When I moved from the Pacific
Northwest to the Northeast to start this farm with my husband, Michael, I had no idea what seasonal challenges I would face. I hale from the land of rosemary hedges, where the mild climate nurtures tender herbs. I blithely mulched rosemary with straw during my first Northeast winter and was heartbroken to enter spring with a bed of withered twigs. My distress was profound; rosemary is my herb, I even named my daughter Rosemary. Still in denial, I continued to struggle with overwintering my tortured plants so I would at least have a small amount of herb to sell and enjoy.