Misconceptions

Did you ever manage to see The Biggest Little Farm? It’s a lovely movie, filled with beautiful photography and the picturesque processes of building an organic farm in the Southern California foothills. It covers seven years in the life of this particular farm and documents its failures and successes. I loved the film, and have recommended it to many people.

But just the other day, I received the monthly newsletter from Ruby Blume of the Institute for Urban Homesteading; it gave me a different view of the movie. A little history - Ruby was instrumental in starting the urban farm movement in Oakland, and helping others to learn how to grow food, preserve it, keep small livestock and bees, and craft items for the home. In the last few years, urban farming in Oakland and Berkeley has become almost de rigueur, and Ruby herself moved to Oregon a couple of years ago to farm a larger property and raise sheep. The Institute still offers classes, but it’s not nearly the clearinghouse it was before, for many reasons (you can learn on YouTube, there are lots of places that teach this stuff now, Ruby is no longer in the area and rather out of touch with what the ‘scene’ has become), but during its heyday it was a great source of knowledge and information. I still get Ruby’s newsletter because I like to read about what she’s accomplishing on a larger scale in Oregon (and allow myself to dream of something similar), and her most recent newsletter had a paragraph that I felt I should share here, with Ruby’s permission (which she kindly granted). Since I’ve been doing a lot of lecturing at Merritt, and giving a lot of farm tours here on the property, I have a lot of new readers who may have a fairly idealistic view of the whole process. The Biggest Little Farm was a very romantic view of farming, and I certainly don’t want to give anyone a false impression of what farming is truly like. Hence, I’ve copied Ruby’s paragraph here, so that you can get a more realistic picture. (Full disclosure - we’ve been part of the Institute’s Urban Farm Tour in the past, and have taken many classes with Ruby.)

“When I was working on the farm tour, I gathered with the featured farmers and several told me about the recent movie The Biggest Little Farm. “You will LOVE it,” they said. I had my doubts, but one rainy night in December I watched it with my farm partner. We could barely make it through the film. I understand that most people will find this movie inspiring and uplifting, but for me it was infuriatingly idealistic, leaving so many gaps in the story of what farming actually requires. “We had some generous funders.” No doubt. The property alone cost $11M. You read right. Eleven Million Dollars. This is more than 20 times what I had to invest. And how much additional capital did it require to construct barns, sheds, corrals and coops, buy a stable of shiny new farm machines (30-50K each), install miles of fences and irrigation lines, reconstruct a pond, rip out 55 acres of mature orchard, completely terrace and keyline those same acres and plant thousands of fruit trees? How did they pay for the farm, the labor, the commercial scale worm composting and compost tea systems, the livestock and guardian dogs? How long did it take to get marketable crops and what did they live on and pay their farm workers until then? Could they have made it happen without their Hollywood investors? They did not show the backbreaking daily work required or demonstrate that permaculture/biodynamic farming is economically sustainable. We did some math and came up with a conservative estimate of $20 million dollars for their project. What couldn’t any of us do with that much cash in hand? While I agree with the core message of the movie (SOIL is LIFE! ), there is a reason most farmers work on an industrial level: the farmer has to make a living. Farm reality is that we cannot just do whatever we want and farm decisions are almost always dictated by the limitations of budget. Most small-scale farmers also work off the farm in order to pay for the farm. So while it is great that they are now selling 55,000 pounds of fruit a year and employing 60 workers, we greatly doubt they could have done this without that big start-up nut, or that they could pay back that money of they had to. Here on Ferry Road, we struggle to pay our basic bills and to afford the materials to improve our infrastructure. We do not have the luxury of purchasing a single tractor or hiring a single farm hand, let alone a stable of each. We are lucky to be able to defray some of the cost of our farming with what we produce. I am not angry or jealous of the gap. I love the agrarian life, the critters, the manure, the clean air, the quiet nights and the gorgeous food we produce for ourselves with some extra to share. But what I would LOVE to see is a film that promotes organic/holistic farming with a realistic budget and practical solutions for mid-to-low income folks who would like to return to the land. Now THAT would be inspiring.”

— Ruby Blume

We have two new additions at Poppy Corners. One is this bird feeder, attached underneath the chicken coop roof. One of the things I dislike about bird feeders is that the fallen seeds sprout and become a mess to dig up. Attaching it in the chicken run means that the chickens clean up any fallen seed, which solves that problem.

