The Urban Farmer's Almanac

The last few years the strawberry patch has claimed a prized location in our little urban farm and has repaid us with little to no yield of fruit.  This year we’ve added a soaker hose into the bed that is connected to the rest of our watering system.  The location of the strawberry patch made this quite a big project, but dreams of actual handfuls of strawberries made it happen.  We’re hoping being connected to the main watering system will insure plenty of moisture and will be the push it needs to give us some fruit.  If not this may be the last year that patch exists.

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I went outside last night to take a look at how the garden was doing, and I noticed a funny leaf in with the raspberries. We’ve been battling morning glory in the yard forever, and it keeps popping up everywhere, especially in quiet neglected corners. I started to follow the vine down to the bottom of the raspberry thicket (which really it an applicable word; it’s a jungle in there) when I heard a little hiss and saw a black and white ball of fur. Hanging out in a raised bed of raspberries was a little kitten, probably just a couple weeks old. Apparently leaving your baby in a raspberry patch is the cat equivalent of floating your baby down a river in a reed basket.

Free Kitten. Loves to garden.

This was not entirely a surprise. There were kittens born under our porch last year that we tried to lure out (without any luck) and now they are roaming the neighborhood with their feral mother. They don’t really belong to anyone, though the neighbor lady feeds them, and at one point tried to tell us that when we bought the house, the cat came with it (which we ignored).

Until now. Baby cats are invading our shores. The onslaught must be stopped. So if you want an adorable cat, let us know. Before Hannah informs us that this foster placement has moved to adoption (dan@theurbanfarmersalmanac.com).

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There were a few random daffodil and tulip bulbs in the front bed of our house when we bought it that I thought we’d managed to dig out last year to make room for vegetables. But this year another one popped up, and kept growing and growing. I finally needed the space for the things I’m actually going to grow there (cherry tomatoes) so I decided it was time to dig it out.

As soon as I pulled it out of the ground, a garlicky-oniony scent overwhelmed me. Turns out it wasn’t a flower, but a leek, and an enormous one at that. Just about big enough to be a new child in the family, with a fine head of hair (look at the picture if you have no idea what I’m talking about.)

Our asparagus patch has finally started bursting, and I figured out that the lard I rendered last year makes the most wonderful pie crust, so a leek tart with asparagus and feta was in the cards. Yum.

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I’ve been looking carefully at the empty bed that we have devoted solely to asparagus and wondering if the whole patch met a mysterious subterranean demise over the winter. But just yesterday, I finally saw the first signs of life from them – two purple heads poking up through the ground. Now at least I can breathe easy and assume that the rest will soon follow.

Signs of life returning to the garden in the form of the first asparagus to emerge from winter's deep slumber.

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We planted beets right before our big family vacation last June, and they straggled and struggled along all summer. I never got around to using them in the fall, and actively began ignoring them come winter. They survived some significant week-long freezes, and a couple good snows to boot.

I finally decided to pull them up and see if there was anything worth saving, and it turns out that beets are pretty darn tough in the ground. We cooked up a batch of golden beets for a salad a few weeks ago, and today I pulled out the fancy candy-cane striped Chioggos to roast for Robbie’s 3rd birthday party. After paring off the gnarly skin from the tops, they look as good as new.

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