Heirlooms

Today was herb-starting day. I started more Siam Queen basil, as well as marjoram, cilantro, cutting celery, lemon balm, and Mexican oregano.

When I have a specific variety, I usual mark it on the label, e.g., Calypso Cilantro. Mexican oregano, however, is not a variety of oregano. It's actually a completely different species. Just as chile peppers are completely unrelated to black pepper, Mexican oregano was named for its physical resemblance to oregano. It has a slightly different flavor, though: more pungent, less sweet, stronger. It's an annual, not a perennial that will take over your herb garden if you let it. And it's essential to any authentic Mexican cuisine.

It's not well known outside of the southwestern U.S. and Mexico. You can buy it at specialty herb stores like Penzey's and that little herb shop next to Christina's Ice Cream in Inman Square. But you can't buy the seed anywhere. I looked and looked. Even Seeds of Change out of Santa Fe doesn't carry it. So I asked for Mexican oregano seed as a Christmas present, and two Christmases ago, my grandmother presented me with a tiny jelly jar full of seed collected from the previous year's harvest.

This variety may well have been in my family for generations, passed down from father to sons. My great grandfather might have brought it with him from his tiny hometown of Jarales, NM when he bought 88 acres near the Rio Grande in Albuquerque, and my grandfather continued growing it on the small 5-acre patch of that farm that he inherited when his father died. My grandfather would probably know where that seed came from, but he died nearly four years ago. It's possible my grandmother knows; she took over tending the herbs for my grandfather the last year or two of his life. I'll have to ask her.

So I have no idea what variety of Mexican oregano this seed is. I've decided to call it Maximo, after my grandfather and his father before him. It has a good ring to it. And if this isn't an heirloom variety, I don't know what is. Of all the gifts my grandmother has ever given me, this is by far my favorite. Of all my possessions, this is what I most want to pass on to my children, and their children.

In the back room of the greenhouse, I prepared a flat, pressing tiny rows into the soil with a piece of cardboard I've cut for this express purpose. I opened the jelly jar, and the aroma of Mexican oregano filled the room, because of course my grandmother didn't bother separating the seed from the pods. She just scatters it on the ground and waters it, and it grows. I rubbed the pods between my palms to loosen the seeds inside, and my mouth watered, remembering red chile sauce and papitas con carne al caldo and countless other dishes that depend on this herb for their distinctive flavor. Carefully, I distributed the tiny seeds down their tracks, then covered them gently with soil and misted the flat with water.

Tomorrow, I'll start the flowers: marigolds, nasturtiums, poppies, pansies, columbine from seed I collected myself from my teensy yard in Cambridge, and zinnias, a special request from a customer. And I'll prep lots and lots of newspaper pots for the weekend, when I'll start the tomatoes.

Life Under Glass

Working in the greenhouse continues to surprise me. It feels enclosed, so I am startled by the intrusion of the world outside through that thin skin of glass. I have been enjoying the spring birdsong by jays, robins, mourning doves, and countless others I can't identify. On windy days, the hemlocks in the yard roar and drop a steady patter of tiny cones on the glass roof. Today, I jumped at the sudden thud when one of our resident squirrels leaped from the chimney onto the roof. The greenhouse was once heated by a wood-burning stove, and the chimney still stands attached to the greenhouse. I blocked its access pipe with a spare pane of glass I had lying around, and I can see right through it into the cozy nest two squirrels have made inside using leaves, shredded cardboard, and some old children's tights they gleefully pilfered from the access pipe where I had stuffed them for insulation.

Yesterday, the broccoli and brussels sprouts came up. Today, I found the first few basil seedlings poking their way out as well, along with enormous squash sprouts like compost cuckoos that I've been steadily removing. Today I started cauliflower and a huge amount of kale. This weekend, tomatoes, which means I'll have to bump up the heat in the greenhouse to 75degF for proper germination. I was hoping we'd warm up again, but that's looking doubtful until Sunday, when we may have a high of 55 again. Regardless, as orders for seedlings come in, I've taken to just planting all the seed I have on hand. Whatever I can't sell in advance, I'll take to the Beverly Farmer's Market in June.

