There aren’t many opportunities for silence these days. Even a walk or jog requires a soundtrack streamed from my iPod to my earbuds, and if I choose to listen to the real soundtrack of my life, it’s usually a cacophony of car noises, the steady hum of a nearby freeway, or the rev of an engine, the honk of a horn, the chirping of birds and barking of a dog defending its territory.  I find myself craving silence, though not carving out space or place for it.

Thinking back on memorable moments of silence, I’m transported to Christmas Eve.  Beyond begging to open just *one* gift before our traditional tearing of wrapping paper on the 25th, I remember counting the hours to the one quiet part of our Christmas custom: a candlelight Christmas Eve service.  We gathered just before midnight, so that as we lit the candle of the person standing beside us and sang an old hymn about a silent night or a holy night and created a sea of blinkey lights in the dark room, we could emerge from the church into that dark first hour of Christmas day. We’d wish each other Merry Christmas, my friends and I exchanging cheap gifts of mall-store jewelry, and head home to not-sleep so that as soon as the sun rose, I could rush out to see what trinkets were left in my stocking.

Though I no longer wake at dawn, and a cup of steaming hot coffee and pancakes heaped with butter and syrup are more my speed on Christmas morning, I still love the times I make it to a Christmas Eve service at a church, relishing in the quiet moment that the song ends and the only sound is of a collective held breath at the magic of hundreds of candles creating a gorgeous glow on the faces of the crowd.

How can we create more moments of silence?  In “A Book of Silence,” Sara Maitland writes that “In our noise-obsessed culture it is very easy to forget just how many of the major physical forces on which we depend are silent — gravity, electricity, light, tides, the unseen and unheard spinning of the whole cosmos. … Organic growth is silent too. Cells divide, sap flows, bacteria multiply, energy runs thrilling through the earth, but without a murmur. … Gardening puts me in contact with all this silent energy; gardeners become active partners in all that silent growth. … The earth works its way under my nails and into my fingerprints, and a gardener has to pay attention to the immediate now of things.”

If December isn’t the best month for you to spend hours in your garden (hello lovely rain storm in L.A.!), you can spend some time with the silence of growing things indoors.  One of my favorite holiday plants is what is commonly called the Amaryllis, but I learned is actually a Hippeastrum, a genus in the family Amaryllidaceae.  (The generic use of “amaryllis” applies to a South African plant, generally grown outdoors.)

According to WhiteFlowerFarm.com, amaryllis that you purchase already potted need only a thorough watering with lukewarm water to begin growing.

• Place the pot where the temperature remains above 60°F. The warmer the temperature (70-80°F night and day is ideal), the faster the bulb will sprout and grow.

• Provide bottom heat (by setting the pot on a propagation mat or on the top of a refrigerator) to help stimulate growth.

• Water only when the top inch of the potting mix is dry.

If you want your bulb to bloom again in a year, it’s important to let it re-build after flowering.

• Cut the flower stalk 3 to 5 inches above the bulb, but do not cut off the leaves.

• Place your plant in a sunny window, and continue your watering habit when the top inch is dry.

• WhiteFlowerFarm recommends fertilizing with a balanced, water-soluble fertilizer once a month, and after the final frost, either moving the pot outdoors or planting the bulb in full sun.

How are you creating space for silence this winter?  Tell us on Twitter @RebeccaSnavely & @TheCityFarm

(Photo Credit: TraditionalHome)

This Thanksgiving, are you going patriotic on your dinner party? Does your pilgrim menu hearken back to only that which the Native Americans served? That sounds fun!  Educational! And limited!  If your menu is missing some flavors, think bigger.  Like Statue of Liberty big, this land is your land, big.  There are a lot of fun flavors and foods that are very ‘merican.

Because America’s dinner tables are just that, a flavorful mix of other nation’s cuisines.  So while it is good to honor what grew natively in our land, it’s très American to add hints of flavor from around the world, honoring that poem carved on the base of Lady Liberty:

“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Emma Lazarus’s words are so powerful, I wouldn’t dare change them. But if I did, it might go a little like this:

Give me your meatballs, your macaroni,

Your spaghetti, yearning to breathe free…

If I could add on, it would be to ask all immigrants to continue sharing the food and recipes from their native lands, letting us all continue to learn, taste, and grow.  NPR’s The Salt highlighted this very sentiment in their piece “A Journey Through the History of American Food in 100 Bites.”  “Apple pie isn’t American in the way people often mean. Every ingredient, from apples to butter to nutmeg and cinnamon, came from somewhere else.

“But then, so do most Americans.”

