Tag: organic gardening

By Posted on Posted in Abundance and Prosperity, Energy & Sustainability, Environment, Green Living/Green Lifestyles, localism/locavore, Shel's Personal Life Tagged with , , , ,

Maybe my family’s organic garden (and my neighborhood) is a microcosm of the changes in the world ;-). We normally stop getting zucchini by the end of July. Last year, it went halfway through August. And this year, the one surviving plant finally died today, and I harvested the last two very tiny zukes on October 7. The season was approximately five weeks longer than usual,even though hey like hot weather and we pretty much didn’t have any.

Tomatoes, on the other hand, are normally extremely prolific until the first killing frost, usually very late in October. This year, the season peaked in early August, and even at its peak, we had far fewer than usual. I did manage to put a few pints of sauce in the freezer, and a few jars of dried tomatoes in the pantry, but the abundance that normally covers our entire counter never materialized—and the tomatoes had pretty much gone away by September 1, producing only one or two not-so-big tomatoes (many of them bloghted) and a handful of cherry tomatoes every few days since then. Normally, our six plants produce two or three dozen every day this time of year.

Our berry bushes were odd this year, too. The one blueberry plant gave one to two pints a day for about ten days, but one of our raspberry plants produced next to nothing, and the other a fairly paltry amount. On the very best day,I got half a pint. Ditto our blackberry bush. Normally,I’m able to put several pints by. This year, I managed to gather together and freeze a single half-pint of mixed blackberries and raspberries in July; we ate the rest as it came in, and it wasn’t much. But the bigger raspberry plant actually produced about eight very tasty fruits in September, a time when we’ve never gotten berries from it before.

Our celery was severely stunted, only about six inches high and mostly leaves, on very thin stalks. In the past, we’ve had celery that looked as good as supermarket varieties. We grew potatoes for the first time, and they came out great.

Nobody cultivates them, but I like to go gather Russian olives this time of year. I went to one of the two groves I know and found a total of one berry from several dozen plants. Fortunately, I know another grove, which was its usual prolific self.

Farmer neighbors who grow winter squash did not get a crop this year. Neither did several of the local apple farmers.

In short, not-normal is the new normal in the garden. Do you think, just maybe, global climate change has something to do with it?

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By Posted on Posted in Abundance and Prosperity, Eco-friendly, Energy & Sustainability, Environmenl, Frugality/Frugal Fun, Green Living/Green Lifestyles, People Helping People, Shel's Personal Life Tagged with , , , , ,

Yesterday, I wrote about how much fun I have cooking and eating local organic food—and how it’s not uncommon for 80 percent of our dinners to be grown within a few miles of our house.

Today, I want to talk about what local organic food means personally, and to the planet.

For me:

  • Food that’s fun to cook and delicious to eat
  • Super-fresh, and loaded with nutrition, vitamins, and minerals (instead of toxic chemicals)
  • Very frugal
  • Children who feel a direct connection to where their food comes from and how it grows—and who have carried their food awareness into their own lives in big cities, now that they’re grown
  • Community; we always see friends when we pick up our share at the CSA farm, and they have educational programs like herb walks or food preservation workshops, potlucks and concerts once in a while

As an example of the dollars and cents, consider the six-flat of tomato plants we bought. I think we paid $3—so 50 cents per plant. Let’s amortize the fixed costs of the garden across all the crops, and add another $3 to cover the tomatoes’ share. So we’re up to $6.

Fresh local organic tomatoes are usually around $3 per pound at the local farmers  markets—so we break even on the second pound. This is a slow year; we’re only getting about a dozen tomatoes a week, perhaps four pounds. Some years we get more like 40 pounds a week. But even with this year’s limited crop, that means we’re pulling in $120 worth over a ten-week harvest season, and in a good year, that number is more like $1200. And that’s just one crop; we’re also growing broccoli, green beans, kidney beans, eggplant, kale, onions, basil, rosemary, cucumbers, zucchini, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, and peas (earlier in the year). The whole garden costs us less than $100 for the year.

We split the $600 CSA membership with another family, and we collect our share for about 23 weeks, typically getting 10-20 pounds of organic produce per week—or roughly 345 pounds for the year. If the stores averaged even $4 per pound (they’re often higher for organic), that means our $300 has turned into $1380—not bad!

