Frog Log

Going down the rows, it's always a matter of life and death. Life, if we're planting. And if we're weeding - well, these weeds must die! So planting garlic on a beautiful fall day is a matter of life, but also a matter of faith. Like penitents of old, we crawl down the rows in service to our task. Heads down, each clove we gently push into the soft ground is a prayer of hope and survival. For those tiny cloves, planted in October, will barely sprout before the winter freeze arrives. They must hold that faint memory of life through the dark, still season. In spring, when air and soil temperatures conjoin to beckon the sprouts from their cold cradles, tiny green shoots will appear where frozen ground had recently been. By harvest time in July, a field of large lush fronds will wave in the breeze, ready to continue the cycle. So the garlic does have to "die" in order to be plucked from the growing ground, dried, and head toward our spaghetti sauce. But within eac...

I graduated from Michigan State in 2010 with strong passions for local organic food, community development, and a healthy (or maybe unhealthy) fear of not making enough money in the career path that I would eventually be forced to choose. The looming decision often weighed on me heavily as my inner self struggled to put a value on working with my passions vs. working for a salary. Towards the end of my college career, I spent weeks toiling over the situation. After contracting shingles and likely straining many of my interpersonal relationships, I still felt as if I had not made any progress in terms of knowing what was right. I eventually decided that I would “sacrifice” a year in order to pursue work that I really loved before zeroing in on a more lucrative desk job. I was lucky enough to find a dream job in my hometown of Ann Arbor working for Avalon Housing in coordination with Growing Hope on gardening and nutrition education for low-income Ann Arbor residents. I loved my wo...

Someone Digging in the Ground    by Jalaluddin Rumi An eye is meant to see things. The soul is here for its own joy. A head has one use: For loving a true love. Legs: To run after. Love is for vanishing into the sky. The mind, for learning what men have done and tried to do. Mysteries are not to be solved. The eye goes blind when it only wants to see why. A lover is always accused of something. But when he finds his love, whatever was lost in the looking comes back completely changed. On the way to Mecca, many dangers: Thieves, the blowing sand, only camel's milk to drink. Still, each pilgrim kisses the black stone there with pure longing, feeling in the surface the taste of the lips he wants. This talk is like stamping new coins. They pile up,  while the real work is done outside by someone digging in the ground. Ken King, founder of Frog Holler Farm, made his transition four years ago today. It was a beautiful bloom-filled day on May, just like...

Repotting by Lynne Sharon Schwartz The healthy plant outgrows its pot the way a healthy child outgrows its clothes. Don't let it suffer constriction. Spread the Sports or Business section of the New York Times on the dining room table. Find a clay pot big enough for fresh growth. In the bottom place pebbles and shards from a broken pot for drainage. Add handfuls of moist black potting soil, digging your hands deep in the bag, rooting so the soil gets under your fingernails. Using a small spade or butter knife, ease the plant out of its old pot with extreme care so as not to disturb its wiry roots. The plant is naked, suspended from your hand like a newborn, roots and clinging soil exposed. Treat it gently. Settle it into the center of the new pot, adding soil on the sides for support—who isn't shaky, moving into a new home ? Pack more soil around the plant, tapping it down till you almost rea...

First trays planted in the greenhouse... and so it begins.   Good friend, neighbor and writer Tom Hines describes the start of a cycle at Frog Holler he has witnessed many times.  Pre Spring                 The boys won’t say much.   They’ll build a wood fire in the green house and plant seeds.   They’ll keep it warm enough over night and water it in the day.   They’ll bring in wood to make heat in the blower stove and try to limit use of propane fuel.   They’ll bring in wood for the boiler which warms water circulating through the thick concrete table top which warms soil trays of planted seeds.   They won’t look at the gauges, they’ll feel the warming concrete table and put a finger in the soil and look at the sprouting green.    They’ll mix soil, maybe some well aged compost and manure , maybe some swamp muck mixed with store-bought soil fr...

 Lacking a herd of cattle and the accompanying natural fertilizer, we need to find ways to give back to the soil from which we extract so many luscious vegetables. Plans are afoot to harvest our pond weed and cover crops have always figured heavily into our fertility plan. But, for now, our concentrated fertilizer (or "inputs")comes to us in bags on a big truck. Distributed by Ohio Earth Food, near Akron,  it's good stuff - a yummy organic blend of composted poultry manure, dried seaweed, feathermeal, and potash. Three tons of "ReVita-Pro"  arrived on one of our more wintry days in February, and neighbor Tom Hines with his trusty "Bobcat" helped us unload. A steady hand at the wheel. But a heavy load - check out those airborne back tires! Okay, sometimes you need a little ballast! Our friendly truck driver gets a ride. Unloaded and waiting to help us grow!

Happy New Year! The present incarnation of Frog Holler Farm turns 40 years old this year. Watch for a big celebration - maybe August 24-26. Stay tuned!