SOIL BLOCK BREAKDOWN.

 Had we never interned at Bugtussle Farm, I don't know that we would have ever tried soil blocks. Beyond Eliot Coleman and a few others, most farmers decry this seed propagation method as too slow, too much soil used, too cumbersome.We, however, seven years in, see it differently. And I thought I'd just do a little breakdown of what we've found using soil blocks––per an (always appreciated) request in our comments section––and why we still do. But first, some dispelling.SPEEDSlow is the word people often associate with soil block making. And though we've admittedly never used any other method on anywhere near the scale we use soil blocks, one soil block tray of 50 or 84 blocks takes me about 90 seconds (minus seeding which depends on seed size, color and shape). Give or take.  4" blocks, maybe take less. And that's with regular hand held block makers ––more efficient ones exist or are coming out. Is that slow? Hard to imagine cell trays going a whole lot faster (though let me know if I'm wrong!). Of course, when you first start out, it may be slower. No, it definitely will be. You will try and make every block perfectly crisp. You will try and clean the block makers of dirt before releasing the blocks. If you can push beyond that, however, get a block looking at least three quarters good––AKA good enough for a seed to approve of––that's all you need.CRUMBLYIf you have trouble with crumbly blocks, two things may have occurred. First, the soil may not have been properly prepared or moistened. I prefer too wet of a soil over too dry (explained below) for this reason. Second, you may have tried to transplant the block before the seedling took root––generally around first true leaves. Once roots are established in the block, they will more or less hold it together. You may lose soil here or there in transplanting, but it's no big deal. Throw it in the garden, or stir into unused mix.TOO MUCH SOILIndeed, you will use a lot of soil with soil blocks. But think of soil block trays as portable gardens. When these gardens exit your greenhouse and go into your field, not only are you transplanting a crop, but all of that soil, that garden, as well. By that logic, we have added roughly 1 1/2 tons of soil mix to our 3/4 acre garden so far this year from soil blocks. That's a lot of bonus organic matter!HOW TO USE:Start with a well-prepared soil mix. This can be purchased from a compost company like Vermont Compost or Johnny's or simply made at home. For us, our recipe is: one, 3-cubic yard bag of peat moss (or like substance), 20 gallons sifted sand, 10 gallons sifted compost plus 10 gallons sifted soil or old compost. We then add 4 cups blood meal for nitrogen, 4 cups lime, 2 cups rock phosphate (or other organic phosphorous source), 2 cups green sand (or similar potassium) and occasionally crushed egg shells for calcium when potting up tomatoes and peppers. (This is essentially Eliot Coleman's recipe). All ingredients should be mixed well, of course, and it seems to perform better when left to "marry" for a few months, so make in fall or winter when possible. (Four of these mixes will usually get us through the spring.) Next we wet the soil to a consistency where it is not quite puddling or muddy, but is definitely wet. It should drip but not run––you'll figure that out with practice. We then pack it into the maker and form our blocks. Don't worry about perfect blocks. Just make sure they hold together. To help with that, depress the soil block maker against the tray to compact the block a little before releasing the blocks. Then we seed, cover in accordance with the seed size (larger seeds like cucurbits generally like to be fully covered, whereas smaller seeds like lettuce can just be lightly covered––we simply pinch soil from the side of the blocks, no extra needed) and place in shade or greenhouse.GENERAL TIPS:Use a wheel barrow or similarly sturdy container so you can utilize the edges for pressing the soil in. Soft containers will bend and flex, eventually breaking. Make sure it's at a good height for you––don't break your back bending over. Dip your soil block maker in water after every blocking or two to rinse. This will help keep the blocks sliding out smoothly. If the mix gets too wet, add more dry mix and stop dipping until back to good consistency. Do not leave block makers out. They will rust and become more ornery over time. Always rinse and place somewhere dry and warm for longevity.WHERE TO PURCHASE:We have only used the soil block makers from Johnny's, though we are fully satisfied. Others exist, but I cannot comment on their efficacy. We have also made our own four inch makers out of old plastic pots––good for a small scale garden, but won't last long. Additionally, our block makers are all the small-handled versions, though we hope to step up to the long-handled makers one day to save on back strain. Johnny's is also, I believe, working on a maker that will produce an entire tray at once, which could drastically improve the speed.If you have any questions, additions, or comments, leave them below! We also made THIS video last month of potting up peppers for reference.-Jesse. 

MORE WITH LESS.

