Farms & Gardens

As an avid but admittedly novice gardener, there is always one area where I tend to let things go. Some years I put everything in the ground, remember to water, but let the weeds go crazy. Other years, I get behind in sowing seed and too much or too little comes up. Sometimes watering is inconsistent and my garden suffers and bears little. However, there is one problem I have every year: keeping up with the beans. 

As we wrap up our State Fair coverage here at SGT, as these once endless evenings get undeniably a little shorter and a little chillier, we Minnesotans must admit that our short-lived summer is on its way out. But, I propose that we buck our Minnesotans tendencies and rather than despair over our impending doom, let’s make the most of what’s left! We’ve still got a few good weeks of outdoor activities, and one thing you must do, if you haven’t already, is go see Mixed Precipitation’s Alcina’s Island: A Picnic Operetta. Part Twin Cities community garden tour, part love story, part culinary delight; combining classic Italian opera with old time Americana; blurring the boundaries of art, eating and growing - the show is a feast for all the senses.  

Even though we belong to a CSA, even though we visit our local farmer’s market most weeks, and even though we buy much of our produce at the local co-op…we still have a garden. Our garden is a 20’ x 20’ space in the Parks Department’s community garden, out on the edge of town. (How far on the edge? If we get there before 9am, we can drive across the road and watch horses and cows sharing a stream and fields.) We started our garden in mid-June, which felt criminally late to me, and thanks to a cold spring, the vegetables have taken their time getting settled in and producing. 

The first time I bought celery in a Manila grocery store, I was surprised to find the stalks still crowned with leaves. Accustomed to the neatly trimmed, plastic-bagged bunches in American supermarkets, I was mildly peeved over the extra effort I had to make to cut off the tops, even if it involved nothing more than a solid thwack of a chef’s knife to decapitate those unwanted greens. I swept them from the cutting board into the trash without another thought, blithely unaware that I had just added to the more than 200 pounds per person of edible food discarded around the world last year.

Last week I found myself in a conference room with an aquaculturalist, a mushroom grower, a hops grower, and a handful of CSA farmers.

 This may sound like a great setup for a terrible joke, but the occasion was a serious one. We were sitting in Minneapolis City Hall along with an assortment of other farmers, gardeners, would-be farmers, extension workers, advocates, and city planners, all with lists of policy goals spread out in front of them on the table. The extraordinary thing is that most of them do their growing right here inside the Minneapolis city limits, and that’s why they made the trip to City Hall: to have a say in the first public meeting for implementing new zoning policies for urban agriculture here in the Minne Apple.

Last May, I shared with you my heartbreaking story about losing 12 out of 13 honeybee colonies over the long harsh Minnesota winter. Since that time, I also lost my sole surviving hive as well. After building up my apiary over the past six years, I was forced to start over. 

Over the past few months, I have had many inquiries about how my new colonies are doing so far this year. And I am so very pleased to report that my newly established apiary is thriving beyond my wildest dreams! 

Black raspberries have never been the most popular kid on the block. Their cousin, the red raspberry, enjoys enduring fame and adulation while the black raspberry is a one hit wonder known only for being distilled into Chambord, the French Liqueur. Ever the fan of the underdog, when I planted raspberries in my backyard a few years ago, I put in rows of both black and red.

The red raspberries delivered as expected, gorgeous thumb-sized berries full of flavor. The black raspberries, though smaller and less aromatic, provided a tart counterpoint with a darker berry flavor. And then I discovered their secret.

It’s a common refrain that people have become disconnected from the food they eat, the migration from country to city leading people away from farm fresh produce and towards frozen, ready-made dinners. 

And while visiting a farmer’s market is one way to get closer to the source, another movement taking shape locally and around the country is trying to take people a step further: crop mobbing. 

Crop mobbing – shed the dictionary definition you know – is a term used to describe any group that flocks to a farm to help get a specific task accomplished. 

(Disclaimer: I am not a scientist, but a storyteller who took way too many science classes in college. I apologize for the lack of scientific terminology presented here, but promise that if you read on, you may learn something...even if it is just what a strange person I am.)

The story of this epic battle begins a couple of years ago in my garden, where so many stories of struggle and hardship begin (notice the drama creeping in already!). Squashes, both winter and summer varieties, are one of my favorite plant families. I love the way they can and do grow anywhere, creeping up fences, under and through my bean plants or just straight across the yard with no concern for the lawn mower.

Not only do these beastly plants entertain with their size and tenacity, they often produce food by the bushel. Then there are the mutants! If you have never experimented with pollinating squash, it can be entertaining.

The place: Acorn Ridge Farm of Mel and Lorna Wiens in Staples, Minnesota. The weather: steamy and sticky. The event: the 3rd annual Festival of Farms, hosted by Sustainable Farming Association (SFA) Central Chapter. Drop the title and formalities and you have a gathering that felt more like a beloved family reunion than an event open to the public.