But the bird feeder is solving a bigger problem. Here’s what’s been happening: In the past few months, I’ve noticed that anywhere I’ve put seeds in the North Garden, nothing grows. Well that’s not exactly true. In beds where there is row cover (agribon), the seeds germinate fine and grow fine, except along the edges of the beds where the agribon blows in the wind. Likewise, anywhere uncovered, no germination. Then I started noticing flocks of birds in my beds and borders, eating the seeds. This is something they’ve never done before. Any pea seed I planted, dug up and eaten by birds. Any flower seed, likewise eaten. No plants on the ends of the covered beds where the agribon doesn’t quite cover - seeds eaten. The birds are eating all the seeds. Only in the North Garden where the chicken coop is. So I thought and I thought and I thought - why are birds eating everything, only this year? Why not other years?

Then it hit me. In September, our next-door neighbors (who’ve lived here since the neighborhood was built in the late 40’s) suddenly moved into a retirement home in the Sierra foothills. These neighbors had seven or eight birdfeeders in their yard, just on the other side of the fence, in the big Japanese pine. She also used to put out peanuts for the squirrels and jays. But since she’s been gone, the feeders have been empty. No one has moved in yet, and the caretakers of the house haven’t noticed (or don’t care about) the feeders. All these birds, who for generations had eaten well in Wes and Lavelle’s yard, now had no food. In winter. And I just finally cut down the last of the seed pods on my property. So of course they are eating anything they can find! They are simply desperate for food! I reasoned that if we provide them with that food, they’ll maybe stop eating all my seeds that I want to grow up into big plants. It’s worth a shot anyway!

image credit: Stark Bros

The second new thing is a mulberry tree. In November, I chopped down our old, diseased peach tree with my trusty hatchet and saw. We moved the greenhouse into that space, and then Tom put in a tall post on which to hang our sun sail and some outdoor lights, and then I planted a Pakistan mulberry tree near there. Peaches require a lot of inputs to grow and thrive; mulberries do not. Peaches also require a lot of water; mulberries do not. A Pakistan mulberry specifically is well-suited to heat and drought. Here is the blurb about it on Stark Bros: “An exotic variety with outstanding durability. This vigorous and productive tree yields large and firm, oblong fruit. These ruby red-purple mulberries have sweet, raspberry-like flavor with low acidity that is good for fresh eating or making cobblers. As a bonus, the fruit juice does not stain! Developed in Islamabad, Pakistan, it is very tolerant of heat, humidity, sun, droughts and poor soil. Disease-resistant. Matures to be 30-40' tall. Ripens April through mid-summer. Self-pollinating. Morus alba x M. rubra” I will not let it grow THAT tall, I will keep it under 8 feet, so that picking the fruit is easy. Also, there will be so much of it that I will not miss any of the birds take their share. We’re excited to have another kind of fruit on the homestead, though we will miss our peach tree.

Is the Honey You're Buying Actually Honey?

I noticed yesterday that Netflix added a new documentary series to their stable; it's called "Rotten" and is all about fraud in our food supply chain. There are episodes about chickens, milk, and peanuts, but I have only watched the first one so far, which is about honey.

The problem of adulterated honey came to my attention a few years ago, when I saw a news piece about it. The demand for honey has increased substantially in the last few years, as many folks feel it is a healthier alternative to sugar. I'm not sure I can speak to that claim, but it is true that raw, unfiltered, unheated honey has lots of great nutrients and pollen included. This same honey can also be used on wounds, as it is a natural antibiotic and antifungal. (Many folks feel that eating pure raw honey can help with allergies. My feeling on that is that most of the pollen folks are allergic to are from trees, most of which are wind-pollinated, so don't end up in honey. But it certainly can't hurt.)

So, the demand has increased tremendously, but the supply has decreased steadily in that time, due to all of the problems honeybees are having. Some of these problems come straight from us and our decimation of the environment, and some of these problems are related to new pests and diseases. Regardless of the cause, honeybee colonies are failing (still) at a rate of 50% per year. 

Which begs the question: Just where is all our honey coming from?