Let’s start with Brussels sprouts.   “Sprouts were believed to have been cultivated in Italy in Roman times, and possibly as early as the 1200s in Belgium. The modern Brussels sprout that we are familiar with was first cultivated in large quantities in Belgium (hence the name “Brussels” sprouts) as early as 1587, with their introduction into the U.S. in the 1800s. They were grown in California in the early 1900s, with the first central coast plantings in the 1920s.”

Mother Nature Network has 10 recipes guaranteed to make your mouth water, though I swear by the same simple one I posted about cauliflower.

To grow your own Brussels sprouts:

• Start seeds indoors 6-8 weeks before last spring frost.  (Overnight frosts bring out the sweetness in the plants.)
• Work fertilizer into soil a few days before planting or transplanting.
• Plant transplant seedlings 12-24 inches apart.
• According to OrganicGardening.com, small sprouts (about 1-inch diameter) are the most tender. Harvest them as they mature from the bottom of the stalk upward. Remove sprouts by twisting them from the stem. Pinching off the plant tops forces sprouts to mature faster. Just before a severe freeze, uproot the plants, remove any remaining leaves, and hang the “logs” upside down in a cool place for a few more weeks of harvesting.

What are you preparing or planting for your cross-cultural/American Thanksgiving?  Leave a note in the comment section , or tell us on Twitter!  @TheCityFarm & @RebeccaSnavely

(Photo Credit:  UndergroundWineLetter.com, ClarendonSquare)

I was going to work on a “growing gratitude” post for Thanksgiving this last weekend, but then the accounting that I’d been working on all weekend vanished in the spinning (yet colorful!) pinwheel of frozen death. All is well now, but by the end of the experience, my brain was mushy from number-crunching and I felt very little space in my little hard heart for giving thanks.

But! It’s a new day.  And it’s November, even through there’s little evidence here in L.A., where I’m still wearing a tank top on my morning run.  I wanted a reminder of the season, something to trigger a space in my soul that we’re approaching our celebration of gratitude.

Every December, I faithfully watch “Little Women” and Barbara Stanwyck’s “Christmas in Connecticut” to get me in the holiday spirit, but I don’t have a go-to for Turkey Day. Looking for a list of Thanksgiving movies, I find there is a dearth of delightful classics. I guess I could watch Katie Holmes battle her family, a turkey, and heavy eyeliner in “Pieces of April.”  But it doesn’t cut it.  Nor do the giant retailers: The day after Halloween, Starbucks and CVS had Christmas décor lining the aisles, pumpkin flavored everything making way for Christmas blends and blinky lights.

What happened to Thanksgiving to make it the redheaded stepchild of the holiday calendar? And how can we reclaim it, and give it its rightful place on the calendar and in our shopping malls?

Ah – that explains it.  We don’t buy much for Thanksgiving.  It’s the anti-retailer holiday.  People actually go out of their way to volunteer at a homeless shelter this one Thursday of the year. There’s no undercover mascot like a “Secret Santa” to send us to stores to buy electronics for a co-worker we’ve never met.

That’s the beauty of Thanksgiving – we gather bearing casseroles and time-honored cranberries from a can to over-eat and remind ourselves that even without the gifts under the tree or the mad dashes for last minute trinkets, we are grateful.

Another way to find gratitude is to dig in the dirt. Caring for and growing your own food and flowers is a great way to connect with the daily cycle of your life, to press pause on your busy day and check in on your plants. If you’re looking to grow some traditional Turkey day items, take a look at last year’s “Growing Gratitude” post on cranberries and mindful eating, the history of the squash as inspired by Little Women, or the history of carrots and a link to growing your own.  It’s also a great idea to create your centerpiece from your own garden – explore in your garden and get creative with your greens.

Tell us how you plant to grow some gratitude this November.  Leave a note in the comments, or head over to Twitter! @RebeccaSnavely & @TheCityFarm.

(Photo Credit:  Sad Turkey via Snippets & Slappits)

If you read my post on “’Little Women’ and the History of the Squash,” you know my love for the 1994 film adaptation of Alcott’s book, and my Christmas tradition that surrounds it, trimming a tree and watching the film with a friend over a bowl of popcorn and mugs of mulled wine.

And thus you’ll understand my distress upon reading the recent news that ABC is going to attempt a television version of my beloved book and movie.  I wondered what it is I love so much about the 1994 version, besides the obvious: Susan Sarandon IS Marmee and know one else should ever try to replace her.

It’s also Jo’s imagination, that “late at night my mind would come alive with voices and stories and friends as dear to me as any in the real world. I gave myself up to it, longing for transformation.”  It’s Laurie’s heartbreak when Jo refuses his proposal.  It’s the friendship between sisters who care for each other and burn each other’s books and create the Pickwick Club to critique stories and put on plays. It’s Beth’s love for the poor Hummel family.  It’s Amy’s limes in winter and Marmee’s feminist indignation when Amy’s teacher tells her it is “as useful to educate a woman as to educate a female cat.”

There are so many beautiful details in the film, colors that stand out against the stark, often dark landscape of the lean times surrounding The Civil War.  The bright green limes in the winter snow, the soft green pear Laurie leaves in the mailbox to announce he is home for a visit from college, the bright red petals of the poppy scattered over Beth’s death bed.  (Errr, spoiler alert.  Beth dies.)

Want to live like one of the “Little Women?” Surround yourself in the colors and tastes of the March household.

Amy’s Limes  “I’m so degradetated. I owe at least a dozen limes.”

• Growing limes works best if you live in a warm climate, zones 8 – 11, with a mild winter.  However, if you live in a colder climate, dwarf varieties grown in protected containers will thrive as far down as USDA Zone 4.  If the temperature drops below 50F, bring your container(s) inside.
• Plant in full sun, with soil that drains well.  Limes dislike salty or clay soil.
• Nourish:  According to SF Gate, fertilize your citrus tree every couple of months, using citrus plant food or slow-release fertilizer with extra nitrogen. “The nitrogen content should be nearly double when compared to the phosphorous and potassium content; for example, 20-10-10. Only a third of the recommended amount of fertilizer needs to be used each time.”
• When your soil is dry 6 inches deep, give your limes a healthy drink of water, approximately once to twice a week.
• Fun fact – limes actually turn yellow when they are fully ripe, but are most flavor-packed with picked while still green, with just a tinge of yellow. (If lemons are your thing, read “Confessions of a Lemon Addict,” here.)

Laurie’s Pear “Laurie’s home for the weekend! In need of funds, no doubt. We’d have a week’s groceries for what he spends on billiards.”

• Plan to plant pears? Choose two varieties and check with your local nursery that they are compatible with each other, as pears need cross-pollination to produce.*
• Plant in full sun in the winter or early spring.
• If you choose full-size trees, you’ll need a little more room, as they should be spaced 20 – 25 feet apart. If you’re tight on square footage, consider a dwarf variety, to plant 12 – 15 feet apart.
• Similar to planting peaches (https://thecityfarm.com/hocus-pocus-magriculture/) if you’re transplanting from a container, lay the root ball on its side and use shears to remove any circling roots.  Your hold should be dug a few inches wider and deeper than the spread of the roots, and does not need to be fertilized before you plant.
• OrganicGardening advises that you give each tree 5 to 10 pounds of composted manure to start and mulch the trees generously.  For the first few years, be sure your trees get an inch of water, whether from rain or your hose.

*OrganicGardening notes that the “available varieties include Asian types, European types, and hybrids of the two. The classic European pear varieties—’Bartlett’, ‘Anjou’, ‘Bosc’, ‘Comice’, and lately even ‘Seckel’— have become highly susceptible to a widespread bacterial disease called fire blight. They’re wonderful pears, suited to USDA Plant Hardiness Zones 5 to 8, but not the best choices for large swaths of the East and other regions where warm, wet springs—prime fire blight conditions—are the norm.”  If that sounds like your region, your best bet is the “Magness.”

Beth’s Poppies “I know I shall be homesick for you even in Heaven.”

Oh my god Beth.  I was trying to end this on an up note. But I do love sobbing in that moment, when Beth tells Jo she can be brave, too. That she’s not afraid to go ahead of her sisters into the unknown.  Cut to beloved hausfrau Hannah, tearing red poppy petals from the flower to sprinkle them over Beth’s empty bed, her worn, wrinkled hand pausing to grasp the hand of Beth’s doll.

SO SAD.  But poppies, although associated with wartime death, don’t have to be. Work with me. They’re bright. Cheery. So here’s how to add some cheerful color to your garden and remember Beth in her better days, writing about the history of squash.

• Poppies are easy to grow, in zones 1 – 10, and best to grow from seed.
• Plant perennial poppies outdoors in early spring, as well as annual varieties at the same time for Zones 3-7. If you live in Zones 8-10, sow in the fall.
• Scatter the seed in your garden, or barely cover, in well-drained soil.
• Watch them grown, cut for indoor arrangements. Scatter to re-enact the saddest scene.

