Sitting on the porch with the children, we watched the combine work the corn field across the road. They love the roar of the heavy machinery and Bear literally danced with anticipation as the combine approached the grain truck. He jumped and squealed and clapped as they pulled alongside one another and we got to watch the grain pour into the back of the truck.

“This is what it’s all about,” I thought to myself. The season was coming to a close. A season of work, of worry, of challenges. This year’s crop had to face a late freeze that took out the majority of the beet crop, flooding that put counties under water, grasshoppers that left farmers in four Nebraska counties eligible for federal aid and mold and fungus issues as fields slowly dried after the flooding.

Mr. B. had stopped by the week before to chat. Standing in the drive, he affirmed that his crop had escaped the worst Nebraska’s finicky weather had to offer this year and he was pleased with the dry spell that was reducing the moisture content of his corn and readying it for harvest.

“Another weekend of this and it should be around 18%,” he said with an appreciative glance over his field. I knew he was talking about the moisture content, deduced that 18% was worthy of something but unsure exactly what that meant. But since the harvesters were out less than a week later, it must have marked the end of the season.

Now the fields stand empty. Strands of electric fencing have been erected around some of the harvested fields where cattle have been turned out to glean. We cannot see them from our property, but I love listening to them lowing in the fields late at night. Our ducks and geese have discovered the fallen corn and spend their days waddling up and down the rows, cleaning up the spillage.

And I think of my own garden. My own disappointing garden. I’d had high hopes for it, but they seemed destined to be shattered from the start. We got started late, so most of my plans were never planted let alone realized. This left a frighteningly large portion of the garden open to weeds who were more then happy to fill in the vacuum. Then my goslings, who were supposed to be my assistants in the garden, escaped their pen and ate a quarter of my corn. Without decent fencing, I was forced to take them off the garden until the plants matured.

But I jumped the gun on that. Or didn’t realize just how big they were getting and how small my heritage corn was. Now, the corn could have easily withstood the occasional nip to the leaves. But the geese seemed to favor the developing tassles on the corn itself and before I even realized what was happening, they rendered my entire planting incapable of pollinating.

Hail took out my tomatoes and peppers. Weeds overwhelmed my cucumbers, squash and melons. Not to mention me. When we finally gave up on the garden for the season, it had yielded three pounds of green beans, three cucumbers and two pie pumpkins. All wonderfully delicious, but a depressing harvest from a 3,000 square foot garden that was supposed to keep us in garden fresh veggies throughout the growing season and perhaps even overwhelm us with its bounty.

As it was, we got way more out of the unexpected fruits the property offered without our labor and finances. Lilac jelly, black locust blossom fritters and syrup, clover jelly, dandelion syrup, and sharab el toot. We even discovered an elderberry bush, sampled some berries and determined it worthy of propogating next year. Of course, once I add my gardening skills to that poor bush, it will likely go the way of my garden, but one can dream.

Looking over the fence at my tattered rows of strawberries, my cold frame of arugula and the rows that never were, I wonder for a moment what next year will bring. But here’s the strange thing about gardening: No matter how bad this year was, there is always next year.

No matter how disappointing every year has been, there is always next year.

Experience is not much of a teacher when it comes to gardening.

Next year’s weeds have not yet sprouted. Next year’s storms not yet brewed. Next year’s heat not yet driven me inside to lemonade and a fan. Instead, I have a calendar full of optimism where seeds are planted in succession and my harvest comes in just a little faster than I can bring it all in.

Whether I’m an incurable optimist or merely suffer that bizarre form of amnesia common to many gardeners I cannot tell. But next year will be better.

It certainly couldn’t be much worse.

I had one goal for the day, one task set before me: to see how many of my strawberry plants yet survived amidst the weeds that have taken over my garden. Little did I know what suffering that would bring.

Now I was pleasantly surprised at the number of plants that had staked their claim to their patch of garden and had not succumbed to the weeds. I was mildly amused to find that those which faired best were those in the heaviest weeds.

