The Smallest Farm Refuses To Die

The Smallest Farm Refuses To Die

It was planting day on the Smallest Farm in Iowa today.

A little background for the legions of new readers since the end of last summer. I've been a displaced gardener since my move from home ownership to Bohemian Paradise in 2003. But I insist on putting something in the ground, no matter how unsuitable the setup, each year, since I live on the best farmland on the planet and it makes me feel connected to the land and the seasons. The city garden plots are on the opposite side of town (that completely failed in 2003, my only year with no garden at all). So I make do with a cubicle sized patch here on the north side.

This is my second year in the same spot. Sun isn't great and there are walnut issues. I moved the pole bean teepee a few feet to a slightly sunnier corner. And I foolishly threw some sunflower seeds in the ground. Back in 2002, the last year at the house, I grew 15 footers, and we even harvested the seeds before the critters did.

More likely to succeed are the carious mints: catnip and lemon balm, both growing from transplants from the old house, and bee balm which broduces pruble flowers surrounded by black and gold bees that are far more interested in the flowers than in stinging you. And this year there's mint, transplanted from the parental homestead. My hope is that these self-starters all establish themselves and become part of Gaslight Village lore.