Prep Monday—How Much to Plant


For us, the goal is to grow everything we eat, enough for an entire year. Back in the old days, people did this without the benefit of power tools and grow lights, greenhouses, etc. I’m not opposed to using whatever tools you prefer, but it’s also good to know how to do things old school and to plan for particular times during the year—for instance, you’ll probably not be eating many fruits or vegetables out-of-season.

The big question, of course, is how much to plant? How many hills of zucchini do you need (ha!) and how many rows of potatoes? You will, by necessity, need to store foods throughout the year, whether by canning, freezing, or dehydrating, or simply using cold storage like a root cellar.

Based on my research and modifications, here’s what we should plant in the garden to feed 2-3 people for one year:

Roma tomatoes—12

Big Boy or Beefsteak—2

Cabbage—8

Corn—180 feet

Carrots—40 feet

Cucumber—8 hills

Kale—60 feet

Romaine/iceberg—23 feet

Cantaloupe—8 hills

Onion sets—113 feet

Green onion—23 feet

Bell pepper—9 plants

Jalapeno—9 plants

Potatoes—225 feet

Spinach—60 feet

Zucchini—6 hills

Yellow squash—6 hills

Acorn squash—8 hills

Green beans—111 feet

Now, you might not like or use these, or you might add other varieties. And this is a partial list, for us. The important thing is to plant what you will EAT, not what a website or calculator or blog tells you to plant. But these numbers will give you a good idea of how much you’re going to need throughout the year.

Think about this: let’s say you’re going to make spaghetti sauce; you’ll need onions, peppers, and tomatoes, just from this list alone. How often do make this? How often do you use some kind of tomato sauce or paste or diced or stewed varieties?

That’s a lot of tomatoes! I did an experiment of sorts last year—even though my tomato crop was abysmal. I still have a few jars from last year’s canning, but I cheated a few times and bought commercial sauce.

Also last year, I had gardens at two different homes, and since I was at each one about half the time, the plants all suffered. But I digress. You’ll want to make adjustments based on your typical usage and tastes, and of course, space.

This year, we’ve doubled our garden size, and here is what we actually planted:

Asparagus—20 feet

Potatoes—40 feet

Spinach—20 feet

Onions, both kinds—40 feet

Tomatoes, both kinds—16 plants

Cabbage—20 feet

Carrots—20 feet

Garlic—20 feet

Kale—20 feet

Romaine/butter—40 feet

Jalapenos—15 plants

Bell peppers—15 plants

Green beans—40 feet

Kidney beans—20 feet

Pinto beans—20 feet

Sweet corn—40 feet

And finally, 6 hills each of cucumbers, watermelon, cantaloupe, yellow squash, acorn squash, and zucchini.

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Assuming a typical yield, I’ll still likely have to supplement from farmers’ markets or stores, but I think on most of this we’ll come pretty close. And this, by the way, is less than half our garden area.

There is a silver lining though, in all this garden work: you’ll eat less and exercise more . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prep Monday—Weather and the Little Things


As a homesteader, you’re going to be at the mercy of the weather more so than your city counterparts. There will be things that must be done, regardless or rain or snow or wind or extreme temperatures, and it could be the difference between life and death—at some point, if not immediately—instead of just an annoyance.

Today, for example, it’s a little windy, a little chilly, and a lot rainy. Fortunately for me, I have plenty to do inside the house—or barn—but if I had animals at this point, there would still be feeding and care and for that I’d have to brave the weather.

But a lot can be said for planning ahead.

Normally, I do laundry on Monday. Today is Monday. It’s pouring rain, and I use a clothesline. If I wasn’t paying attention to weather, I might be going commando today, but I washed clothes yesterday when it was sunny and 70 degrees.

I also got the strawberry plants in the ground, and a small tree, and trimmed and mowed the orchard—because when the weatherman says, “Ninety percent chance of rain,” I tend to believe that we’ll get some precipitation. Probably.

Better safe than sorry!

The worrisome forecast is coming up, though: high chance of rain for the next ten days or longer. Not thrilled about that—it’s not good to work the soil when it’s super muddy and at this rate, my weeds will be bigger than my potato plants. And they’re looking really good!

Something else we have to consider around here is burning. I’m a fanatic about fire safety, or so my husband says, but I won’t allow burning if the wind is higher than 10 mph. Period. We still have some of that old house to burn down before we bury the rest, but yesterday the conditions were ideal: no wind, and rain in the forecast.

That fire is completely out now, good and proper, thanks to the downpour.

Trash burning, too, should be done in low-wind conditions. As I have to say around here, repeatedly, it does NOT MATTER if there’s a grate on top of the burn barrel to keep large pieces from flying around.

“It only takes a spark,” and all that . . .

 The Little Things

I brought the laundry in yesterday and put it away, shaking out each piece to get rid of any lingering dust or whatnot. Last night, as I put on my robe, I noticed something green on the sleeve.

A tiny worm.

Cute!

I flicked him off and let him take his chances with the cat. Or the dog. Whichever got to him first.

I kinda feel bad. Kinda.

I’m certainly NOT going to “set him free” outside. Good grief. I’m sure there are plenty more where he came from . . .

But it got me thinking—my daughter is coming down on Friday. She’s never been here. She’s not what you would call outdoorsy or anything, unless that means lounging by the pool on a layover; she’s a flight attendant.

She is not a fan of bugs. Not. A. Fan.

When she was six, she saw a spider on the living room floor. I told her to step on it. She refused. I bet we spent at least 15 minutes arguing over that thing. I finally squished it and told her to take a Kleenex and pick it up and throw it away.

She refused again.

Another 15 minutes later, Spidey was in the trash and my daughter was in tears. So was I, come to think of it.

From laughing.

I mean, sheesh, a dead spider. Never did get the fear of spiders thing—and I was bitten by a brown recluse when I was 16.

Oh, and she will dispose of them now—twenty-five years later. But not without, I suspect, lots of shaking and shuddering and squealing.

I’m just wondering how she’s going to manage down here . . .especially if a worm gets on her sleeve!