Seedlings and other things are growing

New arrivals are on their way, down at the farm

A few weeks ago, I arrived home on a Friday evening to an empty house. My boyfriend had gone away for a weekend with friends, my son was at the childminder’s, and I had a glorious obligation-free half an hour stretching before me.

Of course, my favourite times at the farm are the ones that are filled with my family, when I can hear my son’s shrieks of excitement as he bounces around the living room, or the sizzling of the pan as my boyfriend cooks something delicious. But my second favourite times are the ones when I have the place all to myself. The minutes tick by quickly, and I think I should fill them with something productive, like writing this newsletter, or continuing the novel that is languishing on my computer, but I don’t. Generally, I scroll on my phone, or stare out of the window, or hunt the house for chocolate, too exhausted for more acceptable versions of rest.

On this particular evening, however, my focus was diverted to a huge black lightbox that had miraculously appeared in the living room since I had left it that morning. It was zipped tightly shut, and light spilled out from around the edges, a bright, harsh light that is the best kind for making things grow. Not wanting to disturb the looming structure, I sneaked a peek through a little window at the side. Pots upon pots upon pots of soil sat under the glare as though they were lying in a sunbed (I can attest to what this feels like, having had a brief, ill-advised sunbed phase as a student). I felt a thrill of excitement. This was it. This was the beginning of our farm.

Disclaimer: This is not the typical size of a lightbox for growing veg. We borrowed it from friends. Let’s just say it was used for other, much taller plants.

It's not as though edible things haven’t been growing at the farm. Life finds a way, as Jeff Goldblum would say. In our first summer here, we ate five perfect peaches from a tree just outside our front door. Have you ever played that game where you choose the only three fruit trees that you would have in your garden, that would eternally give the perfect version of your chosen fruit? Mine would always be cherry, mango, and peach. And now I can tick peach off my list! We also found apples and grapes and one solitary apricot. Last July, I even foraged for wild plums just behind the chateau, finding enough to keep us in plum cake and plum compote for at least a couple of weeks. I skipped along with my little bucket thinking, ‘I’m a farmer’s wife. Do-be-do. Who’d have thunk it?!’

Cherry tomatoes or wild plums? You decide.

There’s something special though about the first vegetables that are being grown on purpose. All through that weekend, my son and I peered through the window at the side of the lightbox. In every free moment we went to check on ‘Papa’s plants’. And when tiny shoots appeared on the Sunday afternoon, our excitement and satisfaction felt real and justified. We had done nothing to help these little seedlings along, but we loved them all the same.

Around the same time as the lightbox Tardis, we found out that the little human currently kicking me from the inside is a boy. Just as during my last pregnancy, I am in awe of the idea that I am creating a human at the same time as standing in front of my class, or unloading the dishwasher, or catching up on all the Whatsapp messages I’ve missed. So far, parenting has surpassed every one of my expectations, both in terms of the absolute joy and my incredible ability to survive without sleep. Mostly, I’ve learned that planning how it’s going to be is a foolish endeavour. The bits you don’t see coming are the best.

It's kind of the same as starting this farm. Things are going to grow, things are growing, and my creative, precise boyfriend is wrangling them all into shape. But somehow, seeing the seedlings push through the soil and towards the giant light, their stems getting stronger and more green, their leaves unfurling… and knowing that one day those little shoots are going to be tomatoes and courgettes and peppers and aubergine which people might actually buy and enjoy… that’s better than I expected. Roll on summer and ratatouille.