That's where you'll be likely to find me this summer. Unfortunately, that means that I need to step away from the blog for a while. Here are a couple of other places to look for good gardening conversations:
Kitchen Gardeners International. Blogs, resources, forums for backyard gardeners. Time disappears down the rabbit hole whenever I visit this site.
GardenWeb. This a forum base site, with forums in more categories than you could imagine. I have a slightly guilty conscience about using the forums to get very quick answers to specific questions, without sticking around to answer other people's questions.
The Salt – NPR's food blog. This is a well-researched blog (duh, it's NPR) on nutrition, agriculture, politics. It gives a larger context to the microcosm of small scale gardening. Very good, up-to-date information.
And just for fun, here's a recent take on the versatility of kale, according to Scott Jacobson,
a bitter, cabbage-like vegetable often seen being swallowed by Gwyneth Paltrow—is now the only food worth the trouble of digesting.
Up here in the North Country, the hard-to-grow warm season crops get all the oohs and aahs. Can you grow okra? Or artichokes? (If you can, tell me how you do it.) Sweet potatoes are a recent triumph for some local farms. I know one gardener who grew peanuts in the Adirondacks, although I never saw the harvest. It's not easy to grow these temperamental veggies, and it's ok to brag a little when you succeed.
But these days I feel a certain affinity with the stalwarts of the garden, the cool weather crops. They reward my eagerness to get into the garden with rosettes of tender greens – lettuce and arugula; spinach, kale and chard. Spring radishes, planted and harvested within a month, hide a sweetness behind the mustard-y bite that isn't found in later plantings. Like me, asparagus and rhubarb wait patiently through the winter for the great unfreezing.
"Red Salad Bowl" and onions under row cover
A bonus to growing the early spring greens is that most of the planting can be done, if you're quick about it, before the blackflies emerge. Sure, they'll be there when you harvest but it only takes five minutes with a scissors to cut a bowl of lettuce on a June evening.
What's coming up in your garden? Send me your photos, or post them on the facebook page.
So, that bowlful of paperwhites blooming on your table in January has inspired you to take up rake and shovel and plant your first garden this spring. But, you don't have a rake, or a shovel, or a sunny patch of ground, or – let's face it – much of an idea of how to get started. Why not join a community garden?
Common Ground Garden members, Saranac Lake
There are two ways to join a community garden: by leasing your own plot for the season, or by volunteering with groups that grow vegetables for donation. The garden sponsored by the Ogdensburg Chamber of Commerce is typical of the first type. As Sandy Porter puts it in an email,
The plots are 24’ x 4’ in size. The cost is $25 per season. We provide all the garden tools, hose, water, garden shed, compost, etc. You provide your seeds, bedding plants, trellis, if needed weeding, watering, harvesting.
Following is an incomplete list of community gardens that may have plots available in the NCPR region. Contact me with information on your community garden and I will update the list.
Jay Contact Susan Hockert 518-523-4701.
Grove Road, Au Sable Forks.
Keene Contact Jim Herman 518-576-9791. Email.
12 x 12 plot on Marcy field with water onsite provided by the town. The annual dues are $20/plot.
Two community work days: one Memorial Day weekend and the other Columbus Day weekend.
Lake Placid Contact Mike Farrell 518-523-9337. Email.
Old Military Road. Plots available for Lake Placid residents, no charge.
Ogdensburg Contact Sandy Porter 315-393-3620. Email.
See above.
Plattsburgh Contact Doug Butdorf. Email. Plattsburgh Community Garden Group offers plots that are 100 square feet in "raised beds" 4' wide x 25' long (some are 300+ SqFt). Plot usage fee is $25 for the season. Fee is paid for use of land, access to water, tools and an adequate supply of organic soil amendment.
Saranac Lake Contact Ellen Beberman 518-891-7470. Email. Common Ground Garden has 15' x 20' plots in two locations. Water, tools, deer fence and soil amendments provided. $25/year plus a one-time cleanup deposit of $15.
Tupper Lake Contact Mike Fritts 518-359-8370. Email.
Demars Boulevard, next to the Town Hall. 12' x 12' plots, water provided. $25/year; half price for students and seniors.
Churches, such as the First Presbyterian Church of Saranac Lake, have organized volunteers to manage plots in community gardens for donation to local food pantries. In some areas local municipalities are partnering with Cornell Cooperative Extension to garden with, and for, under-served populations. Working alongside experienced gardeners is great way for beginners to get a feel for gardening.
Canton and Potsdam Contact Unitarian Universalist Church of Canton (315)386-2498. Website.
"We grow two community gardens–the Priest Field Garden in Canton and the Cecilie Garden in Potsdam. Our harvests are donated to local neighborhood centers, food pantries, and community dinners."
Hamilton County Contact Nancy Welch 518-548-6191. Email. Opportunities for group gardening in Indian Lake, Lake Pleasant, Raquette Lake, Speculator, Wells. Individual plots are available in Indian Lake and Wells.
It's your turn. We're cresting another hill on the roller coaster that is this spring's weather, and I know that many of you are out in the garden checking on emerging perennial shoots, or building new raised beds for your vegetables. Pulling out quackgrass and dividing rhubarb. Buying seeds, and thinking about how many zucchinis to plant this year.
I want to share your stories and photos on the blog. If you've pioneered a truly clever way to keep deer out of the garden, or coaxed a high-maintenance exotic into abundant growth send me a few lines, and some pictures if you've got them, and I'll post them once a week. Regular garden updates are also welcome – don't be shy! The address is beberman at verizon dot net.
To prime the pump, here are few photos of my latest experiment with season extension – "caterpillar" tunnels. These low-tech, low-cost structures can be built over any length of bed, dampening temperature swings and providing wind protection for as long as needed. When protection is no longer needed, they are easily disassembled, leaving the plants to grow in an open field. Some caterpillar tunnels are large enough to walk in; mine, which I hope to use to overwinter crops, are only 4' x 4'.
I made the tunnel ribs from 1/2" electrical conduit using a hoop bender manufactured by Johnny's Selected Seeds. The bender is very simple to use; the conduit is fairly cheap and widely available. Johnny's also sells a bender that makes 6' hoops; to see the instruction manual, click here.
Bending 1/2" electrical conduit into a low hoop.
The hoops were then placed about 4' apart along the row, each end pushed a foot down into holes made with a piece of rebar. To add another layer of protection, I draped floating row cover over wires and fastened it with clothespins.
Row cover over rectangular wires
Finally, the hoops are covered with used greenhouse plastic held in place by sandbags. A more sturdy construction would include pulling the plastic taut and staking the ends, and using twine to hold the plastic onto the hoops. For overwintering these are necessities, but for now having easy access is more important.