Well, the greatest exporter of honey is China, with Germany coming in second. It became clear to our country early on that China was adulterating their honey, cutting it with corn syrup to increase bulk (classic drug-dealer move). Once we realized that, tests were developed to determine if a product was tainted with fillers, and then China found a way around that, by using rice syrup, which can't be detected. At that point we banned honey coming in from China, but they found a way around that, by sending it through other countries. At the present time a huge amount of honey is coming in from Asia and Europe, a lot of it originally from China. 

Some of the honey is diluted with other plant syrups, but it's also often contaminated with hormones and antibiotics that are not allowed here in the United States, some of them toxic in large doses. Scientists are getting smarter and smarter with their detection of these substances, but a good amount of it still gets through, and it ends up on our grocery store shelves.

Maybe this doesn't concern you, and if that's the case, you can stop reading right now and continue to enjoy your fake honey. However it does concern me. For one thing, I want to know that the food I'm eating is labeled correctly (seems a little thing, but more and more I'm realizing that it's not). But an even greater problem is that the small, local honey bee farmers are being priced out, because people think honey is honey is honey. So they buy the cheap stuff.

Your small, local producer knows nearly every plant from which his or her bees are feeding (a large area, but we know our neighborhoods, and most of us provide gardens nearby from which our bees mainly forage). They are completely hands-on, checking hives daily. They extract and bottle the honey by hand, no small job. If they label it raw and unfiltered, that means nothing has been done to it, except for screening out a few dead bees and a stray wing or two. If it's labeled organic, that means that farmer had control of 3 -5 square miles of territory, as the bees can forage that distance if they need to. That's a huge area, if you consider a mile is 640 acres. It's not easy to find organic honey, simply because most farmers can't afford that kind of land, especially in California. Your neighborhood beekeeper probably won't be able to say he or she is organic, but that's ok - in this case it's more important to know that you're buying real honey rather than the fake stuff.

Buying local means that your average jar of honey at the farmer's market is going to cost twice as much, if not three times as much, as that bear-shaped container in your grocery store. And most of us don't like to pay that much for food. We have become accustomed to thinking that our food should be cheap. I've said it before, with regards to eggs and meat, and I'll say it again: Your food should not be cheap. Stop buying $4 cups of coffee and new iPhones, and instead put that money into pastured, organic food. Support your local farmers. Budget more for the stuff you put in your mouth, because it really matters, not only to your health and your conscience, but also to keeping the little guys in business. 

We personally don't sell our extra honey (and we do get more than we need from just one hive), because we like to give it as gifts to our neighbors, teachers, family, and friends. I know they are all grateful for those small gifts, but I often wonder if they know how precious this stuff really is, considering that what is in our food supply chain is so inferior. The honey that comes from local hives tastes different depending on the season and what the bees were foraging on. It's different colors and has different scents. It has just as much terroir as a bottle of good wine. I'm sure those who drink milk from their family cow feel quite the same way about that milk. These things need to be better appreciated. You deserve to drink good wine, right? You deserve just as fully to eat good honey. 

So buy local. Find your farmers market. Get to know your neighborhood beekeeper. Buy from small local groceries. Ask questions. Know the providence of your food.

Fire and Water

Yesterday, I drove Kate up to Oroville so she could attend camp at Okizu, which is located north of the dam in Berry Creek. 

A quick word about Okizu, for you new readers or folks who don't know us well. Okizu is a camp for children with cancer and their immediate families. We started attending family camp after Adam was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia at age 2, in 2003. When the kids turned eight, they each started spending a week up there in the summer time, Adam at 'Oncology' camp and Kate at 'Sibs' camp. We also still attend a family weekend camp every year.

All of this is completely free for us; it is a wonderful service that allows Adam to connect with other kids who have been through what he has been through, and Kate to spend some time reflecting on what it's like to be the sibling of a child with a life-threatening disease. As a family, each year we get a long weekend to remember that time when he was young (Adam had chemo for three and a half years), and offer support to parents who are new to the diagnosis. We also have the chance to honor those who have lost their lives and mourn with their families. 

Okizu is located in a beautiful valley, under Bald Rock, in Berry Creek. Berry Creek hosts a Grange Hall and a church, but not much else, and the camp property is vast and encompasses a ropes course, a zip line, two lakes (one for swimming and boating, and one for fishing), an archery course, an arts and crafts pavilion, a dining lodge with a games basement, a huge hill and meadow for frisbee golf, a doctors cottage (there is always a doctor and nurse on premises, many of the children who come are still undergoing treatment), and four large sections of cabins and bathrooms for the campers. It's a wonderful place, and our kids often talk about Okizu being like their second home. They look forward to their time there every summer, and expect to serve as counselors when they age out of the camper program.

Anyway, there is a bus that takes kids there, but instead I drive the kids up, as I enjoy the trip. I like connecting with the counselors and directors, taking in the gorgeous scenery near camp, soaking in the farmland north of Marysville, and perhaps most of all, measuring Lake Oroville with a critical eye each year. The fullness of the dam reflects the health of our water supply here in Northern CA. Many, many people get their drinking water from Lake Oroville, which is a man-made basin and dam. It flows out to the Feather River, which is the principal tributary of the Sacramento River, which flows all the way down into our delta which meets our San Francisco Bay up near the city of Antioch. It's a huge and immensely important watershed.

As you probably know, we had so much rain last winter, such epic amounts, that the dam's spillway was engaged, which had not been tested since the dam was built 50 years ago. The spillway eventually crumbled and failed, which caused the experts to activate an emergency spillway, which also turned out to be inadequate. Many thousands of people living in Oroville were evacuated, under threat of a breach. It was a very tense time for that community, and for all of us in Northern CA watching helplessly. The rain, which we so desperately needed, after having been in severe drought for five years, was now so abundant that it was causing a different kind of crisis.

Eventually, the rain ceased, folks were able to go back home, and repairs ensued immediately on the dam, as everyone involved was concerned about the eventual snowmelt in the Sierra (which is underway now, though there were still skiers at Squaw Valley on July 4; Tioga Pass in Yosemite was just recently opened for thru-traffic; we got a LOT of snow). Oroville, a town perhaps more economically downtrodden than many in CA, breathed a sigh of relief. The city relies on vacation visitors to the lake for much of its income. 

So it was with sadness that we heard the news that the Wall Fire was burning across vast acreage near Oroville. More folks had been evacuated. Our hearts went out to the people of Oroville - hadn't they had enough to deal with this year already? The night before Kate was to go to camp, we were told that it would likely be cancelled: The camp itself was not in any danger, but the road leading up the mountain had been closed to allow the fire fighters and trucks clear access to the fire. 

We got a call later that night that camp was on! The director had convinced the CHP to let campers through and up to camp. Kate was relieved, I was relieved. We left Monday morning early and had a non-eventful drive up. The sky above Yuba City was quite hazy with smoke, and we could smell it, but we could not see the fire. Oroville looked like business as usual. But we were stopped on the road leading up to the dam and told to turn back. I explained where we were headed, and that we were told we could go through, but the officer made us turn around. After a few calls to the camp office, we tried again, where the same officer apologized and let us go through.

So Kate's and several hundred other kids' week at camp was saved. I stopped and ate my sandwich on the way back by the lake, where I took these pictures. The lake does look fuller than it has in many years, but it was all the way up to the underside of this bridge, in February:

It's hard to imagine it. 

So I got to thinking a lot about our winter, and how everyone expected (or at least us laypeople) that our wildfire situation would be much less this summer. But the truth is, we have more fires burning earlier in the season than we have ever had. How can this be, when the earth had so much saturation just a few months ago?

I found this tidbit in the LA Times: "Didn’t our recent heavy winter rains make trees and brush less flammable? Yes, up to a point. Regardless of rainfall, however, the fire hazard in a specific region is defined by its fire history and the effect it has had on the landscape. That’s because fires preferentially burn old chaparral and conifers. Hence, the oldest stands of trees are always the next in line to burn."

Interesting! I'm no expert, but here's what I think another important culprit is: All that rain allowed a LOT of vegetation to grow. We hadn't had that much growth in years.  And while it remained green as long as the rains continued, as soon as they stopped, they dried up like they always do. That left HUGE stands of brown vegetation everywhere. This is just simply tinder. 

So I think we're in for a very bad fire season indeed. 

It doesn't help much that folks have been told that 'the drought is over.' Just the other night, Tom and I were taking a walk up a nearby street, when we noticed sprinklers in a yard leaking so badly that it was causing a river of runoff, just wasted water running down the street. As we were discussing that we should let the homeowners know they had a leak, or a problem, we heard them on their front porch saying hello. When we pointed out that something was amiss, the owner said, "oh, we know. It always does that. I can't control it."

Tom and I just walked away, and that interchange kept us thinking hard for another mile or so. Folks can't possibly still be ignorant of the importance of saving water in our desert climate. Yes, we're told all the time that the drought is over, does that make people feel safe enough to waste wantonly? Did this gentleman have a well, like many folks in our neighborhood, and therefore since he wasn't paying for the waste, it wasn't a concern? All the houses on our street with wells had them dry up last summer, which had never happened before. The lack of ground water affects all of us. Owning a well does not give anyone a 'pass' from conserving. 

Whether or not this water came from a well, we could only come to one conclusion, and that is that the homeowner was willfully wasting water and what's more, couldn't be concerned to correct it. And this, we find incredible and frankly reprehensible. 

Just to add insult to injury, the yard in question had nothing in the way of an ecosystem. There was no food garden, no wildlife garden, not even a useless green lawn. This yard had a few stunted bushes and swathes of bare dirt. What was there to nurture with these leaky overhead sprinklers???

The lack of water is not a problem that will ever go away here. It is something that we all have to be aware of, and we have to work together to prevent its loss. How much of our water supply is going to be used this year for fighting wildfires and protecting homes? How much of our water supply needs to go to growing the nation's food? What are we going to spend our water on? Just because we had a great winter does not mean we can be wasteful now. Or ever. Oroville is evidence of that. 

Weekly Walkthrough: Chicken Escapes

Join us as we try to contain our frustration and keep our sense of humor as the chickens (one in particular) escape our fence up to 20 times a day.

Plus other stuff. Not nearly as entertaining.

Thanks for watching!

Seasonal Eating: Does it Matter?

I've always rather disliked folks who were legalistic about food. "Sorry, can't have flour, I'm gluten free right now." (I've been gluten free, for long periods of time, shouldn't I be more understanding?) "Sorry, can't have meat at the moment, I'm trying out vegetarianism." (I was a vegan for a year of my life, so should be more sympathetic, for sure.) "I'm off desserts, no sugar for me, do you know how bad sugar is for you?" (Yes, I do. And yes, you're probably right. Now go soak your head, you remarkable paragon of self-control.) 

And on and on. It makes cooking for people very difficult. And I have an enormously picky daughter, so I have had to figure out work-arounds for many years and several thousand meals. It makes going out to eat difficult too, as almost no one place can satisfy everyone's special food needs.

But I have a confession to make. I am one of those people.

It was made extremely clear to me the other night, out for dinner with friends. We were at a perfectly nice restaurant, and I was perfectly prepared to get off my high-food-horse for a night and enjoy myself. But one look at the menu, and I found myself climbing right back into the saddle. Wild Shrimp Scampi, with grape tomatoes? Dungeness crab cakes with a sliced cucumber salad? Pappardelle with cherry tomatoes, sweet basil, eggplant, and zucchini? Come on, now, I thought to myself. It's early April. Are we really eating 'Freshly prepared and artfully presented California cuisine" as the menu advertised? Ok, wild Pacific shrimp, that's good, that's fairly local, I'm ok with that. But grape tomatoes? Do you know when grape tomatoes ripen in my garden,a scant ten miles from this restaurant? They ripen at the end of June. We might be lucky to get a handful in mid-June. Dungeness crab cakes, sure, it's probably frozen crab meat, nothing wrong with that. But sliced cucumber salad? Those cucumbers are coming from Chile or Mexico for sure. And zucchini? I mean, who are we kidding, here?

I made the mistake of saying something out loud to our friends. These are folks that I adore, admire, and respect. But the answer I got was something along the lines of, "There's really no reason to beat yourself up about this. This food is readily available everywhere, anytime, and what does it matter if we eat it?" I was deep into my second gin and tonic (and I don't drink very often, so you can imagine I wasn't quite at my witty best), so I confusedly nodded and said a very weak, "yeah." Way to stand up for your beliefs, Elizabeth.

And yet, if I had been in my usual (ahem) clear state of mind, and been able to articulate my reasons for not eating this out-of-season (even in sunny California) food, wouldn't I just have made everyone at the table uncomfortable? Wouldn't I have become, yes, THAT person, the one with the lists of 'things I DO NOT EAT?" Wouldn't I have been putting my feelings off on to everyone else, and wouldn't they have felt guilty for eating whatever the hell they wanted to eat? Very likely, yes. And I don't want to be the bummer at the table. In fact, I'm a big proponent of zero shame when it comes to food. We've all been shamed enough in our lives, thank you very much, about what we do and do not eat; my companions do not need me to add to that. 

