By Cam Mather

As soon as I discovered the old barn foundation on our property 14 years ago, I fantasized about turning it into a garden. At the time the foundation was in the middle of a forest. And it had a small forest growing inside of it.

Over the years I took down the large trees around it and used them for firewood. Then I had to tackle the inside. The door openings were too narrow to allow any power equipment in, so I just hacked everything out with shovels and axes. It was a jungle of sumac and other small trees, vines and every other kind of stubborn, deep-rooted native plant. Even though it had a concrete floor, the plants had found many places to get their roots through that concrete, and they weren’t going to go quietly into the night. It’s the kind of activity that has allowed me to eat excessive amounts of Black Forest cake, guilt-free.

As I cleaned it up I scraped up the soil and made several small raised beds. Our heat loving plants do really well planted in the barn foundation since the thermal mass of the concrete absorbs the heat of the sun during the day and then radiates heat at night, especially early in the season when we still have cold nights.

But ultimately I wanted to use part of the barn foundation for a greenhouse. The logical spot was against the north wall, which gets the most sun. The problem was that this wall has 3 window openings where the heat would have escaped. Also, the wall was cracked and listing. Many years ago when the barn was built the concrete walls were just placed in the sandy soil and over the decades they have shifted. For years I contemplated how to block those windows off. Eventually I bought a bag of mortar and learned how to cement rocks into a window. On top of one of the windows there was a large piece of concrete that had broken free and was hanging precariously, held up by the wooden frame. Eventually I borrowed Ken’s tractor and used it to move the slab into a reasonable position and mortared in more rocks.

So after 14 years of dreaming and scrounging any old storm window or patio door that I could beg, borrow or steal from the dump, this was the year. My friend Hans provided me with some glass that he had removed from a house. When he delivered the glass and I shared my greenhouse plans with him, he said “Cam, do me one favor, take some time and draw this out.” Hans doesn’t know how I work. Hans is a talented architect with a fancy drafting table. I use the “hack things together” strategy to plan my projects. My neighbor Ken also frowns on this method of project planning. Alas, I am 52 and not easily taught new tricks.

My greenhouse project is coming together quite well. I have been salvaging glass for years. It’s amazing how much of it people throw away. The roof of the greenhouse is made of aluminum storm windows. The front is made up of patio doors. So far, my only costs have been the square cedar beams that I had Gary Clarke make for me for $40 with cedar from his property. And $10 in screws.

It’s not a true greenhouse in the sense that I won’t be able to use it for 12 months of the year. I guess you could almost call it a big cold frame. But I’m still over the moon about this greenhouse. Unlike a plastic greenhouse this has this big mass of concrete behind it to retain heat. I’ll be able to put my peppers and eggplants into the soil a few weeks early inside the greenhouse. One of the challenges here in our growing zone is that we often get a late frost. One year we had a frost in early June. There’s nothing worse than planting your peppers and eggplant and tomatoes late in May and then having them nipped by frost. And at the end of the growing season, we will often have a frosty night or two and then another 4 weeks of reasonable weather without frost. So I’m pretty pumped about this greenhouse allowing me to keep supplying members of our CSA with stuff later than I’ve been able to in the past.

It’s not a huge greenhouse. I’ll only be able to fit about two rows of plants in it. And it’s not really airtight. There are some gaps where the doors and windows meet. I’ll try and fill them a bit but I’m not going to obsess about it. As long as it protects my plants from frost and cool nights I’ll be happy. The windows actually leak, which isn’t too bad because when it rains it’s a bit like a drip irrigation system in a few places.

I have this bad habit when I work on projects like this to spend way too much time looking at them. Admiring them. And why not? Come on, it’s a greenhouse... for $50! And with the stone filled windows and cedar beams, it looks like it should be in one of those fancy century farmhouse magazines. And I could get a really trendy haircut and stand beside it in my khaki’s and leather jacket.

