This week I got to plant the potatoes I'd cut up on my last visit. The plan was to plant all 350 pounds of them, but you know what they say about the best laid plans. Ben and I managed to get the 100 pounds of Red Pontiacs into the ground. Ordinarily, the pieces would get buried about 2" deep and dug up at harvest. John and Ben experimented last year with covering the pieces with rolled out straw bales. It made harvest time much easier, since all they had to do was reroll the bales and pick up the potatoes. The experiment was deemed successful, and is being repeated.
John gave me an edible tour of the garden, pointing out what's emerging, what's being choked out by weeds that never died over the winter (we never got a freeze here), and what he planted as an experiment in past years. As we walked around, he plucked various leaves for me to taste. It is, by far, the best way to tour a garden. There was lovage that tasted like celery, and salad burnet that tasted like cucumbers. My mind immediately went to thoughts of a Greek-style pesto. Since the plan is for the farm to get an inspectable kitchen for pestos and salsas, those thoughts may come to fruition at some point. My favourite salad snacks of the day were sorrel, which was refreshingly lemony, and African Blue Basil. I could have munched on the sorrel all day, and I desperately wanted to make a bouquet of the basil to carry around with me at all times.
It was intense and yet mellow, soothing and yet stimulating. It flowers constantly at this time of year. Unlike other basils, it doesn't go to seed or die back, so it can only be reproduced by cutting.
Another thing that had gone to flower over the winter was baby turnips. When they flower, they're done growing, so these had to be harvested.
Normally, they would grow more quickly and develop bigger roots before being picked, but the weather's been quite unusual lately, so these are quite small.
I got to prep several buckets full of them to go to
Bistro Bethem, where chef/owner Blake Bethem is apparently quite fond of them. Sophie came by for a little quality control inspection.
After giving me her approval, she returned to the heated mat in the greenhouse that was keeping her warm on an chilly morning.
After I finished with the turnips, I went to check on the greenhouse. I can't stop fretting like a mother hen over every little seed I've planted. I inspect each flat and wonder why some have sprouted but others have not, and marvel over how much they've grown since the previous week. It was fascinating to see how basil and zucchini that were planted on the same day have both sprouted, but to vastly different degrees.
The basil in the foreground is less than an inch high and is completely dwarfed by the neighbouring zucchini. More peppers have started appearing, but they're still quite small because of their winter growth. This habanero wasn't even as big as my thumbnail.
On my way over to the dairy pastures, I spotted this little figure.
He had been completely hidden by crazy weeds on my previous visits, or maybe I just wasn't yet ready to make his acquaintance. Having been introduced, I went on to see the cattle. There were lots of calves who observed me from a short distance while I became friends with #485. (No, they don't have names. John jokes that the males should all be named Brisket, as there is no use for them on a dairy farm.) She sniffed me a bit before kissing my hands and arms, with a quick little peck on the cheek. If you've never been kissed by a cow, you're really missing out on one of life's sweetest little treasures.
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