Minimalism, Simplicity, and St*ff

The first part of this post was originally posted as a comment on this blog post at Becoming Peculiar (I've made a few minor edits so it will make sense here, by itself). The second part is in response to a more recent post of Kathleen's revisiting the idea of minimalism, specifically food storage. I started to reply on her blog again, but it was getting long, so I'm putting it here.

Part One: Thoughts on Minimalism vs. Simplicity

I am striving toward simplicity, but I don’t think I’ll ever succeed at minimalism. I actually find it really frustrating because I feel like in order to live how we’d like to, especially in regards to diet (growing much of our food, whole foods, food preservation), we actually need and use quite a bit of stuff. I have 4 canners, a dehydrator, two grain mills, a super blender, a kitchen aid, a food processor, two freezers, two large stock pots, multiple smaller pots and pans, plus untold numbers of bowls/dishes/utensils/small electrics. But the thing is – I use almost all of them. I could do it with less, but I would be a lot less inclined to get it done and I would be a lot more inefficient. And that’s just in the kitchen. The garden is a whole ‘nother thing.

We keep animals and I try to keep at least a month’s worth of feed for everyone on hand all the time (given the possibility of natural and man-made disasters, the fact that we live in earthquake country, and the state and federal emergency response guidelines I think it is only responsible to do so. Animals need to eat in emergencies too.). That has to be stored. Plus equipment, bedding, first aid supplies, etc., etc., etc. This is in addition to the food storage I keep for people.

And, I am rather addicted to books. I am okay with donating non-favorite novels when I’m done with them, but books on cooking, gardening/farming, reference, faith, parenting, history, and classics are practically impossible for me to part with. A house without books is not a home in which I want to live.

So in short, in my experience so far, simplicity and minimalism are not always good dance partners. And I’m conflicted as to whether Jesus calls us to one or the other, I can see evidence of both.

Part Two: Sharing and What our Stuff Stands For

I adore the idea of sharing. I think that is a fantastic way of accessing equipment we might need infrequently or irregularly. And I think pooling resources is one of the best benefits of living in community. There are some smaller, rural communities, as well as some progressively minded more urban communities who have created opportunities for sharing in the form of equipment libraries, besides the informal peer-to-peer sharing that naturally occurs amongst like-mined individuals. I am much more inclined toward the idea of resilient communities for which Sharon Astky and Kathy Harrison advocate, as opposed to the elusive and usually unrealistic "self-sufficiency" that is so popular among preppers.

But that said, I think many of the things that Kathleen specifically mentions (especially kitchen and food preservation equipment) are things that people who are committed to from-scratch cooking and/or food preservation, with the goal of making it a significant portion of their family's diet, use regularly and nearly year-round - which makes sharing more challenging. This is compounded for many of us in that we lack a community of like-minded individuals nearby with whom to pool resources. And so a certain amount stuff feels inevitable. 

As to Kathleen's second question - "are they merely status symbols, or sources of self-validation or a sense of security? Or are they really valuable tools?" Well, yes. In all fairness, much of what we have are valuable tools, but they also contribute to a sense of security. I don’t necessarily think that is a bad thing per say. That sense of security can breed generosity, if we so allow it. And some possessions, it could be argued, are also status-symbols. I think maybe the difference between just a status symbol and a tool is use. If you own a 6-quart Kitchen Aid but only use it 3 times a year to make a batch of cookies, that's a status symbol. But if you use it several times a week to make basics like bread or pasta for your family and to share with others, it's a tool. Could those things be done without the KA? Yes. But for a lot of us the extra time or strength or whatever that would be required to make the same thing by hand would dissuade us from making it in the first place. [Truth in advertising: my KA needs to be replaced, and so it is sitting unused and would therefore solidly qualify as a status symbol at the time of this writing.] I also think we need to be cautious of conflating the ideas of "status" and "quality". Bri and I do admittedly own a number of tools that would be considered high-end. However, after a lot of research (and several hard lessons in letting price be the deciding factor) the same things that some people might perceive as status symbols were a purchase decision based on long-term durability and quality. Should we automatically go for the most expensive item we can afford? No. But we also should not assume that someone made that purchase purely on status motives. 