Actually I don’t own either of those things. But now I have a greenhouse that I’m thrilled about. Not only because it will help me to provide CSA members with better produce, but because I built it, and I built it almost for free. And I used what materials I had on the property like rock and soil and a barn foundation. And I used windows and patio doors that were destined for the landfill. There’s just something so cool about taking a product that one person sees as garbage and coming up with a functional way to get more life out of it.

I’ll admit it; I have been spending just a bit too much time sitting in my greenhouse. It’s a pretty special place. Hans and Ken will point out that things don’t line up. I’m good with that. My excuse will be that the concrete wall behind it is split in two and going in two different directions. Oh, and because I didn’t sketch it out properly before I started. I measure once and cut twice. Actually sometimes I cut three and four times, sort of using successive approximations until I get it the way I want it. I used a tape measure and a level, but ultimately, I just kind of hacked it together. And I felt like I was taking crack cocaine the whole time! I was finally building my greenhouse!

Not to brag too much, it’s the finest, most awesome greenhouse on the planet! Probably the world! I built that!

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If you are planning on doing some gardening this year, Cam's book "The All You Can Eat Gardening Handbook" would be a great resource! Order it on our website http://aztext.com/ or from any bookseller.

By Cam Mather

A dog attacked me last week, and well, it was a pretty awesome day! I’m sure it was the adrenaline but it’s amazing what a buzz you get after fighting off a dog that is trying to kill you.

I was picking up a load of straw from a neighbor who is trying to clean out his barn. I had met his dogs before and they’ve always been well behaved. I knocked at the door to thank him for the straw and I heard his dogs barking. He came to the screen door and tried to hold them in but they seemed pretty anxious to come out and see me so he let them out.

I am not afraid of dogs. I like dogs. I’ve often shared stories about my own dog, Morgan, in this blog. So when they bounded at me I was prepared for the enthusiasm. But when I realized that one of them had clamped onto my arm and my hand was going numb, I realized that this was not just enthusiasm. This dog really wanted to do me in. As I was beating it off of me I tripped. They’re pretty big dogs and the ground was wet and I was wearing work boots with no treads left on them and there were piles of construction debris that I fell in to. By the time that I hit the ground, one of them had chomped onto my chest under my armpit. These clearly were not love nips. It turned out that it was the large Lab who was trying to do me in. The Bulldog was kind of freaked out by the whole thing a seemed to be trying to stop the Lab, which just made it harder for me to stand up amidst the scuffle. But the growling noises were coming from a dog clearly bent on destruction.

So as loathe as I am to admit it, I retreated to the house. I wanted to take them on, but I felt it was inappropriate to start beating on my neighbor’s dogs. I figured that my choices were fight or flight, and since there were two of them, I decided on flight, for the first round.

I spend a lot of time in my woods, far from another human being and our woods are full of coyotes and wolves. Some of the coyotes have mated with wolves so they’re pretty big. I’ve given some thought as to how to deal with a wolf chomping on my arm. I had pretty much decided I was simply going to free my arm and then grab the wolf by the throat and strangle it. If it’s him or me, he’s going to lose. This time the door was close at hand and seemed like the path of least resistance.

My wrist was fairly chewed up and kind of tingly afterwards, and he took some major chunks out of my chest near my armpit. My flannel shirt was all ripped and bloodied. How manly is that!

Normally I would have had a t-shirt underneath my flannel shirt, which might have cut down on some of the damage, but loading the straw was a hot job and so I had chosen to go without that extra layer.

The owner of the dog was devastated by the whole thing and was very apologetic. His dog had no history of aggressiveness but I have heard of many similar incidents, and so I wasn’t that surprised.

So why did the dog attack me?

My first theory is that I hadn’t shaved and was wearing some pretty manly work clothes so the dog clearly perceived me as a threat. I have that tough rugged look that makes other guys take a step back when I walk by. I’m sure even Mike Tyson would step back and say “How are you today Mr. Mather?” as I walk by.

