Plant | Renovations & Relationships

So much can change in a year.

A year ago this week Mark and I took our first trip to Charlottesville together. The trip was a much anticipated – and deserved! – vacation from the recordbreaking winter in Vermont. When we left, there were still several feet of the white stuff on the ground, and it wasn’t about to end anytime soon. Here’s what our house looked like around that time.

Some of us were genuinely grumpy with the weather. Not that I’m naming any names.

It wasn’t just that we were sick of being cold, and the winter darkness, and the shoveling. It’s also that we were literally worried that the roof might collapse (turns out we didn’t have to worry as our attic roof was structurally overbuilt, but we were worried nonetheless). We also were itching to start gardening, and it was hard enough to even think about garden season let alone start seedlings indoors when our backyard looked like this.

We really thought spring would never come.

So imagine our surprise when we took our vacation 500 miles south and found daffodils blooming, community gardens bustling with people, and farmers with their hands in the soil! In March! With no snow on the ground! And no dreaded mud-season!

One year ago today I began picturing myself living in Virginia, and for the first time, and I kind of liked what I saw. Of course Mark and I had talked about it before then – he had been looking at Virginia real estate online for months prior to our vacation. But I never really gave it much thought. Because when I did think about it, it made me sad. Say goodbye to Vermont? Leave the house that we had put so much energy into renovating?

Being the sweet guy that he is, Mark wanted to ensure that if we did ever move to Virginia it was as much my idea as it was his. In other words, no forced relocation or ultimatums. Gentle prodding? Yes. Coercion? No. Mark simply let Virginia speak for itself.

Over the course of about a week spent in the Charlottesville area we visited some of the many places that did the talking – loud and clear.

First, there was Edible Landscaping, an amazing nursery that sells only edible plants that can grow in this region. Like figs and peaches and tea plants and peanuts and artichokes and almonds and pecans and lemons! (Yes, lemons and other citrus will grow here, if they have a protected greenhouse.)
We toured around wineries, meaderies, and breweries, and we attended a local homebrew club meeting. Of course, a great beer, wine, and homebrew scene exists in Vermont, too, but the number of breweres in VA, combined with the state tourism push (especially along Nelson 151) ensured we caught the Virginia craft beer buzz. We even won a prize from the homebrewers: ten pounds of English pale grain that we had to figure out how to lug home to Vermont with us.
We visited properties for sale that had garden/farm space measured in acres, not feet. And they were affordable-ish and close-ish to Charlottesville, which was more than we could find in the Burlington area.
And we met amazing people everywhere we went – not only through the CouchSurfing community but also through daily wanderings and conversations. Of course there is no way to compare VA and VT here. We find great people everywhere we go. (Law of attraction, perhaps?)

But above all else, there were two defining moments from last year’s trip: Viewing a particular property that was on the market, and visiting the Local Food Hub’s farm in Scottsville, that we now call home.

Let’s start with the Local Food Hub first, shall we? Through our pre-vacation research we learned of the LFH and thought it sounded like the kind of place we’d like to learn more about. They support local farmers, grow their own food to supply local schools and the food bank and were similar to Burlington’s Intervale (in fact, modeled on the Intervale in many ways). We got in touch and arranged to take a brief visit.

On March 9th, 2011, we met up with the Food Hub’s Marketing Manager – Emily Manley – who explained the nonprofit’s mission and projects, and gave us a tour around the farm. We saw wide expanses of beautiful farmland, low tunnels protecting crops from the nightly drop in temperature, as well as intimidating Virginia clay. We met farm apprentices who were digging in the soil to prepare for imminent potato planting. We wandered into the greenhouse to find happy, healthy seedlings, and noted that the mushroom logs looked nearly ready to bloom.

I immediately compared my situation to theirs: Potato planting? We’d have to wait for the snow to melt and mud season to pass before we could dig into dry enough soil to plant potatoes. Greenhouses with seedlings almost ready to go in the ground? We hadn’t even started most of our seedlings yet since the ground wouldn’t be ready for them for months. Oh yes, the land was speaking to me. Despite Virginia’s contentious red clay, the land looked way more appealing than the four feet of snow in our backyard.

At the time, we could not have fathomed that one year later the happy seedlings in the greenhouse would be our happy seedlings, and the hands digging in the red earth would be our hands. We had no idea that Emily and the rest of the LFH staff would welcome us into the Hub with open arms.

Defining moment number two: viewing a particular house on 12 acres of land that had everything we were looking for. (Mind you, at the time I still didn’t know I was looking for anything in Virginia, but after seeing this place I was fairly convinced I would find it here, whatever it was.) The house was in our price range, 20 minutes from Charlottesville, and had existing farm buildings in good condition. This place had us dreaming about starting our own small farm (and B&B?) within the first five minutes of setting foot. In fact, the house and property got our creative juices flowing to the point that we were ready to make a bid, and so we did. Only then we learned that there was already another bid on the house, and it had been accepted. We were quite literally a day late… (not sure about the “dollar short” part).

We saw other properties before and after this one, so why did this make such an impact on me? Maybe it’s because, unlike most of the other properties we’ve looked at, I was able to picture myself living there, starting our farm business, renovating the house (minor renovations – the house was in great shape), and spending time in Charlottesville. Maybe it’s because, once we decided to bid, it was an intense, and often draining, emotionally engaging process. We made up stories about the other people who had placed a bid. Maybe their bid was dependent on financing, and it would fall through? Maybe they would think it over and decide it wasn’t the place for them after all? Maybe it was someone from out of state just buying up cheap land to re-sell it and we would have another opportunity to get our hands on it?

