Farm Texture
This morning’s blog post is a photo log of the past few weeks here at Laurentide. Being outside for most of every day, we see so much pattern and color. It takes another kind of eye to spot the texture. I’ve also included a few shots of the veggie garden. We’re so proud of it — how we built it by hand at a time when sourcing materials was extremely challenging. I’ve got a whole post planned on it but first we have to actually complete the structure. We need gates, trellising, a twig pattern for the panels, and more varmint fencing. (Baby bunnies slide through like a shaved knuckle in a hole.)
I hope you enjoy the pics. Leave me a comment about what you’re growing and why or why not. Happy Summer!
We bought over 100 varieties of seeds back in March and had to wait a month, due to delayed shipping, and I assume, lots of pandemic panic buyers.
The back of the “barn”, where a bas relief gargoyle is softened by ferns and cobwebs. The previous owner also incorporated several fossils into the stone facade, given to him by his science teacher mother.
The gigantic cup plant with its dramatic leaf formation. Something about it looks otherworldly, which is why I like its location near the front gate.
We have not yet tackled the glass house. The panes are coated with a thin layer of lichen, which grows only 1-2 millimeters a year. So I guess we’ve got teenage lichen hanging out here.
A swallowtail that took its last breath in the glass house. On the right are elderberry blossoms, which will turn into poisonous berries, which I ate last summer. Story about that fiasco here.
The terra cotta brick floor of the glass house with oxalis spiralis growing under the tables.
The cherry tomatoes are ripening and will probably grow through the roof of the glass house next month. The peppers got a late start, so who knows how they’ll do. This summer is one big fat science experiment. Who am I kidding. The rest of my life here is a big fat experiment.
This is Annabelle Lee. She’s my favorite. You can click here and see her starring role in the video I made of the most perfect spring morning ever.
On the left: a Grandpa Otts morning glory. On the right: San Marzano tomatoes that didn’t do very well.
We really aren’t sure what to grow. We’ve got loads of vegetables and some annuals and perennials. We’re also considering exotic house plants and CBD. How to decide? That’s the bigger question.
Feather belonging to Coco, my darling little designer chicken who passed away in May, a victim to a stray car.
Radishes are part of sabzi kordan, a traditional side dish in Iranian cooking that includes fresh herbs, raw veggies, feta, and warm pita.
The gate to the pasture where, someday soon perhaps, we will keep goats or an alpaca maybe?
The ivy that grows prolifically in the glass house looks so nice in the cut bouquets I create every week.
On the left: a stunning hosta that looks as if its leaves were painted in watercolor. On the right: a Monarch caterpillar.
A box elder that’s been here for at least seventy years. Its massive limbs hang precariously close to the farmhouse but I can’t imagine taking it down until we absolutely have to.
A gigantic hosta on the left, and globe alliums on the right. These are the two kinds of plants we have in abundance, and I’m working on learning the varietal differences.
Deer tracks. The bastards. And I don’t use that term fondly. They carry Lyme disease, via ticks, and my husband had a bad case last month. He is recovering but it was bad.
The flora here is mind-boggling. Every morning, I notice something new. I want to spend the winter months planning a cut garden and perhaps a workshop or two on flower arranging.
This building houses the chicken coop, the tool shed, the garden shed, and an attic with all sorts of treasures. Our son George, taking a peek at the latest project being built, really doesn’t feel any compunction to farm. He’s a musician by trade. I’m learning to take a speaker outside and play some Earth Wind and Fire and that attracts him like butterflies to milkweed.