Caterpillar tunnel covered with plastic
The tunnels have already proven their worth, buffering minimum temperatures up to 10 degrees Fahrenheit compared to open ground. With snow predicted for next week, I'm hoping they will keep my little plants safe through the crazy ups and downs still to come!
When Martha Foley lets us listen in on her Gardening Conversations with horticulturalist Amy Ivy every Monday, some of you might be thinking, "Cornell Cooperative Extension? I thought extension agents walked around dairy farms and gave advice on cattle feed." Or, "This is interesting, but where can I get my gardening questions answered?" Or even, "Who is this Amy Ivy and why is she giving advice on pruning, lawn fertilizers or Japanese beetles?"
Amy Ivy teaching Volunteer Master Gardeners
Until recently, I was only vaguely aware of CCE and what it offers. Part of my motivation in taking the Master Gardener Volunteer training last fall was to become more familiar with the local Extension offices. (By the way, if you are interested in becoming a Master Gardener Volunteer, this page has a list of all of the New York counties with MGV programs.) The training turned me into a big fan of CCE and the resources they provide.
Cooperative extensions grew out of the need for "land grant" universities, chartered by an 1862 act of Congress, to disseminate the research they were conducting in agriculture and other practical professions. There are extensions in all 50 states attached to that state's land grant institution; in New York the land grant university is part of Cornell University, thus the title Cornell Cooperative Extension. CCE has offices in every NY county and is funded largely by county tax revenues.
Each county office tailors its programs to meet the needs of the local communities. For example, Franklin County CCE offers a range of support for dairy farmers, from on-farm visits to cash flow analysis. Jefferson County has several staff members dedicated to working with Fort Drum soldiers and their families. Last month, I attended a workshop on growing winter greens in high tunnels, given at the Willsboro Research Farm in Essex County.
Winter greens in Willsboro high tunnel, 2010
The online resources of CCE are extensive, with information on topics from disaster preparedness to natural gas leasing. So, how does one start tapping into this resource?
Contact your county extension office with your questions by phone, email or in person. Every extension agent I have met has been eager to help with farm and garden problems. Get your name on an email list for upcoming workshops and news updates.
Find out who are the Master Gardener Volunteers in your community. (The county offices should be able to give you some leads.) Alternatively, you can email your questions, which will be answered by volunteers at the Clinton or Essex office.
Visit www.gardening.cornell.edu. The "How-to" link has information on almost anything a home gardener could want to know.
Good luck with your questions, and an early "Happy Centennial" to Cooperative Extension – 100 years old in 2014!
This spring!! 80° F in Canton on March 21st; 20° on March 27th. It makes predicting the last sub-freezing temperatures of the season more difficult than usual. And missing your guess by a day or two is heartbreaking when you watch seedlings, babied in your house for weeks and then carefully hardened off outside, collapse limply after a frigid spring night.
Living in the Tri-lakes where every frost-free day is precious, I do what I can to hedge my bets. If I can possibly restrain myself, I do not transplant all of each type of vegetable at the same time. This works even better if I've staggered the date of starting seeds. If all of the plantings survive, the late planted seedlings will catch up to the earlier ones with favorable growing conditions or, as I've heard it, "two weeks under lights is equal to two days in the field."
"Wall o' Water" protected tomatoes in Santa Fe, NM
Clear, still nights are the most dangerous for tender seedlings, and covering plants to trap warmth helps them ride out late spring frosts. I often stretch floating row cover on wire hoops for a few days after transplanting any crop; plastic film or even tarps can be pulled over the hoops on cold nights. Those teepee-like water filled plastic rings are effective for protecting individual plants – the water acts as a thermal mass to dampen temperature swings. It's also worth noting that some plants are more tender than others. I've had tomatoes survive 30° F, but basil leaves can be damaged by temperatures well above freezing.
Another way to avoid jumping the gun on early spring planting is to procrastinate getting seeds started. Among the seeds that await a spot on the lighted shelves in my living room are tomatoes, squash, melons, cukes and sunflowers. These are all large, vigorous plants which, with the exception of tomatoes, should be transplanted no more than four weeks after germination. (Tomatoes can be kept up to eight weeks.) As they are all frost-sensitive, and as the average date of last frost around here is June 1st, my laziness is keeping me right on schedule. Even if your frost-free date is a few weeks sooner, I urge you to hold off a bit longer so that the seedlings you transplant will not become root bound in their containers. (Again, tomatoes are the exception – they can be started earlier and replanted to larger containers as they grow.)
Meanwhile, the coveted space underneath the fluorescent lights is given over to cool weather starts which will soon go outside,
Shallots
or slow growers like celery root which need to ten to twelve weeks inside before being planted in the sun-warmed soils of June.
I have a confession to make. After extolling the virtues of no-till gardening in my last post, I found myself on Tuesday facing an expanse of garden beds almost indistinguishable from the weeds surrounding them.
Last fall. A cover of oats is growing in the bed on the left, "and the green grass grows all around."
The best option would have been to smother the weeds with layers of cardboard, topped by a few inches of compost and mulch, but I did not have those materials on hand. So I broke up the sod with the rototiller, thus ensuring the even distribution of quackgrass roots throughout the entire area. I will attempt to control the grass by sowing several rounds of quick-growing cover crops, but it is going to take some time to bring the beds back to productivity.
Tilled and sown with oats
I mention this to illustrate a hidden pitfall of what is otherwise a highly recommended gardening practice – making raised beds. Raised beds warm quickly in the spring, provide good drainage, and allow the gardener to build high quality soil without compaction. The beds can be constructed directly on top of existing lawn, and they may be filled with clean compost and soil in places where the underlying soil is questionable. One of the most popular gardening techniques, Square Foot Gardening developed by Mel Bartholomew, adapts perfectly to the confined footprint of raised beds by laying out and planting each square foot individually.
Raised bed construction seems to inspire creative reuse of materials. Here are a few imaginative ones.
Woven willow branches for tall raised beds
Wine bottle wall. The sun warms the bottles, which then discharge warm air into the soil.
Is this what they mean by "truck farm?"
So, what's not to love about raised beds? Just this – it can be difficult to keep weeds clear along the inside and outside edges of the beds, especially if the weeds are perennials that propagate via runners. You can see the remains of a raised bed and the infestation of grass around it in the photo at the top of this post. If you decide on raised beds, either plan to keep the paths and area around the beds heavily mulched (wood chips are a good choice for this), or expect a certain amount of maintenance time spent pulling weeds along the inside edge of the bed. Don't let the grass get ahead of you the way that I did!
PS. Do you have raised beds in your garden, "up-cycled" or otherwise? Post a photo on the facebook page.