Kathleen's third question deals with quantity: "In terms of things like equipment, am I going beyond what I can reasonably use myself? Could someone else benefit from it more than me?" We definitely have more than we need and certainly have more than we can use of some items. I know this and have been making a concerted effort to par down recently. To get rid of the stuff I don’t use at all and to critically evaluate the need for the rest of it. Not just in the kitchen, but also clothes, books, etc. Purging crap we don't need is so cathartic.

"Stuff" has become something of a swear word in our house [proper spelling: st*ff]. I'm still struggling with wanting to have the things I need and use (and yes, enjoy) verse the frequent urge to purge it all and live in a tiny house. 

Independence Day Challenge and Homestead Updates for May

This month has completely gotten away from me. It's the kind of month that makes me wonder why the hell we are doing this. 


[Maybe "doing" is the wrong word. It implies some level of success. We're hobbling. Or maybe I'm just hobbling. Bri has a much higher tolerance level for the mess that makes me feel like I'm failing. And also makes me feel crazy. I hate feeling crazy. Moving on.]


We should have planted the summer garden at least a month ago. We haven't. We haven't even pulled out the winter garden. Or the tomatoes from last summer for that matter. Of course, they've started producing again, so I'm not in any rush to do so. The copious weeds should have been pulled two months ago. Instead they've mostly gone to seed. I know we'll regret that soon enough. 


But stuff is getting done. We hired some help for a couple days. I am always reluctant to do that, and I'm pretty much always glad we did after it's done. I've started reminding myself that farmers often hire seasonal labor to help with the big jobs. It's no great blow to my authenticity as a wannabe homesteader to bring in help sometimes (although, it is a blow to the pocketbook. And so it goes with both of us working more than full-time, for now.)

The lettuce is starting to bolt. We certainly have not eaten enough of it, but the ducks are not complaining. It's about the only thing that shuts them up. They're really not that loud, unless we're out back. Then they chatter incessantly. It alternates between entertaining and annoying as hell. 

If chard and kale are biennials, mine didn't get the memo. About half of them are starting to bolt.

I never got around to planting this bed after pulling out the three sisters crop from summer. Borage has taken over. At least the bees are happy. 

Grown-up quiet time.

I spent four and a half lovely days with my dear friends in Portland. It was delightful. Three-quarters of my trip was spent feeding a hoard of children. It was fun to have so many people for whom to cook. But dang it if those little people aren't hungry all the freaking time! Honestly, I admire any mom who manages to get anything else done in a day beyond feeding and cleaning up after feeding their kids. I try not to think to much about the logistics of adding kids to our mix. It gives me anxiety. I'm sure it will be fine. Just. FINE. 

Bri and I also spent five days in Berkeley/North Fork/Gilroy. We went for a memorial service, but extended the trip on either end to see some friends. And go wine tasting. 


It is becoming increasingly complicated to travel. It's not as easy as asking the neighbors to feed the cats for a couple days and dropping the dog off with my parents (if we don't take him). Nope, now there are birds to feed, eggs to collect, pots to water. Plus, as much as I try (and mostly succeed) to enjoy myself, I also spend vacations fretting about what I could be doing at home. It does suck some of the fun out of travel. 


Despite being gone so much this month and a crazy work schedule on top of that, I did manage to get a few thing preserved, and we've been much better about eating from the garden, so that is encouraging.

Independence Days Challenge

Plant something: nothing, but may I take credit for the volunteers that have popped up? :)

Harvest something: strawberries, eggs, lettuce, kale, swiss chard, lemons, grapefruit, tomatoes, carrots, snap peas, turnips, white nectarines, apricots, loquats. The fruit is starting to come in. YAY!

