A Completely Logical (and not at all biased) Ranking of Different Plant Pots

Elizabeth rennert - rgf staff

Winter at the farm means it’s almost seed-starting time! Before many of our wonderful veggies make their way into the garden ground, they first begin their journey as individual seeds in small pots nurtured to life in the greenhouse.

Each of the hundreds of pots needs to be washed out and sanitized to remove all remnants of last season’s plantings, before we put any new seeds in them. This helps prevent disease and fungus from running rampant through our baby seedlings. I undertook this project with eagerness, spending almost a day and a half at the sink–sorting, spraying down, and scrubbing all the plant pots to the best of my ability. As my shirt got soaking wet with water spray, and my fingers turned to raisins, I began to develop some very strong opinions about which plant pots were best and which were worst. Opinions based almost entirely on how easy it is to clean them.

Without further ado, here is that completely logical (and not at all biased) ranking:

The worst of all, at the very bottom of the ranking, are the circle green quart pots made out of thin plastic. 0/10

Absolute trash! Terrible plant pots. The flimsy plastic makes them impossible to scrub without cracking! The ridges on the sides are a magnet for the gross filmy dirt that doesn’t scrub off and the drainage holes in the bottom are just sharp plastic snaggy bits. The raw plastic edges scrap your fingers and shred the sponge to pieces. And who thought that putting a lip on the inside of a plant pot was a good idea?! The dirt just keeps rolling around forever with no corner to stop in!

Still bad, but a step above are the 72-count seed flats with the conical segments. 2/10

Just too long to fit in the sink, it takes a Tetris champion to get the whole tray wet. Each of the different sections is like the worst part of dishwashing–the surprise soaking when a spoon hits the water at the wrong angle! You need a natural 20 acrobatics roll to avoid all the water spray and end with dry clothes. But even the spray of the water isn’t enough to clean all the grime, so each one of the tiny sections needs to be scrubbed by hand! All 72 sections! (Plus the bottoms too)

The tray with small drainage holes for holding seed blocks are mid-tier at best. 5/10

These aren’t even real pots! They’re just plastic trays with lines across them! I swear that these trays were dipped with the dirt equivalent of glitter. Every time I thought I had gotten the last bit of dirt, another clump appeared from some other dimension! Where did all the dirt come from? Where?!

An acceptable choice is the classic quart yogurt container with holes punched in the bottom for drainage. 6/10

Bonus points for upcycling I suppose, but the white plastic held onto dirt so well that I thought for sure the pots were beyond saving! Although eventually I got the pots clean, I had to scrub with an intensity rivaling the blaze of a thousand suns. Was it worth it? The sponge was in pieces, my fingers sore, and all for a yogurt container.

My favorite, and objectively the best plant pot is the black, hard plastic, quart containers with eight drainage holes! 11/10

So sturdy that I could build a tower with no fear of collapse! Bonus drainage holes in the corners (something I’d never thought I would be excited about) allow the dirty water to drip right out! The smooth plastic sides, minimal texture, nice crisp corners, and beautiful square shape are a marriage between design and engineering, creating a beautiful and functional plant pot. All other pots should be banished to the ether, and replaced with these works of art! In fact, all containers should be replaced with these! Shopping baskets, laundry hampers, pencil cases! Backpacks, toolboxes, even waterbottles! (The waterbottles might be a bit messy, but I think it’s worth it) No better plant pot has ever, can ever, or will ever, exist!

Winter Whispers Soft

Vic Gravel-RGF Staff

The collective breath is slowing here on the farm as we exhale toward winter. A surprise snow last week blanketed a garden half-asleep, dusting the coats of our ever-fluffing sheep and peppering the noses of Jack and Thor in a most delightful dapple. Our final fall bits are nearly complete-garlic has been planted, garden beds turned and tucked in to sleep, stray animal fencing has been retrieved from wilting pastures and the wood stove warms our frozen fingers and toes at the end of the day. As days turn cooler, nights frozen, I am on a mission to glean as many tactile skills as possible before donning gloves that make knot tying and carpentry a bit more challenging. In these days of deep autumn, swooning toward winter, I strive to emulate the garden beds we worked so hard to clear; I am absorbing skills, philosophies, and techniques, enriched by the compost of good company, great teachers, and meaningful work. These past few weeks have been defined by transition, something I often find myself struggling with. And yet, here on the farm, this thing so commonplace and so challenging feels a bit more gentle. Let’s talk about why. 

We start from a place of utter joy. Just a few Fridays ago we had a very special evening here on the farm: the moon hung luminous and eerie over the landscape, a warm evening breeze tousling wigs and rippling robes. Jack-O'l-anterns flickered all over, mottling pastures and walkways with creeping shadows. Kiddoes and their families arrived in droves to enjoy an evening of games, treats, and a properly spookified farm. Adorned with all the appropriate Ms. Frizzle trappings, -an emerald green dress specked with insects of varying varieties, bee-patterned socks, magic school bus earrings, and a curly whirly up-do secured by mushroom and butterfly-patterned hair pins-I was prepared for an evening of jolly good fun. It was time for farm Halloween! 

The night was as perfect as could be for our farm Halloween celebration: evening temperatures in the 60s, a moon one day from fullness, tables decorated with my hand-crafted “spooquets,” games galore and snacks abounding. Costumed kids and their families enjoyed a night chalk-full of delights-fresh cider pressed from the Clark’s local apples, hay rides, a campfire and marshmallows, donut-on-a-stick, arts and crafts and so, so much more! The night was magical, the most wonderful way to bid October a warm goodbye. And a few extra special shout-outs: to all the volunteers who came out that night, to the Clark’s for the apple press and all those delectable apples (especially after the dismal year we’ve had for fruit trees!), and to Pioneer Valley Grower’s Association for their donation of the pumpkins so central to creating our spookified farm ambiance- we truly could not have pulled it off without you. Thank you for everything, y’all. We continue to appreciate you beyond words.  

A mere week after that unseasonably warm day a snow shower arrived, bespeckling the farm with crystals unanticipated and, for the most part, thoroughly enjoyed. After a week of planning, prepping, and going-going-going for farm Halloween, it is almost as if Mother Nature herself sensed we all needed a bit of a break…and a good snowball fight. Transition in good company, whether it is the changing of the seasons or the departure of those held dear, becomes the soft blanket you long for after an unexpected snow storm. Red Gate Farm is a constant reminder that we as humans are only as strong as the container that holds us, and the people we choose to surround ourselves with fortify that vessel. I am honored and proud to be enveloped by the warm blanket of the Red Gate Farm family, a group of strong, kind-hearted, passionate, endlessly caring, hilarious, authentic, extraordinary people. In this time of transition, I cannot think of a better group of humans to share space, smiles, and serendipitous snowball fights with.

Then came garlic fest 2023! On October 25, 2023, Red Gate Farm staff came together to collectively complete a feat so enormous your socks will be permanently knocked off…pretty inconvenient for winter, sorry about that. We, with smiles on our faces and fingers in the dirt, planted 600 CLOVES OF GARLIC!!!! 600!!!!!! Singing and laughing with every dibble, we plopped single cloves into their new winter caverns, sprinkling a little Red Gate magic in with every teeny garlic baby. Planting garlic humbled me-in the enchanting alchemy of the garden, one tiny clove becomes 8,10,12 cloves all wrapped up in a papery bulb; green flags wave in the warmth of summertime, beckoning our hands to unveil the magical transformation that has unfolded over the winter and spring. I see this transformation as a vital reminder that the seeds of kindness, love, compassion, and joy, once planted with care, increase exponentially, especially when experienced and shared in community with others. 

This week has seen us finishing bucking up our logs and organizing our firewood to keep us warm this winter, chipping our final pile of leaves and spreading them as mulch atop our sleepy garden beds, collecting garden signs and de-trellising tomatoes and beans, and breathing deeply as we watch the farm’s diaphragm slowly but surely contract. This month and the next we have/will also be saying goodbye to two of our incredible farmer-educators. With the new year approaching, the new season approaching, the new flow of the farm approaching, new educators on the horizon, I am once again firmly planted in a state of bittersweetness. This place, these people have become my family in so many ways. It is a strain on my heart to say goodbye to the people who have come to mean so much to me, who I admire so much, who have been mentors and friends alike. And, because I care about them so much, I am elated to see them embark upon new and exciting adventures. Red Gate Farm is also a place that has underscored the importance of holding two seemingly opposed things-emotions, facts, etc., at once in my mind and body. To be a fully embodied person is to hold space for these paradoxes, allow these emotions to flow through you, colliding and entwining to create a dynamic landscape of ‘aliveness.’ 

Transition is hard, yes, and it is always happening. Working at the farm, watching change unfold so constantly and being among such special souls makes holding these sticky feelings just a little less painful, a little less destabilizing. With some pretty massive transitions coming up in my life,-graduating undergrad chief among them-I am deeply grateful to the farm for strengthening my ‘getting through, and even appreciating, transitions’ muscle. I end today’s blog with a heart both aching and glowing. Seasons change, people come and go. Blanketed by the warmth of community and meaningful work, these facts feel a little more tender to my soul.

Oh Hello Summer Garden

We’ve had a wet start to the summer… but with the first real rays of summer sun and temps up the 80s we’re ready to jump through sprinklers in swimsuits, lick dripping popsicles, and dunk our heads in the stream!

The garden is coming into its own this time of year, cranking out sweet summer berries, crisp carrots, and our first abundant bouquets of flowers. These first weeks of summer students help in the garden by planting seedlings, catching potato bugs and cabbage moths, and harvesting arm loads of garlic scapes.

We love to play in the garden too! Kids love using mortars and pestles to squish flowers and leaves into garden “ink”. We’ve seen some truly stunning creations this year made from not much more than pansies!

Spring at Red Gate

By Elizabeth Rennert

CROCUSES BLOOM IN A MUDDY SPRING GARDEN

Spring has sprung on the farm, and new life is bursting forth in all directions. The winter snow is melting away, revealing the green grass and brown soil below. Colorful buds are shooting up, indicating the abundant growth beneath the ground. A walk through the garden reveals snow drops, and crocuses, and the first daffodil buds as well as empty-looking beds soon to be filled with vegetables, flowers, and herbs.

One of the most exciting signs of spring on the farm is the arrival of new lambs. The barn is a flurry of activity as the ewes give birth to their adorable, fuzzy little babies. The lambs are born wobbly and unsteady on their feet, but they quickly gain their footing and begin nursing. The barn is filled with the sounds of bleating lambs, exploring their new world, and getting to know each other.

oNE OF THE FIRST LAMBS BORN IN 2023

The arrival of school programs brings a certain liveliness to the farm as kids explore the new program building, and experience the first overnight winter programming. Students snowshoe out to check on the maple tree taps, shovel paths through the remaining snow, and watch with hushed anticipation as a ewe gives birth.

sTUDENTS HELP REPAIR AND SORT GARDEN SIGNS

Spring on the farm is a time of growth, when the world is filled with new beginnings and endless possibilities. The arrival of new life, from the lambs in the barn to the crocuses in the field, fills us with admiration for the joys of nature and the beauty of the world around us.

students plant carrot seeds in the garden

Summer 2022: Day Camp Fun!

Day camp 2022 was just fabulous. Our awesome campers did excellent work all over the farm. They helped the animals by walking the goats, training the oxen, and mucking out stalls. In the garden, campers earned their wheelbarrow licenses by hauling barrels of compost into the garden, harvested produce for meals, and hunted for invasive cabbage moths. The forest crews helped us manage our sugar bush and cleared out invasive multiflora rose! After all that hard work we played in sprinklers, built wooden robots, and dyed cloth with garden flowers! We love our farm families so much, we already can’t wait for next year. Here’s a round up of some of our favorite photos from our day camp!

Dahlia Giveaway

Last weekend we hauled our hoard of Dahlia tubers up out of the basement to wash and inspect. They are looking good! We have more than enough tubers for our front and main gardens. In fact, we have so many we need to find happy homes for our extras. Below are images of most of our Dahlia varieties. Varieties we have an abundance of are labeled giveaway. We don’t necessarily have extras of our other varieties—but you never know, we might be up for a trade! If you’re interested, send an email to sydney@redgatefarm.org. Unfortunately, we can’t mail any tubers.

"Spiky Pink"

"Creamsicle" Giveaway!

Purple Giveaway!

Red Giveaway!

"Hamilton Lillian"

Single Red and Yellow Giveaway!

Single Magenta

Single Spiky Pink

Single Pale Pink Giveaway!

Single Peachy Pink

Single Red Giveaway!

Single Rose Pink

"Golden Treasure"

"Center Court"

Garden Journal: Sneaky Sneaky

Here’s something I love: students sneaking fruits and vegetables from the garden. I can understand Mr. Mcgreggor’s aversion to rabbits, but even he would have succumbed to the sweetness of a five-year-old playing coy about the six carrots he has stuffed in a single tiny pants pocket. Or the 7-year-old with tell-tale sticky blue fingers. Or the 10-year-old who has disappeared in the sugar-snap-peas for the third time.  

Most students I discover with cheeks stuffed like chipmunks have a certain gleam in their eyes. They are thrilled by their own audacity. The carrot in their hand is an illicit treasure, a cookie from the cookie jar, and they’ve been bold enough to it take from right under my nose. In these cases, I like to play along:

 “Hey you! What’s that I see in your hand, huh?!”

They try to hide it, I pretend to be horrified:

 “A CARROT. You’re eating a CARROT? The HORROR! How could you!” 

I throw my arms, I gnash my teeth, I faint! The performance is rewarded with big messy grins on dirty faces, and a half-dozen more carrots missing from bed 23. 

Some students do not gleam when caught. They look down, they frown. These students, I reassure. “I’m so glad you found the carrots! Will you pick one for me?” We hangout and eat together. We pick more for our friends and teachers. We throw blueberries high in the air and catch them in our mouths, we try strawberries wrapped in mint leaves, we slice a beet in two and use the pieces to cover our arms in polka-dots.

In the end, every student who works in the garden knows they can snack, taste test, and feast to their heart's content. I’m sure Mr. Mcgreggor would be aghast, but I couldn't be happier to see the things I grow consumed with wild and reckless abandon.