Welcome to Spring!

I know that the weather forecast is calling for colder temperatures by the end of this week, but I think we have turned a corner on the season nonetheless. At the farm, even the largest of the snowdrifts melted away long ago. The garlic we planted in the fall is now pushing its green fingers through the thawing soil. A few days ago, I saw a red-winged blackbird, and today I saw a robin. Last month the farm slumbered. Now, I can feel it waking.

In the greenhouses, there is no question that spring is here. In the past month since we cleaned them out and switched on the heaters, we have seeded all the farm's leeks, shallots, and onions, as well as the celery and celeriac. This week's agenda includes parsley, kale, and the first round of frisee and radicchio. And before we know it, we will be out in the fields.

It begins.

Ask me around Halloween for my opinion of farming, and I will tell you the truth of it: It is a fool’s errand and a wholly improbable enterprise, and it is a wonder any of us have anything to eat at all. Ask me again around Groundhog Day, and I will tell you another truth, that I am thankful -- even eager -- for the chance to try it one more time. I do not know whether the change in my views is due to acquired perspective or willful ignorance. What I do know is we start tomorrow, and it feels like Christmas Eve.

As if the cool summer wasn't enough.

Now we have this to worry about -- though, truth be told, we do experience late blight in our tomatoes from time to time.

One interesting aspect of this story is how the disease seems to be especially widespread in plants purchased from garden centers of the big box stores -- another good reason to buy locally and to know your farmer.

Also, note how this outbreak highlights the danger of monoculture farming. As the article explains, late blight was also responsible for the infamous Irish potato famine. Again, I'm glad Trillium's success or failure doesn't hinge on only one crop.

I've got autumn on my mind.

This morning, we all bundled up in sweatshirts and knit caps, as though it was fall. With the cool temperatures and the sky a clear, crisp robin's egg blue, it felt to me more like mid-September than mid-July.

It has been an unusually cool summer -- though nothing like 1816, I suppose. Still, I fear this year won't be a good one for heat-loving crops like peppers, eggplant, melons, and (alas!) tomatoes. But that's all right. Since we grow over fifty different kinds of vegetables, something is bound to do well. Our lettuce, for example, is thriving this year, the broccoli is beautiful, and the potato plants look quite robust. As Michael likes to say about such things, we shall see.

Since we've taken a sabbatical from the Fulton Street Farmers Market and moved our Forest Hills Foods delivery to Thursday, Fridays are now wide open. With the week's harvesting behind us, we were able to make good progress on the last big push of seeding and transplanting -- such good progress, in fact, that we emptied the greenhouse of plants ready for the fields and then filled it again with newly seeded trays. All were fall crops: cabbages, brussels sprouts, kohlrabi, and cauliflower in the fields; collards, kale, and more cabbages in the greenhouse. It's a good thing, too. We have only around seventy days until the first hard frost and the end of our growing season.

On throwing things together and calling it good.

When it comes to my farm share, sometimes I fill the week with thoughtfully considered meals that efficiently use the week's produce. More often than not, I look in the refrigerator the day before the pickup and realize I have a sack of vegetables I haven't even thought about using.

This week was about to be like that. Then I happened on the latest "Minimalist" column from Mark Bittman. The frittata -- like the quiche, the stratta, and the stir fry -- is one of those staple dishes in which you can throw a bunch of vegetables, use scattered leftovers and remnants, and generally clean out the crisper drawer.

So into a pan went last week's broccoli, scallions, frisee, a leftover roasted red pepper, and some fresh tarragon from the pot on my front porch, along with a couple of eggs and some grated Parmesan cheese. It turned out more like a scramble than a frittata (next time I think I'll use one or two additional eggs), but it was still delicious. What's more, I had a nice empty place in the fridge to put this week's share.