Preserve something: strawberry sauce, loquat sauce, dehydrated strawberries

Waste not: the usual - kitchen scraps to the chickens and compost, egg shells saved for birds 

Want not: 40 lbs of frozen chicken feet for stock, enough coffee beans for a couple months (I might have to move to the PNW just for their unfairly good prices and selection of ethical coffee. That, and the greenness. I <3 it.)

Eat the Food: the stuff we're harvesting, plus preserves, squash, a few dehydrated veggies

Build community food systems: nope

Skill up: nothing

We also got 8 new chicks yesterday. They should be ready to move outside about the same time the older group is ready for processing or integrating with the flock (for the one's we're keeping). We are becoming the local chick-takers for friends (or friends of friends) who hatch them out for school projects. We just make sure they know up front that all roosters and probably some hens are destined for the soup pot. We are also offering some of the hens to people who are interested in keeping chickens. On the downside, we never know how many hens or what breeds we'll get. On the upside - free birds!

How is your garden coming along? 

Independence Days Challenge for the Last Week of April

Moonglow tomato, from an over-wintered plant. I love this variety.

Independence Days Challenge

Plant something: nothing, but I also didn't kill any of my starts either, so that's a plus.

Harvest something: strawberries, eggs, lettuce, kale, swiss chard, lemons, tangelos, grapefruit, tomatoes

Preserve something: strawberry jam, chicken stock (from frozen bones and feet)

Waste not: kitchen scraps to the compost, egg shells saved for birds, canning scraps to chickens (plants) and cats and dog (meat)

Want not: picked up my Azure Standard order - poultry feed, bulk honey, frozen cherries, bulk dried apples, white rice

Eat the Food: preserves, kale, chard, eggs, lettuce, strawberries. I also started making a diligent effort to eat through the freezer so we also had a number of things pulled from there.

Build community food systems: continued work on the church garden and on Earth Day we planted the beneficials/pollinators flower bed as a congregation

Skill up: nothing

Look - a salad!

Mental Hurdles of Urban Homesteading

One of the biggest challenges in gardening for food and not just fun, is ironically, the food. Or at least I am finding that to be the case for me. I grew up with small gardens, and have grown something no matter where I lived as an adult. But it is only in the last year that we have really started growing FOOD. Enough that it has made a substantial difference in my shopping cart. And that has actually been really difficult for me. Until 2011, even though we have had a garden for the past few years, I still bought most of our fruits and veggies. The garden gave us enough tomatoes for fresh eating and a handful of other veggies and herbs, but never a real abundance of any one thing (except chard that one time). Now all of a sudden we have more vegetables than we can keep up with and I have on several occasions had to remind myself that I shouldn't be purchasing vegetable X, because we have more than enough of vegetable W at home that needs eating.

Part of the problem is that I’m a natural hoarder saver, so I tend to want to save things we grow for “later”. When is “later” again? Losing a basket of precious strawberries to mold less than 48 hours after picking is helping to break me of this habit (not that that is the only thing we've lost to our "later" mentality, not by far). But I’m not just fighting myself on this one. Bri is guilty of the same propensity. So learning to eat or preserve the bounty of our land as it comes is a lesson that we seem intent on learning the hard way.

Another facet that is challenging me is that, while I love most of the things we grow, I've had a complete mental block on using them, especially of late. The last time I made or ate a salad was for a potluck two weeks ago. Given that we have a bed and half of lettuce, half a bed of spinach, and a bed of chards and kales, that is ridiculous. I should be eating salad every. single. day.

