Three Steps Forward, Two Steps Back

Were it not for the tiny thriving plants pictured below, I would be ready to throw my hands up into the air, screaming, "What in the world was I thinking when I decided to start a flower farm?"  Flower farming looked like a fairly manageable venture as I read each beautifully scripted blog post and scanned the glorious photos of perfectly manicured rows of equally perfect flowers.  Sure, it would be work, but I have never shied away from work.  How bad could it be, I reasoned.

Half my first planting of sunflowers did not germinate in the cold wet soil, nor did the phlox seed.  In my eagerness, I did not prepare the beds as well as I should have.  With hundreds of plants outgrowing their tiny containers in my basement, and no place to put them, I dove at the chance to be able to plant them just about anywhere.

Rocks, roots, timber, and old pieces of iron continue to be unearthed with almost every shovel full of soil.

The well, the only source of water for the flower farm beyond rainfall, was outfitted with a brand new pump. It ran beautifully for a very short time, and now is bogged down.  The well person will be on site tomorrow to have a look. He and Better Half believe there is sediment in the bottom of the well.

The weather this past week was cool and wet, and, while I appreciate the rain, the flowers and vegetables need some warm sunny days.

I set up a domain name for the farm, and began the work of setting up a web site, only to realize I know as much about setting up a web site as I do about flower farming.

Expenses continue to mount.

Lots of days, the endless chores in front of me loom large, and threaten to overtake me.  Then, I retire to the farm for a walk about, plucking a few weeds as I go, noting the new growth on each little plant, and my faith is restored, at least until the next crisis rears its ugly head.

On a more positive note, the deer remain at bay, though each day I pull up to the farm, I look for signs of devastation.  Better Half and I built a cover for the well pit after he almost fell head long into the pit after tripping on a root.  We used old metal roofing on a new wooden frame.  It actually turned out quite nicely, though it weighs a ton.  The big field has been limed and disked.  It will be worked again when the land dries out.  I am beginning to think the old hog lot was a swamp, given the soggy conditions that persist.  The grass seed I planted on the grassy knoll above the garden is gorgeous.  It may be this year's best crop.  Views from every angle of the garden are spectacular.

This row of zinnias should be straight, but some of the stems have twisted, giving the bed a slightly disheveled look.

 This bed contains cosmos. I admit to feeling very professional as I stretched this mesh netting over the bed.  The flower plants will grow up through the holes and be supported by the netting, producing long straight stems. We shall see.

This row contains feverfew, butterfly weed, and rudbeckia, with Queen Annne's lace to the left and cosmos to the right.  I feel pretty good about the way this row looks.

A panorama of the garden from this past Saturday.  Check out the luscious grass in the foreground.

Better Half,  hard at work, on the well pit cover.

The finished cover sits on the grain scales, waiting to be hauled to the well pit.

New electricity, a new pump, tank, sump pump, hydrant, and associated innards have been installed. The well worked well for the first day, then became clogged shortly thereafter.  Once it is operational, it will enable me to use drip irrigation, as I expand the scope of the project.

I am quite certain that my grandfathers, both of whom grew gorgeous flowers, one on a narrow city lot, the other on a lot beside his home, are peering down from above with smiles on their faces wondering what in the world I am doing.  Most days, so do I.