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!

Salsa Verde!

The cold of winter finally came in this week. Up until now we have enjoyed a relatively mild November and early December which extended our season.

We still have crops in the garden left over from fall such as carrots, celery, spinach, onions, cilantro, parsley and some other herbs. They were great to pick for Thanksgiving dinner and especially turkey soup. They are now covered with cold frame tops along with new raised beds of lettuce and spinach.

tomatillos and red onion for chopping

One of the last good harvests of summer crops happened in early November with our plants of Tomatillo and Cape Cod Gooseberry. We found the seeds online back in April and our neighbor, Fred, was nice enough to start them for us in his greenhouse in his Sperry Wood Farm. We also had quite a few gooseberries sprout up around the garden from last year’s plant drops.

tomatillos and gooseberries are ready to pick when the husk is a loose papery skin

The larger Tomatillo and smaller gooseberry are key ingredients in our Salsa Verde made with onions and peppers from the garden. The peppers add some heat, the gooseberries add some sweet and the tomatillos some tang.

Our base recipe (based on the old Ball Blue Book) - improvising encouraged:
· 6 cups chopped, cored tomatillo and gooseberries – 2 lbs.
· 1 cup chopped onion
· 1 cup chopped peppers – chili, Hungarian wax, jalapeño, etc.
· 4 cloves garlic
· 2 tbls. Cilantro
· 2 tsps. Cumin
· ½ tsp. salt
· ½ tsp red pepper
· ½ cup vinegar
· ¼ cup lime juice

Serve with crackers, cheese, a cold beer and a football game and chill out and hunker down.

Strong to the Finish

The weather has been getting cooler and our bed of New Zealand Spinach really perked up. It looked so this past weekend good that we decided to harvest the new growth and blanch/freeze it for soups and such this winter.

The spinach got a little bitter in the dog days of summer but it never bolted. Now that it is cooling again the leaves are definitely sweeter.

The spinach was so thick with new growth that we used hedge clippers to harvest.

The picking process was a bonus for others as well

This bed has been producing since May and our plan is to put a cold frame cover on it and keep it going.

“I’m strong to the finish, cause I eats me spinach”

It's A Boy!

New Farm's Most Unwanted


by Kate
When you order enough chicks from Murray McMurray Hatchery, they are kind enough to throw in a “surprise bonus chick.” With a combined order between us and some family friends of over 25 chicks, we qualified. When we picked up our variety of chicks from the post office one early morning in April, this little lady (or so we thought) arrived free of charge.

At first, we joked how funny she looked and donned her with the only proper name we have ever given a chicken: Arsinio. Named after the early 90’s comedian Mr. Hall and his flattop haircut, Arsinio arrived in style to New Farm.


As the chicks grew, Arsinio’s flat-top feathers developed into an explosion of white and black plumage. We began to question Arsinio’s gender. The older Arsinio got, the more she started to appear to be a he. One day, in early July, my mother reported that she had heard a feeble “cock-a-doodle-do.” Our suspicions were answered: It’s a boy.


We identified him as a Silver Polish, one of the crested breeds of chickens. His striking silvery white and black plumage gave it away.

The honeymoon stage of rooster ownership lasted only a few weeks. At first it was charming to hear our bantam crow out to our hard working, egg laying ladies of the coop in an attempt to swoon. We were true farmers now, awoken at sunrise to mother nature’s alarm clock. Arsenio behaved as if he was responsible for the sun coming up in the morning.

But like all relationships, ours and Arsinio’s began to turn. His crows became louder and more frequent. The neighbors began to ask questions. Each night he would escape the fence and roost on top of the coop. Each day he would chase around Whitey Jr. (apparently we were host to the only monogamous rooster) and attempt to mate. By August, we had established that Arsinio was a problem. He had quickly risen to the top of New Farm’s most unwanted list.

For the past few weeks, I have arisen to the sound of Arsinio crowing into the leafy suburban morning. In an attempt to provide Arsinio with another home far, far away, I searched some animal rescue websites and even considered a post on Craigslist. From this search, I discovered that bantams are difficult to give away for free on the internet, let alone for a few dollars. Animal shelters don’t even take roosters. Apparently, no one wants a bantam.

