Sky Meadow Food

Miles, Cella, and the girls have worked hard to consume less and grow more. They have created an ever-evolving system of food management, in which they rely on the earth to provide them with the majority of their food, and buy organic grains, seeds, and beans in bulk to reduce packaging and feed themselves with healthy, wholesome, less-processed food. A typical meal at Sky Meadow is meat-free, dairy-free, and often Indian themed - my favorite being Indian Dhal (made with lentils), brown rice, salad & herbs from the garden, homemade salad dressing, pumpkin soup, and a side of leek pesto (which I eat by the spoonful).

Or perhaps Mexican inspired vegan burritos with fresh guacamole and salsa and heaps of cilantro, chives, and dill from the garden:

Or nori rolls, quinoa, mung beans in coconut milk, and sugarsnap peas right off the vine:

oooooor, spaghetti w/ tofu marinara, butternut squash soup, and steamed beet greens:

And as always, a giant heaping mammoth of a salad with an array of garden greens, herbs, & edible flowers:

These are no special occasions. Miles and Cella believe that every meal deserves ample thought, preparation, and love. Cooking and eating was a sort of spiritual process at Sky Meadow....as it should be!

So what about in the winter, you ask. There is upwards of 5 feet of Vermont snow on the ground, how do they generate colorful, nutritious meals without relying on imported produce? Note the many giant freezers sprinkled about Sky Meadow. It's all about the prep work. Thoughtful organization months in advance. Planting excess crops, harvesting them little by little in the summer and fall, and freezing. Or canning. Or drying. I was amazed at all of the innovative ways that they were able to save food for the winter. Nothing went to waste! Here are a few examples of Sky Meadow food saving:

Lydia and I harvested wild mint from the back field, avoiding (and sometimes not avoiding) thistle in the process.

We then bunched and tied it onto hemp, took it up to the attic, and told Lydia to stand really still for a few weeks until it dries:

Black currants to be frozen - or what was left of them after Emma, Lydia, and my daily "snack break" visits.

Carolyn and I harvested about half of the huge dill patch, finely chopped it, spread it out on a cookie sheet, let it freeze for about 24 hours, then transported it into ziploc bags to sit in the freezer for use in the winter.

Proudly toting our baskets o' dill:

PEAS! three varieties - sugarsnap peas (the kind you eat whole, on salads or for a snack), shell peas (must be shelled), and snow peas (the flatter ones...good for stirfries). But they all start with an 'S' and look similar on the vine, how will I tell them apart?? I had a bit of trouble with it, especially since the seeds weren't labeled, so the varieties ended up mingling. But I eventually learned to distinguish the snap peas' semi-translucent shell apart from the shell peas' very very very slight difference in shade. And if I couldn't decide on one.... eliminate the problem altogether-eat it!

Here's a not-so-ripe shell pea:

The snow peas and sugarsnaps don't last through the summer....the girls have no problem delighting in numerous snap pea breaks throughout the day, and the snow peas are a favorite in stirfries. But a few of the shell peas survive the season and so, my job for the afternoon: harvest, shell, & freeze. Lots of work, and especially when Lydia and I think we deserve to eat one pea out of every shell, the bowl doesn't fill too quickly.

pea vine:

And finally, raspberries. SO MANY RASPBERRIES. About 8 bushes...maybe 10...12? An entire maze. The week I arrived, none of them were ripe. Then one day, a few red specs popped up and the girls and I quickly ravaged them. The next day, a few more bright red juicy specs. AAANNND THEN, all of a sudden, there were too many to eat, and some were overripe, falling on the ground, and new ones were reddening by the hour. Dessert for every meal was in the raspberry patch, but we didn't even leave a dent! I was amazed at how fast it happened. So Amy and I quickly went on a 'save the raspberries' assignment, harvesting them into clean yogurt containers, labeling 'RAZZZZZ '10" and popping them into the freezer.

I don't think I can bring myself to pay $5 for a little container of raspberries ever again. And "grow raspberries" is the newest addition to my master life TO DO list.

The birth of a garden

This is Sky Meadow's "lower field," a soon-to-be addition to their ongoing collection of gardens. It's in the process of being cover cropped, which is a way to enhance soil quality before starting a garden, maintain the soil during off-seasons, and build productive soil to control pests and disease. Here's a reader's digest version of cover crops: legumes such as rye, buckwheat, clover, crimson clover, and alfalfa are planted in a field for a period of time, and then tilled into the soil, where the stems and leaves are actually broken down, releasing nitrogen. (Although nitrogen is abundant in the air, plants can't convert nitrogen gas into a usable form). So cover cropping is not only a way to prevent erosion, but also establishes a durable, nutrient-filled soil.

Last fall, Miles planted winter rye as a cover crop to begin enhancing the soil quality. When the snow melted in the spring, he broke up the rye into the soil, and planted buckwheat and clover. The clover had just flowered (hence all of the yellow) upon my arrival.

