It sounds so earnest: growing vegetables organically. Perhaps too earnest for us, dreadful cynics, trading in sarcasm and guffaws. But we gradually traded up from balcony pots to small beds to serious backyard veg to this. Earnestly adoring vegetable growing. And finding some kind of dignity in hoeing a row. This little market garden of ours has been a long held dream, and we're effervescent about seeds going in and plants coming up.
We ran pigs in here, for too long, it turned out. They ate the kikuyu and compacted the soil and when we should have moved them off it we didn't, and the weeds returned in full force. Weeds that Adam then dug out by hand, every square metre of them, resisting my Dad's relentless recommendation of a simple Roundup solution (even I began to see the merits), and digging digging digging out those weeds.
We hired some cheap labour (my nephews. Excellent workers. I'm hoping to run full house niece and nephew "holidays" here in the future.)
And here we are.
We're very lucky to have access to markets here, and restaurants and a food co-op on our doorstep, keen for whatever we grow. Our plan is primarily to supply our workshops and farm lunches and to do something with the majority of everything else, making things to sell at our market stalls and through our (eventual!) farm shop. Pickles, preserves, confits, compotes, soups, pies, jams. I'm planting a lot of radish!
There's a heap of work ahead, and we're hoping to be able to accommodate Wwoofers soon. Obviously. Adam did the watering at about 9.30pm tonight. We're stretched a bit thin, but soon, SOON there'll be veg! Lots of fresh, organically grown veg.
Earnest? Hell yes. And tasty.