Catherine Mardosa picks salad greens at a garden plot on Bowdoin Street, Providence. Because growing space is limited, Mardosa and partner Matt Tracy search for crops that don’t spread much.

PROVIDENCE — Catherine Mardosa knelt in the dirt, using child-size scissors to cut little leaves and drop them into a plastic bucket at her side. The greens, and other vegetables, would be washed and delivered to several in-town restaurants to be served to diners a few hours later.

Mardosa is a Providence resident who earns most of her living as a farmer and all of the planting, growing and harvesting takes place a few blocks from her house in garden plots surrounded by triple-deckers.

Matt Tracy is Mardosa’s partner, and he tends their three lots alongside her, though he spends a bit more time in their plastic-covered hoop greenhouse during the summer.

All of the produce is organic, though it isn’t certified as such. They first test the soil for lead and other toxins, then bring in loads of compost for the raised beds. The process for even a small plot costs thousands of dollars and takes at least two or three years to become fully productive.

Some of their harvest is sold in season at the Dexter Training Ground farmers market, but most goes to local restaurants year-round. “We never needed to advertise,” said Tracy, “and we don’t need any more people wanting to buy our stuff right now.

“The height of tomato season is the only time we have a surplus,” he said.

Growing space is limited so they search for crops that don’t spread out much. The type of items they grow are low to the ground, so cultivating and harvesting “has me hunched over and crouched,” complains Mardosa. “My back is always stiff and I have to stretch.” Still, she thinks, “it’s much more painful to have to be in an office.”

Mardosa grew up in rural Maine, where her family grew much of their own food, and Tracy “grew up with gardens and worked in vineyards while in high school.” Though these two might have dirt in their veins, their heads are well educated. Mardosa has a degree in English literature from Brown University and Tracy studied art at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst.

Each variety they plant is carefully selected for specific reasons so the types of things they grow aren’t often seen elsewhere. They are partial to heirloom types that have more flavor but might be more difficult to grow or might not ship as well. “I don’t see the point of growing the regular stuff that I can buy in the market — it’s more fun,” said Mardosa, adding, “We just keep trying stuff.”

Not long ago Mardosa was picking tall bunches of kale with thick, deeply fringed green leaves, bok choy as large as small watermelons, and long, green beans with stripes. Later she was ripping out the tomato and pepper plants. She wanted to get rid of the high, scraggly shrubs — “I’m sick of them” — so she and Tracy could plant cold-hardy salad greens in neat rows.

The couple tried to begin farming about seven years ago but met with failure. They had difficulty finding land and were turned down for a bank loan. “People said, ‘What, are you crazy?’ ” recalled Tracy.

Still, “we both had the basic skills,” he said, and in the next year-and-a-half, “we read every book we possibly could.” When they did manage to start growing, Tracy said, “we had to fight for a couple of years to convince people that what we were growing was good.”

While both seem to have found their life’s ambition, Tracy acknowledges with some humor that they have “consigned ourselves to a life of hard labor,” though Mardosa admits that once in a while, “it’s kinda nice to put on clean clothes.”

adickerm@projo.com