From a life in the corporate world to a small farm. My new work colleagues eat grass or lay eggs. I've got a lot to learn about things that just seem to happen when nature becomes your new boss.
Monday, 6 February 2017
No fault fruit
I'm reading Grown & Gathered at the moment, a guide to growing, cooking, preserving, trading and living well. The authors Matt and Lentil (I have high expectations already with someone possessing that name) live by a creed that if you listen to nature, it will tell you what to do. They prescribe to the view that seasons are, when seasons commence and not when the calendar on the fridge says 'plant borage today'. I've never actually met anyone who planted borage anyway. I've got a lot to learn from this book and I love their philosophy on traditional growing, as opposed to the enforced growing when the synthetic fertiliser tells you to grow. I was pleased today to reap the rewards of our harvest with some warm ripe berries from the hanging baskets in the glasshouse dangling like Christmas baubles. The blueberries are ripe when they catapult off their stems and the tomatoes are starting to look shiny and ready for a summer salad. We've had some successes this year and also some monumental failures. My new reference book tells me that plant failure is most likely human fault and rarely the fault of the plant. Not wanting to point the capsicum at anyone, I would however like to point out the no fault clause here in my planting contract. It's right there under section 125(b)(iii) titled, The Clueless Gardener whereby it states 'should said Clueless Gardener fail in their inherent requirements to produce a tasty tomato, a straight carrot or an eggplant (just the one), then that said Clueless Gardner will be deemed exempt from any fault or liability upon the garden. So yes, I will continue to 'listen' to my garden and not try and drown out the screams of 'I'm squashed in', 'I'm thirsty' and 'This soil is full of shit', and plough on with what the seasons will present. Whenever they are.