I think, in part, our schedules are depressing me. Bri and I both work night shift right now and on top of that we work different days, so that we only have one day off every other week together (if one of us is not called in for overtime). This brings up two obstacles. First, while I love food, I love it more when I can share it with other people, especially Bri. So eating half my meals at work and then most of the rest at home by myself is less than fully inspiring. And secondly, while I don’t mind night shift as far as work is concerned, I’m beginning to loath it on a life basis. It jacks up my sleep schedule, but more to the point, it jacks up my awake schedule, which means I don't work around the homestead as I’d prefer on my days off. I can get away with vacuuming at two in the morning (although we’re pretty sure the neighbors probably suspect us of being on some sort of illicit substance…), but gardening is less enjoyable when you have to wear a headlamp (I’ve done it, I’m just saying it’s not really ideal). Plus, there are things to be done that are approximately 1000 times easier to accomplish with two people, rather than alone.

I’m not writing this for the purpose of complaining or making excuses. Rather, I wanted to articulate some of the challenges I am facing so that I can better address them. I also want some accountability. As such, I am going to start participating in Sharon Astyk’s Independence Days Challenge. I am also challenging myself to eat something from the garden every day, which I’ll post to twitter (you can see my feed on my sidebar). My first IDC is below.

Independence Days Challenge

Plant something: I transplanted pepper starts this past week, but nothing new from seed.

Harvest something: strawberries, oranges, eggs, turnips

Preserve something: strawberry jam, kiwi jam, loquat jam, froze meyer lemon juice, growing kombucha

Waste not: kitchen scraps to the compost, egg shells saved for birds, old oats fed to chickens

Want not: stocked up on organic sugar (found for $1.3/lb) and maple syrup

Eat the Food: we do an okay job eating preserves (mostly in yogurt), but a severe lack of this is what this post has mostly been about…

Build community food systems: I graduated from my Master Food Preserver class this week. The skills were not really new to me, which is why I didn’t put this in the next section, but it is a great way to get more involved in the local food community.

Skill up: I have several things that I have started learning, but at which I am not currently working and that needs to change.

What mental hurdles are you facing in your quest for a more sustainable life?

A Plea for Critical Thinking

I am in the middle of a Master Food Preserver (MFP) course through the County Extension office (actually, through one county over from mine, since mine does not offer this course at this time). I have been looking forward to this course for well over a year. I think my expectations were a bit too high, given that I have been using, dabbling in, and reading about most of the techniques covered for quite some time. As a result, there is not a great deal of new information for me. I will say that it finally gave me the confidence to use my pressure canner, so that was a fantastic help.

However, I am a little frustrated with some of our instructors. If you have never ever canned before you should absolutely follow a tested recipe to the letter the first few times, or any time you are trying a new technique. This is especially important for things like pickling wherein adding the appropriate amount of a specific acidic ingredient can be the difference between safe and dead. But this does not mean you cannot use your brain, which some of the instructors seem reluctant to allow us to do.

If you arm yourself with knowledge, there is no reason you cannot, for example, make your own fruit jam. If you are using fruits that are acidic enough to safely water bath can by themselves, then mixing them into your own personal concoction is not dangerous. Lowering the sugar content is not dangerous, but will affect the set of your jam and how long it holds in the refrigerator after you open it; if you know this, you can compensate for it. You do not need to use commercial lemon juice (which I find vile) if it is only being used as a flavoring agent and is not necessary to render the product safe for that preservation method. [Commercial lemon juice has a standardized acidity, therefore it is important to use it, or an equivalent citric acid solution, if the recipe specifies commercial lemon juice or you are doing something like making pickles. Again, use your brain.] The same goes for substituting vinegars in a recipe. If the vinegar you wish to use has the same, or higher, percentage of acid than what the recipe calls for, it is safe to make the switch. If it is a lower acidity or unknown, as is often the case in homemade vinegars, then you should not presume it is safe to use in place of what is called for in the recipe.

In the same vein, you should not presume that just because a recipe is printed in a published book it is automatically safe. There are books that you can make that assumption, such as the Ball® books and publications by Cooperative Extension offices, but there are a lot of books that have come out in the last few years which have recipes that have not been rigorously tested. I have some canning books that have recipes that I would not feel comfortable canning as is written.

God gave us a really big brain, let's use it. (And when in doubt, stick to a tested recipe!)