Alas, I also seem to be growing a healthy new crop of aphids on the kale. All my ladybugs flew off during our unseasonably warm weather last week, and they probably all perished in last night's freeze. So tomorrow, I'll be mixing up a spray bottle of organic insecticidal soap and use that until it's consistently warm enough for more ladybugs. I'll also start some flowers and more herbs. And then I'll roll more pots and get them ready to be inhabited by fresh new seedlings. I wonder if it's possible to make 6-inch newspaper pots that are strong enough and structural enough to hold that much starter mix. And what would I use to roll them, a coffee can? I think some experimentation is in order...

Compost Happens

It was a busy and productive day today. I spent the morning starting more seedlings: broccoli, brussels sprouts, thai basil, and chile peppers, bringing the total to 260 seedlings now. With the warm weather, the greenhouse has been heating up nicely. Yesterday, I opened the roof vents for the first time this season and resigned myself to losing all the ladybugs I'd released in there to take care of our aphid population (which they did quite handily). Today, as I opened the vents, I spotted a good thirty ladybugs happily pairing up at the peak of the roof right above the greenhouse door. Hurray! More ladybugs on the way.

By lunchtime, even with the vents open, it was 90degF in the greenhouse, so I went inside to consult with my husband about tilling. I checked the soil, and it is frost-free and ready for tilling down to 18 inches. This prompted us to take an excursion out to Clark Farm in nearby Danvers to check out their organic compost. We met and immediately hit it off with Bill Clark, who has lived his whole life on that farm and started selling his own strawberries at a roadside stand there when he was five. We bought eight cubic yards of compost on the spot, and he delivered it to our microfarm about an hour later.

Queen of the Compost

Alex puts his back into it. The shadow is of the photographer, our eight-year-old daughter Annelise.

Loving the Farm Life.

Next week, we'll work on getting a tractor in to till the soil, and then we get to work on building raised beds. We have a secret weapon lined up to help us: middle schoolers. More on that when it happens.

The Seedlings are Coming!

The seedlings are coming! I've been spending pretty much every morning of this glorious weather mining black gold out of my compost bin, mixing it with organic potting soil, perlite, and a little bit of lobster compost from Maine, building pots out of newspaper, filling them with seedling mix, and popping in seeds. So far, I have three 24-pot flats of basil, one of lemon basil, half a flat of husk cherry, and half a flat of sweet Yankee Bell pepper. Today, I'll be planting broccoli, brussels sprouts, and hot peppers whose seed came from New Mexico State University. The kale and leek seedlings continue to flourish.

If you're interested in buying seedlings from us, you can use our handy dandy order form. Fill it out online and send it to us at info@highgroundmicrofarm.com, or call in your order at 978-927-1969, or print it, fill it out, and mail it to:

High Ground Microfarm
17 Williams St.
Beverly, MA 01915

Payment is on delivery (cash or check) or in advance by PayPal. Send your payment to aminoff@basespace.net.

And remember, if the seedling you want isn't on the form, that doesn't mean we won't grow it. Let us know if you have any special requests, and we'll do our best to accomodate them. Our one restriction: space. We're a teensy farm with a small greenhouse, so the sooner you send us your request, the more likely we'll be to have space. Thanks!

Introducing High Ground Microfarm

High Ground Microfarm is a teensy little farm, only 1/20th of an acre, in Beverly, MA. Our goal is to grow enough produce to last our family the whole year, plus a little extra for our friends and neighbors. We sell some excess, like seedlings we start in our greenhouse using our own compost. We're not certified organic, but we grow using organic practices with no artificial fertilizers, pesticides, or other chemicals of any kind. After all, we're our own primary customer, and we like high quality, nutrient-rich food.

Please follow us as we build our garden and support our local food community.