None of those things happened. After several very emotionally draining months of back-and-forth with our realtor, we learned that their sale eventually went through. We were bummed. Since then we haven’t found a property as good as this one in terms of location (location! location!), quality, infrastructure, and price. That, plus the fact that this house was symbolic as my turning point in becoming open to moving to Virginia, and we have ourselves a place to which no other property can hold a candle.

Thus, we found ourselves today, a year later, driving past said house and dropping a note in the mailbox for the current owners. The letter said something along the lines of: Hi. We’re jealous. Call us if you want to sell your house. Only a bit longer and more narrative-driven.

We didn’t expect anything to come of it, but figured it would be nice to see the house again, one year later. Maybe meet the owners. (Only they weren’t home, hence the note in the mailbox.) And I’m glad we took the trip out there. It offered a chance for some reflection. Now that a year has passed, I could see it with new eyes. The trees in the orchard are still ugly and stunted, the neighboring houses look kind of trashy. And I bet the 70s carpeting and linoleum kitchen flooring is still inside the huge house. Yes, it still had some appeal, but maybe I need to trust in the universe’s message: that house isn’t the place for us.

The truth is, we have found our home in Virginia, albeit temporary, thanks to the Local Food Hub. Last year’s vacation literally changed our lives. No, we didn’t get that particular property but I think we got something even better: the chance to farm and learn, to grow as food producers and as people, starting to put down Virginia roots together at Cottage View Farm.

We’re pretty hardy people.

In the winter we ~~keep~~ kept our thermostat between 57-63. (Actually, before we lived together, Mark set his apartment thermostat to 52.) We ~~enjoy~~ enjoyed cold weather activities like snowshoeing (me), snowboarding (Mark) and shoveling snow (well, I enjoy shoveling snow; I’m not sure Mark actually enjoys it, though he did a lot of it last year). Friends and family outside of Vermont think we’re a little crazy to keep our heat so low and to embrace the winter as a pleasurable experience, but believe me, it’s not crazy where we ~~are~~ were.

If we’re so hardy, why did we leave Vermont?

Because it’s all about the plants. The plants we want to grow are not quite as hardy. For instance, one year I tried to grow artichokes. Major fail. They grew into beautiful healthy plants, but never produced the bud/choke/edible part. Previous years of tomato plantings were such failures that last year Mark gave up trying to grow full sized tomatoes and grew only cherries instead. I don’t think I’ve ever seen heat-loving peppers grow in Vermont. Okay, I’m kidding with that last one. Sort-of.

When grown in the right climate, artichoke plants are pretty cool looking, and delicious

The truth is, the short growing season in Vermont certainly presents some challenges in terms of the crops and varieties available. Don’t get me wrong, many fruits and vegetables can be grown in Vermont, and the state has plenty of successful farmers, like our friends at the Intervale for instance, other farms surrounding Burlington, or elsewhere in the state. I give them a lot of credit. Vermont presents many challenges to farmers. You have to select cold-tolerant plants, extend the growing season with hoop houses and other techniques, and trudge out in the snow to take care of farm chores and animals in the winter. The short season also makes it difficult to recover when storms like Irene come through and ravage farms during the peak growing season.

While the challenges of farming in Vermont are not insurmountable, we did realize we’re not as hardy as we thought. When we began looking at land to suit our small farm/homestead dreams, we realized that we could have a big advantage over the growing season if we took our dream a little further south. How far south? Oh, about two zones.

When I think about farming in Vermont here’s the image that comes to mind for me:

You’ll notice lots of blues and some purple in that map – colors that generally indicate brrrrrr. In terms of these USDA Plant Hardiness Zones, Burlington is typically a 5a. Not horrible, but not ideal for those of us who want to grow a large variety of heat-loving plants.

Take a look at the zones where we plan to farm this season, near Charlottesville, Virginia:

In amongst all those beautiful earthy green colors you’ll find Charlottesville: squarely in Zone 7a – two full zones warmer than Burlington!

What does this mean? It means it’s snowing in Vermont right now as we’re headed out for a bike ride in Virginia. It means Mark can grow his beloved tomatoes to full ripeness – and sweetness – without worrying that a frost in May or September will thwart his efforts. It means harvesting fresh greens throughout the winter. It means we’ll be planting in the ground in Virginia in a few weeks, just as greenhouses in Vermont are starting to wake up from hibernation. It means more outdoor farmers’ markets throughout the year. It means, overall, more fresh local food more of the time.

Now, don’t take this as a value judgement. I’m not saying Virginia is better than Vermont, even from a local food or farming perspective. Vermont still has advantages like the most farmers markets per capita of any state. And many more local cheese producers. (Boy do they love their cheese in the Green Mountain State!) And tons of helpful resources for new farmers that come from the University of Vermont’s Ag Extension. And Virginia will definitely have its challenges I’m sure – like more pests and diseases due to the lack of a hard frost to kill ’em off each year.

I’m still sad to have left Vermont. I’ll admit that I haven’t yet fallen in love with my new state. But I am excited about the possibilities for growing new things in a warmer zone. I mean, how could I not be excited about growing our own tea (camellia sinensis), or peanuts, or peaches? The possibilities seem endless right now as we start placing our seed orders. Don’t worry, we’re ordering plenty of artichokes and tomatoes. Oh yes.