Tull revolutionized British agriculture in the 18th century with his inventions: a seed drill that ensured uniform planting of seeds, and a horse-drawn hoe. His machines solved challenges of his day – erratic germination of field crops, competition from weeds- and their design still influences modern agriculture. Buoyed by the success of his methods, he expounded in Horse-hoeing Husbandryhis belief that best practices include pulverizing the soil to release nutrients, and withholding manure and other organic matter .
Tull's horse hoe
Turns out, his theories weren't quite as useful as his patents. We know now that adding organic matter improves soil structure, supports a diverse soil ecology, and supplies plant nutrients. And, that repeatedly tearing up the soil through deep plowing can destroy soil health, leading to the kind of conditions that created the tragic "Dust Bowl" of the 1930s.
Truck on Colorado road, 1937
No-till
By now, you might be looking at that rototiller in the back of the shed with some suspicion, but what to do about preparing the garden this spring? If you are lucky enough to be able to time travel, you will have planted a winter-kill cover crop (I use oats for this) in October, or will have covered your beds with a mulch of straw, grass clippings, or leaves. Now you simply pull back the mulch and sow seeds, replacing the mulch after the seeds have sprouted. For the cover cropped areas, you can trim the stalks and plant transplants directly into the bed, relying on the remaining residue to retain water and suppress weeds.
On bare beds, a few passes with a sharp scuffle hoe or stirrup hoe to sever young weeds from their roots, followed by smoothing with a steel rake, might be all you need if the weeds are mostly annuals. Of course, once tough perennials like quackgrass have gotten established you'll be working a bit harder to yank them out. If a bed is so overrun with this type of weed that tilling is necessary it is a good idea to quickly sow a thick cover crop after tilling to suppress weed growth – for example, buckwheat sown during the summer grows vigorously enough to out-compete weeds, but it will need to be tilled again before it flowers to keep the buckwheat from reseeding.
When Columbus sailed back to Spain with news of a New World, his ships' holds may have carried seeds from Cucurbita pepo. This group, which today includes zucchini, yellow squash, acorn squash and pumpkins, had been among the mainstays of American agriculture for millennia (10,000 year-old C. pepo seeds have been found in Peru), yet before 1492 no one living outside the Western Hemisphere had ever seen or eaten them.
Europeans avidly adopted the new vegetable – "zucchini" is, of course, Italian, and "pumpkin" comes from a Greek word meaning "large melon," by way of France. Centuries later, seeds handed down from generation to generation were planted hopefully in backyard gardens by European immigrants starting new lives in the US.
The seeds they brought from home were open-pollinated, as was every seed planted before the early 1900s. OP seeds "breed true," that is, seeds from this year's crop will produce a similar plant next year. Seed savers, like the person offering the title squash in the Seed Savers Exchange Yearbook, select seeds each year from their best plants, thus breeding strains adapted to their particular conditions. OP plants retain a certain amount of genetic diversity, which provides resilience in times of stress.
...or this??
In 1924, agronomist and future Vice President Henry A. Wallace developed and sold the first hybrid, a corn variety called "Copper Cross". The company he founded, known today as Pioneer Hi-Bred, went on to become the largest US producer of hybrid seeds. Hybrids are created by breeding together two lines which have been inbred to reduce genetic diversity. The resulting seeds, the F1 hybrid, combine characteristics of both parent lines to produce consistently high yields. A 2010 article in the Economic Times of India claims that Indian farmers boosted maize (corn) yields 250% simply by planting hybrid varieties.
Today, the best-selling varieties at any seed company are hybrids. Burpee seeds, for example, sells 11 varieties of hybrid zucchini and only 5 varieties that are open-pollinated. But there is a price to pay, literally, for the consistency and high yields that hybrids provide: seed saved from a hybrid will not reliably produce a superior plant, and may produce a significantly inferior one. That means that the grower must purchase seed from the seed company every year, providing an incentive for seed producers to concentrate their breeding programs on hybrid seeds. Home gardeners are often disappointed to find that their favorite variety is no longer available, though it is usually replaced by something "bigger' and "better."
Winding up, the monikers "AAS Winner" and heirloom are both ways of highlighting extra value. AAS Selections is the Consumer's Report of garden seeds, an independent non-profit that fields a panel of judges to choose the best cultivars introduced each year for the home garden.
Heirloom is the most vaguely defined of all the seed terms, very much open to interpretation. Heirlooms may be varieties handed down through individuals, or they may be commercial varieties sold by companies no longer in business (who may have started their breeding program with someone's home variety), or they may be relatively new varieties developed from older stock. Green Zebra, a tasty green striped tomato, is sometimes considered an heirloom, even though it was developed in the 1980s. All heirloom seed is open-pollinated.
Which are your favorite varieties? Post them here, or on the facebook page.
Open-pollinated or hybrid? Conventional or organic? Heirloom or AAS winner? GMO or non-GMO? If you are a new gardener, the pretty pictures in the seed catalogs may influence your purchase more than these confusing terms; if you're an experienced gardener, you may habitually choose one type of seed over the others. Pry a little into the meaning of these words, and you inevitably open the door on the history of agriculture.
Not that I'm going to try to recapitulate that here. My aim is to demystify these labels, starting with the most recent: GMO, Genetically Modified Organism. Genetically modified plants have had genes from other species inserted into their DNA, usually to provide a specific trait. Monsanto's Roundup Ready soybeans (93% of the US crop in 2010) have glyphosate resistance introduced into their genetics via an agricultural bacteria, which allows farmers to spray the herbicide (also known as Roundup) without damaging the main crop.
Roundup Ready Soybeans
Emotions run high on the topic of GM seeds. Honestly, I have mixed feelings (although this article on new USDA plans made me gulp), but here are a couple of reassuring facts for the home gardener who does not wish to grow GM veggies:
1. No GM seeds are currently available for purchase by the backyard gardener. In fact, only a few GM varieties – including some sweet corn and a handful of zucchini -are grown commercially for the fresh market. Subject to change, of course.
2. A number of seed companies have signed the "Safe Seed Pledge" asserting that they "do not knowingly buy or sell genetically engineered seeds or plants." You can find a list of those companies, here.
This brings me to the term:Organic. Many of the "safe seed" companies focus on selling and promoting seed that has been certified organic by the USDA. I buy organic seed when I can, to support organic seed growers. And, it might be wise to buy seed produced under the same conditions in which it will be grown. Conventional seed producers follow a carefully regulated regimen of fertilizers and pesticides not duplicated in home gardens. Organic seed production, emphasizing soil health, may be closer to garden conditions. I'd be interested to hear if anyone has run side-by-side trials of conventional and organic seed in a garden environment.
