We’ve watered, planted, picked, noshed, tended, toured, tidied, milked, mowed … and not posted a whit of it here!  Here’s a peek, and we aim to get back to these weekly photo glimpses of farm life starting now.

Thank you so much to all you intrepid potluckers, for braving that blazing sun, that pesky poison ivy, and of course the confusing directions.  We had such a blast yesterday!  The food was delicious, and we love showing folks the nitty gritty of how we grow your food.

We hope to have potlucks once a month from here on out, till it gets too cold.  If you couldn’t make it this weekend, we hope you’ll come see us soon!

Until then, we’ll tempt you with a bit of what you missed:

Guess where we went last week?

It all begins in a land far, far away…

In 2005, I planted exactly three pots on my terrace in New York City.  I grew four kinds of lettuce, two kinds of thyme, oregano, lemon verbena, and one variety of cherry tomato.  In 2008, I married a farmer, and we bought 25 acres in Central Virginia, managed a flock of 800 pastured laying hens, and planted approximately 7000 tomato plants.

In a similar tale of living at full tilt, I made my very first batch of jam ever last month: apricots from our neighbors’ tree, simmered slowly with a vanilla bean, and tucked right into the fridge, in part because there were only two pints and in part because I’m still a little scared of canning.*  And then last week we** went to the Prince Edward County Cannery and put up 58 quarts of tomatoes.

We had a fantastic time, and the Huddlestons were such generous, patient, congenial teachers.  Mrs. Lena Huddleston has been working at the cannery since it opened in 1975, and she knows a thing or two (hundred) about canning.  She showed us how to use all the big equipment to steam the tomatoes before peeling and chopping them and to cook the tomatoes gently before putting them in cans.  After that Mr. Huddleston took over and sealed everything up.

Meanwhile we cleaned up our mess (and now I want a hose in my kitchen).

When all the cans were sealed, we placed them in an enormous metal barrel, and Mr. Huddleston used an elaborate system of pulleys and chains to lift them all at once into a giant kettle of a pressure canner, where they were processed for the better part of an hour.  (During that time we walked next door to Granny B’s Market, where we had some fine fine reubens for lunch.)  And at last they were plunged into a cool water bath, to stop the cooking and to cool them enough to load everything up into the truck and head home.

Guess what everyone’s getting for Christmas?

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* I know!  A farmer’s wife, scared of canning!  I just have to begin.  My excuse is that the times when we have the most abundant vegetables here on the farm are also our busiest times.  Freezing has always been more manageable — and, I maintain, an excellent choice for many kinds of vegetables. But I do dream of being a food preservationist extraordinaire, and I really want to make jams and pickles.  So I really will learn to can.  Maybe soon.  I’ll keep y’all posted.

** Let me say right now that by “we” I mean, “Miles, Katie, Shannon, Ali, and the Huddlestons.”  I arrived late with Arlo after his morning nap, and we cheered everyone on in the final stretch.