Partway through, however, I noticed a bit of an itch starting on my ankle. It wasn’t bad, but I decided to change from sandals to boots. By the time I was finished, I couldn’t tolerate anything on my feet. By bedtime, the itching was so bad I couldn’t sleep. I lay there, willing myself not to scratch but unable to stop myself. Any time my thoughts wandered, I began rubbing my feet together.

Which resulted only in pain, yet I couldn’t stop.

In desperation, I made a paste out of baking soda and water and applied it liberally. That took some of the edge off it. It made the itching resistable. At least until I’d start to doze off and immediately find myself rubbing my ankle against the side of the bed.

By morning, it looked like the skin around my ankles was boiling with new welts appearing before my eyes and the whole area red and swollen. I was desperate, and baking soda wasn’t the answer. So I dumped out a box of lotions and creams on the bed to see what might be found there.

Hydrogen peroxide? Might be a good idea if I couldn’t stop the scratching, but I doubted much relief would come from that bottle.

Neosporin? Might need that in a couple days after I succeeded in rubbing off the skin around my ankles.

Mederma? Might help with the scarring after the massive infection I was going to incur.

Aloe vera lotion? I couldn’t imagine that would be any more effective than the baking soda.

Then I found it. A bottle of grape flavored Anbesol. I had stuck that in my mouth once and was rather surprised at just how well it worked. It numbed my gums, the inside of my cheek and my lip. It only lasted a few moments but no wonder babies like that stuff. I never used it again after that, thinking maybe it was a little too potent for something like teething pain.

But on my ankles? It was worth a shot.

Sure, it was kinda sticky. And sure it made my feet smell like Baby Anbesol. But in 30 seconds, the itching was gone. And the relief lasted for six hours. Long enough for my husband to get home and bring me some of the more socially accepted itch relief in the form of Sarna.

Sarna works, too. The main plusses are that it isn’t sticky and it doesn’t smell like grape medicine. But then, it also stings more when I put it on, doesn’t take away all the itch and doesn’t last as long.

I’ve been using it all day, but I need sleep tonight. I’m seriously contemplating breaking out the Anbesol.

I’ve never had much luck with starting seeds indoors. Every year I look at the cost of a packet of seeds in comparison to started plants at the nursery and decide to try again. And every year I think that in future I should save the money and frustration and just plan to buy the started plants at the nursery in future.

That whole damping off thing is a killer. Of plants, of gardening enthusiasm, of all my vague dreams of harvesting my own seeds in the fall to start the following spring.

This year was going to be different. This year I started with heirloom varieties, partially because of that vague dream of saving my own seeds, and partially just because I like the stories behind them. It’s like planting a little piece of agricultural history as you read that the corn you are planting was the first yellow corn found acceptable for human consumption.

This year I planted them with much more soil and did away with the flimsy plastic greenhouse cover in favor of monitoring the moisture daily with my finger.

This year I had nowhere to go during those most critical days of a newly sprouted seedling. In years past, it was often a weekend away that resulted in too much or too little moisture for wee little sprouts who barely poked their heads out of the soil before returning to it.

This year my seedlings grew. Thrived, even.

If it weren’t for Abby, the herbicidal cat, and Pepper, the pepper killer, I’d likely have had more tomatoes and peppers than I knew what to do with. As it was, I had seven tomato plants and twelve pepper plants sitting in their containers. Outgrowing their containers. Begging me to move them to the garden.

My husband and I sat down with some old fencing we found in the barn and made cages for the tomatoes. I wanted them to get just a little bigger, just a little more resistant to goose nibbles and rabbit munches. I wanted them to live.

I found a strange pleasure in buying tomatoes and peppers at the store. Every time I looked over the pinkish tomatoes, not quite finished with their ripening after being picked green in California or Chile or somewhere else warmer than Nebraska, I thought of vine ripened sweetness from my own garden. Every time I winced at the price of green peppers and thought of breaking down and buying them frozen, I thought of fresh abundance in my harvest basket.

Then planting day came.

Then a storm came.

I carefully plucked the tomato leaves out of the muck and propped them against the bottom wire of their cage so they could dry out. The peppers seemed to savor the rain. I thought all was well.

Then a real storm came.

