Okay…it’s a Fiat. But a mini farm deserves a mini farm vehicle!
There is something deeply satisfying about having enough food for the critters. We hauled home a hundred and sixty pounds of dog, cat, and chicken feed and scratch in Fernando the Fiat the other day. Heck, if we had put the top down we could have thrown on a bale of hay! The back seat has enough Great Pyrenees hair to weave a scarf. It may look like a city car but the little farm car works as hard as I do. It does seem fitting that Pumpkin Hollow Farm ought to have a farm car that looks like a pumpkin!
There were pros and cons to my quick raised beds but overall they are a success. I had first put down a layer of cardboard, surrounded it with logs, then put in thick slabs of straw, then compost, then organic gardening soil. The whole thing cost about twelve bucks.
At the beginning I quickly realized that I didn’t have enough gardening soil but was tapped out of funds so couldn’t get more. It took a lot longer to water because I think too much sand (we have sandy soil) got into my compost. Don’t forget to check your beds after watering. It should be wet to your second knuckle. Beds can be deceiving, they look wet, but aren’t! I will add more soil this fall or next spring to build up the bed.
The second issue was an obvious one, but I didn’t think about it. Some of the corn has to be staked up with re bar because the roots can’t get through the cardboard. The beds aren’t that deep and the straw takes up most of the space. So, some of the deeper reaching plants can’t get enough space and nutrients. They are doing fine now though.
The weeds certainly found their way through the cardboard but not nearly as bad as in the regular beds. I have had a much easier season this year with much less work keeping the beds clear of weeds.
My yard looks pretty and more organized with the makeshift beds. Doug can mow easier around them. It’s been so incredibly hot and dry here that the grass all died early in the season, but at least the weeds are green! Because of the early heat, my spring crops came up (if they came up) and promptly died or went to seed. I will be planting the same crops today as fall crops and hoping for better luck. I need radishes!
This fall I will build more of these beds and let them sit for the winter before planting in them. How quickly logs (that I can still use in the wood stove this winter) and railroad ties make creative beds. I like the look of them. The bark gently peeling off, the varying colors, the moist soil within.
The lizards dart here and there, drinking water from small leaves. The birds come for their seeds. And the cooler morning breeze rustles the sunflowers into dance. I hope you are all enjoying your gardens. How I love summer!
Gandalf the Great Pyrenees had a new toy. The story goes (according to him anyway) that Buttercup the chicken got out of the pen and he was simply attempting to corral her back in. Three quarters of her was stuck in his mouth as I screamed at him.
Forget hawks, eagles, raccoons, skunks, bears, coyotes, or any other predator you may have heard about. Dogs are the most common predator chickens face.
My friend, Addie- aka Superwoman…if war breaks out, we are heading to her house- brought us three chickens to make up for Buttercup. Buttercup, was of course, our best layer. These three have some work to do. They were in a large coop hanging out in the front yard when we got home. A lovely surprise! We quietly put them in the coop in the night so that the chickens would all be fooled and think that they were always there come morning and there would be no blood baths. It always works. Except when it doesn’t.
We used the portable coop she loaned us that the chickens had been delivered in to lock up the chickens. “Should I put the three new girls in the pen?”
“No,” she replied, “you lock up the bullies!”
She further explained (if y’all knew how many homesteading lessons I have had from this gal over the years you would think she should have written a book!) that if you put the new girls in the pen it only tells the old girls that they are indeed below them. If you lock up the mean girls then they come to understand that they are not the bosses. It worked like a charm.
Then the egg eating started. Oh, those three rascals. One of them was eating eggs like she was sitting in an IHOP. Addie suggested we raise their protein intake in their food because they were all molting and they needed more nutrients to get through it. We also laid golf balls around the coop so the culprit would peck those once and would stop pecking eggs. That worked but no one is laying eggs right now!