My second theory is that the dogs didn’t like my smell. I had spent the entire previous day working hard and had spent some time getting a load of manure from a place where there was a female dog. This dog kept running her nose all over my work clothes. Plus, I hadn’t showered and so after loading the truck and trailer with straw, I was pretty rank. I grew up watching Looney Tunes cartoons. So I’m thinking the dog looked at me and just saw a big porterhouse steak. Kind of served me right, I guess. Note to self; change your work clothes more regularly.

Michelle convinced me to go to the doctors to get the gashes under my arm checked out. There was talk of stitches but my doctor decided it was best to let them air out and drain. I had to be convinced to get a tetanus shot which I haven’t had since I was a kid. I argued that it wasn’t necessary since I’ve been digging around in the dirt cutting myself on sharp objects for decades and hadn’t had any problems. Eventually I relented. And yes, I mostly fought it because I hate needles. I would rather fight a dog than get a needle but it turned out that neither was really that bad.

It was really weird but on the drive down to the doctor’s office, all of these dogs kept looking at me funny. A Saint Bernard (i.e. “Cujo”) that had been sleeping on a porch jumped up and leered at me as I drove by. A little further along a puppy stood in the middle of the road barking until I stopped. I kid you not. It was tiny.  It finally sauntered away. It was like when one dog gets a piece of you they put out this radar thing and the rest of the dogs just know “Hey, that’s the guy we should try and take out. He’s vulnerable.”

So what did I take from all of this?

#1 The last time we renewed our home insurance our agent told us that one of the most common incidents that result in claims is for dog bites. That seemed weird to me at the time. Now I get it.

#2 That my wife is stoic in the face of health issues. She went through breast cancer, biopsies, surgery, poking, prodding, radiation and she never once said a thing. Never winced. Never complained. Ever. When she suggested that I should get a tetanus shot she had to drag me out of the corner where I had curled up into the fetal position sobbing uncontrollably.

#3 I’m going to take my oldest, bulkiest winter coat, cut off the sleeves and wear these when I approach a house with a dog. “George, there’s some guy at the door with leg warmers on his arms. Should we call the police?”

#4 That I need to practice having acts of violence being perpetrated on me. Cops who spend their days breaking up bar fights are used to this stuff, but I’m not. I live in the woods, miles from humanity. I have no recent experience in this area. I got punched in the face as a kid, but not recently. I think criminals get the upper hand in most situations because of the element of surprise. I’m going to hire a personal manservant like “Cato” like in the Pink Panther movies who was instructed to attack Inspector Closeau unexpectedly from time to time. I need practice with this element of surprise and shock so I’m not immobilized when things happen.

#5 Next time a dog decides he wants a piece of me, I’m going to open a can of whoop-ass on him, and have him running for cover before he knows what’s hit him. Come on wolves, bring it on! You do NOT scare me now.

Then I’m going to join a “Fight Club.”

Our dog "Morgan"

By Cam Mather

Over the years I have been reading about CSAs.  “Community Supported Agriculture” or CSAs deliver a basket of produce to people once a week during the growing season, so the members share in the harvest. They take the ups with the downs.

Now as I reach back into the recesses of my brain, and think of what I’ve read about CSAs and the people who run them, I remember that every CSA I’ve ever heard about has been run by young people. They are generally about 25 years old and what they lack in growing experience they make up for in enthusiasm and youthful energy. Many of the CSAs have been run by groups of people, growing together. This means there are many hands to share the work. I have this image of a photo of a CSA with 4 principal owners; 2 young men, 2 young women, with lots of piercings, dreadlocks, and those cool multicolored hats like you see in Bogota.

Which brings me to the idea of me starting a CSA at the ripe old age of 52. No really, what am I thinking? I don’t even own a tractor. While Michelle is always an integral part of everything we do, she is still focused on running Aztext Press, shipping books, doing web work (i.e. she posts all this stuff) etc., so the majority of the gardening responsibility falls on me. I’ve always been the vegetable gardener, with Michelle focusing on flowers.