A storm with wind that shook the house. A storm that forced rain under a section of the roof which proceeded to pour down the bathroom wall and into the basement. A storm with hail. Quarter sized hail that flattened the corn, drove the tomatoes back into the muck and broke the spirit of the pepper plants that seemed so joyful the day before. By afternoon, it was clear the tomatoes and peppers were dead. The corn I’m still not sure about, but it persists in looking healthy, even if it is growing at a 45 degree angle.

Today, I took no pleasure in buying two tomatoes and a green pepper.

Buying started plants was like an admission of defeat.

Who knew a simple vegetable garden could be such an emotional roller coaster?

Enjoy more Wordless Wednesday posts here.

And don’t forget to add your Wordless Wednesday posts to the linky!

OK, so I totally made that up. But if you read the news at all, you know that our honey bee populations are in trouble. Colony Collapse Disorder is now being described as perhaps the most serious bee die off across the country. Losses of 30 to 90% of hives are being reported by beekeepers, creating tremendous stress on an industry already in decline. There are already concerns about how crops are going to be pollinated if these losses continue and no one is even sure why it is happening. The California almond crop alone requires 1.3 million hives for pollination, roughly half of all hives in the United States.

But did you know native bee populations are suffering population declines as well? These native bees are much more well adapted for pollinating native flowers; some, like the mason bee, are even more efficient pollinators than the famed honeybee. Healthy native bee populations can help with some of the pollination, but pesticide use and habitat loss are taking their toll on their populations as well.

What can you do to help? A lot actually.

1. Know your forage region. Click on your state for a list of important pollen and nectar sources for bees in your area. Have some growing nearby? Protect them. Can’t find any? Consider planting some. Their bloom times are given as well so with some planning, you can provide a food source throughout the growing season. Of course, the efforts of a single gardener will not have much effect. Bees forage over two to four square miles to collect the nectar and pollen they need, but the combined efforts of many gardeners will have an impact. Which is why #2 is important.

2. Talk to friends and neighbors. Pass along this list and encourage at least small bee plantings, even if it is just a small container garden on the driveway. Oh, and you know that patch of clover growing in your yard? Consider leaving it, or at least part of it. Clover was at one time intentionally planted in lawns to fix nitrogen. Chemical fertilizers have since taken its place, but it continues to provide the same benefits as well as a food source for bees. And if you have enough, you can even consider making some clover jelly.

3. Take a more organic approach to your gardening. Pulling weeds and hand picking parasites may be tedious, but it is way more selective than any chemical pest control on the market. Particularly Sevin, as popular as it is, has been indicated in pesticide poisonings. If you must spray, read the label carefully and follow instructions. Don’t spray while plants are in bloom. Spray in the early morning or late evening when bees are not present. Don’t contaminate water sources, including puddles near the plants. These simple measures will help reduce the number of bees affected by the pesticides gardeners most commonly use.

4. Consider purchasing more organic produce. It is pricier, but organic pest management is not as detrimental to bees as routine spraying.

5. Be judicious in your bee control measures. Some people are allergic to bee stings or are just afraid of them. If this is you, please do not use pesticides to kill them. Find out what is attracting bees to your yard and eliminate that instead. There are a variety of imported ornamentals that are beautiful and of no use to bees. Without a nectar source, they will do little more than fly on through. But also make sure you know the difference between a bee and  wasp. Many people confuse the docile honeybee with the more aggressive yellow jacket.

6. Lose the mulch. That’s right. One of the most frequently recommended organic means of controlling weeds and retaining moisture for an organic garden actually decreases the availability of suitable habitat for many native bees, 70% of which burrow in the ground. You don’t have to get rid of all of it, however. Pull some away, perhaps hidden in the shade of your planting, where bees can more easily burrow and provide you with a full season of pollination.

7. Plan your garden according to a bee’s tastes. Did I mention that already? Well, it bears repeating. And the list provided with the forage map may include the most significant pollen and nectar sources in your area, but perhaps you desire a bit more variety in your garden? Sedum and butterfly bush may not be significant enough to make the list, but that doesn’t mean bees won’t stop by your plantings! Check out the plants listed at The Melissa Garden and I’m sure you can find a combination of plants both you and the bees will love.

