Whitsend Market Garden

Hey Everyone:

Not all cracked tomatoes go to waste - this one was a model for this season's jack-o-lantern.

Somehow we forgot to photograph the pumpkin this year, but the fruit was still intact enough to stand in.

Here we are:  Our annual camping trip to Frontenac Park.

This trip coincides with the 'start of the finish' of the growing season. 

A time to getaway from the field and the barn and the office and the email and consider the big picture - how has this season panned out and what directions might the farm take into the next season.










Most of the days are taken up with maintaining camp and hikes and picnics as we venture deeper into the trail network.  We usually aim for landmarks such as abandoned mica mines, decaying homesteads, or scenic lookouts.

Inevitably, there are surprises along the way.  Such as these mysterious white orbs we glimpsed through the trees.

We found a colony of puffballs bigger than basketballs.












There are many comparisons between our camping trip and the life of our farm.  The planning, starting out on the journey, overcoming the many challenges and the slow climb from an idea to the ever expanding sales base.

And  crossing the the many pitfalls along the way.













The scenery at the farm is not particularly remarkable. 

However, every morning I walk into the field, there are many new things to look at, things to look for, and in some cases, things I wish I wasn't seeing.

So I don't often notice the scenery anyway.














All too often the end of a day trip signals the beginning of another hikes starting point - another trail, another hill.

The next picnic, just like the next farm season, is just around the corner....

What new seeds will I trial next season?  What infrastructure needs to be added next - will it be a curing shed or a better nursery?  Or a shed for a permanent farm gate store?












A never ending set of twists and turns, intersecting with the twists and turns of the folks who purchase food from the farm.

The source of our food, evening warmth, and inspiration.  After supper, the long dusk hours are whiled away staring into the embers as the fire is allowed to burn down to ash.

This is a most productive time for problem solving.  This years questions seem quite insoluble.

The "soft goal" of the season to close on a property by late summer has not come to pass.  Where do we go from here?










Unless some new properties enter the market between now and when the snow flies, we will have to continue the search next season.

As for next season, what?

There was not enough time to achieve many of my career development goals last year.

I had intended to take on a part-time employee, but sales fell just short of being able to afford the hiring costs.

And that was partly because I reduced the number of deliveries for the season.

Obviously I need to consult my customers more before any changes to the routine are set in stone.


















The morning is wiser than the evening, and more discoveries await us.

Including this one, right over our heads.

The mushroom in the tree will watch over camp  while we are away on our next trek...
















A new set of trails for us.  I haven't been this way since I was in my teens, on family day trips.

Trees are taller, the trail wider, and the water table has changed enough to require boardwalks where their used to be dry path.

Like our farm now, more than half an acre of produce grows in soil that was hay field eight years ago, a collection of sheds surround the hay barn, a new fence encloses the growing area.













Decisions decisions decisions...which way to go at a cross roads...try to find the next homestead?

It may be a log cabin, a pile of logs with metal roofing on top of it, or a depression in the ground hinting at someones home eighty years ago.

The days are shorter, so consulting the map and estimating our walking speed on this hilly terrain needs to be taken into account.

I mentally calculate, while drawing more parallels to my farming thoughts.

We press on and are rewarded with the remains of someones dream.

We scan the terrain for clues of their life...a pile of rocks capping a well, a flat area where the kale yard might have been, a stand of  trees betraying the outline of a barn, an ancient oak that might have supported a swing...

Having achieved our goal for today, we retrace our steps with dinner beckoning...

No getting away from the farm at supper time.  The pasta sauce contains tomatoes, carrots, garlic, onions, peppers, celery and basil...only the oregano, bay, and mushrooms are outsourced.

My farm building projects also contribute, with sawdust from power sanding augmenting the tinder in the campfire.

















Darkness falls for the second night.  No time for thinking of the farm now.  This activity is too serious for distraction.




















Despite one night of scattered showers, we have had a dry weekend (excluding loading and unloading the canoe).

Progress has been slow but inevitable.  Our camping skills allow us to set up camp very quickly in twilight (happened to us last year), and our camps have improved the level of comfort and convenience.

With progress comes new requirements - our new tent needs a slightly larger tarp to fully protect it from the rain.










Slow and inevitable progress.  During my second season, I commented to one of the gaffers on the precariousness of the farm.  His reply was that the only thing that would lead to failure now was giving up.  Everything has a solution.

One last look at the lake before we drive out of the par, canoe tied to the roof and the car loaded with camping gear and a camera full of memories.

Will we be back next season, or shall we use our week after Thanksgiving to to work on a new home?

Time will tell...