What is your favorite scene in “Little Women?”  If you haven’t seen it, or it’s been a few years (or days) you can buy or rent it on YouTube.  Pour a glass of gluhwein, pop some corn, curl up with the March sisters, and tell us all about it.

Twitter: @RebeccaSnavely & @TheCityFarm

(Photo credits: Limes – Under a Blue Tree; Pears – Daily Hiit; Poppies – History Mike; Little Women – Abby Rosebrock)

Having grown up in relatively mild climates, where fall = rain and winter was a rare snow day, celebrated with pancakes, hot chocolate, and a sad attempt to push an inch of snow into a squat snowman, I never really understood what it meant to winter.  After moving from Oregon to Southern California, I now understand it to mean wearing warm socks, turning on lights a bit earlier against the shorter days and longer nights, and breaking out the knit hat on a night out.  It was only when I moved to Kosovo for one of their coldest winters on record that I discovered that “winter” could actually be a verb, and I needed to learn quite quickly how to do it.  To stoke a dying fire that was the only source for cooking and heat in a place where the electricity was off for most of the day, to balance on icy sidewalks and shovel snow from the drive.

While it’s not *technically* winter until Solstice on December 21st, after our Halloween rain here in L.A., it finally feels like fall!  It’s time “to autumn.” What does that look like for you? Beyond eating soup and wearing my favorite boots, I don’t know how I’d define it that verb.  So I took to the interwebs, and learned that if you’re already feeling the chill of fall frosts coming, canning your veggies or storing them for the winter is a perfect way to welcome the colder weather.  And for those of us in warmer areas, you can still plant cold-weather veggies, like lettuces, radishes, or carrots.

The other cool thing I learned while online boot shopping visiting MotherEarthNews.com is that storing your wintery veggies like beets, cabbage, and turnips is in keeping with their biennial nature (“plants that flower and set seed during their second growing season”), so they’re accustomed to hibernating for the winter.  In addition to those root veggies, it’s easy to store celery, leeks, brussels sprouts, peppers, and citrus fruits for anywhere from two to eight weeks in a cool room, and MotherEarthNews says that onions, pumpkins, sweet potatoes will last ‘til spring if you keep them dry and cool.  According to GrowVeg.com, late-harvested apples store best in trays with shredded newspaper, straw or special padded cardboard liners, in a cool, but not frosty, room.

Are you canning your fruits and veggies for the winter?  Picking proper storage for your harvest? Tell us how you “autumn” in the comments or over on Twitter @TheCityFarm.
(Photo Credit: ChugachFarm.com)

Artist Sam Van Aken is making magic with agriculture (magriculture?), creating a tree that blooms in various colors and then produces over 40 different fruits.  No, Van Aken is not trying to play God, though he was inspired by the Catholic rite of the priest transforming the wine and bread into the blood and body of Christ.

Sam had been performing “hoaxes” on the radio, hijacking commercial stations with his own versions of ads and songs.  Researching the etymology of the word “hoax,” he was led to the transubstantion of the Eurcharist in the Catholic church, as “hoax” is derived from “hocus pocus,” which is in turn from the Latin “hoc est enim corpus miem,” meaning “this is my body,” the phrase the priest uses to bring the mystery of the body of Christ into the present, physical space for the people of the church.

As an artist, Sam was intrigued. How could he alter the appearance of a thing while the reality of it remained the same?  Combining his childhood, growing up on the family farm, with his work as an artist, he began to build a fruit tree.  To graft together the more than forty stone fruits, he approaches local farmers and growers for their fruit, adding an element of the political surrounding the diversity of food production to his growing statement on art and commerce.

But, Sam told Epicurious in the interview, “first and foremost I see the tree as an artwork. Like the hoaxes I was doing, I want the tree to interrupt and transform the everyday. When the tree unexpectedly blossoms in different colors, or you see these different types of fruit hanging from its branches, it not only changes the way you look at it, but it changes the way you perceive [things] in general.”

You may not get the chance to graft together a fruit tree to blow your mind and neighbors’ preconceived notions about life.  So how can you see the daily or mundane in a new light?  Oftentimes all it takes is a shift in perspective.  Growing your own fruit tree, caring for it, nurturing it, watching it finally blossom and produce delicious fruit can be a way to see your world through new eyes.

If you want to plant a peach tree, put it on your calendar for this spring!

