Let the growing begin


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Dear Reader,

It is certainly apropos that as I write of this seasonal transition, our latest snowstorm would arrive. The wind was so strong moments ago, swirling the flakes in every which direction, that I was certain it was rising from the earth rather than falling from the sky. Given the other abnormalities we are witnessing, perhaps it was.

Asit settled into a rapid yet steady downfall., I got down to work with thewood stove glowsing and my Calico muse present, offering a most idyllic setting for writing WSpring's official welcome isjust a mere four weeks away ,band he stirrings of a new season ahave arrived in this house

Tuesday’s New Moon Eclipse and marking of the Chinese New Year shook me just enough from my sleepy winter trance to finalize two hanging seed orders and begin some cursory organization. Down to the basement I went on a hunt for supplies and was pleased to locate 38 of our 40 seeding trays. With a little more patience and rearranging, the other two will surely appear. Washing off the soil dust from last season, they are stacked and ready for use.

Tomorrow morning marks the start of a 12-week seeding stretch, with leeks, onions, and scallions leading the way. I certainly didn't see this crazy love affair with alliums coming, but if you had a peek at my seed assortment, you'd know it's serious. Blame the cook in me, who truly can’t imagine how I managed all those years with supermarket onions. Trust me. There is no comparison.

This will be our third season growing alliums, and we've come a long way from that first box of dormant onion plants that arrived early April 2024. Limp and lifeless, I was tasked with planting them in a grid inside one of the garden frames. Bundled in a coat and a stocking cap while tucking them into the just-thawed earth, there was no flame kindled.

Come late summer, despite my best efforts to forget about their existence, gorgeous bulbs had formed, and a spark was kindled. Bringing one straight to the kitchen to add to a zucchini saute, love blossomed. The success of the first season only led to more varieties and the addition of shallots and leeks last summer. This year, we're upping our game by seeding the majority of what we plant ourselves, just another step toward self-sufficiency.

Ready to give it a try? There’s something quite profound about cultivating a crop with a medicinal and culinary history of over 5000 years. Here are just a few of the many we will be testing Rossa di MIlano, Maria Nagy’s Transylvanian Red , and New York Early.

Saturday morning, with more snow expected, I will begin the ritual of creating the first soil blocks. The tub with potting soil is ready, and I've dusted off the soil blocker. Placing each tiny seed with care, I'm already sensing the joy this next harvest will bring.

Until next week,

Last Call

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Field Notes from Lauren

I began expressing my big Cancer emotions through writing at a very young age. For me, the unique act of writing is what allows me to process and evolve fully . Today, my weekly missives follow themes that weave between the literal fields of my work in the Gemmo Forest, our family homestead garden, and the energy field we all experience. My life now follows the rhythm of the land. From spring through fall, I can be found outdoors, hands in the dirt, working alongside her husband, Joachim, to tend our 7,500-square-foot family garden or with local volunteers caring for Gemmo Forest. When the cold sets in and the fields rest, I return indoors, where I rekindle my love of writing by the wood stove, always with my faithful calico, Ruby, curled close by.

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