Another Post Prompted by Erica

I am realizing that all of my recent posts have been prompted by other bloggers, and 3 out of 4 of those, including this one, by Northwest Edible Life. (So I think the message is I need to blog more? Duly noted.) I swear I only stalk her a little.

Erica wrote a post entitled Wifery, Money And Not-Work, and this is my response (because the comment I started writing got long to the point of “get your own damn blog.” Oh. Wait.) So you should go read hers first, so mine will have appropiate context. It’s okay, I’ll wait.


::twiddles thumbs. eats some yogurt and granola. sips some tea.::

 Okay, now that you're all caught up, we can continue.


I have a feeling this topic of the value of my contribution to the family is going to be more of an issue in my future, but I already see it sneaking its way in. Right now I work in the monetized economy, but as soon as we can swing it the plan is for me to stay home. At which point we also plan to start having kids. Frankly, we’d love to start yesterday, but I really want to be home with our kids, plus right now close to half my income would go to child care (which seems just ridiculous to me). We also want to homeschool, so having one of us home for a goodly portion of the day is going to be helpful in making that happen.


Both my parents worked full-time, and while they were blessed with reasonably flexible jobs that allowed them to be at many of my events, games, etc. growing up, I hated daycare. My mom grew up with the push to never be economically dependent on a man. While I certainly sympathize with that motivation, I view it as both of us working to support our household, just in different ways (I also have employable skills and an advanced degree, so it’s not like I have no skills on which to fall back). But I do recognize that the luxury of this distinction is afforded me by my mother’s generation and the women’s lib movement. I have options. My grandmother did not. I grew up with the understanding that I could be almost anything I wanted. I don’t think my parents imagined that I would choose to be a radical homemaker (of course, “radical homemaker” would have been a laughable term, if they could have conceived of such a thing).

But I think I digress a little. My husband is totally on board with homesteading, for which I am unceasingly grateful. He likes to joke that it gives him excuses to build things, but he really likes it for more than just that aspect. However, I do feel like he thinks I don’t do “enough” sometimes, on the days I’m home. (I work full-time, but my schedule is such that I work 80 hours in 7 out of every 14 days, so I have a few extra days home compared to traditional hours, if I don’t work overtime.) One of the issues therein is that our to-do list priorities are a little different sometimes, so we both struggle to appreciate how the other has spent the day. I’ve taken to sending him lists of what I’ve done just to show that I’m not sitting at home eating bonbons. And when he gets a little whiny about household stuff I exclaim that, yes in fact, I was eating bonbons, thank you for asking! I still see him struggle with the shiny lure that having a second monetary income holds even though he knows that we will both be happier with me home, so we’ll see how we cope when we get to the portion of the program where my being home full time is our reality. Our current struggle is with “stuff” and the paring down of consumption and spending. When I do stop working full-time outside our home it will necessitate that we tighten our belts, so we are trying to get ahead of the game and start now. It’s an ongoing discussion and negotiation.

However, I think in addition to fighting for appreciation for what we do within our families and communities, many of us also fight ourselves. We struggle to value our own contributions because we are not bring home a “real” paycheck or receiving annual reviews telling us we are worthwhile. Erica does a great job of addressing this in her post Negabucks. Sometimes it helps to see our contributions quantified.



One of the biggest challenges I foresee for me when I get to be a full-time homemaker is that I really had no examples growing up. I can recall precisely one friend growing up with whom I spent any real time with who had a SAHM; and while I loved them dearly, my perception was that her mom spent her time dusting faux flower arrangements and cooking from boxes. She undoubtedly did far more and she was an unwavering cheerleader of her kids and husband, going to all their games and events, hosting church groups, and feeding hoards of ravenous teenagers. But still, the type of wifery she lived was very different from what I do and aspire to do. It’s not that I don’t wish to be an unwavering cheerleader (does that involve reading during games, because if so I will be extra great!), gracious hostess, and feeder of hoards, but that the whole life I envision is just so different from that one example I had. And, of more immediate future relevancy, I did not see that lived out with young children. How do I balance babies, toddlers, managing a household, a large garden, a rapidly expanding menagerie, growing and preserving the bulk of our produce, feeding my family a whole-foods-from-scratch-mostly-local-and-organic diet, educating the children, loving my husband, maintaining my friendships, and keeping up some minimal amount of self-care without going bat-sh*t crazy?