I have been a subscriber since I was twelve years old to a magazine about country living. I am afraid its gotten a little high falutin and ridiculous. Very pretty pictures but really geared for rich people who have no idea what farming is about. Photographs of chicken coops with pea gravel and curtains with lush, landscaped yards and chickens crossing the kitchen without any poo in sight. I love it, but it is a little deceiving.
We have a noxious tree that I love called Tree of Heaven here, or Chinese Sumac. It’s poisonous so the chickens don’t eat it. It has popped up all over the chicken yard creating a jungle atmosphere and shade. When they first moved in they had two foot high grasses to jump through. They will eat any plant that is edible, y’all. Do not landscape your chicken yard!
We looked around this place and saw the chickens, the infant orchard, the vegetables growing tall, and the pumpkins jumping out of their beds, and we have realized that we live on a perfect urban farm. A lot of people cannot afford to live out in the country and I have decided to reopen my Homesteading School. I will be teaching canning, preserving, baking, cooking, gardening, and much more as our little-farm-that-could gets more organized and utilized.
Check out my Facebook page for events here! I will also be putting a link on this blog. Happy Homesteading!
Five and a half years of writing about farming and homesteading. Almost a thousand readers. Full circle. I am peaceful as I write this. The sun is behind the large walnut tree, filtering its light through the dense branches highlighting the herbs and flowers on the medicine gardens. My front porch rocker is comfortable and my coffee is hot.
We started with chickens, a garden, some dreams. Moved towards alpacas, goats, and sheep, and bigger, simpler; somehow tripped and found ourselves in an apartment. Yet, we gardened at a community plot and hung a calendar of farm animals in the kitchen. Now we own a home of our own in a good sized city skirted by farms and friendly people. “This is not a farm,” I said. But I was wrong. Because being a farmgirl and having a homestead heart does not die. It just gets more creative.
So we have started with chickens, a garden, some dreams. Our house is similar to the one we started in. We have a third of an acre of urban space to dream and build. More raised beds, hoop houses, a greenhouse. We have a root cellar, a wood stove, and fruit trees, and a place to settle and be. By god, this is the urban farm we have read about. Every year it will grow, and get better, and right now it is perfect and warm, and as the cars zoom by to get to work, the hummingbirds drink from the geraniums and honeybees buzz in the pumpkin flowers. The Pumpkin Hollow Farm sign sits proudly on the porch. It would be easy to dream of an off grid homestead, but the challenge and dream will be to see how sustainable we can get right here on this humble plot of land.
A dear, young woman is living with us right now with her little, baby farmboy. I inadvertently see through her eyes what we have here and I am grateful. I have been on a little book tour with my newest book (http://authorkatiesanders.com) but we had time to put up ten quarts of corn broth and a dozen jars of corn yesterday. It is really warm here and the climate whispers of year round gardening with a little wisdom. The chickens frolic, the farm dog barks, the kitties mouse, and all is well in our little house.
So, the original carryall is an apron. Y’all know my great love of aprons! This one carried dozens of corn cobs to the porch to be shucked, to the kitchen to be canned, to the chickens as treats. Don your aprons, Friends, our urban homestead adventures continue…
Garlic is among the easiest of all plants to grow. The homesteader can simply top a bed with compost that has been recently harvested of its crops in October and plant a few heads of garlic.
Any garlic will do (organic always preferable). One does not need to pay exorbitant prices for “planting garlic.” Choose a variety from the market or health food store you enjoy.
Separate the cloves and plant them three inches apart. Cover with soil and top with straw.
They are among the first stalks of green in springtime. You will see them and be reminded of your clever fall planting. Who doesn’t love garlic? The humble cloves can rid you of the plague, flu viruses, and cancer while adding amazing flavor to any ethnicity of food.
Now, here is the fun part! Come July, the stalks will have turned mostly straw colored and will languish and fall to the earth. Gently unearth them with a hand spade, pulling out bulbs of aromatic garlic. Shake the dirt off. I always save twist ties and rubber bands for gardening. Secure the stalks with a twist tie and hang from a hook in an airy, warm spot. Like the kitchen! In two weeks or so, the papery husks will have dried and your garlic will last nicely. From there you can lay them in a box in the root cellar or leave them as a ristra in the kitchen so garlic is always in reach! Save a few bulbs to plant this fall!
