Three sisters on the porch

When I was growing up in Medway MA, everyone in our neighborhood had 1/2 acre lots.  In the old days, it seemed, everyone had their own vegetable gardens, but by the 1960's most families used this extra space to play baseball.

Our Dad, though was a farmer who had gone to college hoping one day to bring modern agricultural methods to his family farm in Glastonbury CT, but found that it was hard to raise five children on the $50/week his parents paid him as a laborer on their tobacco farm.  My Mom wanted to live in a nice house with modern furniture and have the latest conveniences, so Dad left the farm to go work at Pratt and Whitney until the steel strikes in the late 1950's.

In March 1960, he nearly lost his leg.  He was very proud of his strength and could lift small tractors onto trucks- so when he encountered someone with a car stuck in a snow bank during a freak spring storm, he stopped and tried to help lift it out.  Instead he slipped and the car landed on his leg. They thought that they would have to cut off his leg but when it was learned that he had five children under 7 years of age, Dr. Nathanson, an obstetrician at the hospital, decided to do his best to save the leg.  He not only saved the leg but became my Mom's OB and delivered my two youngest sisters.  But Dad couldn't operate a screw machine any more.  But he did have his college education, so Dad became a teacher at the Norfolk Country Agricultural High School (the Norfolk Aggie).

Ironically, it was in college that my father discovered that the old ways taught by the American Indians to the pilgrims and then by the pilgrims to his Barnstable ancestors was the best way to preserve and protect the land.  He was an environmentalist in 1950, and an organic farmer in the 1960's.  He took the lot on the side of the house that we rented, and turning it into an organic vegetable plot. The food that he raised was magnificent! By the time we left Temple Street in 1968, there were nine hungry people in our family and we never had to buy vegetables.  Every spring, he had a truck full of manure land on our little side lot.  Then a tractor came spread it, then a few days later another tractor came to plow it under the soil and the land was ready for planting.  All of the plants were placed in such a way that one plant nourished, supported, and protected the other- so there was no need for pesticides or chemical fertilizer- all was in balance.

Now it is nearly 50 years since my Dad tried to teach me his methods, and I am stuck trying to raise whatever fresh food that I can on the porch of my apartment.  I live in Florida, so the seasons that my ancestors have followed for thousands of years mean nothing. We plant in the fall and harvest mid-winter. Plant in January and harvest in April.  I find myself writing about succotash and taking a 5 gallon drum full of soil and trying to plant a single mound with the three sisters (corn, lima beans, and pumpkin) to see what will happen.  We should have some growth and we'll see if we get any food.  Luckily, unlike my ancestors, I will not starve, so it is OK to fail.

I am also learning exciting things like worm composting and the like- will update you as we go along.