. You can get your copy from the publisher or from your favorite local bookstore. Enjoy!

“This is an unmatched treasure trove of information… The Seed Underground is an excellent choice for readers seeking a depiction of the current critical situation in farming all in one, easy-to-read book.”
—Gene Logsdon, author of A Sanctuary of Trees and Holy Shit

 

“If you haven’t heard what’s happening with seeds, let me tell you. They’re disappearing, about like every damn thing else. . . . But I’m not going to talk about anything that’s going to make us feel hopeless, or despairing, because there’s no despair in a seed.”
— from The Seed Underground

 

Across the country, a renaissance of local food, farming, and place-based culinary traditions is taking hold. And yet something small, critically important, and profoundly at risk is being overlooked in this local food resurgence: seeds. We are losing our seeds. Of the thousands of seed varieties available at the turn of the 20th century, 94 percent have been lost — forever.

 

With a signature lyricism that once prompted a New York Times writer to proclaim her the Rachel Carson of the south, Ray (Ecology of a Cracker Childhood) brings us the inspiring stories of ordinary gardeners whose aim is to save time-honored open-pollinated varieties like Old Time Tennessee muskmelon and Long County Longhorn okra—varieties that will be lost if people don’t grow, save, and swap the seeds.

 

From rural Maine to Oregon’s Palouse, Ray introduces readers to dozens of seed savers like the eccentric sociology professor she dubs “Tomato Man” and Maine farmer Will Bonsall, the “Noah” of seed saving who juggles hundreds of seeds, many grown by him, and him alone. And Ray tells her own story—of watching her grandmamma save squash seed; of her own first tiny garden at the edge of a junkyard; of falling in love with heirloom and local varieties as a young woman; and the one seed—Conch cowpea—that got away from her.

 

With a quiet urgency The Seed Underground reminds us that while our underlying health, food security, and sovereignty may be at stake as seeds disappear, so, too, are the stories, heritage, and history that passes between people as seeds are passed from hand to hand.

 

P.S. So you know: I love to review books here at the blog, but I only write reviews if I really enjoy the book. So if you see it here, you know I liked it. Sometimes publishers send me free copies of books, but most times—ike this time—I’m writing about my own personal copy of the book. And I love my personal copy of this book! However, if Chelsea Green wants to send me a copy...I’m happy to give one away here! 🙂

P.P.S. This just in! “Our holiday sale continues! From now until the end of the year you can save 35% on any purchase at chelseagreen.com when you use the code CGFL12 at checkout. Plus, during the sale you’ll get free shipping on any orders over $100.”

Putting the Bees to Bed

Posted on Dec 1, 2012

The weather report said it would be the last sunny, wind-free day in the mid sixties for at least a couple of weeks. As we headed into December, actual winter or at least what passes for it these days, was about to begin. One beehive still needed to be sized down a bit, consolidated into fewer boxes so the colony would be better able to keep the space warm through whatever cold nights and windy days we might have. I’d arranged the other hives a month ago, but West hive had been crazily overflowing with bees. I couldn’t imagine making their quarters any tighter, so I’d waited till they thinned out a bit for the season.

Bees “cluster” in the winter, form a pulsing ball of thousands of bees with the queen safely sheltered in the center. The bees vibrate their bodies to create heat. As the outermost layer of bees tire and get cold, they rotate toward the center, and their warmed-up sisters take their turn in the outermost layer. Fueled by the store of honey they worked all summer to stash, this process goes on constantly anytime temps in the hive fall much below 50F. At the center of that pulsing cluster, the queen basks in cozy 95 degree bee-generated warmth.

I put plenty of wood chips in the smoker because in the fall and winter the bees are at their most defensive. That honey stash is life or death for the whole colony and they are hellbent on protecting it even if the beekeeper is not interested in taking any honey. You can’t be too careful, the bees would say. I suited up more carefully than usual, put on the thicker dishwashing gloves rather than the thin ‘nurse’ gloves I usually use. Doublechecked my jeans tucked into my boots for bee-sized openings.