 When we first started farming, we wanted to do it all. Well, we still want to do it all––that never goes away––but we used to actually try it. The goats, the chickens, turkeys, pigs. All of it, all at once. And what we learned––the hard way––is that when you do everything, you can do very little of it well. Then when you don't do anything well, it's hard to enjoy what you do.So that's why no pigs this year. That's why no turkeys. We have cut way back, and honestly, it's been great. It's early yet, but I can say with confidence that I am a far happier, saner farmer when I'm not chasing pigs through the woods at three in the morning. Or fencing and re-fencing and re-fencing goats. I doubt Hannah would disagree.Especially, that is, when we're not suffering financially at the same time. And we're not this year. We're actually making a reasonable, living wage doing less. More so than we ever have farming. By focusing our effort on one main project––the garden–-we are officially for the first time, kinda making it.There's more to it, though. Family for instance. I want to spend time with them that doesn't involve planting, harvesting or weeding while one of us chases Further off the rows (though I want that time, too); time with them that is not me too sore to engage, too tired to stay awake until 7 p.m.; quality time.I want my son and a Seuss. My wife and a glass of milk. I want to sit down at dusk and write a blog post with the freedom to occasionally stop to hear what the scarlet tanager or Audie Cornish have to tell me about the world. And not at dark, but at five or six I want these things––a normal hour of the day to do normal things. If more farmers lived reasonable lives, perhaps more people would choose farming. I want that, too.Will we ever return to doing it all? Maybe, probably, sure. Perhaps when Further is grown, or when he can be the one chasing pigs.But smartly. Farming is so full of possibility it is hard not to overdose. What is actually important to you gets buried in the potential that is soil, sunlight, water. But if you take a step back, and picture the life you want, you realize it can be achieved with a lot less work. You can make an impact, feed people––lots of people––and live to write about it. Because I could easily spend my entire day homesteading the fire out of this place, from dawn to dusk, but I'd sure miss my homestead in the process. That's what I've learned in these past seven seasons: do a few things well, and make sure one of those things is happiness.-Jesse.

IN PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.

I had my first battle with depression while living in New York City. I simply woke up one morning––in the prime of my youth––and without any warning at all, felt small. Without any warning I felt sad. I was, without any warning, any specific reason, or any real cure, a mess. Just like that.And then it went away. And then it came back. And then it went away. And then it came back. About once a month, or every few weeks, I just went down. Though sometimes coupled with heartache, heavy drinking or stress, there seemed to be no real rhyme or reason to it. I was now just, as a young, healthy twenty-something, one of the millions of Americans who suffered from depression.As a writer, this seemed fitting––suffering was common among my favorite authors. But as a human being who had to live with this burdensome sadness, fitting was of little comfort. You've had sore muscles before, no doubt. Well depression feels like that, if your soul can be considered a muscle. It makes it hard to get out of bed, walk, talk or do just about anything necessary for life. Depression is a limp of the heart.Then for many years I just sucked it up and carried it around. I carried it to the wine shop where I feel my work certainly suffered on the bad days. I carried it to the bar, to my friend's houses, to brunch, to shows, everywhere. I never really dwelled on it, I just absorbed it into my character. Jesse Frost, sometimes sad.When I came to Bugtussle in 2010, I didn't expect it to go away. I had made this dramatic change in my life hoping it would, but didn't expect it to. And it didn't immediately. I remember one long night, a couple weeks into my internship, where I got a visit from the soreness and thought, "I guess you found me."But the other day Hannah and I were laying on our backs, smothering Further with kisses, while he laughed wildly. And I was laughing wildly. And my beautiful wife was laughing wildly. It was then that I realized six years had passed since my last bout with depression, six years since the last time I was anything but thrilled to get out bed.I'm not saying farming cured me, or family cured me, or could cure anyone else, but having gone this long without crippling sadness I'm not conceding it either. I eat better, I exercise a lot, I love what I do, and I have the most amazing people around me at all times. If I couldn't be happy in that, I must be broken.I also used to think of my depression as part of my character, but I don't see it that way anymore. My depression was not my personality, but a symptom of not doing what I was––forgive the cliché––meant to do with my life. Wild laughter, however, in the best of company, I believe, is a signal that I may be on the right track.- Jesse Frost, pretty darn happy.

SPRING BABIES.

Spring has definitely sprung over at Bugtussle Farm - 100+ lambs and one new, very sweet calf. We are lucky to be able to walk a few minutes up the road to soak up this cuteness.