Reading what I just wrote I think the real issue is the loss of community. Our mothers said “we can have it all!” and the mega corporations said “we have just the product for that!” While the radical homemaker movement is something of a backlash to that, I think the tendency is still to think that we have to do it all ourselves. I know I have struggled with this most of my life, even before moving in to the RH-UH spheres. I don’t like asking people to do things for me. I don’t like feeling like I am imposing, I don’t like risking being told “no,” and I don’t like admitting that I can’t handle it – whatever “it” is. I don’t like needing other people. The sin of pride is my most ongoing personal struggle. But if I am going to do this thing, if I want to be a radical homemaker and suburban homesteader, I am going to have to learn to lay down my pride. Lord help me.

“Back in the day” you didn’t do all these things yourself (unless, perhaps, you were a pioneer on the edge of American manifest destiny). You had a large family and a community from which to draw help and support and wisdom. I learn loads from the blogs I follow and the online communities I am a part of and I value those connections, but let’s be real – they do not take the place of having someone physically beside you, helping you can those peaches while you chat your heads off. We are starting to find and build that support network within our church and neighborhood, but it is still frustrating some days and more dispersed than I would like.

So I realize I have veered off course from Erica’s original point and questions, but I have a hard time not seeing all these things and interrelated. What do you think? Do you have a local support network with similar values? Do you struggle with asking for help?

Frolicking Through the Garden: A Tour of Growing Things

You might want to get yourself a cuppa. And maybe a cushy spot to sit. This is going to be a little… lengthy. I’m going to begin with a few pictures of what we started with, the building of the garden beds, and our first garden in the space, so that you have a sense of scale and progress (and because, frankly, it reminds me how far we’ve already come; a reminder I often need when staring at our painfully long project and to-do lists). Bri took all these lovely photos for me.

Let’s Review

This is what the house looked like on the day we first laid eyes on it, April 2009. 

This is what the garden site looked like on the day of our home inspection, mid July 2009. As you can see, the previous owner left us a lot of … stuff. We kept, repurposed, or recycled as much as we could, but we also filled up far more landfill space than I’d like to admit.

Just under one year later. We cleaned out the junk, ripped out almost all the plants, leveled the ground as best we could, and ran irrigation. This shot is mid-build. Please note, the front two garden beds are MIA in this picture and as a result those hose stub-ups you see were placed in the wrong spots. Bri had to then trench two more stub-up’s by hand to get us water where we needed it.  However, it turned out to be a fortuitous mistake as we left the accidental hose bibs in place and they have come in very handy for hand watering.

The beds were not completed and filled until mid-August 2010. Undeterred by how ridiculously late in the season it was, I put in some tomato starts and even sowed zucchini, corn, watermelon, cantaloupe, tomatillos, and beans from seed (let’s not discuss the “harvest,” m'kay?).  Three months later this is what it looked like, in November 2010. This makes me laugh in comparison to this year’s garden, especially when I see the growth gains in pictures taken a single month apart.

This is the garden on June 20^th of this year. I started planting at very end of May which, while a vast improvement over last year, is still at least a month but probably more like two to three months later than we should have started. At the very least we could have had a round of cooler spring crops in and out before these went in.

This picture is also from June 20. These tomatoes (the tiny plants you can barely see hiding behind the trellising panels) are all ones I started from seed in April. This is the first time I have started a majority of our plants, including the “difficult ones” from seed instead of purchasing starts and I had so much anxiety over when to start and when to repot and when to transplant. I felt like I was sticking infants in my garden to fend for themselves when I set these out. Surely, Garden CPS should have been notified.