Soon after it flowered, Miles quickly began to till the winter rye back into the soil. I helped get the big rocks out of the field, and he tilled again. Went scouring for rocks once more, and the result:

Then I went around the outskirts of the field and uprooted all of the leftover rye and buckwheat. Almost got stung by a swarm of bees (apparently they don't sting while they're pollinating...eeeeenteresting), hauled my collection into the wheelbarrow, and delivered it to the sheep pen.

Miles then planted more winter rye seeds for...well, the winter.

Hoorah, cover crops!

MULCHY MULCH

Mulching...what a wonderful discovery. Having crisply mulched walkways and beds saves time, excuses me from handweeding/hoeing in the hot sun, and gives the land an aesthetic uniformity that proves it is well loved. There are many mulch mediums, the most common being hay, straw, plastic, and compost. But, of course, the farms I visited are not ones for convention. Alison didn't use mulch, and although I never asked her why, I assume her reasoning would be something along the lines of "ehhh, don't really need it." Pitchfork Farm had a live mulch, placing sod in the walkways for grass to grow. (Yes, they would cut the grass between beds when needed and no, I failed to take a picture). And a plastic covering for the beds, with little holes for the plants to grow.

As for Sky Meadow, Miles and Cella had a little mulch experiment going from earlier in the season. They placed cardboard around the squash mounds and down a few rows to see what happened to the weeds beneath. Fast forward a few months, and a relatively weed-free path remained. So now they not only have beautiful garden, but a way to recycle those cardboard boxes they receive from buying food in bulk.

OK, it looks a little ugly. And they're running a retreat center with paying guests wanting to get back to nature n' all. So efficiency is a priority, but aesthetics isn't too far down the list. In comes my job for the afternoon: raking up the cut grass after Miles mowed a field, hauling it into a wheelbarrow, and scattering it onto the cardboard to conceal it. The results: efficient AND pleasing to the eyes. Who knew.

Back to the Woods

My fourth and final home, Sky Meadow Retreat, could not be a more ideal place to end my summer vegetable expedition. I conclude my journey at a Buddhist-based meditation retreat in the northeast kingdom of Vermont, surrounded by trees and mountains and raspberry patches. Around every bend in the seashell-marked forest trails lies a swimming pond or a teepee or a meditation gazebo. Or more fruit trees that call to be explored.

Every morning begins with 30 minutes of meditation followed by 30 minutes of yoga to prepare our minds and bodies for a day in the kitchen cooking vegan meals or in the sun working in the garden.

I'm transitioning from living room couches to a cabin of my own. A cozy cabin in the woods, with running water and electricity, a rocking chair and a gas stove on the porch, a lofted bed, a mini kitchen. And lots of windows that stay open all day to let the cool Vermont breeze in.

And......TAAA-DAAA, the garden. It's quite beautiful. Well kept and manicured, but still lots of wild spaces. Highly organized system of planting, lots of mulching, mounds, and love.

There are actually 2 gardens. Wait, no, soon to be 3. Dubbed: the upper garden (pic below), lower garden (above), and lower field (a soon-to-be garden, which I will delve into at a later time).

OK, time to meet the faces behind this beautiful place. Miles bought the piece of land and began Sky Meadow about 25 years ago, and since then, has built every building and pond on the property. He teaches meditation, communication skills, and generally runs the place. I curse myself for not getting an adequate photograph of Miles, but here he is with Cella and Emma, cheeks stuffed, trying to find the most effective way to eat an overstuffed burrito.

Cella, his wife, and her 3 daughters moved here from Quebec about 3 years ago. She is the kind soul who apparently took a virtual liking to me and convinced Miles to let me come to Sky Meadow for a couple weeks, because they usually only take interns for a whole season. I am enormously thankful for her kindness.

The girls have only been speaking English for 3 years, but you would never know it from their impeccable accent. They are 11, 12, and 13 years old, but at times I feel like they're my age. They are self sufficient, live in separate houses from Miles and Cella, any one of them alone can cook an entire vegan meal for the whole community, and they happily work alongside me 6 hours a day without a complaint. We've had some awesome weed-talks ("Weed Talk" definition: the process of talking about anything and everything while hand-weeding. Stories, riddles, philosophy, problems, spontaneous song, anything is fair game).

Lydia and Emma:

Cassandra:

Jon and Amy, the long term residents, have been at Sky Meadow since February, and plan on staying indefinitely.

Amy, yoga instructor, masseuse, also a prime weed talker:

Jon, the main cook and weed-wacker extraordinaire:

Ben, one of the summer interns:

And Carolyn, another summer intern who has taken me under her wing, told me the secrets of the place, and fed me hummus, which is the way into my heart.

An intro for now, more stories and garden tales to come!

but I don't wannnnna leave

Once again, it’s time to say goodbye. And as always, I was just getting settled and resisted a little. But it’s time and I'm ready to move on and I know I'll be back. Staying in one place for too long is dangerous anyway.

My last day was Saturday, farmer’s market day. I didn’t really do much work-wise, just weighed a few cabbages, watched people pick up kohlrabi with a frightening expression, explained how to cook kohlrabi at least 31 times, traded some salad mix for almond butter, and walked around admiring art and jewelry and maple syrup and the general hippie splendor.