Crop rotation is a little like contradancing. You start at one end of the hall (or field) with a group of acquaintances, and end up at the other side surrounded by a completely different set of neighbors. And, it's ok if you aren't entirely sure how you got there.
The concept of rotation is very simple: it is a good idea to change the location within the garden where you plant your vegetables from year to year. The main goals are to disrupt disease and pest problems, and to match crops with the nutrients available. This year's cucumbers in the bed farthest from the house might be followed by a sowing of lettuce next year; the cucumbers will then be planted in the bed next to the house. And so on. However, the rationale for specific crop rotations is very complicated.
As a non-expert grower, my guess is that some considerations are more crucial than others. Members of the same plant family may be susceptible to the same soil-borne diseases so, for example, I don't grow tomatoes and potatoes (family: Solonaceae) in the same location in consecutive years. Sorting vegetables by part harvested – root, leaf, or fruit (seed) – is easily done, and helps to shape multi-year planning. But when plant compatibility clashes with plant rooting depth -what then?
Farmers who use rotation are generally limited by the small variety of crops they grow, but gardeners who grow a little of everything have an opportunity to map out an almost infinite number of rotation schemes. In one of the most dog-eared books on my shelf, Step by Step Organic Vegetable Gardening(1992), Shepherd Ogden takes a garden with four beds, divides each bed in half, and creates a 4 year rotation scheme that involves 8 different crops. He includes fall and spring plantings, and throws in a cover crop for good measure. And yet, this plan would not be difficult to implement as long as you keep reasonable records.
Do you rotate your vegetables, and if so, what is your method?
What is it about gardening – besides the aching back and dirty fingernails – that inspires romantic hyperbole? Yeats pined for Lake Innisfree where " peace comes dropping slow." When Thoreau needed room to ponder the plight of civilization, he "would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself, than be crowded on a velvet cushion." Michel de Montaigne:"I want death to find me planting my cabbage."
Part of the appeal, it seems to me, is that the winter die-off allows us to wipe away last season's disappointments and regroup. (Do you southern gardeners find this respite during the scorching months?) The yearly ritual of planning the garden brings out the romantic in all of us:we create Eden-like gardens in our minds to sustain us 'til the first dandelion pops out of the ground. We get a chance to experience gardening in the abstract, unsullied by drought, disease or pests.
From John Seymour's "The Self-Sufficient Life and How to Live It"
On the other hand, planning is as practical and necessary as any other garden chore. If you're a vegetable gardener who wants to practice crop rotation (and you probably should), you need to keep records of what gets planted where. If you have your heart set on a continuously blooming perennial border you'll need to map out size, color, time of bloom -it's a four dimensional puzzle with pieces that change from week to week.
Dana Fast's Garden 2011
How do you make your garden plan? Master Gardener Dana Fast sticks to the tried and true – graph paper, pencil and ruler. I like the ease of erasure on an Excel sheet and the ability to copy the layout from one year's records to the next. This year I've combined Dana's method with my own and created virtual graph paper on the computer so I can see all of my planting beds in scale to each other.
There are plenty of online garden planners that offer lovely graphics and even some useful planting information on spacing, days to harvest, etc. Gardener's Supply and Better Homes and Gardens offer DIY planning as well as pre-planned designs for free at their websites, and other planners have free trial periods. Go wild on paper (or pixels) – and if you have a design you're proud of, share it on our facebook page!
The chatting never stops. For people who have chosen to spend their day, on the whole, working by themselves or with a few others the farmers at the NOFA-NY (Northeast Organic Farming Association of New York) winter conference are gregarious. Great tips are passed on and useful contacts made, but it can be overwhelming at times.
A very early drive from the Adirondacks got us to Saratoga on Friday in time for the "intensive" workshops. The conference was preceded on Thursday by the first Northeast Organic Research Symposium (more on that in a later post), and the weekend days were given over to shorter sessions, with several keynote speakers. Conference veterans filled the neophytes in on the real highlights: extraordinary meals made from food donated by farmer participants, and the high-energy contradance on Saturday night.
I spent Friday learning about covered growing systems – high tunnels, low tunnels, caterpillar tunnels, mobile hoophouses 90 feet long that roll on rails and can be moved by two determined 10-year-olds. As consumers are clamoring for year-round access to local produce, farmers are coming up with creative low-cost ways to extend the growing season at both ends, without burning fossil fuels. On Saturday and Sunday, the challenge was to choose between sessions on beekeeping, garlic, farm planning, renewable energy – in the end, I soaked up all I could about ways to manage vegetable production on a small farm.
Bill Mackentley, at right, from St, Lawrence Nurseries in Potsdam, presented a talk at the conference, as did his daughter, Bali.
In fact, one of the most profound takeaways was the idea that "small farms are real farms," as keynote speaker John Ikerd, Professor Emeritus of Agricultural Economics at the University of Missouri, asserts. They strengthen rural communities and keep farmland available for future generations. We keep small farms viable when connections are made between players in the "food chain," as, for example, in community supported agriculture (CSA) which brings together farmers and their customers to plan the farming year. The bonds that come from these partnerships, like the food that is produced, has value beyond dollars and cents.
Q: Where can I find information on the most popular carrot-playing musicians available for hire? Oh, and I was quite embarrassed last Carrot Sunday to not remember the correct rhyme to recite while digging carrots. Any suggestions?
While researching carrot varieties for my winter seed orders, serendipity brought me to the (virtual) door of this essential resource. Clicking through the interactive floor plan I found Russian stacking dolls featuring bunnies of diminishing sizes, all holding carrots; recipes for carrot burgers, carrot pesto slice (a baked lasagna dish), and Gajjar halvah; an illustrated history of carrots in medieval manuscripts.
From Tacuinum Sanitatis,circa 1400. The Latin text reports that pastinace stimulates sexual intercourse but slows down digestion, and that the purple type, ripe in winter, is the best.
I had been surfing the web in an attempt to connect carrot variety names with shape, length and characteristics. It turns out that a bit of confusion over carrot types is well earned: there are currently several hundred varieties of cultivated carrots. (Carrots are members of the Apiaceae family which includes parsley, celery, parsnips and several aromatic herbs.) The drawing below was one of the better references I found for different carrot shapes. Although it betrays a British/European bias, it illustrates some of our more popular types including Nantes, Danvers, Imperator and Chantenay.
Carrots are a cool weather crop so most varieties do well in our climate, if you take care to keep the soil moist long enough for the seeds to sprout. As carrot seed can take up to three weeks to germinate, this can be the most trying part of growing carrots, especially if you are sowing seed during the summer for a fall crop. Covering them with floating row cover or a light sprinkling of grass clippings can help avoid drying and crusting. Some gardeners even lay down newspaper or boards to hold moisture; the key is to remove these barriers before the seeds sprout.
By the way, if you do happen to be looking for a vegetable-playing duo, these two would perk up any event!
In 2009, an average of 20 pounds of fresh supermarket tomatoes was consumed by every man, woman, and child in the US. The plants are grown by the thousands (millions?) in backyards by gardeners who crave the complex sweet/tart/slightly salty taste that lingers in your mind like memories of a first kiss. It's a flavor that even talented gardeners must forgo for many months of the year, and on those dreary March days when I push the cart along rows of gleaming red ping-pong balls, I have sometimes been seduced into buying those watery, lifeless fruits that never satisfy but give just enough of an imitation of tomato-ness to make one long for summer.
The simple question "why do supermarket tomatoes taste the way they do?" led author Barry Estabrook to Florida to interview botanists, horticulturalists and tomato packers. He drove through fields with farm owners and met with crew bosses and worker advocates. He learned about Alexander W. Livingston, who in 1870 developed the Paragon "the first perfectly and uniformly smooth tomato ever introduced to the American public," and saw unripe "mature greens" harvested, washed, gassed with ethylene (for ripening) and packed for shipping to New York.
In clear, journalistic prose he tells the reader the unsettling truth he discovered: those cheery little red packages come to us Northerners covered with suffering and exploitation.
*********
Juan Dominguez had earned a total of $13.76 on the day that Estabrook went to his trailer.
"Dominguez swept his hand in a gesture of invitation into a bedroom. It housed five twin-bed mattresses. Three were flat on the floor with no space between them. Two rested on four-by-eight-feet plywood sheets suspended from the ceiling by chains…The bathroom was at the end of a short hallway. Barely bigger than an airplane lavatory with a curtainless metal shower stall, it served ten men who came home each day hot, dirty and anxious to bathe…"
This, we learn, is not the worst that pickers endure. Over a thousand men and women have been freed from forced labor – slavery – in the Florida tomato fields in the past fifteen years. Asked whether one can assume that a fresh tomato in winter was picked by the hand of a slave, US attorney Douglas Molloy replied, "That is not an assumption. That is a fact."
And more: in the winter of 2004-2005, three migrant workers in the city of Immokalee gave birth to badly deformed babies. Florida's nutrient-poor soils and humid climate make commercial tomato farming dependent on regular drenchings of pesticides, fungicides and herbicides, more than eight times the amounts used on California tomatoes. Workers are routinely soaked with sprays known to be harmful to humans and animals. Florida's lax reporting guidelines, coupled with the reluctance of workers to come forward, means that very few cases of pesticide poisoning are investigated.
In this case, the parents of one of the Immokalee babies sued their employer, AG-Mart, and won an out of court settlement in 2008. The agreement may stand as a signpost for reforms that are slowly making their way into the Florida tomato industry. In recent years the nonprofit Coalition of Immokalee Workers successfully negotiated with fast food conglomerates to pay workers one cent more per pound of tomatoes picked. Advocates have come forward to build better housing, help migrant families and pursue justice in the courts.
The long path from field-to-mouth of modern food systems allows consumers to remain ignorant of how food gets to our plates. Tomatoland brings the reader into the fields to see the true costs of winter tomatoes.
January wanes, yet we are only a third of the way through winter. The coldest and snowiest periods of the season still lie ahead. The ten-hours-of-daylight milestone that farmers Eliot Coleman and Barbara Damrosch have found to be the minimum length needed for plants to shake off dormancy and begin to grow won't be reached until February 5th.
A perfect time to think about gardening! I'm bringing the Garden Plot back early this year for several reasons. The day-to-day chores of market gardening drop off dramatically once the snow is on the ground and I have time now to write a few paragraphs that can be posted later. Starting earlier will also give me a chance to bring up topics at a time when changes in the garden involve an eraser, not a shovel. And I'm betting that there may be some other slightly cracked folks like me out there who enjoy discussing gardening any week of the year.
So, what is going on in the garden at this time of year? Not much, really, but until the temperatures dropped below the mid-30s F (or 3 degrees C) spring flowering bulbs were busily sending out roots, preparing for top-growth when the soil warms up. In fact, the cool weather of late fall is the most productive period of root growth for daffodils, tulips and other flowers that bloom early, before their leaves have had much time to pump energizing nutrients throughout the plant.
Garlic is another bulb that benefits from fall planting. A forest of roots spreads out beneath each individual clove, providing the resources for a full bulb to form during the next season. You can watch the roots proliferate over a week in this time lapse video.
In his book The Uses of Enchantment (1976), psychologist Bruno Bettleheim theorized that long periods of inaction in fairy tales (think 'Sleeping Beauty') were metaphors for internal growth:
In major life changes such as adolescence, for successful growth opportunities both active and quiescent periods are needed. The turning inward, which in outer appearance looks like passivity (or sleeping one's life away) happens when mental processes of such importance go on within the person that he has no energy for outwardly directed action.
This idea has always comforted me during stretches when I have had little to show for my efforts, and seems to reflect how the garden marshals its reserves in the cold months, ready to burst into new growth when the time is right.
Shoving garlic bulbs into the earth is usually the last planting chore of the season, and it coincides with my last blog post of the season. Thanks for reading, and thanks for the thoughts and tips you shared.
The outstanding weather of the past few days allowed me to get 450 cloves of garlic planted and to document the process with photos. This is my method for growing garlic; please feel free to add any advice about methods that work for you.
I began by tilling a couple of beds that had previously held melon and cucumber plants, using a new Husqvarna tiller that we bought to replace the Beast which, by the way, is still standing at the end of the row where it died.
It took about 6 small garden cart loads to cover the 5×30 foot bed with a couple of inches of rotted horse manure, and a few turns with the fork and rake to combine the manure with the soil.
Though I saved some of my own harvest, most of the garlic I planted came from a Fedco Seeds organic grower. I'm growing only one variety this year, Music, a Porcelain type of hardneck garlic with 4-6 large cloves in each good sized head. Here the heads are separated into individual cloves in preparation for planting. Note the knife-like tool in the photo: it's a very handy garden tool with a wonderful name: hori-hori.
Now comes the fun part – each garlic needs about 6 inches in all directions between it and the next plant to grow without too much competition. More generous spacing will get you larger bulbs, but my goal is to maximize the number of bulbs so a 6 inch grid works for me. The nylon trellis that I use for peas and beans just happens to have the right sized openings.
Using the hori-hori, I opened a 4 inch deep slot into the soil and push the clove into place, root side down.
Finally, the buried garlic bulbs are covered with a light mulch to prevent freeze-thaw disturbances. Here I've used grass clippings because they were available, but straw is the classic choice. The mulch also helps to minimize weeds and to retain moisture in the spring when the garlic first shoots up.
There are still chores to be done in the garden, more than I will be able to get to before the snow falls, but at least the crucial job of planting is finished. Thanks again for keeping me company during this growing season!
When the instructors asked "How many here have compost piles?" many of the Master Gardener Volunteers halfheartedly raised their hands. I soon realized that most, like me, had heaps of garden debris and kitchen waste slowly decomposing in various corners, but few had attempted to build an active compost.
My attitude has been one of benign neglect: compost happens, vegetation rots, so why should I spend my effort when I can just let nature take its course? But, after an inspiring lecture by the compost queen of Keene Valley, Bunny Goodwin, on the ease and value of accelerating the rate of decomposition from 2 years to 6 weeks, I decided to see if I can improve on my current (non)-management plan.
I emptied the waste corral (a piece of heavy, perforated black plastic fastened into a circle) of its contents of partially broken down vines and stalks, spreading them into an area where I plan to extend an existing bed. (If I add some mulch and dirt to cover the stalks I'll have the makings of a lasagna garden, another method for turning refuse into garden soil.)
Leaving some of the woody debris on the bottom for air circulation, I have been filling the corral with layers of grass clippings; dead bean, cucumber and tomato plants; wood chips; manure; kitchen scraps; and weeds. Adding weeds is risky, I know, so I won't add those with persistent roots like quackgrass. So far my pile is about 3 feet high and 4 feet in diameter; I'll stop when it reaches 5×5.
At that point, the pile should begin to heat up, due to an explosion of activity by microorganisms breaking down the vegetable matter, with more complete decomposition aided by forking in the edges of the pile after a few weeks. Hopefully, by next spring I'll have a stock of nitrogen-rich organic material on hand to add whenever the garden needs a boost.
Here's a video from one of my favorite groups, Kitchen Gardeners International on how to get started with compost. Do you have an active compost pile? What are your tips and techniques?
Now, in these warm fall days, the true nature of tomato plants is revealed. They are perennial plants in their native Peru and many varieties will continue to grow and produce fruit as long as the weather permits. (Varieties that continue to grow are called indeterminate; those that produce one flush of fruit are determinate. One way to keep the terms straight is to remember that determinates know how big they want to get, indeterminates can't make up their minds so they keep growing.) Here are three recipes that I use to make the most of this late season harvest.
Dried Cherry Tomatoes – My favorite variety for drying is Sungold, a very sweet orange cherry tomato.
Cherry tomatoes, sliced in half horizontally
Salt
Sungolds pre-drying in the sun
Drying can be done in the oven on low heat or in a dehydrator. I use a cheap dehydrator that consists of plastic grates stacked over a heating element. Air circulation is key, so you may want to make your own trays if drying in the oven.
Place tomato halves cut side up on drying tray. Sprinkle with salt. Dry on low heat until leathery (this may take many hours, but the energy used is quite small.) Condition at room temperature for a week to 10 days. Store on shelves in clean canning jars or in plastic bags in the freezer.
All-purpose Tomato Sauce - This is a basic recipe culled from many sources, primarily indebted to The New Vegetarian Epicure (1997) by Anna Thomas
2-3 quarts tomatoes, peeled and cored
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fresh basil, chopped or 1 1/2 teaspoons dried
salt and red pepper flakes
To peel tomatoes: cut a small x in the bottom of each tomato and drop into boiling water for 30 seconds. Remove to bowl. Skins will slip off; cut around core.
Heat olive oil in a large pan over low heat; add onion and cook for 3 minutes. Add garlic and cook for one minute more. Add tomatoes, breaking up roughly with spoon. Salt, being careful not to add too much. Simmer for 30 minutes, longer if a thicker consistency is desired. Add basil, a pinch of red pepper flakes, and more salt if needed.
This sauce can be thickened with a tablespoon of tomato paste, which also adds a richer red color. I puree the finished sauce with an immersion blender, let it cool to room temperature, and freeze it in containers or quart freezer bags. This is not a recipe that can be safely canned in a boiling water bath.
Tomato conserve
Tomato Conserve-From a vintage 1940s Ball Blue Book, via Martha Foley. Unusual and yummy!
2 quarts tomatoes, peeled and cored
1 orange
2 lemons
6-8 cups sugar
2 cups seedless raisins
1 cup walnuts
1/4 teaspoon salt
Juice lemons. Juice orange and cut peel into very thin slices. Cook tomatoes, orange juice and peel, lemon juice until tomatoes are pulpy. remove from heat and let stand several hours or overnight. Add sugar and raisins and boil rapidly until thick, stirring as needed. Add nuts and salt.
Pour hot into jars which have been filled with water and boiled in water-filled pot for 10 minutes. Seal jars and return to pot to boil for 5 more minutes, making sure that water level is at least 1 inch above the tops of jars.
An Oak Park, Michigan family decides to landscape their front yard with vegetables in raised beds after a sewer line renovation; a math teacher in Memphis provides a place for a few students to gather after school and try their hands at gardening, bee keeping and making biodiesel fuel; a woman uses a veggie garden in her trailer's yard as jumping off point for a more ecological lifestyle. That these foks were inspired to try growing a few veggies isn't surprising. After all, thanks to well-publicized initiatives like the White House vegetable garden, home gardening for food and health is enjoying a resurgence not seen since Victory garden days.
What is surprising is the response of certain members of their communities: each of these gardeners was threatened with legal action, with one woman facing possible jail time, for plantings that were not considered "suitable." In the end, complaints against all 3 were dropped, due in part to the negative publicity their cases garnered on the internet.
Looking at photos of the 3 yards, (to find them, follow the links given above) it is hard for me to see how they could be objectionable. They look like well tended vegetable gardens and bins, especially compared to what my gar- well, let's not get into that. But it seems that our concept of what a front yard should look like has narrowed over the past 50 years. As Oak Park’s Planning and Technology Director Kevin Rulkowski says,
“If you look at the dictionary, suitable means common. You can look all throughout the city and you'll never find another vegetable garden that consumes the entire front yard.”
Is it a coincidence that our concept of agriculture has become similarly narrow over the same time frame, so that farming now refers mainly to presiding over thousands of acres growing a handful of different varieties?
Every Tuesday this fall, I'll be joining 25 or so other passionate gardeners who are gathering in the Elks Lodge in Keeseville to sharpen gardening skills and get an overview of horticultural science.
