Yes, yesterday was my birthday. It was a very low-key affair: my folks treated me to a meal at my favourite local East Indian restaurant and filled a big bag with tissue-wrapped goodies (unwrapping such treasures before an audience makes me feel like I’m seven again).

The real party will be in Toronto tomorrow night, and then again when Roddy arrives… EARLY. He surprised me yesterday with the news that he’s coming on June 9th. So we only have 13 more sleeps until the big move to our farm!

In between celebrations, it’s back to work. But not without a wee break for teatime. I don’t feel guilty indulging in chocolate and tea. I know I should be choosy and buy Fair Trade, but this was a gift and it’s made in Victoria at least. The tea (King Cole) is also “proudly Canadian” (New Brunswick) – and very smooth. But it’s not organic or Fair Trade.

As I try to get on with work, sipping my hot tea and not conflicted about it’s origins, I’m reminded that I’m a granny at heart. I’ve subconsciously chosen to work at a table clothed in my Great Grandma’s embroidered lace (how can I do that?!), I’m drawn to teapots decorated with rosebuds and I have a soft cat at my side.

Yoshi is actually dominating my workspace – but he’s SO irresistibly cute and the tea and chocolate taste so divine, this lace adds such character to the setting, and OH isn’t it just wonderful to take a wee break in the mid afternoon, to love the skin you’re in and feel like a seven-year old granny?

It’s only been 5 days since I planted our 8 varieties of new seedlings, but I was starting to get anxious yesterday. My radishes were shooting for the skies, but there was no sign of life from the others, just 60 barren cells of potting mix. My trust in the process was waning.

What if, as I feared, their first watering flooded the cells and carried the shallowly buried seeds onto the lawn? What if I bought poorly germinating seeds? What if my efforts to feed my family, Roddy and I this season were in vain?

What if I’m actually not cut out to be a gardener, let alone farmer?

I couldn’t quiet my mind. But this morning, as I did the rounds of shifting our 100 seedlings to a sunny patch, I spotted tiny lettuce seedlings emerging. A few hours later, after peeling back a fine layer of potting mix, the crooked necks of one spinach, one beet, and one basil seedling were revealing themselves along with a sprinkling of another variety of lettuce.

Relax Andrea. Have faith. And remember the wise words of tiny farmer Mike, “veggies just wanna grow!” With my seedling anxiety in check, I’m taking time to stop and smell the flowers again. Aren’t these irises deliciously beautiful?!

Leaving our first fledgling tomatoes, peas, and kale in Victoria wasn’t easy. But I have cause to celebrate: new growth emerged today in my parents’ backyard here in Ontario!

Last Tuesday night I planted over 100 seeds – a mix of lettuces, spinach, basil, cucumber, zucchini, radish, and beets – and this morning 12 little radishes poked their heads from the their cozy cells.

It’s been sunny and HOT for four out of the past five days, so these little guys are getting a good start on life. I just feel like I’m on holiday!

My cross-Canada adventure has now come full circle.

In late August 2007 Roddy and I jumped aboard a train in Toronto and traveled west with clothes, a few books, Moroccan treasures, a yoga mat, two computers, two instruments, two cameras, one mountain bike, and two young cats.

From the train we sat back and took in the vast Boreal Forest

and we both saw the Prairies for the first time

before we stopped in Vancouver, gathered our luggage and hopped on a ferry for the final leg of our journey to Nanaimo, BC on Vancouver Island.

Over the following 10 months, Roddy moved to Victoria and I to Vancouver for jobs in our fields, I moved in Vancouver once more and then to Victoria to join Roddy and work from home. Our past year in Victoria is the longest we’ve lived in one place together in Canada.

In the last 7 years I’ve moved 14 times. 9 cities, 3 provinces, 2 countries. Now back in Ontario, I’m nomadic again for the next few weeks, floating between my parents’ place in sleepy Barrie and my sisters’ and friends’ places in bustling downtown Toronto.

But my transience is about to come to a grinding halt. In 25 days Roddy and I will plant roots on our new tiny farm. Our load has grown a bit: we’re returning with additions of a Persian carpet, art, paints, a second guitar, a third camera, more books, and a collection of seeds. After all these years of wanderlust, our dream of living off the land and developing an organic market garden is finally unfolding.

I’m supposed to do a “final walkthrough” of the property before it closes next week, but I don’t want to set foot on the land until Roddy joins me next month. Surely my dear pop can do this! My mom thinks I’m shirking responsibility but I’m fighting hard to get out of this one. Roddy and I haven’t seen the farm since February – it will be lush, green and full of promise now.

Am I a crazy romantic? Wouldn’t you want to walk down the gravel road hand-in-hand with your lover the first time you approached your fresh new life?

Oh Juliets! But brief months ago thou were to be growing tall in locavore garden. From the blissful day thou entered my life, I anticipated thine stealthy growth. I imagined the sweet fruit dangling from thine slender limbs. I salivated thinking of thine juicy flesh dripping from my chin.

But alas, it was not meant to be. I am bound for eastern rural horizons, and thy await a transplant in a coastal urban farm.

Juliet, sweet Juliet vining tomatoes. Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I should say goodnight till it be morrow.

These beauties don’t just strut around and fluff their feathers. They earn their keep on Backyard Farm churning up the soil, eating grubs, and laying eggs everyday. They also return nutrients to the earth in their nitrogen-rich manure.

I’ll miss popping by Jenny’s kitchen to pick up a dozen eggs for just $3.50. In the short time it takes her to gently clean twelve shells, we seem to fit lots in: we get each other up to speed, offer advice and encouragement, swap current cooking inspirations, make plans, and share a couple of warm hugs.

When I leave Jenny’s my hands are full of eggs and my heart is light. Everyone needs a Jenny in their life.

That is the question at our house these days.

No Till sounds like a fantastic method for maintaining soil’s natural balance and delicate ecosystem. It even allows one till free card - then let the soil rest to re-establish itself, and add layers of leaves and humus followed by manure (your choice of composted dung or green manure). The result: aerated, nutrient rich soil.

But is this level of detail possible on a 2 acre scale?

I worked on an organic farm of this size that used a tiller at the start of every season, and to till in mature veggies before they bolted. No Till for kitchen garden: YES! No Till for tiny farm: hmmm?