• Peach trees grow best in full sun, in sandy soil, in USDA Zones 5 to 8. If you live in colder regions, check with your local nursery about varieties that will do best in your neck of the woods.
• Choose a young tree to transplant, approximately one year old. If possible, plant the same day that you adopt your tree.
• According to The Old Farmer’s Almanac, if you have a container-grown tree, remove the plant from its pot, lay the root ball on its side, and cut away any circling roots. For grafted trees, plant the inside of the curve of the graft union away from the sun.
• Dig a hole a few inches bigger and deeper than the reach of the root ball. Make a small pile of dirt to set your tree on in the hole, and gently spread the roots away from the trunk.
• If you’re planting more than one tree, give regular sized peach trees 15 to 20 feet of space; if you’re growing dwarf trees, place them 12 – 15 feet apart.

I admit, I take compliments ALL the time for remembering birthdays, anniversaries, and first dates and I don’t give Google calendar ANY credit.  But it’s the only way I remember to do anything. Mail my rent? Check. Eat lunch? Check check. Fertilize my peach tree three years after planting?  Definitely need to set an e-mail reminder for that.  It’s like a free personal, electronic assistant. To take the best care of your peaches, add these dates from the time you plant your peach tree:

• 6 weeks after planting, fertilize your peach tree with one pound of nitrogen-rich fertilizer. Year 2, use 3/4 pound of nitrogen fertilizer once in the spring and once in the early summer. Year 3, add approximately one pound of nitrogen to your tree(s) in the spring. (The Old Farmer’s Almanac)
• Pruning your peaches is critical. Check out these videos on YouTube for a how-to from Dr. Mike Parker, Tree Fruit Extension Specialist with the North Carolina Cooperative Extension Service at North Carolina State University: click here to learn about pruning your two-year-old tree, and here what to do with your three-year-old.

How do you see the magic in your daily surroundings?  Tell us in the comments or over on Twitter @RebeccaSnavely & @TheCityFarm.

(Photo Credit: Epicurious.com)

WHAT is it with the October heat wave? I’ve lived in Los Angeles long enough to know that this is our hottest season. Despite my protestations that it should be time for boots and sweater weather, October greets me full of fire-inducing, hot Santa Ana winds and the temptation to buy an air conditioner. But I can’t seem to get over wish for a cold, damp, blustery fall, pumpkin patches, fires in the wood stove instead of the surrounding hills, veggies roasting in a crockpot for a hot, filling dinner.

Whether your weather collaborates with your seasonal dreams or not, October is a good time to sow certain seeds, especially peas: snow peas or snap, if you get them in the ground now, you’ll have a jump on fresh peas for a spring harvest.  I’ve always loved snow peas, whether it’s the crunch they add to a stir-fry or the reminder of the princess who felt the slight change beneath her 20 mattresses, reminding me that I can be high maintenance about a few things.  “You’re the worst kind; you’re high maintenance but you think you’re low maintenance.”  ~ When Harry Met Sally

Despite their princess-y reputation, peas are pretty easy to grow, though you have to give some special attention when it comes to watering them.

How to plant your peas:

• Pick a sunny spot to plant, but if it’s still hot (heeeey L.A.), pick a place where other plants provide some cooler shade for your new peas.  OrganicGardening.com suggests planting where your corn or pole beans might provide some relief from the heat.
• Peas prefer loamy soil, but you can loosen your heavier soil by adding some organic compost to it prior to sowing your seeds.
• Sow seeds by hand in a row, broadcasting them to fall where they may.  Cover with 2 inches of soil. Rows should have approximately 18” to 24” between them.
• Limited for space?  Burpee.com suggests you “plant ‘Alderman’ heirloom garden peas or ‘Super Sugar’ snap peas on a trellis or fence. This way you can get maximum yields using only a few square feet of garden space.”
• Much like the fabled princess feeling that little bump 20 mattresses below her, peas are a bit finicky when it comes to watering: too much will water-log them, too little when the seeds are germinating or blooming, and you won’t get a good crop. Water deeply once a week, and once the pea plants are up, give them a 1/2 inch or more of water every week.
• No need to fertilize: peas, and especially snow peas, are the hosts to good bacteria, fixing the nitrogen levels in your soil.
• Peas are ready to harvest about three weeks after a plant blossoms.  Taste the pea pod straight off the vine, and if they’re ready to pick, use them within a few hours for the best, sweetest taste.

“On the side” is a very big thing for you.”  (When Harry Met Sally)  How do you prefer your peas?  In the pod, tossed in a salad or stir-fry?  Steamed or added to a Thanksgiving mystery casserole?  Tell us any tricks and tips you’ve learned about growing and harvesting peas in the comments or over on Twitter @TheCityFarm.

(Photo Credit: loghouseplants.com)