A Bit About North Creek Farm
For those of you not familiar with us, North Creek is a circa 1850's saltwater farm situated in Phippsburg, Maine. (see 'Let me try to introduce ourselves ...' below)
On a map you'll see that we are not far from the tip of Phippsburg, a long peninsula in mid-coast Maine, jutting into the Gulf of Maine. By road we are a very scenic 12 mile ride from route 1 in Bath and 4 miles from Popham beach at the end of the peninsula.
I've been in the nursery business for 25 years, a gardener much longer and written 2 books on roses and oodles of gardening articles. I practice a personalized and innovative form of organic gardening and am forever learning, experimenting and revising. I'm fond of referring to myself as a 'gardener of least resistance.'
North Creek is both home and place of business. Visitors are encouraged to enjoy our extensive ornamental display gardens and wander through the vegetable and cut flower plots. The gardens are at 'rose peak' late June and early July but well worth a visit from May through October in our moderate coastal climate.
Aside from the plant nursery, we sell our own organically grown produce, eggs and cut flowers. Our store features gardening related items, imports from Guatemala and Viet Nam plus fine cheeses, top notch wines and beers, natural meats, ethnic cooking ingredients, all sorts of groceries, etc. - to name but a few of the things you'll find here.
In addition we serve wholesome and delicious lunches (featured in Real Simple magazine September 2005 issue) to enjoy in the gardens or our cafe, or to go.
If you have never visited our beautiful peninsula, we have pristine beaches, an island campground, excellent harbors, miles of hiking trails, fishing villages, a fine array of B & B's, crusty old Mainers and still more!


We are open year round -
7 days a week, 400 days a year
9:00- 6:30  (winter hours 10:00 - 6:00)

'Let me try to introduce ourselves ...'Before the website, we mailed forth at request only, a midwinter newsletter which was the sort of thing one would expect from a farm-bound cabin-crazy gardener. However, the USPS has rendered that option un-moneywise and so now the website.
Since the demise of the newsletter, I've been besieged with bemoanings missing the wintery prose and meanderings. Listen folks, this is difficult and I am trying. Before site, most all those in touch were familiar with the ambiance and uniqueness of this particular place - now instead someone say googling for rugosas tunes into NCF. No idea who really and where we are - just searching for a source and expecting some sort of professional slickdom. Apologies but that's not us here at NCF. And so, to those of you unfamiliar with a Maine micro-horticultural pursuit - we are out of the ordinary, rather impassioned and intolerably idealistic, but that just goes with the terroir.
And here I will proffer forth some of the season's musings garnered from life on the farm. Without further words- the first.

'My Deaded Up Doggie'I can withstand just about any climatic condition except heat. Hot and I melt. Period.On this very atypical Maine day near to 95 F. I was entertaining a group of gardening /horticultural gurus. Once I'd greeted and seated these ladies to lunch, I realized that I'd neglected to take ancient west highland terrier - Thunder Jo - out to his pen in the shady glen. And so, I leashed up Jo and he and I bobbled forth across the lawn to his favorite napping place. Practically there Jo suddenly rolled over, all four feet in the air, long tongue hanging to one side and looking for all the world quite expired!
Heart (mine only apparently) beating and trying to assess this distressing situation .... My first reaction was; had any of the many out and about outdoor lunchtime patrons seen this rather inappropriate distraction?
Answer seemed to be no. Next reaction was that deaded up doggie and I needed to vamoose pronto! Given heat and dead (excuse me) weight of one very large west highland, this was not an easy task. I assessed given options and decided seclusion of nearby workshop was probably the most do-able route. And I hefted up heavy limp doggie and ran sweating profusely for said shop. Nearly there I realized my entire right side was warmer than the already very hot air about and good grief no, but yes, quite wet. Dear Jo in his condition, had let forth a mighty pee - on me. Oh well, I forged on and staggered into the shop and ceremoniously deposited my faithful pal on the shop floor. Sweating and panting I regarded Jo and the big white lump on the shop floor with a wave of huge sadness.
Somehow, the notion that I must return to my guests and duties came upon me. Just but .... I could not bring myself to leave my beloved dog, my dear sweet Jo like that. And who knows, for whatever reason, perhaps to do with the heat, I knelt down and righted my honey, four feet beneath and I think in a kind of anguish, just started patting, well more likely, pounding him - and you won't believe this - but he suddenly popped up on haunches, ears pricked up, eyes bright wide open and of course panting (with long tongue retracted) and looking for all the world just the same as my old familiar Thunder Jo.
Well then I started crying - tears, sweat and pee all intermingled.
Composing myself, I proffered Jo a big bowl of cold water and a soft surface to rest on and contemplated my next move. Well, I was in quite a state and in no shape to be observed by guests or customers and had to figure how to sneak away and back into my house without detection - and then to attempt to render myself presentable.
I chose a long circumventuous route behind shop, down below all the vegetable gardens and along the far side of the woods - slinking stealthily across back gardens and slipping through the back door of the greenhouse, swiftly into the back of the house and upstairs to my bathroom - phew!! I peeled off sweat and pee soaked clothes and showered in cold water.
But then as I attempted to redress, I was overcome with a bout of giggles and more sweat. Here I must confess that I usually dress in tights and given the sweat and giggles - my tights were all but impossible to pull on which induced more laughter at one of the more absurd incidences of my life!
Finally, I simply decided to bask in the hilarity of this most wonderfully funny situation and sooner or later the day went on and so did Jo for quite awhile longer (at 18 yrs .)

Suzy