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I grew peppers, too, and lots of herbs 鈥� basil, parsley, chives, rosemary 鈥� plus some lettuces. I entertained friends, grilling up my harvests on a tiny charcoal barbecue (also as directed by GQ). Indeed, I did not stay single for long. I marvelled at how much delicious food just a few planters and window boxes could produce. The next season I ordered more seeds, and have been doing this annually ever since.

When you get bit by the growing bug, things can get out of hand fast. At last count, I had seed packets for more than 200 varieties of vegetables and edible plants. (Those seed catalogues are like porn for plant freaks.) The problem then becomes: use them up before their best-before date, because they do expire. I start seedlings indoors in the spring, excitedly planting too many and then giving half away. I bought a house with my wife and filled the yard with plants.

Gardening in the city means becoming adept at pest control. Pesky neighbours, that is. Mine decide to befriend a groundhog, naming it Glenn and feeding it store-bought produce every day. Well, Glenn couldn鈥檛 get enough, and wiped out my own lettuce patch, along with all my herbs. My neighbour, a self-declared witch 鈥� 鈥淚 can talk to animals and they listen鈥� 鈥� said she would speak to him. If she did, it didn鈥檛 work. I had Glenn relocated. (Humanely, of course. I love all critters.)

This summer鈥檚 heat caused way more damage even than Glen, both at our city plot and our out-of-town farm plot. Yes 鈥� The inevitable happened: we bought a farm 12 years ago, 100 acres with a dilapidated 1888 farmhouse that had essentially been abandoned for a decade or more. We set about reclaiming the overgrown land, building small beds and battling Mother Nature 鈥� lately, she鈥檚 been unleashing invasive pests and extreme heat, mostly. As my farmer neighbour likes to say, gazing out over his desiccated fields: 鈥淚t鈥檚 dry as crunch.鈥� Good thing we have a deep well.

I bought the bible for small-scale farmers, “The Market Gardener,” by Quebec-based Jean-Martin Fortier. This manifesto lays out strategies for organic farming as a sustainable business model for a small family, using minimal inputs to achieve maximum yields. He sells mostly direct to restaurants, at farmers鈥� markets and through subscriptions. His methods, he purports, bring in more than $100,000 a year and give him winters off. Sounds like a dream 鈥� maybe I鈥檒l get there one day. Meantime, there鈥檚 plenty of practical advice in the book for even a hack gardener like me, with useful information on what to plant, how to tend, and when to harvest.

But no book could prepare me for the hungry hungry hornworm. Mid-summer a few years ago, the tomatoes were coming in beautifully. The leaves deep green and sharply serrated. Small orbs beginning to form, like little green marbles. Some were beefsteak, others heirloom, with names like Brandywine, green zebra and black prince. Some would be intensely flavoured little cherries, perfect for popping into your mouth while picking 鈥� if they made it.

Something about growing tomatoes makes me giddy. Each visit to the patch calms the mind and excites the imagination. What fabulous dish shall I make with these little delights? Honestly, it鈥檚 usually a tomato salad with buffalo mozzarella. Anticipation may be the best part of growing 鈥� a little foreplay with Mother Nature is a very fine thing.

But a few days later, after a quick jaunt back to the city, I returned to find my tomato patch looking like a war zone. On several plants, the young tender leaves had been stripped to the stalks, the fruit hanging limply. What the heck? Then, I saw them 鈥� caterpillars, bright green and the size of a small wiener. I called my naturalist brother-in-law. 鈥淪hould I just throw them into the pond for the turtles?鈥� I asked.

鈥淣o! Don鈥檛 kill them!鈥� he said. 鈥淭hey turn into the most incredible moth, it鈥檚 huge, and it鈥檚 a great pollinator.鈥�

So what to do?

鈥淕ive them a sacrificial tomato patch and they鈥檒l leave the main one alone.鈥�

It worked. What鈥檚 worked even better: co-planting them with borage. I gather the pretty purple flowers are not palatable to the hornworm 鈥� and they add a lovely colourful contrast to the patch.

I鈥檝e noticed tangibly that pollinators are on the decline so I do whatever I can to give them habitat. Especially over the past five or six years, there are substantially fewer bees, moths, butterflies and even crawling things like mantis and beetles. Some of the problem can be traced to the farmer who works about 50 acres of my land using conventional practices that include pesticides and herbicides. This is the last year he鈥檒l be doing that, though, as I鈥檝e signed up for a government-sponsored course to build an Environmental Farm Plan. The goal is to return the land to sustainable practices that nurture the environment. Honestly, less agriculture and more critter habitat feels like my future.

I鈥檝e also talked to Ducks Unlimited about assistance to rehabilitate an old irrigation pond that鈥檚 being overrun by phragmites, an invasive grass, with the aim of attracting more turtles, snakes and frogs. Every year in early spring, a pair of green herons returns to my irrigation pond 鈥� and I want to attract more of them. Wood ducks would be cool. I plan to build them some nest boxes. I did that for my kestrels, and they come back every spring, too. They make a hell of a racket when out murdering prey for their young.

My journey from patio container gardening to habitat restoration was never planned. Mother Nature played her hand and pointed the way. We鈥檝e embraced it, walking the fine line between stewardship and staying the heck out of the way. It feels like the righteous path.