Pour 1 cup of good olive oil into a sauce pan with 1 clove of garlic, a bit of salt and pepper and a pinch of red pepper flakes. Heat over medium-low heat, swirling the pan often, for 15-20 minutes. Serve with great bread or drizzle over vegetables.
Our city has a bad reputation. It has for as long as I remember growing up in Denver. It was ranked one of the most dangerous cities to live in. Some of the locals scratch their heads and wonder where they get their numbers from. Some want to move to greener pastures…like California. Because of the astonishing statistics here in Pueblo, we got a house for the price of a cardboard box in Denver. There is an exciting revitalization going on here. And as in most cases of any city, the crime seems to be concentrated in one area. So, you don’t buy on the east side. Unless you want a really cute old house for thirty thousand dollars. Then go for it. Because this is the city to be if you want to live in Colorado.
One of my downfalls is that I am a homebody vagabond. I want a home to create and decorate and garden and be cozy in but I am always looking for the next home. The next city. The next farm. This drives my husband crazy. But there are not two people on this earth more grateful for their own home than me and Doug. So for the first time I am settling in.
This town has everything Doug and I wanted. And we wanted the impossible. Can we be walking distance to Chinese food and the grocery store, a bike ride from the library and the coffee shop, live near a lake, have a view, be close to the mountains, live in a warmer climate, have an urban farm, be within practical driving distance from the kids and our work, live in a beautiful place, be near theater and fine dining but also be near farms and a quick jaunt to vacation spots? Can we have it for next to nothing?
$89,000 later and I need a bicycle because all of those things came to be in this small/big town of ours. We tried to get our kids down here but the statistics still scare most folks off. We haven’t heard of or seen anything that wouldn’t be happening in any other city. We have found friendly folks, beautiful sunrises over lakes and hiking trails, flocks of geese, fine dining on the river, and home. We have been here a year now. What a lovely place to call home.
The first seed catalogue arrived in the mail the other day. My four year old granddaughter, Maryjane, took a sharpie and circled everything we need to order. Instead of toys, she circles plants in seed catalogues. She is one of us.
It is impossible, I believe, for a homesteader to not think of the garden at all times of the year. I am creating a new space, roughly 500 square feet of ground. A square, fenced in, next to the chicken coop, three feet from the porch turned greenhouse we are planning, and ten feet from the compost. I dream of the colorful rows of fresh produce, the front yard of fruit trees and medicinal herbs, the patches of volunteer vegetables and wild foods. But, these gardens, of course, cost money. Fencing, glass, extra compost, and seeds do not come cheap. I know it will all come together wonderfully and before I know it, I will be sitting here next year pondering the next season’s garden!
I do love January, even if it is not my favorite month in the least. It makes me rest. We homesteaders aren’t much for rest. We are a lot less anxious with our hands dirty, faces in the sun, planning, harvesting, moving. The ground is asleep. My fingernails are clean. And I can dream, and January brings that lovely reflective sense of peace and accomplishment. We dine like kings on everything we stored in the root cellar, freezers, and pantry from this last season. We remark how beautiful our house is and our yard is coming together and in just short of one year’s time, we have transformed it into a working homestead. Our hearts are overwhelmed with gratitude.
Hawks swirl and the large lake is out our south windows and the city bus rumbles by out the north panes proving you can homestead anywhere. I write on my list that I need lamp fluid for the oil lamps and more tea candles. Wood is chopped and piled by the stove. The chickens are waiting to be let out. The farm dog sleeps and I need another cup of coffee and a sharpie so I can start circling items in the seed catalogue and create dreams for spring.