Get On With It, Already!

And now we begin The Tour of the yard and garden as it is now. We’ll go through it as an overview, and then each bed individually, and then other areas of interest. I assume you’re still reading because you’re interested. Or you’re a glutton for punishment. Either way, we begin.

The view of our main patio from the garage roof. There are small trees in pots, along with mints and petunias. Petunia is such a stuffy name for such a fun, flouncy flower, is it not? Those lines you see are our retractable clothes lines, waiting for the next load. The above-ground spa came with the house. It’s definitely not the most “green” thing, especially if we actually heat it (rare) and taking into account all the chemicals necessary to maintain it, but it is admittedly oh-so-nice after a long, hot day on the homestead.

Mid-yard. We ripped out the old, yucked up sod and reseeded about two months ago. We put in a mix of fescue and clover. It should be reasonably drought tolerant, as grass goes, once established. The clover will be food for the bees and we can pick it for tea. When we mow the greens will go to the birds and to the compost to add much needed nitrogen. That lovely pineapple fountain came with the house. (FREE to a good home! Or any home. Besides ours.) Where it sits is the home of our future wood-fired brick oven. Against the wall we put part of the citrus trees and the strawberries.

North-west corner of our yard. The enclosure in the far corner was built by the previous owners as a dog run, but is slowly being commandeered by poultry. It’s not my ideal poultry run, because it is all on a cement pad, but you have to work with what you’ve got. The desert oak, while getting too big for its britches is great for providing protective shade for the birds during the hottest part of the day. And you can also see that we back up to the far corner of a school yard. Fewer neighbors to worry about and a regular influx of various size balls for Guinness to disassemble, win-win.

Front half of the main garden, from the garage roof.

Back half of the garden, from the garage roof.

Front third of garden from the back fence.

Mid-garden from back fence.

Back half of garden from back fence.

Garden Beds, One by One

Okra (three varieties - two green and red burgundy), yellow crookneck squash, and dill.

Edamame (I planted a whole packet and had about 5 plants come up), stevia, fenugreek (grown from seeds out of my spice cabinet), fennel, cucumbers, and garlic (that sprouted in the compost bin, so I threw it in the bed to see what would happen).

The summer squash bed. Black beauty zucchini, Cocozelle, white patty pan, and baby round zucchini. Two of each. WhatthehellwasIthinking.

Snap beans, including Contender, Dragon’s Tongue, Purple Pod Pole, Royalty Purple, and Kentucky Wonder Pole and the volunteer squash (more on that later).

Tomatoes that I started from seed. Black Krim, Cherokee Purple, Amish Paste, Nyagous, Moonglow, Green Zebra, Cherry Current, and Brandywine. Look how big they are getting! And they are just starting to flower.

Winter squash bed. From left to right, Trombonico, spaghetti, Delicata Honeyboat, and butternut. In between I’ve seeded heat-sensitive crops – cilantro, flat-leaf parsley, chives, and lettuce.

Sweet corn in a three sister’s planting with Cherokee Trail of Tears beans and Jarrahdale pumpkins.

Recently seeded basil bed. There’s also a random Bright Light’s Swiss Chard plant (yellow) and a sad looking volunteer borage. We love pesto, so basil is a crop, not just an herb.

We’re trying cantaloupe again, at a more seasonally appropriate time of year, and interplanted it with sunflowers. We’re trellising it, although it seems disinclined to stick to climbing; it also wishes to go visit its neighboring beds.

Sweet potatoes. This is my first time growing them. I purchased three slips from the plant guy at our farmer’s market that he said are purple sweet potatoes. The rest I grew from organic store-bought sweet potatoes that I grew slips from and then transplanted. They seem to be doing well. Fun fact that I recently learned: sweet potato greens are edible!

Watermelon interplanted with sunflowers, including some mammoth sunflowers whose stalks are as thick as my forearm!