8. Try making a bee house to replace some of their dwindling habitat. A pile of junk, a more fashionable bee boudoir, or even a coffee can may all be used effectively to encourage native bees. (And an old flower pot can be used instead of that coffee can, and turns out much more attractive!)

9. Start your own hive! You would be surprised how many places not only allow, but actively encourage beekeeping. Even within city limits! States know that the bee industry is approaching a crisis and they are hoping to fill in some of the gaps with hobbyists like you and me. The state of Nebraska even has a yearly “bee school” where they teach you every thing you need to know to get started. And there’s a ton of information online, at your library and within your local beekeeping organizations. We’ll see how well that works for us once our bees arrive to populate our two hives!

10. What are you doing? What would you like to do? Sounds like a great homeschool project . . . to improve bee habitat in your own backyard!

bee honeybee native bee colony collapse disorder CCD green environment

We have a field of red clover, otherwise known as a pasture, on our property. I’m sure the bees will love it when they get here. The goats as well. Everyone seems to love clover and if you’ve ever sucked on those little purple flowers on the flower head, you know why. If not, well, I’m afraid you may not have had an adequate upbringing. Take a moment to find some nice red clover, pull it apart and share it with your children.

Anyway, it’s a flower and it’s edible so of course I had to make jelly out of it.

I wasn’t as sure of this one since clover has such a delicate flavor to begin with. It has neither the fragrance, nor the strength of lilac or black locust. That, and I had difficulty finding a recipe. If the jelly were all that good, it seems like it would be easier to find instructions on how to make it.

So I started out with the same basic infusion I used for lilac jelly, black locust blossom jelly and dandelion jelly.

For the clover infusion:

4 cups boiling water
4 cups clover flower heads (This part was way easier with clover. All parts of the plant are edible, and none of them particularly offensive. While it is beneficial to use only the actual flower head, a little green isn’t going to have a noticeable effect on the jelly.)

Place clover in a glass or stainless steel container, cover with boiling water and leave it steep overnight. Strain out flowers and squeeze out excess water, reserving liquid for the jelly.

For the clover jelly:

4 cups infusion (add water to replace what was lost in straining)
8 Tablespoons lemon juice
2 packages powdered pectin
8 cups sugar

Add lemon juice to the infusion, stir in pectin and bring to a boil, stirring frequently. Add the sugar all at once and bring to a rolling boil. Boil for one minute, skim and pour into jelly jars. Process like you would any other jelly. Here’s a great tutorial from Owlhaven.

I was pleasantly surprised at the flavor. It was light, but very pleasant. I loved the color, and lamented that I don’t seem to have the whole bubble free jelly thing down, yet. I tried pouring it into the jars quickly, but I think the real issue was that the jelly was already setting before I got it into the jars. You’re not really supposed to double recipes when using powdered pectin, or so I’ve heard. Maybe this is why? Or maybe I’ll just figure it out in time. No one around here really cares, anyway, so long as it tastes good on bread. And it does.

Then I found another recipe for an infusion. And of course I had to try it. Both with the juice and with the wine.

For the clover infusion:

5 cups apple juice or white wine
2 cups clover in a glass or stainless steel dish

Bring juice or wine to a boil and pour over clover. Cover and let sit until cool. Or, uh, overnight if you get busy and sort of forget about it. Strain and reserve liquid for the jelly.

For the clover jelly:

4 cups clover infusion
8 cups sugar
1/2 cup lemon juice
6 oz liquid pectin

Combine infusion, sugar and lemon juice. Bring to a boil over high heat. As soon as sugar has dissolved, stir in pectin. Return to a rolling boil for one minute. Remove from heat, skim foam and process like you would any other jelly in a hot water bath.

I was quite pleased with the results. The jelly was picture perfect. Clear, no bubbles and that perfect wiggle-on-your-spoon consistency. I don’t know if it was the liquid pectin (which is supposedly happier with the whole doubling thing), the juice/wine or just that I was more conscientious about skimming foam during the whole process rather than just at the end. Either way, the jelly was beautiful.

My daughter wants me to enter it in the fair.