The carrots are beets were looking exceptionally ravishing

This is Doug Knapp, a famous figure around Burlington. I've seen this comical, colorful, Vermont-inspired artwork around the city, in my couchsurfing homes, and on tshirts. I'm quite fond of the prevalence of dogs and cows in his artwork, often satirical messages, and simple, almost childlike illustrations.

I actually ran into Doug the night before, as I sipped on my Grey Goose martini and he his lemonade kale juice concoction (could I make this up?). I remember thinking he looked very intelligent, sporting the white beard and thick crewneck sweater, his light green juice in one hand, a book in the other, and perhaps preparing his syllabus for fall semesters Literature class. Well, I was browsing through the art section of the market and stopped at the stand of prints I had seen all over the city. I looked up at the artist, and low and behold, it was the Lit professor. He must have ditched the book and crewneck for a ghetto hat and paintbrush. He remembers me from the night before, we spark up conversation, and he begins to enquire about my travels. I look through his work, consider paying $20 for a print just because he seems so interested in my summer endeavors, then realize I don’t even have $5. We talk some more about his art and as we’re saying our goodbyes, he asks me which print I like best. I say, Oh, I don’t know, this one reminds me of my roommates next year and I like cows. He grabs the print, signs it, and hands it to me. So I’ll be heading south with a Dug Nap print and Emma and Vivian, we’ll have to find a deserving place for this:

some more prints:

http://www.dugnap.com/prints.html

Anyway, story time is over. I must admit, Burlington provided me with some quality memories, some new hobbies, and a fondness for sleeping on short couches. And the realization that being nice gets you a long way, lots of new friends and free things. The necessities, like food and booze and art. Or maybe that’s just unique to Burlington’s little utopian hippie world, where everyone is up for a cheerful conversation at any given time.

Either way, I thank you Burlington, for taking me on daily dumpster diving excursions and giving me more synthetic powdered cheese puffed corn than I will ever know what to do with.……….but it was free.

And bravo, Burlington, for having the most generous people I’ve ever met. People who are willing to take in a homeless soul and take me on bike excursions and teach me dumpster diving strategies and accept carrots as currency and turn me into a beer snob and show me the best places to watch the sun set.

Trekking north, back to the woods!

Warshin'

As it turns out, I've been working with small scale agricultural systems - Michelle's garden, Alison's mini farm & CSA, and where I'll go next, a meditation retreat garden. I didn't really plan that intentionally, but couldn't be happier with the assemblage of place I've worked. As it turns out, the urban farm in Burlington, in all its 6 acre glory, has been the largest and most....in a way, commercial farm. I've gotten to see such a variety of techniques and growing systems, but the most apparent distinction I've noticed between small scale and large (well, larger) scale is in the harvesting and preparation.

Michelle's garden was primarily for personal (and B&B guest) use, so washing was done in the kitchen sink.

Alison had some big outdoor sinks for washing, but rinsing the radishes was still fairly self explanatory.

Pitchfork Farm's method of cleaning, I assure you, is not self explanatory. It involves three giant bathtubs, overhead water facets, and two old washing machines. No, not washing machines for washing. Washing machines for drying. Let me explain. We harvest greens for the mesclun based on what's available, usually a 1 to 1 ratio of lettuce to mustards, with some arugula mixed in. We chop them in handfulls with a knife, pick out the weeds, fill the bins, and weigh them, each one weighing about 12 lbs. Harvesting is usually done by lunch, then we load up the truck and drive down to the communal Intervale washing center where we fill up the three giant bathtubs with freezing cold water (from Lake Champlain, I believe), and start dumping a couple of bins (1 lettuce, 1 mustards) in the first tub. This gets the first layer of dirt off the greens, and allows the different kinds to mingle into mesclun. Then, with the nifty scooper nets, we transfer them into the second tub, then the third. This 3 tub system assures that the greens are squeaky clean. Then, about 3 netfuls at a time are loaded into a washing machine on the spin cycle, and aha! a giant version of a kitchen salad spinner! From there, the mesclun is bagged by hand, weighed in 10 pound bags, and distributed into boxes accordingly to be circulated around Burlington restaurants and markets.

Washing other things, like radishes, garlic, fennel, etc. is a bit simpler because of the smaller quantities. Just rinse by hand, dry, bundle, and box.

La Casa Verde

Intervale provides it’s farms with an option to rent greenhouse space. For those tomatoes that are no match for the unpredictable Vermont weather. Or the seeds that aren’t seeded directly into the ground. Farms can rent entire greenhouses or a number of “tables” in the common greenhouse. Or, if you’re Pitchfork Farm, an entire greenhouse plus a few tables in the communal one. I've only been inside for a short time to plant a few cabbages, but just for future reference, not somewhere you want to be found on an unseasonably hot Burlington day.

Here's the lovely lane of Intervale greenhouses:

Inside of Pitchfork's personal greenhouse (tomato plants abound):

Inside of the communal greenhouse. Note, behind Sophia's badass dreads, the tables available for rent:

Zak, planting red and green cabbage seeds in the greenhouse.

And Sophia, watering the baby seedlings: