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Ruth Stout Vegetable Garden

by jenniesugg

I’ve never NOT grown vegetables, except maybe in college. Our first year on this homestead, with two young boys, we tilled up the ground at the back of the property and planted a garden, like my parents used to do. I quickly learned two things: the back of the lot was way too far to be dragging the water hose, and I am no match for weeds.

Last year, heavy with child, my nesting instinct couldn’t resist gardening, despite all sense. However, I was a year smarter and a lot more motivated to do the least amount of work. So, we moved the garden plot closer to the house, laid down rolls of landscaping fabric to ward off the weeds, and planted too much for a pregnant lady with two small children to keep up with. We got a good enough harvest before the weeds took over, but there had to be a better way.

And then I learned about Ruth Stout. A fellow hobby farm friend had discovered the Ruth Stout method and extolled its virtues. After much googling and YouTube videos, around February, I decided to give it a shot. Better late than never.

In brief, the method suggests that if weeds can grow without coddling, so can vegetables. It’s often also called No-Weed Gardening. The idea is to simply smother what you don’t want– with straw, hay, leaves, mulch– and leave uncovered what you do want.

Our landscaping fabric had provided a similar service, but I thought this method might be even better. So, we went out under the pines and carted load after load of pine straw to the garden. When we cleaned out the chicken coop, we dumped the littered straw unto the garden bed, too. Week after week, before the grass grew, we piled the straw high.

And then we waited.

As the sun warmed the earth and the grass began to grow, I held my breath. Would the bedding keep the weeds out? By mid-April, there were still no weeds. By the beginning of May, I was itching to plant…and probably could have, in hindsight, but I made myself wait. Finally, we made the pilgrimage to the Co-Op for plants– because I haven’t mastered seeds yet.

We transferred the little seedlings into their comfy bed and watched for the enemy.

I sowed a few rows of beans, and as they came up, a few weeds tried to sneak their way through, but I quickly pulled those and carefully pushed the straw tight around the new plants. And to my surprise, the weeds didn’t push through. That’s right, people. NO WEEDING! If any wily weeds happened to get through, I just smothered them with more straw. Let me repeat: NO WEEDING!

Never before have I seen such a beautiful and easy-to-work-in garden. And I did that. With my husband’s help…some (he brings home the bacon).

I found myself paraphrasing the apostle Paul as I worked, ‘I planted, the clouds watered, but God gave the increase.’ And indeed, my sweet little garden has been blessed!

At some point, the chickens even planted us a mystery plant that took over one entire corner!

We eventually decided it was a spaghetti squash, and quite a prolific one, at that.

Though most of my nights are broken with waking to care for a sleepless baby, this garden has given me much to look forward to. Nearly every day has brought in harvests like this:

The fridge and freezer are stocked. The canner has been busy. And there’s still more coming. Every morning, I wake up excited to see what’s new in the garden. I’m already planning next year’s!

Beginning in the Middle

by jenniesugg

Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth.

— Psalm 127:4

I don’t remember a time when I couldn’t read. Writing has always been a part of me. After college, I always meant to write a blog. A couple of false starts, nearly ten years, and three kids later, I’m realizing for myself two things. First, there’s no time like the present. And second, a mother needs creative outlets, just for herself. So, that’s what this is. An account of our life as a family, antics, and hobbies. A way to pretend to have adult conversation with someone other than the voice in my head. I’m happy for anyone who’d like to follow along with us, but if nothing else, maybe I’ll remember these days when I’m ninety.

Our mornings these days begin at 6 am, on the heels of sleep in two to three hour stretches. My husband and I have three boys, ages 5, 3, and 8 months. There is little rest for the weary and lots of tears and poop (mostly theirs), but the little moments make it all worth it… I hope.

I grew up on a hobby goat farm in rural North Alabama, surrounded by cotton fields and cow pastures. We always had farm animals. We always had a garden. We hauled hay in the summer and wood in the winter. Summers were running barefoot through the woods, playing in the creek, and sipping sweet tea on porches littered with corn shucks and shelled bean hulls. I married a city boy from old farming roots and a heritage of hobby collecting. Between the two of us, we’ve begun a hobby repertoire of our own. Chain maille making, blacksmithing, baking, entomology, embroidery, cooking, canning, gardening, crafting, and chicken farming, to name a few. And somehow, when we weren’t looking, suddenly we have our own hobby farm. Smaller, surrounded by neighborhood homes instead of pasture, and minutes to city streets, but here, on our one acre homestead, our hobbies make it feel like home.

Between shelling beans and collecting eggs, little boy giggles and muddy puddles, we’re always up to something.