Fall Seeds and Winter Garden Plans at Hickman Hollow

From the Gardener’s Journal
The Gardener’s Letter No. 06

Dearest friend of the Hollow,

I have a confession.

I am not particularly good at finishing one growing season before I start working on the next.

There are still sunflowers in my thoughts (and in my field), dahlias to tend, and more things on my farm chore list than I care to count.

And yet, here I am, thinking about next spring.

I suppose this is what happens when you become a farmer. You learn to live in several seasons at once.

Your hands are busy with what is growing today, your mind is planning what might grow tomorrow, and somewhere in between, you are trying to remember where you put the seed packets you were holding five minutes ago.

The Keeper, I suspect, finds this all terribly amusing.

He has never seemed particularly concerned about how much I intend to accomplish before winter.

But this week, as I thought about new flowers, growing more food, and what Hickman Hollow might become in the coming year, I found myself considering something.

Perhaps the most important part of growing a farm happens long before anything begins to bloom.

A Few Seeds and a Great Deal of Imagination

I ordered more flower seeds this week. I know. Shocking.

Among them are white salvia, asters in beautiful shades of dark blue and apricot, Sahara rudbeckia, Persian cress, and green amaranthus.

Now, to someone who does not garden, that might sound like a fairly ordinary collection of seeds.

But to me, those little packets hold entire flower fields that do not exist yet.

I can already imagine the soft white salvia moving among the other flowers. The warm, earthy colors of the rudbeckia. The beautiful contrast of dark blue asters against all those autumn shades.

And the green amaranthus?

Well, I have plans for that too.

One of the things I love most about growing flowers is that every year teaches you something about the next.

Some varieties surprise you. Some disappoint you. Some become favorites you cannot imagine growing without.

And some make you wonder what on earth you were thinking when you planted so many (hello gomphrena!).

The Gardener has experienced all four.

Repeatedly.

But there is something wonderful about looking at an empty bed and seeing possibility instead of bare ground.

I think that is one of the things I love most about this life.

The work is never really finished. And somehow, that is part of the joy.

Something Besides Flowers Is Growing

While flowers will always be at the heart of Hickman Hollow, Jamie and I have also been thinking more seriously about growing food.

Particularly leafy greens and brassicas.

Now, don’t get too excited by the picture above; that is from our harvest last year. We sort of skipped it for this year to focus on flowers, but now that we’re here…I love the idea that someone might eventually visit our farm store and leave with flowers for the table AND fresh vegetables for dinner.

Beauty and nourishment.

Both grown right here.

We have been considering how to expand our vegetable production and what it would take to offer fresh produce through the farm store, perhaps even through a small community-supported agriculture program someday.

But growing food for other people involves more than simply planting seeds and waiting for a harvest.

There is an entire part of farming that happens after the vegetables leave the field.

How do you keep greens fresh?

How do you harvest them without damaging those tender leaves?

How do you cool, clean, package, and store them so that the person taking them home receives something just as beautiful and nourishing as what was growing in the garden?

These are the sorts of questions I have been thinking about this week.

And I find them fascinating.

Because there is a difference between growing something successfully and learning how to share it successfully.

The first requires understanding the plant. The second requires understanding the person who will take it home.

I want us to be good at both.

Something to Take Home: The Secret to Better Garden Greens

Since leafy greens have been on my mind, I thought I would share something useful for anyone growing a little food at home.

One of the simplest ways to improve the quality of harvested greens is to pay attention to when you pick them and what you do immediately afterward.

Leafy greens lose moisture and quality quickly after harvest, particularly when they are left in the heat.

Here are three simple habits worth remembering.

Harvest while the morning is still cool.

Leaves are generally well hydrated early in the morning, and harvesting before the heat builds helps preserve their quality.

Keep your harvest out of the sun.

A basket of beautiful greens can begin wilting surprisingly quickly when left sitting in direct sunlight. Move them into the shade and cool them promptly.

Keep them cool once harvested.

Store leafy greens in the refrigerator, ideally around 32 to 40 degrees Fahrenheit, with enough moisture protection to prevent wilting. Wash them with clean water before eating, and dry them well if washing before storage.

For home gardeners, many leafy greens can also be harvested a few leaves at a time. Taking mature outer leaves while leaving the growing center intact allows certain crops to continue producing.

And here in South Carolina, autumn is a wonderful season for growing many of them.

Collards, kale, mustard greens, arugula, and Swiss chard generally appreciate the cooler conditions of fall. And, it’s a huge bonus that our coastal plain growing region has a particularly generous autumn planting window.

If you have a little garden space, you might consider growing a few greens of your own this season.

The Season After the Season

There is something peculiar about October on a flower farm in South Carolina.

Summer has not entirely surrendered. Autumn is trying to make itself known. And winter is waiting patiently somewhere beyond the tree line.

The flowers do not all agree about what season it is.

While one part of the farm is enjoying its final stretches of the growing season, another part is already preparing for what comes next.

There are seeds to plan for, beds to prepare, and new things to learn.

The farm store has possibilities we have not yet explored, and I am not quite ready to divulge, but I will say, big news about the farm store is on the horizon.

And somewhere in the Hollow, four little sheep, two fluffy white farm dogs, three sweet cats, seven adorable ducks, and around 40 or so chickens (but who’s counting) are becoming part of a story that has only just begun.

I have been thinking about how much of farming involves preparing for things you cannot yet see.

You plant a seed without knowing exactly what the season will bring. You prepare a garden bed before there is anything growing in it. You build a place for people to gather before you know who will walk through the gate.

And sometimes, you work toward something for months before anyone else can see what you have been imagining.

The Keeper seems to understand this better than I do.

He has always been rather fond of patience.

I am still working on it.

But I think the Hollow has been teaching me something important.

Not every season is meant for blooming. Some seasons are meant for becoming.

And perhaps that is enough.

This Weekend at the Hollow

We are nearing the end of our flower picking season, although we still cannot say exactly when the final U-Pick will arrive; I am certain this weekend will be the end of sunflower availability.

Our usual Saturday U-Pick hours are 9 AM to 2 PM, with $20 cups and $40 buckets, if weather permits.

Please check our latest farm announcement before visiting, as we cannot guarantee how many picking days remain.

The flowers may be nearing the end of their season, but the Hollow is certainly not finished growing.

Before You Go

If you have been following along with us this year, thank you.

Whether you have wandered through our flower fields, stopped to visit the animals, shared a story with us, or simply opened these letters each Thursday morning, you are becoming part of what makes this place special.

I hope you know that.

There are so many things Jamie and I still want to build here.

Some are already taking shape.

Others are little more than ideas scribbled on paper.

But every season brings us a little closer.

And I am awfully glad you are here to watch it happen.

Until we meet again,

Stay awhile.

P.S. The Wrens have apparently heard about the new seed order. They would like to remind the Gardener that ordering seeds and finding somewhere to plant them are two entirely different activities.

I have chosen not to respond.