And yet.

What does it hurt if we don't eat seasonally?

In an article in the UK Guardian from 2014, the reporter wrote about the results from a 2000-person poll, conducted by the BBC. Out of those 2000 people, only 5% could say when a blackberry was ripe; 4% a plum. All this when 86% of the folks said they shop seasonally and think it's important. I think the results of a similar poll over here in the US would probably be even worse. 

But, how are we supposed to know when a strawberry is in season? I mean, really. They're available year-round in the grocery store. Even organic strawberries are in Whole Foods 365 days of the year. Cucumbers? Peppers? The same. And we all know those insipid pale tomatoes in the store in January can't possibly be good, but by golly, they're there if we must have them. Very few people grow their own food, or if they do, it might be limited to an apple or lemon tree, or a pot of herbs. How are our children supposed to know when it's time to eat blueberries? How do they learn these cycles if we don't teach them?

There are lots of reasons for eating seasonally, and knowledge of farms and of farm cycles is but one of them (though I would argue that it's more important now than ever, considering farming is a profession that most of us don't have any experience with, and might be the absolute most important one). Here are a few others.

1) Fruit and vegetables taste better, and are at the peak of their nutritional content, when picked and eaten ripe. It's no mistake that an August tomato, dripping with juice, satisfies on a level a January tomato cannot. It's full of itself, it is the very essence of what a tomato is supposed to be. The redder a tomato is, the more beta-carotene it contains. As a sweet pepper moves from green to red, it increases beta-carotene 11 times, and has 1.5 times the vitamin C. Most foods begin to lose nutrition immediately after harvesting. Spinach and green beans lose two-thirds of their vitamin C within a week after harvest, according to UC Davis. Think about that peach that has traveled from tropical climes to get to you: It's been picked before it was ripe, and even though it will soften on its week-long journey, it will not ripen further. Is that worth it? It's lost nutrition and never even had a chance at full flavor.

2) Fresh food is cheaper. When you pay for produce to be shipped from South America or Mexico, you are paying a premium for the cost of bringing it across the world to you. How much did that lamb from New Zealand really cost you? It's a fact that we can buy more, better, fresher produce if we just buy locally.

3) Eating fresh and local food reduces the energy needed to grow and transport it. Think of the environmental costs of eating beef from Argentina, instead of buying an animal that was raised in your county. Are you willing to have that footprint on your conscience, when the same item is so readily available here? For things that don't grow in your area, I could understand it - coffee, chocolate, bananas. But just because we want asparagus or an orange in July doesn't mean that we should be able to get it.

4) Things taste better when they are only available within a short window of time. Cherry season. Tomato season. Crab season. Oyster season. Corn season. Artichoke season. There's a reason we look forward to these times. Or, rather, there was once a reason. In my twenties, I dated a man who bought a pound of cherries every day during cherry season, and ate them constantly. His motto was, when they're here, eat them! and I remember thinking that was a very different way of eating. He's a doctor with the CDC, so I imagine his advice is good from a health standpoint. But even more, think of how good a fresh ripe cherry tastes, when we haven't had one for 10 or 11 months. A little delayed gratification is a good thing.

These are just a few reasons, and you may discover even more. I really don't want to be the bummer at your dinner table, and my goal isn't to make you feel bad about what you're eating. Rather, I'd just like us all to start thinking about it, rather than mindlessly consuming. How to know what's ripe in your area at what time? There's a neat website called Sustainable Food Table, which you can access here: just put in your state and the time of the year for which you're searching, and find what's ripe in your area. It's not infallible; it has no distinction between Northern and Southern CA, for instance, and there are things ripening in San Diego that are months away here. But it's a start. 

And, of course, the very best way to find out what's ripe locally is to visit your local farmers' markets. It'll be readily clear what's available to buy, and you may be surprised at the things you find. You might need to learn how to cook or prepare a new vegetable, like celeriac or rutabagas. (You know my philosophy on that, right? Lots of olive oil and salt, and a long slow roast, will improve almost any vegetable.) And that sounds like an adventure!

So enjoy, and have fun figuring out what grows in your area at what time. Who knows, you might be motivated to start a cold frame or two in the winter, just so you can have fresh arugula.