The honeydew bed with sunflowers, and leeks which I failed to pull and have gone to flower and which the honeydew are now climbing.

We have one more (empty) bed slated for peppers, eggplants, and tomatillos. My seed-starting efforts on that front went less than swimmingly this year, so I’ll be using some gift cards to get some starts that will go in this weekend.

Animals, Compost, and Pots

The poultry run. This is where our two adult hens and one almost-adult pullet reside. The next big project is a major expansion of the poultry run and a new coop to house all the birds.

Two month old chickens in our portable run. Ten girls, two each: Barred Rock, Rhode Island Red, Buff Orpington, Araucana/Americanas, and Black Australorps. Once the new run is built and they are close to starting to lay they’ll move in with the big girls.

The ducklings, all five Khaki Campbells. They will live with Lucky once the new run is built and they are a little bigger.

Compost bins on the other side of the animal run. These are where the kitchen scraps go, since they are animal-proof. Other stuff goes in too, as needed.

Compost Pile. Mostly for garden “waste” and spent poultry bedding.

Next to the side door I have a potted kitchen herb garden. Regular and lemon thyme, lemon balm, sage, oregano, rosemary, lemongrass, tarragon, chives, and garlic chives. I need a couple more.

On the opposite side of the steps to the side door is a big pot of basil. I let this go to seed a couple times a year and it reseeds itself. That aloe plant is just waiting for a new home. And you can see the end of one of the seed-starting racks Bri built me.

Some Side Notes and Tips

Tip #1: Hedge your bets (if it’s not too cost-prohibitive).

It was my first time starting tomatoes and peppers from seed. I took a pragmatic approach and spent $10 on 5 tomatoes and 5 peppers that I put in pots, just in case mine were a flop (purchased when our local nursery had one of their 50% off sales). Plus, I knew they would give us tomatoes at least a month before the ones I started. I also potted up a volunteer tomato that sprouted in the compost bin and it is giving us fruit too!

Tip #2: Remember to be grateful for volunteers, even if they don’t work exactly how you might prefer.

This applies to tomatoes that sprout next to your animal run, as well as people. This tomato came up a couple months ago and I let it grow; it appears to be a cherry type.

Up close and personal with a female squash flower. I just included this because I think it’s such a cool shot.

Tip #3: If you use rigid fencing as your trellis material for your winter squash, keep an eye on it and gently push them out when they start to rest in a square.

Otherwise it’ll wedge itself in there and then proceed to grow around the squares. Just sayin’.

Tip #4: If you let volunteers grow, you take your chances.

Shortly after we amended all the beds a squash plant sprouted. I decided to let it be and see what it would give us. This is approximately a month after it sprouted.

A mere 15 days later.

And one month after that. We’ve started referring to it as the monster squash.  I have no idea what variety it is (if you know, by all means, please advise). I suspect that it is a cross between a winter and a summer squash, based on the growth habit it is displaying and my very limited knowledge.

It has been so very prolific and we have enjoyed the flavor and texture, treating it like a summer squash.

We decided to let this one develop fully, so we can save the seeds (hoping to avoid cross-pollination we picked this one to save because it set before our other squash started flowering). It’s a gamble, but I hope it works. This is ridiculously heavy for its size. We are going to let a few others ripen fully and see what kind of eating they are that way.

In solidarity with front yard food (and because we needed to hide some more dirt) Bri built me two beds in the front yard. They still look like this, but they are destined to be home to some larger perennial and biannual crops (rhubarb, aloe, perhaps asparagus, artichoke). We refer to the area behind the fence as the front yardette and it houses roses, blueberries, and hibiscus.

We also have an orchard. Check out the details on that here. Look, you can see our new front door that I painted eggplant PURPLE! I lovelovelove it!

I hope you enjoyed this peek into our garden. Thanks for visiting, come back again soon!

This post is part of the Nosy Neighbor Virtual Homestead and Garden Tour hosted by Erica at Northwest Edible Life.