Moving to the Country: A City Girl Finds Hope and Harvest at Meadowburn Farm – Gardenista

On March 18th, 2020, we closed our Brooklyn Heights shops, Salter House and Picture Room, along with just about every other business in New York City as the Covid pandemic swept through the city. We packed as much of the inventory as we could into our Volvo and settled in to quarantine at Meadowburn for an unknown length of time. [N.B.: See Sandeep’s Brooklyn apartment here.]

Like millions of others this past spring, we struggled to keep our businesses afloat, all while frantically navigating Zoom school and an unfathomable amount of anxiety. It was around this time that the Gerards asked us if we would like to join them in reviving one of the vegetable plots in the upper garden. I was thrilled.

Our first crop, sweet peas, failed. But after that, it was pretty smooth sailing! We fumbled our way through seedings, divided up watering and weeding duties, and formed friendships along the way. Soon enough, this Londoner, who has killed every house plant ever fostered and has not successfully grown a single sprout from seed since primary school Daffodil Days (and even then, her daffodils were always the weakest looking in the class), was sprouting everything she could get her hands on: tomatoes, spinach, lettuce, Brussel sprouts, watermelons, cucumbers, sage, and much much more.

I quickly learned choreography to seed the dirt and relished the hours spent in the garden. It was my time. The kids usually got bored after five minutes of following me around, and so would leave me in peace.

As more of our crops came to maturity, we began to buy less and less at the grocery store. I became obsessed with preparing full meals solely from crops we had grown and felt immense satisfaction when I was able to achieve it. Gardening was fully nourishing, meditative—and absolutely practical. Any problems that arose could be literally weeded out, tossed onto the compost heap, or simply devoured and attempted again. As dilettante gardeners, there was nothing necessary, but something wholly precious, and certainly privileged about the whole endeavor.