Saving so much money on our local organic produce lets us justify the expense of the locally produced food craft items at the farmers markets; the cheeses and eggs are quite a bit more expensive than the industrial versions in supermarkets. But it’s worth it, because they taste so much better, feel so much better in our bodies, and help our local organic farmers stay in farming. And with those foods, a little goes a long way; $10 or $20 a week gives us all we need.

The Planet:

Now, let’s look at what my food lifestyle means to the economy and ecology of my town, and the whole country:

  • Very low carbon footprint. Instead of being shipped across the country, our food is hand-carried about 100 feet from our garden to our kitchen, or brought three miles (five kilometers) from the CSA farm either by car or bicycle. Instead of requiring huge inputs of petrochemicals and petrolabor, we work our garden by hand, except for the initial rototilling. And as vegetarians, our carbon footprint is much lower than if we ate meat (it would be lower still if we went vegan).
  • Chemical-free. No health effects from pesticides and herbicides—to me and those who share my table, or to the farmers who grow it. AND no harmful effects to the soil and the water.
  • Good for the local economy. Our farm membership fee and the dollars we spend on local dairy products, bread, and fruit stay in the community, instead of being siphoned off by a dozen middlemen and into the coffers of far-away corporations.
  • Good for farmland. Every farmer that sells food to us is a farmer who is keeping the land in agriculture instead of selling that land off for development—and every successful local organic farm is a living lesson to other farmers that they don’t need to douse the earth (and their customers’ bodies) with poisons.

Pretty cool!

Now it’s Your Turn:

Please leave a comment about how you’ve incorporated (or will start incorporating) local artisan foods into your lifestyle. How are local organic foods making a difference to you?

Still need ideas? Tomorrow’s blog will provide concrete steps you can take to green your food, even if you live in a city. I do have to warn you though: once you’ve tasted REAL food, you won’t ever be satisfied by the poor imitations that dominate the industrial food system.

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By Posted on Posted in Abundance and Prosperity, Energy & Sustainability, Shel's Personal Life Tagged with , ,

Okay, I admit it. While I see catastrophic climate change as a deep and real danger, I do find some comfort in the short term.

It was great that I barely had to pick up the snow shovel last winter. And it’s great that we’re already gathering blueberries off our bush, about three weeks early. The irises were in almost a month early, bringing welcome color to our yard.

And the zucchini is flowering already; we’ll be eating it soon. That’s usually mid-July, here in Western Massachusetts.

I’m looking forward to a long and productive garden season, especially welcome because last year’s garden got destroyed halfway through the season by Hurricane Irene.

Still, these comforts will seem like distant dreams if the worst predictions of climate change come true.

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By Posted on Posted in Abundance and Prosperity, Shel's Personal Life Tagged with , , , ,

I finally got up the courage to visit our garden, which had been swamped by Hurricane Irene.

Our Garden and Barstow's hay and cornfields, 8/29/11
Our Garden and Barstow's hay and cornfields, 8/29/11

The Friday before the storm hit, we busied ourselves hauling out tomatoes, soybeans, basil…anything that was ready to pick. Sunday, when the rain stopped, we thought we’d come through unscathed—until Monday morning, when we got up and saw that the Connecticut River, normally in that area at least 500 yards from the state highway, was lapping at the edges of the road. The entire corn and hayfield surrounding our garden was under water. The gate, about three feet above the ground, was at the water line.

While the water receded within a couple of days, we were strongly advised NOT to eat anything else from the garden—and once we found out that Greenfield, farther upriver, was not treating its sewage after the storm, we weren’t all that interested in harvesting anything else anyway. and I couldn’t bring myself to even go down there to view the wreckage until now.

On the good side, the hayfield is coming back. Fresh green growth has come up over the silt and if you don’t look too closely, it looks normal.

But the garden was another matter. All the corn, sesame, tomatoes, some of the broccoli, some of the beans, and nearly all the eggplant was dead. The whole place stank. About the three of the broccoli plants and one eggplant had survived, and the broccoli actually looked quite good (not that I was going to take any). One eggplant had grown on the surviving plant.

While I recognize that we got off very easy compared to neighbors just a few miles north, or the farmers whose farm we live on who lost 30 acres of cow corn and hay, it still made me deeply sad.

Next year, perhaps, we’ll start a small garden up by the house, which is on a hill and stayed totally fine during the storm.

It made me thank about how lucky we are to have essentially unlimited supplies of food; when our garden fails, we do not starve. We can go buy some just a few miles away. Many people in the world are not so fortunate, and if their crops fail, they face starvation. As a society, we should set up distribution networks to eliminate that kind of threat.

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