The Master Gardener Volunteer training, led by by Amy Ivy, Emily Selleck and Jolene Wallace from the Clinton and Essex County Cooperative Extension Offices, covers everything from botany and composting, to tree, shrubs and lawn care. For an amateur like me who has picked up gardening knowledge in bits and pieces, this is a chance to get answers to nagging questions like how to maintain a perennial flower bed (hint: it's more work than you think!), or which kind of insect is damaging the tomatoes. I'm especially looking forward to next week's class on soils and microbes - to my mind the most mysterious aspect of growing plants.
At the end of these training sessions, our group of newly minted volunteers will be turned loose in the community to assist friends and neighbors in their gardening efforts. Master Gardener Volunteers (MGVs) are not expected to provide expert advice on every topic; rather, we'll act more as go-betweens, passing along the basics that we've learned and letting people know about the latest research from Cornell Cooperative Extension. And I'm pleased to see that this class includes a number of fellow residents of southern Franklin County, so gardeners in the Tri-Lake area will soon have more places to turn to get their questions answered!
You've probably heard or read at some point that, "you're never more than 10 feet away from a spider." Sometimes it's 6 feet, sometimes 3. According to the American Museum of Natural History, this estimate is low:
An acre of English meadow in late summer has been estimated to contain more than 2 million spiders, and it's safe to assume that wetlands and undisturbed forest contain significantly more.
That's about 46 spiders per square foot!
I tend to notice spiders more during the fall, especially when dew outlines the webs of orb spiders hanging over our walkway and funnel spider webs sprinkled over the grass. My guess is that this is a common phenomenon: the arachnids we call "daddy longlegs" are called "harvestmen" in other parts of the world, presumably because they show up during harvest.(Yes, they are not true spiders, but a related order called Opiliones, and no, they are not the most venomous animal in the world; in fact they do not have venom glands.)
"Daddy longlegs" or "harvestman" on leaf
Spiders are considered beneficial species in the garden because they prey on insects that may damage plants. These ubiquitous predators need no special invitation to hunt; they will congregate wherever there are insects to eat. Keep in mind that any pesticide use may affect spiders as well as the targeted pests.
Do you have photos of spiders or other critters in your garden? We'd love to have you share them on the Garden Plot facebook page! Here is a picture I took recently of a black and yellow garden spider among the peas on my trellis. Note the heavily reinforced zigzag portion of the web. Why do they make that?
Now the potatoes and carrots, the beets and turnips and cabbages were gathered and stored in the cellar, for freezing nights had come.
Onions were made into long ropes, braided together by their tops, and then were hung in the attic beside wreaths of red peppers strung on threads. The pumpkins and the squashes were piled in orange and yellow and green heaps in the attic's corners.
Somehow I skipped the Little House books as a child, thinking they were too girly for a no-nonsense type like me. I finally joined the vast contingent of Laura Ingalls Wilder fans many years later while reading Big Woods aloud to my son. Can anyone resist the cozy images Wilder painted of her early childhood in Wisconsin?
In this book in particular, and in Farmer Boy, describing Almanzo Wilder's childhood home in Malone, NY, the author looks back past lives filled with no small amount of hardship to a time of plenty and comfort. The work of growing, processing and preserving food – enough to last through winter months – is detailed at length, accompanied by vivid memories of feasts. Passages like one describing Ma using grated carrot to give her butter a yellow color speak to absorption in world where such things mattered, in the same way that discussions of cars and all things automotive occupy us today.
The Little House books give a poignant glimpse of the backbreaking effort and care that went into keeping a rural family fed in the mid 1800s, with some details that are still useful for those of us trying to provide more of our own food. In the quote at the top of the page, it's interesting to note where they stored their vegetables. The Ingalls did not have access to the reams of advice and USDA guidelines we have today for proper storage temperature for various vegetables; they just knew that roots – potatoes, carrots, beets – went in the cool cellar, and fruits – pumpkins, squashes and peppers – went in the warmer, drier attic.
A half-bushel of greenish Macintosh apples cools in my basement, fruits of the first visit of the season to Everett Orchards' farm stand in Plattsburgh. Later on in the fall I'll be stopping by again for fresh eating apples- especially the wondrously complex Honey Crisps – but tart, crunchy Macs are perfect for making apple butter.
I make a variety of jams for my farmers' market stand using the fruits that come ripe throughout the growing season. Strawberry-rhubarb jam gives way to raspberry-blackcurrant, and then to cantaloupe-peach. The process for most of these is fairly simple, but apple butter boasts the shortest ingredient list: apples and sugar (with a touch of cinnamon.)
The reason for this is that apples, especially underripe ones, contain high amounts of pectin, a carbohydrate found in plant cell walls. When cooked apples are heated and combined with sugar, the pectin causes the mixture to thicken up into a spreadable consistency. In fact, commercially available powdered pectin is sometimes extracted from apple pomace, or pulp.
Making apple butter is a 3 step process (not including canning in a boiling water bath.) Chunks of apple are cooked with a small amount of liquid – water, cider or cider vinegar – until soft. The cooked fruit is put through a food mill or sieve; fruit sauce and sugar go in a large pan in a roughly 2:1 ratio with a sprinkling of cinnamon, which is then cooked on low heat until thickened. (Searching the internet for apple butter recipes, I was surprised to find that many call for long cooking periods, either in a crockpot, baked in an oven, or on the stove. Perhaps my apple butter is not as thick as that featured in the recipes, but my batches cook down in 30 minutes or so.)
Though the quality and convenience of orchard grown apples gives them an edge, in my opinion jams made with wild apples have an extra punch of flavor. In the next few weeks I'll be scouting along our roadsides for likely trees, hoping to beat the deer to the least blemished fruit. And who cares what they look like after they cook down into that sweet treat?
The hoophouses, greenhouse and fields are full of ripe and ripening produce, all brown under a thick coat of mud. Snowslip Farm, owned by Lesley and John Trevor of Lake Placid, fell victim to the second unprecedented flood of 2011. Unlike the spring floods, this one came as a rushing river, rising suddenly Sunday afternoon as they moved quickly to evacuate their horses with the help of the fire department. Here's what the crops looked like Tuesday, after the water was gone and human and animal lives were no longer in danger.
Unless you are absolutely sure that flooding is not from streams and surface water, do not use fruits and vegetables that were at or near harvest at the time of flooding.
Not much left to say. My heart goes out to all farmers and gardeners coping with this blow.
"Roses are red,
Violets are blue;
But they don't get around,
Like the dandelions do."
Slim Acres
In the beginning I patrolled the garden hawkishly, pulling grass and dandelions out by the roots, scuffing along the rows to keep the lambsquarters from growing large enough to put out seed. Now, at the end of August, most of the veggies have matured, I can see the finish line ahead, and more time is spent in the kitchen, preparing and enjoying the harvest. It's hard to muster the enthusiasm to clear the beds of uninvited squatters.
