You’ll find the freshest of vegetables at Rosebird Gardens
The local farm does more than offer food, it offers the opportunity to experience the ups and downs of farming through its ‘Community Supported Agriculture’ program
It’s not easy to find Andrea McAdow’s farm. Rosebird Gardens are hidden between curves of a narrow canyon road, a 10-minute drive from Kingman.
Since last year, many vegetable lovers have visited the farm regularly after signing up for community shares. But there’s more – a Rosebird Gardens veggie store will open downtown at 224 Beale St. in just a few weeks.
McAdow is waiting at the front of the farm, tall and slender, half-squinting and half-smiling in a sharp, high noon sun. Her two young dogs bark excitedly, locked inside, but curious about guests. They are McAdow’s main companions, since she does her work herself, spending her days growing kale, spinach, tomatoes, broccoli and snow peas, and napping with her pups in between. She comes from Buffalo, New York and moved here with her husband, a paramedic who happened to find a job in Kingman.
“I’m actually amazed what can be done in this climate,” she said. “I can farm here all year long without worrying about flooding like I had to deal with up north.”
Rosebird Gardens are located on a nice piece of land in Clacks Canyon. With just over two acres, it allows McAdow to designate a quarter of an acre for certified organic farming this year. She uses high density planting with a focus on soil health in order to get the most out of the land.
McAdow is a self-taught farmer with a background in civil engineering and construction management.
“Nothing fills up my cup like spending a day with my hands in the dirt out in the sunshine,” she writes on her website, which is also a store where you can order veggies and review all the subscription options.
The new initiative downtown will also involve flowers. McAdow and a group of local women are excited to soon provide Kingman with quality and nutrition unmet elsewhere. No GMO’s, pesticides, or synthetic fertilizers from her vegetables.
In the future, McAdow is planning to work with local restaurants. She is in the middle of discussing details.
She loves to cook herself, too, and marvels over meals one can create out of such amazing produce.
We are kneeling on the ground, colorful from young greens, guarded by an army of garden hoses. McAdow hands me a white baby turnip straight from the ground, sweet and bitter at the same time. It’s delicious and nothing that tastes like that could ever come from a store.
“Be careful, it’s contagious,” she says with a smile, her face tanned and nose gently freckled from constant sunshine exposure. “First, you decide to have chickens and before you realize, you’ve become a farmer.”