From a young age, I knew I would suck at keeping green things alive.

The curly beans that were grown in jars never amounted to much–they always wilted before I had a chance to put them into the ground. My Christmas Cactus, which was given to me by a science teacher in middle school, whom I affectionately named Spike (with a little name card next to his pot: Hi! My name is Spike! It’s very nice to meet you!), met an unfortunate end by way of melting. To this day, I don’t know why or how one could even effectively melt a cactus, but I came home from school and there he was–a tiny green puddle with his permanent markered face swimming sadly in it. And, I must be the only unfortunate person in the world that can have six zucchini plants but not a single one was willing to bear anything, even though they were constantly blooming and had grown to an impressive six foot radius in the flower bed. I could only scratch my head and shrug, because hell if I knew what was wrong with them.

My cucumbers rarely did anything of note, while my parents had foot long monsters coming out of their ears. The only thing I have had any sort of luck with, and most likely due to my husband’s dedication, were the tomatoes this past summer. But alas, I miscalculated just how many tomatoes could be yielded, and ended up with more than we could eat (having about 13 tomato plants will do that), a couple of hundred still sitting idly in the freezer, waiting for some wayward recipe that calls for their use. 

I’m pretty sure this is mostly because gardening is more of an exact science, and these plants are exposed to the elements, making them far more difficult to keep alive than a cat or a dog, who can vocalize their displeasure and discomfort and remove themselves from their source of unhappiness. 

However, I am nothing if not persistant, and becoming self reliant on food has always been something that I was interested in. Having recently moved into my own home, with a large backyard out on the south shore of Long Island, meant I had a plot of land that should be useful. Mostly because I find grass and lawns a waste of space.  It’s equal parts being tired of having to run to the grocery store every time I wanted fresh vegetables or fruits, and some of said vegetables being ungodly expensive, and wanting a garden–the word they use now is “edible landscaping”–that looks beautiful and is useful, that I decided to start planning for this coming spring season. I try to utilize the principles of permaculture combined with the aesthetics of landscaping to create a garden that I can not only enjoy a harvest from, but provides food for me and my family.  It is also healthier for the land—by not using pesticides and herbicides, the animal, insect, and microbial life flourish here.

That isn‘t to say there hasn’t been moments where I have been tempted to use the chemicals, either to eradicate ticks or mosquitos, or when I watch certain plants be devastated by some preventable plague of bugs. But, and here is the big BUT, there has always a way. It’s not always easy, but I found a little perseverance, elbow grease, as well as a little patience goes a long way. I have learned that having just the right amount of ducks (between 6-12) at any given time makes pests of the insect or gastropod variety nearly inconsequential, fertilizer becomes abundant in the form of duck manure, and they make delicious eggs to boot. My muscovy ducks have become an indispensable part of my food forest. 

Sometimes though, things just don’t go well, like when all the bluebirds eat my currants before I can harvest them, or my husband accidentally “weeds” the garden and all of a sudden I’m missing some important plants. It’s times like this that I take a big breath, sit back, and let life do its thing. By not only growing one thing, I am able to have a bountiful harvest in my other plants.  All this to say: time and consistency beats all, and eventually, without even noticing, you’ll have grown a gorgeous forest of edible goodies right outside your door. Some years some plants will do better than others, and then they’ll switch, but the variety insures that I won’t be completely SOL.

Finally, what I also love about this whole experience (and boy, has it been an experience), is that my family, especially my children have learned so much about where their food comes from. They really are little tiny people shaped sponges that soak in the information—and something must be said about the satisfaction and pride of growing and collecting one’s own food. I hope these are skills they keep with them for the rest of their lives.

Another disclaimer before I let you go: The information I post here are just compilations of other people’s work and research, and my own little anecdotes in the process of planting so that I have a resource to look back on when I get fully started. I also hope the readers who stumble upon this will find it useful, if for nothing else than a list of what not to do when gardening.

Everything I plant is supposed to be hardy to at least where I am, which is USDA zone 7 for Long Island, but only time will tell if it wins out over my human error. A comprehensive list (including a downloadable spreadsheet) is available on my perennial edibles for a temperate food forest page.

So welcome to my blog, and I hope you find something useful while browsing around here!