The clover infusion made with apple juice ended up tasting like apple jelly. It was a good apple jelly, with a slight unidentifiable flavor that added more character than most apple jellies have, but it was still apple jelly. And all hints at character were mostly lost once you stopped licking the knife and tasted it on bread.

The infusion made with the wine, however, was quite interesting. Maybe it was just the wine, but it seemed to bring out the flavor of the clover and accent it well. And the interesting flavor carries over to the bread, as well, which is a nice bonus since I’m not in the habit of eating jelly by the spoon full.

A word of caution, however. That whole idea about alcohol burning off in cooking? It isn’t as true as you might like to believe. The jelly isn’t boiled long enough to be confident this is actually an alcohol free jelly. White cooking wine doesn’t have a particularly high alcohol content to begin with, but it is still good to keep in mind.

Note: If you go off in search of clover, remember to be sure it is clover that hasn’t been sprayed. Oh, and you can use any kind of clover. I just happen to have tons of red clover. If you don’t have tons, you can halve this recipe. It was doubled to begin with.

Happy jelly making!

red clover jelly clover jelly homesteading

I feel like I’m sort of stating the obvious here, but sometimes the obvious needs to be said.

You know those plant tags that come stuck in the soil of potted plants? They’re there for a reason. They tell you really neat things like how often your plant wishes to be fertilized, whether it likes sunny locations or prefers shade, and whether it likes acidic soil or something more neutral.

You can even find out things like that on a seed packet. It is amazing all the information that comes packed in such a small space.

I know people pretty much want to do what they want to do. We want to stay up late, so we invent light bulbs and caffeine and then complain of insomnia. We have a spot in the yard that needs a bit of color so we plant a rose bush, never mind the giant oak tree shading out even the most tolerant of grasses. Then we spend the life of the plant researching pests and disease and figure we just aren’t cut out for roses when it finally succumbs.

Now, when you begin to plant, you have a choice: Follow the instructions and have a pretty good chance at a healthy plant, or stick it wherever you want and guarantee seasons of fighting pest and disease because the plant isn’t getting what it needs from the day you put it in the ground.

The people who owned our last house before us were obviously gardeners. The property was full of irises, peonies, tiger lillies, roses, tulips and many other lovely plants. Some of them I still can’t identify, but they were beautiful.

Still, they stuck the tiger lillies under the water spout where they only got a few hours of sun each day. They limped along, with crinkled foliage, and crinkled flowers that bloomed weeks after our neighbor’s show was over. I moved them over to my butterfly garden to provide a bit of a windbreak and they did better there the year they were transplanted than they ever had before.

This property, on the other hand, was left vacant for at least two years. Weeds had taken over all the flower beds, and waist high grasses hid the flower beds from view. Even with years of neglect, an abundance of flowers have fought their way through the tangled mess of weeds to give us quite a show and the encouragement to help them a little in their struggle.

Because they started out healthy and were given every chance to succeed, they’re coping with a little hardship. Whether that is weeds, a dry spell or an insect attack doesn’t matter. A healthy plant has its own natural defenses.

Seriously. After selecting the right cultivars for your area, planting it according to the directions is the most important factor in a healthy plant and a healthy plant is the key to not needing an abundance of chemicals to help the plant along.

For more on beginning organic gardening, well, it’s a whole series! Just click the link or the button at the beginning of the entry!

gardening organic organic gardening

I left the children’s water table under a porch light the other night and woke to find this.

I thought what any chicken owner would think.

My chickens were delighted. So the next night I made sure the water table was parked there and placed a bucket under our other porch light. Suddenly I’m motivated to fix the other two outdoor lights we have.

What’s more, June bugs are a bit of a pest, defoliating shrubs and trees in early spring. By mid summer, their grubs are ready to start damaging your lawn and even your vegetable patch.

A healthy lawn is usually able to handle a mild attack of June bug larva, but they can become a problem when conditions are dry (as they usually are here in Nebraska come August) or if the larva population is just too large. My chickens are doing their part to keep the numbers under control!

I may even go sweep up all the beetles that crash land on my sidewalk and patio. I think they’ll store nicely in a bucket until morning.