Arsenio's habit of roosting out of the henhouse eventually got the best of him. A few days ago, Arisnio simply vanished. How and where, perhaps only the local owls or coyotes know. It seems his nightly escape habits proved too risky for NewFarm. I can’t say I’m sad to have him missing because tonight, I will sleep soundly knowing that I won't be awoken. Not at 4:30 A.M., not at noon, not at dinner, not a sunset.

R.I.P. Arisnio. Here’s hoping our next New Farm “bonus” will be a bumper crop of butternut squash instead.














Arsenio in happier days with his girls

Getting Canned

Peach Jam, Apple Butter, and Apple-Onion Chutney

by Kate

Yesterday, my mother and I canned for 8 hours. My mother has been canning, pressing, processing, and storing food for decades (including the homemade baby food she fed my sister and I), but I’ve only been in the game for a few years. When I came home from college in 2007, I hadn’t seen a New England autumn since high school. I had been sweating it out in the Texas heat for four years and had developed an obsession with making my apple butter as part of my homecoming. It’s one of my favorite spreads; nothing beats apple butter on a warm English Muffin or over a piece of pork.

When I expressed my desire to make apple butter to my mom, she obliged. She had been canning intermittently since my childhood making the occasional zucchini relish or pickled peppers, but my motivation and determination for apple butter put us into a canning frenzy these past few years. Since arriving home from college, we’ve put up a variety of canned goods: jams, relishes, peppers, dilly beans, sauces, canned fruits, and butters. It’s exhausting work and culminates in more dirty dishes than a Thanksgiving dinner, but totally worth it.

This year, due to the dual graduation of my sister and I, plus my bar exam studying, and my post-bar traveling, I wasn’t able to join my mother to can until I arrive at home about week ago. We immediately made plans to go to Bishop’s, a local orchard, to grab a truck-load of fruits.

Although I would prefer to make blueberry and raspberry jam every year, it requires a long day of picking early in the growing season. This year we didn’t have the time to pick in May and June and our own blueberry bushes were picked off pretty good by the birds. But our late arrival this year did not deter our readiness to pick.

I was happy to see that we caught the last few days of peach season as peach jam had been on my canning bucket list for years. We picked a large bag of each peaches, pears, and Cortland apples. At $1.25 a pound for pick-your-own fruit, we left Bishop’s $55 later. We picked on a Friday and planned to can on Monday to allow proper ripening time.

On Monday morning, my mother was already cooking down apples by the time I got to the kitchen. During that day we made the following:

· 2 batches of peach jam
· 1 gallon bag of peach pie filling/ chopped frozen peaches
· ½ batch of apple-onion chutney
· 2 large jars of unsweetened apple sauce
· About a gallon of apple butter

We’ve still got the pears to process. My mom is thinking pear butter, I’m leaning towards canned pears. We’ll see who wins.


Recipes:Peach Jam: The recipe on the back of the Pectin box (plus a little extra fruit)
(*we prefer the low-sugar recipe when we can find the low-sugar pectin)
Apple Butter: apple puree and nutmeg and cinnamon to taste
Hint: cook down the apple butter until it peaks, and then cook it down some more. The previous years we were impatient with our canning and our apple butter turned out to be more of an intensely flavored apple sauce. The thicker, the better.
Apple and Onion Chutney: One onion, five large apples, one peach, one pear (I added a peach and a pear for a little extra sweetness), yellow mustard seed, raisins, toasted fennel seed, ginger, salt, pepper.

The Glory of Morning

Most gardeners find the early morning a special time and at New Farm we agree. The sun peaks through the canopy to the east and it a good time to be outside.

Morning dew collects in the saucer leaves of nasturtium

It’s a quiet time and the awaking of the new day shares its metaphor with the promise of a garden and farm. The bees start humming, the flowers open and the chickens begin to scratch. There are eggs to collect and perhaps some veggies to snip and add to your omelet.

Bees begin to stir as the sunlight hits the hive and warms them

Even just a stroll through with a cup of coffee sets up the day with a perspective of the natural world. Pick off a few bugs, grab some flowers for the table and think about what to plant or harvest. Some mornings we can hear the clarion of the church steeple a mile to the north through the trees.

                                Morning Glories on the fence open to the east

The sunrise steams the dew off the roof our shed

It is easy to linger too long but no matter what works lays ahead this is the way to start the day!