Granny Plants
Granny Plants
Practical posts on gardening, preserving, and homestead life — written by someone who's actually out there doing it.
November arrives and exhales: the garden asleep, the pantry full, the clocks turned back, and a kitchen that has never felt cozier.
Cranberries at 79 cents a bag, a pot of ruby juice, and a batch of dehydrated spent berries that may or may not be a science experiment.
Thawed garden tomatoes left behind a pool of golden tomato water, and four gallon bags became seven quarts of pasta sauce too.
Four apples, two crocks, and a crumbly cinnamon topping: a small-batch apple crisp made for exactly two, and winged completely.
A peck of peppers picked just before the freeze, diced, vacuum-sealed, and tucked into the freezer for winter dinners.
After weeks of being nameless, the ginger bug finally has a name, courtesy of a reader, plus a fresh batch of cherry pop.
Seven pounds of potatoes, six quarts, and my trusty Presto. Weeknight dinners just got easier.
The beds are put to bed, and the last wagon of peppers is headed for the freezer, jars, and dehydrator.
A quarter of the ginger bug, and more fizz than ever. Experiment results, a sticky cleanup, and fizz safety.
Two new pop flavors, soup for a sick neighbor, soup blend put up for winter, and no-recipe chili. Nobody should leave me home alone.
I went into the kitchen for Oktoberfest, opened the fridge, saw cucumbers, and ended up in Asia. Plus my spiral-cut sesame garlic cucumber salad.
Beef roast at $3.99 a pound became raw-packed quarts of canned beef for winter dinners, plus the one smell that woke the dogs.
A bottle of tart cherry ginger bug soda, a canner on the stove, and a one-woman homestead assembly line.
Homemade ice cream from just cream and sweetened condensed milk, plus a plastic-free puzzle that needs your ideas.
Apples from a good friend became seven quarts of plain, unsweetened cider, a blank canvas for whatever winter calls for.
A nasturtium I forgot for a week took over the herb garden, slipped under the greenhouse door, and started blooming in October.
October arrives and commits: garlic in the ground, the first fire in the fireplace, and the whole homestead settling in for the long haul.
One afternoon, six projects: ginger bug soda, canned sauerkraut, a chocolate bar fail, garlic sorting, and the everyday chores that never stop.
A genuine recommendation for The Gothic Farmstead in Pine City, MN — garlic, tart cherry kombucha, and a horse-trailer farmstand done right.
A scalable stuffed pepper recipe for batch cooking — cook once, freeze a stash, eat like royalty in January.
A free printable scavenger hunt for littles and whimsical folks — plus a bonus round for treasures the dog finds.
A tribute to Nana — who never taught me to sew or can, and somehow taught me everything. Plus a first look at the Walker Companion Bag.
A cry for help, lightly disguised as a blog post. Three UFOs, one sewing machine owed apologies, zero new projects (today).
A ginger bug, 100% pure cherry juice, and a few days on the counter — naturally carbonated, gut-healthy soda from your own kitchen.
A freeze warning hit overnight — four pumpkins already safe, the garden mostly napping, and cozy season arriving all at once.
The garden is exhausted, the harvest is winding down, and it has earned a nap of truly biblical proportions.
Gorgeous, stained-glass jars of pickled peppers — the masterpiece and the exhaustion of canning season, side by side.
The real MVP of canning season is a little Bluetooth label printer who has never once asked for a raise.
The canning cupboard tour: a whole growing season standing at attention, one jar of summer at a time.
Two sheet pans, one oven: the lake-weekend tomatoes roast their way toward salsa jars.
The putting-up month arrives: the canner running, squash curing, golden light, and every chore a little gift to February-us.
A record haul, one determined sunny who negotiated his own release, and the garden that worked overtime out of spite.
A cup of coffee, sleepy dogs, and a chores list that can wait. Just a quiet hour and a grateful heart.
The squash garden named after my sister (for being extra) gets tucked in for winter — five wagonloads later. Free squash chili recipe included.
The birds planted the sunflowers. I dried the heads on the deck table. The farmers came back to collect their share.
A dozen nearly identical photos of one increasingly unamused dog, one tomato harvest, and a lot of unearned patience.
Years of hand-kneading cabbage, and it turns out salt plus time does the work on its own. A genuine accidental discovery.
A dish drying mat, folded and sewn into a giftable basket that fits 3 quart jars perfectly. Free pattern included.
What is a rebel canner, honestly, and why this post won't teach you to be one — a real conversation about risk and knowing what you're deciding.
Twenty pounds of frozen tomatoes, saved bag by bag all season, finally turned into 7 quarts of spaghetti sauce.
Saving vegetable scraps and bones in the freezer for a 72-hour broth simmer — essentially free food, and early fall canning prep.
Meet the self-appointed supervisor of the tomato haul, plus how we freeze small hauls until there's enough for a real batch.
Not every basket needs to fill a wagon. Sometimes it's just a little bit of everything, exactly enough for dinner.
A few extra bean plants snuck in, no real excuse needed — and even without a harvest, they give back to the soil.
A free sewing pattern, plus the old interfolding trick that makes them cling like a real roll.
Freezing, dehydrating, pickling, relish, fermenting, and the famous Zapple pie filling trick.
One wagon of cucumbers, 7 jars of pickles, and a lesson in gardener's math.
Garlic, onions, tomatoes, peppers, squash, and the first horseradish root of the season — all from twenty feet outside.
The dogs get their own cherry tomato plant — as long as they stay close by. Everyone's got a job around here.
Before Granny Plants, my first idea for a blog name was Only Pans. My daughter was mortified. I thought it was hilarious.
Grape leaves keep pickles crisp thanks to their tannins — turns out my own oak tree works just as well.
Bread and butter, dill, hot, and horseradish — four kinds of pickles, one very full counter.
A whole counter of zucchini bread, made to give away to family, friends, and whoever walks within shouting distance.
Had to pick the cabbage early this year — a deer decided our 3.5-foot bed wasn't tall enough to keep her out.
A patch of gold showed up in the garden this year, courtesy of a bird and a dropped seed. Just an appreciation post.
Garden season now, quilting, baking, and basket making later this year — here's how my homestead year actually works.
A 4x8 raised bed, one harvest, and two dogs who've started helping themselves straight off the vine.
It's not too late to get a second round of beans in. Here's exactly what to check on right now.