In Spring and Summer the typical lifespan of a honeybee is six weeks. But the winter bees are born for a special job and live for months in a near-nonstop vibrating process of working to keep the colony alive. You can put your ear to the hive in winter to hear and feel a low steady vibration. Over the winter these determined workers die off steadily but with full honors. On warmer days the workers muscle up funeral duty and haul the fallen to the doorstep and..toss them off. Honor sure, but duty to keep the hive clean comes first.

I began to take apart the top boxes of the hive. The most difficult part was pulling out frames of empty comb and combining frames with honey into fewer boxes. The bees glue the whole hive together with propolis, a tarry glue they make that is the honeybee equivalent of duct tape. Propolis is also sold as an antimicrobial medicinal at health-food stores. The bees use it to make their home strong, windproof and highly unlikely to come apart. In summer it’s gooey and sticky and just makes a mess. In the cooler temps, it is as hard and strong as caulk and every frame had to be pried loose with great effort. All while trying not to make the jarring, banging or jerking movements that piss bees off and sometimes crush bees which REALLY pisses off the bees. I didn’t venture into the lower boxes where most of the bees were gathered, for obvious reasons. (Photos below courtesy of my friend Marianne, from back in May.)

Winter is a critical time for a colony of honeybees. Survival depends on many only-ifs. The colony will make it through winter only if there are enough bees to create a cluster large enough to both maintain heat all winter and to have enough workers remaining to nurse their replacements to adulthood in the Spring. That’s only if the queen survives to lay the eggs to create those replacement troops. And only if they have enough food to fuel this 24/7 process. The colony is also at highter risk for the some diseases brought on by close quarters, and other illnesses brought on by the parasitic mites that have been one major factor in the decline of honeybee populations.

As I worked through the upper boxes of the hive I saw West Hive didn’t have as much honey stored as I’d hoped, but being a first year hive coming out of a drought year, that’s not too surprising. Most new hives will require supplemental feeding at first. I’ll use thick sugar-water mixed with nutritional oils to try to get them through till Spring. Sugar is better than the corn syrup used by some beekeepers but still not nearly as good as honey. Even if I could afford to buy honey to feed this colony, the risk of transmitting diseases from another bee yard would not be worth it. Hopefully as I have more hives, I can store extra frames of real honey from established hives to gift to new hives their first winter.

West Hive was gentle with me after all. They allowed me to get the boxes ready for winter while only giving me a loud buzzy warning to do it fast and don’t mess with the lower boxes. I agree. Putting the bees to bed for winter feels both warm and worrisome. I’ll keep an eye on them during mild winter days to see if they are venturing out and make sure they still have enough food. I’m cheering them to stay tough and make it through till Springtime brings the flowers and sunshine back. Till then, stay warm and safe, sweet sisters.

Good Link: How to store all that stuff you grew

Posted on Nov 18, 2012

You can always rely on writer Barbara Pleasant to share excellent info in Mother Earth News. This article on how to store crops is no exception. You too can have a farmstand under your bed!  (But then where will I put all those boxes of heirloom seeds??)  Here’s to good eating all winter to all of you.

First Chicken Coop: The Taj-MaHen

Posted on Nov 17, 2012

I’ve posted that a good coop is THE KEY to happily keeping chickens. What I mean by that is a spot where your chickens roost at night and can be locked up safe when you need them to be.

Good Link: Winter Keeper Apples

Posted on Nov 10, 2012

Enjoyed this post on winter keeper apples from Rood Remarks. He includes Arkansas Black and Enterprise, two apple I have planted here at Larrapin. They are still small yet. If I could wish for something in a future farm, it would be the chance to plant more apple trees…and not just for the bees!

Good Link: How To Build a Worm Tower

Posted on Nov 9, 2012

Here’s a link to a great how-to and handout for building a worm tower from our friends at Midwest Permaculture. This is a way to do worm composting of food scraps directly in your garden. Enjoy!

http://midwestpermaculture.com/2012/11/how-to-build-a-worm-tower/