June bug garden chicken organic pest control

First, we planned a beautiful garden on paper. A garden that would provide a significant source of food for our family. A garden big enough that we’re going to have to buy another freezer to store the harvest in, if we ever get the harvest planted.

Then we plowed. It was April. A little late to get started since I had snow peas, lettuce and spinach that were all good to go in the ground. But to plow, you need a tractor and a plow and that all takes time.

Then it rained. It rained so much that Nebraska’s wheat harvest is struggling with mold and fungus issues.

As the last frost date quickly approached, I wondered if we would be able to get the garden tilled in time to even get in the carrots.

Then we had a late freeze. A late freeze that took out between 40 and 60% of Nebraska’s sugar beet crop. I learned that having a garden, even if it is just sitting there waiting for you to do something with it, makes you pay attention to the news and the weather report in a different way.

Finally, we gave up on the idea of purchasing a disc harrow for the tractor and decided to rent a tiller. But we still had to wait for it to stop raining.

It finally did. For three days in a row. On the third day, the ground was dry enough to till.

Then we waited for the rain so we could plant.

And waited.

And waited.

And finally bought a hose.

I planted 100 square feet of corn as the sun went down, approximately 1/4 of what is planned for this garden. Today, the goal is to finish the corn and the beans.

As much work as planting is . . . well, I’m trying not to think about what the harvest will be like.

At least I’ll have help with the weeding.

Check out more Saturday on the Farm posts at Linda’s Lunacy!

Our garden is finally plowed and tilled. I’m working on making tomato cages out of strips of old fencing and figuring when I can go ahead and plant. This young lady weighs heavily on my mind.

See how she’s looking so longingly at my garden? She sees it the same way I do, as if it were already green and lush and heavy with produce. And she isn’t the only one. Cabbage moths, grasshoppers, hornworms, aphids and countless other pests, some of which are too small to even see, are all hanging out in the soil, the surrounding plants, the air and possibly on my transplants themselves waiting for their take of my harvest.

Winning the battle against these unwelcome intruders begins long before they are actually a problem, however. In fact, it begins before you even plant your first seeds. It begins by choosing the cultivars most appropriate for your area. That advice may be a little late for most of you, but it is never too early to start planning for next year.

How to choose the best plants for your area:

Decide what plants you want to grow.

Get to know your county extension’s website. All those glowing descriptions in the catalogs don’t mean half as much as a recommendation from someone whose job it is to compare the success of various cultivars in your area.

Know your USDA Hardiness Zone. Remember that this is only a general guide. Just because I’m in Zone 5 doesn’t mean everything labeled Zone 5 will survive a Nebraska summer. Or a Nebraska winter. Or the Nebraska wind.

Know your first and last frost dates. This is important for timely planting, but also for ensuring that your growing season is long enough for the plants you favor.

Know the microclimate of your area and where your garden will be located. Is it on a south facing slope or near a warming structure such as a retaining wall or the house? You may be looking at plants normally grown a little further to the south.

Know your soil. Is it clay? Sandy loam? Full of rocks? Is it acidic, neutral or a little alkaline?

Watch your garden and see how many hours of sun it gets. Is it enough for the sun loving tomatoes you crave? Do you have a little shade to help keep your lettuce going longer into early summer?

Know how many freeze hours are typical for your area. This is really only relevant if you are interested in fruit trees.

Choose disease resistant varieties.

Be willing to change your garden plans. We had our hearts set on blueberries, but according to our research, there just aren’t any good cultivars for our area. They require too much soil amendment and about the only way to grow them is in a container buried in the ground. That sounds like a plan for years of fighting against nature to maintain an ill-suited plant.

If you look beyond national chain stores, you will find a wealth of cultivars allowing you to grow your favorite garden vegetables in a wide variety of climates and soil conditions. As you learn more about your area, you may even find plants you had never considered before.

The most important thing to remember in organic gardening is to work with the local environment as much as possible rather than against it.

For more in this series on beginning organic gardening, just click on the button. And please share your gardening experiences! How did you select your plants? Where are your favorite places to purchase seeds and young plants?

gardening organic organic gardening plant selection