Gigi and I have a long way to go before we fulfill our suburban micro-farm dream. It’s not just that we don’t have the land or the livestock for an urban farm . . . we don’t have a clue, either. Our tomatoes are being attacked by a nocturnal horde of either beetles or looper caterpillars as we helplessly spray organic potions on our sad little lacerated leaves.
Okay, it’s not that bad, but we are definitely encountering a learning curve when it comes to dealing with non-beneficial organisms (aka bugs) this year. I’d like to say we’re getting a handle on things, but actually Gigi appears to be losing her grip. Today she hatched a plan to sleep outside and ambush the little critters so we’ll know for certain the face of our enemy.
Just a few minutes ago she walked in with a little critter in her hand. When I could not definitively identify it she walked out the door mumbling “If you’re beneficial I hate to kill you, but” (insert squishing sound here).
We’re not at all like this awesome soil scientist who manages his 2 acre farm in a perfect symphony of seasons and cycles. We’re more like a high-school garage band, trying to find our rhythm and hit a few good notes. Oh, but those notes are so very sweet . . . a perfectly ripe tomato fresh off the vine, the fragrant aroma of hand crushed basil, the spicy kick of garlic chives in a summer salad.
It’s going to be worth it all. Someday we will find a house, we will plant a HUGE garden, and hopefully we can raise some chickens at least. And if for some reason it doesn’t work out, we can always eat fried worms.