Rocks

On New Farm rocks are as plentiful as the Cape Cod gooseberries that we grew this year. There are large rocks that seem to erupt from the earth, small ones that I am endlessly tossing into the woods as I till the garden rows and there are the occasional perfectly flat rocks that I carry, roll, or pull behind the truck to add to the garden pathway. The mere mention of needing a hole dug around here is enough to make my back ache. The most ridiculous rock situation was when we had to purchase rocks to build a chimney. Surely, I thought, we could harvest what we needed right from our own back yard. But no, this chimney needed stone not rocks.

My understanding is that we live on land that thirteen thousand years ago was covered with ice a mile thick and as the glacier retreated the rocks were left behind. The mix that is our soil is called glacial till as I have been told on more than one occasion.

So it was that the perfect rock for the garden pathway was a mere 300 feet from where I wanted it to be. A crowbar, sheets of plywood, shovels and chains were some of the tools carried from the shed to help harvest this perfect rock. I love big ideas like this. Woman versus nature always gets me psyched. Of course, I did need help from my husband…so together we engineered the move. For a couple of hours we were into it and having fun with the mechanics of levers, fulcrums and other miscellaneous physics of Atlas type feats. But finally, after I had a little too aggressively dragged the rock from the woods with the truck and failed to stop before it hit the fence post we conceded that perhaps the neighbor’s tractor might finish the move with less collateral damage. As it turned out, this was the same day the neighbors needed a hole dug.

I was dubious about their assurances that the chosen spot was perfect for an easy dig. “I’ve been studying the contour of the land” was how my neighbor began. He was thinking about sand dunes and how wind will blow sand off the top and come to settle and the base of the dune. Surely a sand dune is not an appropriate analogy to our rocky woods… however, that logic was applied to a small rise in the woods and it was determined that at its base away from the trees lied the perfect digging spot. Sounded like an old wives tale to me. But this hole was special and I was more than happy to help and offer my support. You see, this was the final resting spot for their family pet. This Border Collie mix was the perfect neighborhood dog. She was friendly and loved to come around to keep an eye on the chickens for me. As we all gathered in the woods atop the rise of the hill to dig the hole I couldn’t help but think that this is going to be one long project. But, a half a beer into it and the digging was easy, the reddish colored soil was piling up and only a few small rocks were found. Either my neighbor really knew what he was talking about or he was a very lucky man.

Now every time I walk through the woods to visit my neighbors I pass the marker and smile, thinking she probably has the only spot around here without any rocks.
I don’t know what it is about rocks but they are an integral part of my life. I love collecting them, am challenged by their size, find amazement in their beauty, and amusement in how they present themselves to me. Is it possible to anthropomorphize a rock?

It ain't over til it's over!

Yep…still growing and still picking.

We picked fresh picked green salad on Christmas morning, Christmas evening, New Years Day and while watching the winter classic Rangers vs. Flyers. The cold frames we planted in November have really been producing.

We have been helped by a relatively mild winter so far. The first real arctic blast is settling in now.

In addition to the lettuces and mesclun greens we were able to pick half a dozen red onions and a dozen carrots from the raised bed cold frames and make a super chicken soup using our own New Farm raised Cornish Game Hens from the freezer. The roast chicken – chicken salad – chicken soup trifecta is incredible and the recipes and variations are down pat. That adds up to a few dinners and a week’s worth of lunches.

One of the biggest challenges is keeping the beds watered so the plants do not desiccate. It involves some hauling since we turned off the water to the garden back in November to prevent freezing. When we open the bed covers we also have to shoo away the chickens who want to dive in for some fresh greens. They will get theirs; they’ll just have to wait for leftovers.

So as the seed catalogs come pouring in we still have our hands in the dirt and we are and milking the season as long as possible. In the words of a great Yankee philosopher ...

“It ain't over til it’s over”.

Thanks Yogi!