In many ways I haven’t actually “moved” to Pueblo. Perhaps because out of all the places I have lived Elbert county was the first place that ever felt like home to us. Slowly, slowly I am moving to Pueblo. We have been here nine months now. I changed my bank last week. I do my shopping here now. I go to Elizabeth to work my shop just once a week. I work from home and am rewarded with many new customers that seek me out here. I still greatly love my old town and I pine for the country but I am gradually moving here. The garden is helping me do so.
I am not sure that I could go back to gardening at 6500 feet. Yesterday two more overflowing baskets of produce came into the kitchen. It is late October and the gardens in Elbert county have been sleeping for awhile now. In my gardens there is more…more vegetables to be harvested, another month’s worth at least. I am astounded and thrilled at the farming conditions in this valley. The soil that has not even been amended has produced the most flavorful and prolific crops I have ever grown. I am smitten. The weather here is heavenly.
I am extremely proud of what we have accomplished on this little homestead in just nine months time. It will be beautiful seeing what it all looks like as months turn to years and years turn to decades.
This is also the first time in two decades that we have a mailbox in front of our house. If you would like to exchange letters you can write me at Mrs. Katie Sanders, 1901 Brown Ave, Pueblo, 81004.
“Do you know what you want in your FSA this week?” I asked Emily. Eggs, goat cheese, beets, potatoes, sweet potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, sage, and pumpkin piled into the cooler.
I have always been on that in-between-sized farm. I can grow a lot of produce, but I have run into a few problems with a small farm. When I take produce to the farmer’s market, most folks will pass up my small display to go to the big farm tables. You have to have a big, vibrant display to get folks to stop. I tried to do a CSA (community supported agriculture) one year and some weeks my customers got a lot, and sometimes barely a shoe box. We used to pick the best to go to the market and for the CSA’s and then ended up with the garden dredges ourselves, or worse, out to eat because we didn’t have enough!
This year I took produce to the market early on and ran into the very same problems so I stopped. Our kale is still four feet high out there and vibrant ruby beets line the row. We have eaten more of our own produce then we ever have before. We put up quite a bit as well. I still have Jerusalem artichokes, sweet potatoes, potatoes, and cabbage to harvest but the garden is sleepily falling into slumber.
I have found more joy in delivering large bundles of produce to my grown children then I ever did going to market. Knowing that they are eating delicious, organically grown produce, cheese, and eggs makes this mama’s heart happy. I always throw in some meat from my friends’ ranches. It is my way of giving gifts to my kids. I can’t always help them repair their cars or pay their bills, but I can feed them. It’s what I do best.
FSA stands for Family Supported Agriculture. Payment comes in the form of a hug, and that is just right for me.
Fall crops grow beautifully and swiftly in their haphazard rows.
The spring crops that I painstakingly place inches apart in the early cool of spring take awhile to germinate in the cold and then go to seed when summer decides to come on strong. When those very same seeds are planted in late July or early August they germinate quickly from the warm soil, ample water and light. Then the nights become brisk and they soak up the cooling temperatures and thrive, which is why they are called cold crops!
Of course I have all the energy in the world in April. By then I have been dreaming of my garden for many months and am ridiculously excited to break ground. By late summer we are getting tired of weeding and daily waterings and bugs so fall crops look more like mosaic puzzles than long tidy rows of food.
I had one bed pretty clear from the spring crops so I roughed it up with the hoe and planted-or rather, kind of threw in- a bunch of seeds. Carrots, spinach, lettuce, peas, cabbage, and radishes came up with the colors of early spring with no help from me. I forgot to water the seeds several times. And yet they surprised me with their delicious arrival.
There are still tomatoes and other delicious summer crops in the garden. The weather speaks of a freeze coming Monday.
Seeds and plants want to grow. They are hard wired to do so. As an experiment when the flea beetles came to town to chow down the cruciferous crops, I left a few of the broccoli and others to see what would happen. I think we will have broccoli cheese soup tonight. This garden has been a lovely experiment this year, one I allowed myself to do being in a new climate and a new place with un-amended soil. Amazing. Plants never fail to thrill me. I think I will have radishes for breakfast.