Another haiku because I know you enjoy them immensely. Ahem…

We made lasagne

With our own tomato sauce

It just tastes better

Keith taped a New Hampshire Chronicle episode about hydroponics. (On a small side note, Keith met Fritz Wetherbee at a restaurant a few years ago. Woo. Brush with stardom! Someday we’ll tell you about meeting Flava Flav in the airport!) There’s a place down the road in Hampton Falls called Tomato Joe’s Garden Supply where Joe sells hydroponics supplies. Methinks this might be our answer to the fungus problems we’ve been having (on the plants, people, on the plants! Sheesh.)

In Are We High…Tunnel? I told the story about my parent’s nursery in Vermont. They used to lease one of the plastic greenhouses to a guy who grew lettuce hydroponically. (I never really remembered that until we watched this episode.  Look at me being being all sentimental.) It looked like a big production, but I remember him saying there were fewer bugs. Hm. Could this be our solution?

I plan to check this shop out immediately. While wearing a wig. And sunglasses. And paying with cash. And parking my car three stores down and walking over. Because it is a hydroponics store and it is being watched via satellite, I am sure of it. (You know. The MAN. Shhh.)


Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls. DaisyPatch fans of all walks of life (ok, there’s ladies, then there’s gentlemen and then there’s boys, and…we have girls. What other walks of life might there be reading this here post in cyberspace? Manatees? Probably not. Opposable thumbs aren’t necessary to log onto the Internet, so I guess it IS a possibility, but it doesn’t seem likely. Also, they don’t walk, really. Don’t they sort of pull themselves by their front fins. Feet? Paddles? Fins is probably correct. I hope manatees ARE reading my blog. I HAVE had some new followers find me as of late. Hi! Welcome. Are you manatees? If so, I will try to make the DaisyPatch more manatee-friendly for you.) Where was I? Right. (God, I do that a lot, don’t I?) Um. RIGHT! You heard it here first. Drum roll please…

edible South Shore has given me my own column. I get to continue to inflict my self-deprecating stories on the readers of this fine, fine publication. My column starts in the Fall of 2012. I have proposed several topics for the first article and have been told to do whatever I want. (Insert evil laugh here.) Really? REALLY? REALLY? Really? (the one in italics denotes a squeaky voice. So, first it was a normal voice. Really? Then it was louder. REALLY? Then it was a shout. REALLY? Then bring it on down to a squeak of surprise. Really? With me?)

No big deal. Piece of cake. Ready for the name of the column? Brace yourself. It is the epitome of cuteness. It is a play on words which is exactly my style. I thought of it in the middle of the night. Home Sweet Homestead. I know, right? F’ing brilliant. I am looking forward to it. The Fall article in the column is TBD, but GUESS what the following 4 articles will be about. Guess. Yup. Cluckers. They will arrive in about 6 weeks and I will cataloguing (‘guing or ‘ging? Hm. Going with ‘guing) everything we’re going through to get ready for them. Then I will be diligently documenting every little peep, squeak and chicken scratch they make as we assimilate them into the Patch, and into our family. Our homestead. I will also promise to be honest and make note of every screw up made by yours truly. Because that’s what this is all about…learning as we go.

(So, was this manatee-friendly enough?)


Before, they were here

Now, they are here

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Paprika peppers. We plan on hanging them to dry and then pulverizing them into a powder. Maybe I’ll be able to convince Keith to put a few in the smoker so we can have smoked paprika. Have you tried it? So good on chicken breast (the cooked kind).


Remember in Compost Surprise, I mentioned we had a surprise pumpkin that came back from the dead and was growing out of the compost pile?

Yeah, well, I jinxed it. The sonofabitch died. I just can’t win.


Naga jolokia. The Ghost Pepper. Supposedly the hottest pepper in the world. (In 2000, India’s Defence Research Laboratory (DRL) reported a rating of 855,000 heat units (SHU) on the Scoville scale. For comparison, Tabasco rates at 2,500–5,000, and pure capsaicin (the chemical responsible for the pungency of pepper plants) rates at 15,000,000–16,000,000 SHU.* Source Wikipedia)  We grew it.

Keith donned the gloves (see here for my early article on picking hot peppers without gloves – NOT recommended) to pick them. We still have some on the plants outside, and we gave the rest to Popper. (If you haven’t checked it out, Popper’s Artisanal Meats (formerly Popper’s Sausage Kitchen) makes some great food.

 Keith plans on drying the Ghost Peppers and the grinding them to a powder for use in the kitchen. I can’t imagine a recipe I’d be willing to try that includes THAT for a spice. If you have recipes, feel free to share in the Comments section.


Great scene in When Harry Met Sally.  No, not that one. I’m talking about the one with the Pepper in my Paprikash scene. Why, you ask, am I mentioning this scene on DaisyPatch Farm? Because we are growing paprika peppers. Successfully I might add. They are free from any sort of disease or blemish including, but not limited to, mold, mildew, fungus, blight, bugs, boils, canker sores, acne, carbunkles, exzema, impitigo, scabies, ringworm, dandruff and genital warts. We haven’t seen them afflicted with alopecia, lice, calluses, rosacea, folliculitis, varicose veins, vertigo, athlete’s foot, malignant melanoma or even buck melanoma. Here’s hoping we can keep it that way.

Although now that I look at this picture more closely, I do see a snail. Dammit! I can’t freeking win.


Dear Pretty Pumpkins,

Please don’t die. We’ve had all our other squash die. Every last one of them. The sugar pumpkin seedlings died before they got established. We bought some more. They died too. We bought acorn squash. One died really early on and the other died when it was half-mature. The butternut squash died.

So you see, you can’t die. You just can’t. We grew other flowers nearby so the bees would come and fertilize your flowers. We’ve given you water and organic fertilizer and even gently moved you around so you got air on all sides and didn’t rot on the bottom. Your stems are over 30 feet long, and I know they have mildew on them, so I know you feel a bit sick. We’re trying our best. The non-poison spray we used didn’t do anything, your stems just kept getting sicker, while your fruit stayed strong.

So please? If not for Keith or for me, then for the blog? Try. Try to live. Stay away from the light.