So now I’ve committed to growing enough food to make 12 local families happy. I’ve grown food for 35 years, but this will be the first year when there really is pressure. I’ve always been marvelously talented at giving my produce away for free. It’s a skill I have. And last year after a morning selling at our stand in town, I often ran around delivering the leftovers to our friends, for free. Nothing lost other than the time I’d invested. As it was, the stand went very well which inspired me to go to the CSA format this year.

But really, it’s quite terrifying. I’ve always experienced pressure in earning an income, but this year is different. It’s personal. These are people I know. They are friends. And neighbors. And I do NOT want them pissed off at me.

I think of what many 50-year-olds do during their mid-life crisis. Many buy a motorcycle and pretend they are free spirits, but 2 (or 3) wheels simply don’t fool anyone. Neither does the mandatory black leather gear and grey goatee. Sorry. You aren’t a member of a biker gang; you’re just a bunch of lawyers and accountants out for cheeseburgers on bikes that get the same gas mileage as my Honda Civic.

Others do the rock-climbing thing. But more often the rock wall kind of thing. Usually those rock-climbing walls are made out of fake rock, like something at a theme park. Oh, and sometimes the fake rock walls are on a Disney Cruise. Oh, and there’s always a safety rope in case you fall.

Nope, if you want to try something really extreme, try running the marathon of an organic CSA for 5 or 6 months of the year. No safety rope. No automobile association for when the bike stops. Just you and an acre of soil and some seeds.

I get a little bit stressed out every spring. I never seem to get stuff in to the ground early enough. I always get distracted on some other project that keeps me out of the garden when I should be in it. Some years I was distracted putting up a wind turbine or a solar tracker, and some years it’s garden related. Making gardens bigger. Building cribs to get the rain barrels up higher. This year I’ve been building a greenhouse. And making gardens bigger. And spreading hay for mulch. And planting 20 new high-bush blueberry bushes that won’t be producing for years. And 120 new asparagus roots that won’t be ready for a few years. And…

So now I’m finally trying to focus on getting seeds in the ground. The bizarre warm weather that we experienced in March had most gardeners thinking it was time to pull the trigger, but last week we got 3 nights of -5°C temperatures, which nipped a lot of stuff that is usually pretty frost hardy.

I’m now focused on planting every day. I’ve planted a whack of onions in an area of the garden that I call “The Holland Marsh.” The real “Holland Marsh” is a boggy area north of Toronto that Dutch farmers drained decades ago. It has some of the darkest, richest-looking soil you’ll see anywhere. They grow a variety of things like carrots and onions there. At certain times of the year, as you drive past the Holland Marsh on Hwy. 400, the aroma of onions in the air is overpowering. My “Holland Marsh” is near my dug well where the concrete cattle trough is. Many cows spent a lot of time there many decades ago and left behind some pretty awesome soil.

I’ve put in a crazy number of peas, and since I put up chicken wire fences for them to climb on, it has been way more work than usual. I’ve started putting in lettuce and spinach too, always in much larger quantities than ever before.

When I look at how large the gardens are and how much is still left to be planted, I freak out. How am I going to plant this much stuff? And water it? And weed it? Really, what was I thinking? Where are all the helpers that most CSAs have? Well, I guess that’s my fault because I don’t play well with others. I like to stick to myself and while our experiment with having WWOOFers last summer was great, I’m simply not that sociable to want to have volunteer helpers living here with me all summer.

It’s my own fault. I got myself into this situation and I’ll get myself out. It’s been a theme since we moved off grid. And I’m already visualizing delivering that final box of veggies next fall. And I’m pretty confident that somehow, people will feel they got good value, and I’ll have a major buzz on that will last the winter. Can’t get that on a Harley.

Oh listen, I hear the marathon starters' gun about to go off. Tighten up that bungee rope around my feet. I'm about to jump off the bridge into the abyss. Look out below!

Editor's Note: If you are looking for the best gardening book, check out Cam's "All You Can Eat Gardening Handbook." Available at our website www.aztext.com or through any bookseller.