Fortunately, the cool, bug-free days of September and October are perfect for "fall cleaning": yanking, raking and seeding the beds with cover crops. And the hours of quiet work may lead to a more nuanced attitude towards the wild species that take over when the coddled vegetables and fruits are gone.
Naturalist Richard Mabey shares his appreciation for weeds in a recent article in Slate. Though we will always be engaged in attempts to overcome them, he suggests that
…every once in a while, perhaps we should take a break from weed-whacking and examine our relationship with these clever and resilient plants, if only to admire their will to live and to multiply.
The accompanying slide show features beautiful photos and bits of trivia about a number of common weeds: the perfect collection to click through while you're sipping a cool drink before returning to the hoe.
As a home gardener and market grower I have had my share of failures, to say the least. On the other hand, almost every year has brought a crop of delicately sweet melons. The first melon of the season, which I am proud to report was harvested on August 20th this year, is treasured in our home almost as much as the first strawberry. If you have not tried to grow this summer treat, maybe this will inspire next year's experiments.
Here's how to grow melons in the Adirondacks.
Plant short-season varieties. I grew Halona Muskmelon and Orange Honey Honeydew this year, with seed purchased from Fedco Seeds. These hybrids are more dependable and a bit more productive than open pollinated varieties, but there are also many heirloom melons available.
Start plants no earlier than a month before the last frost date. Melons need warmth to germinate; set trays, covered to keep in moisture, on top of the fridge or on a heating pad until three quarters of the seeds have sprouted.
Set transplants after frost danger has passed in well-amended soil. Melon vines can cover a fairly large area – I plant in 3 foot wide beds with 2 foot paths on each side. Floating row covers during the early season buffer the temperature swings of cool nights. Remove the cover when the plants begin flowering.
Consistent and adequate watering is key; drip irrigation with one or two lines run along the row is best. Don't let the plants dry out.
Muskmelons are ready when they pull easily from the vine. Honeydews will not slip; the stems should be cut when their skin turns golden and the blossom end is slightly soft. Cantaloupe flesh is deep orange and fairly soft; honeydews retain a crispness that is perfect for cutting into cubes. And if too many melons ripen at once freeze them in chunks for later- melon sorbet, anyone?
We eat what we can, and what we can't, we can. At least when it comes to tomatoes. The unique, height-of-summer lushness of ripe tomatoes can't quite be duplicated in a glass jar, but it's probably as close as you can come in the middle of February.
I like to can tomatoes whole with salt and lemon juice because they can be processed in a boiling water bath. (Simply put, a large pot filled with boiling water in which sealed canning jars are boiled for a prescribed amount of time.) Canning pasta sauces and salsas usually requires a pressure canner; a USDA tested recipe is recommended.
There are, of course, dozens of websites and videos with instructions for canning tomatoes. The National Center for Home Food Preservation has an entire subsection on their website devoted to a thorough, if dry, discussion on the ins and outs of canning tomatoes. One of my favorite home preservation websites is PickYourOwn.org which gives easy to follow step-by-step instructions with accompanying photos. Surfing through the various videos and websites brings up some conflicting information, but the basics are simple. Sterilize jars and lids; peel the tomatoes after blanching briefly in boiling water; pack tomatoes in jars with added lemon juice, and salt if desired; fill jars with boiling water and seal; and process in boiling water bath for the allotted time.
We'd love to see how you preserve your tomatoes – post photos of your home canning or other methods on the facebook page.
Perhaps. Heirloom seeds and domesticated animal varieties may come to the rescue when we need new solutions. So says a beautifully illustrated article in the August issue of National Geographic. As the range of plant and animal varieties dwindle in response to the influx of high-yielding, yet genetically vulnerable, introductions we have come to depend more and more on a small number of commercially important crops.
Why is this a problem? Because if disease or future climate change decimates one of the handful of plants and animals we've come to depend on to feed our growing planet, we might desperately need one of those varieties we've let go extinct.
Over centuries farmers bred their crops and animals to thrive in their local conditions, resisting drought or specific diseases, maturing early or late depending on climate, providing reliable yields year after year. Many of these idiosyncratic varieties were not adaptable to the demands of industrialized agriculture which dominates our food system today.
Like most gardeners and farmers, I buy almost all of my seed, with the exception of garlic, potatoes (I buy new seed potatoes every other year), and some beans and flower seeds. My neighbor plants all of her parsnips from her own seed, leaving one plant every year to flower after the spring harvest. Other gardeners I know save tomato seeds, spreading them onto paper towels after rinsing, tearing off a bit of paper and seed when it's time to plant. (If you try this, remember to save seed only from open-pollinated varieties; hybrid seed will not produce reliable offspring.)
If you are interested in learning more about seed-saving, the article has an online sidebar listing groups that swap and sell heirloom seeds. (While you're at the website take a look at their photo gallery of potato varieties from Peru and Bolivia. How could you resist growing "Ashes of the Soul", "Feet of the Lequecho Bird", or "Makes the Daughter-in-law Cry"?)
Do you save seeds? Are you propagating an heirloom variety handed down from great-grandparents? We'd love to hear your stories and advice.
Last Thursday, the Wild Center in Tupper Lake hosted a daylong event celebrating local foods, farmers and chefs. Visitors moved between tasting stations, the farmers' market, a music stage and children's activities. Here are a few scenes from my vantage point as a vendor at the farmers' market. Local food events are taking place all around the region – keep your ears out for one happening near you!
Mary Fortin, Amazing Grace Winery
Lou Lesniak, Summit Farm
Visitors learn about the wood-pellet heating system while tasting meatballs in sauce
It's a pretty neat trick: beans, peas, clovers – any of the legume family of plants – pull inert nitrogen out of the air and convert it into ammonia, an essential component of protein and DNA. These plants enrich the soil as they grow. For most of human history this was more or less the only way that atmospheric nitrogen could be added to soils.*
They do this with the help of diazotrophs, bacteria that live in the roots of most legumes. The bacteria are attracted by the presence of carbohydrates on the root hairs and root surfaces, which provide energy to grow and multiply. Invading the roots, the diazotrophs form small lumps called nodules and begin producing ammonia. The ammonia gives the plant a boost, helping it to thrive without drawing nitrogen from the soil; when the plant dies the nutrient is released into the surrounding earth.
Roots of pea showing numerous N-fixing nodules
I meditated on this mutually beneficial alliance of plant and bacteria last week while I cleared some empty planting beds of weeds. The garlic has been harvested, lettuce has bolted, and radishes have grown stalky and bitter. A cover crop sown in these beds will add organic matter and control erosion; why not add some legumes to increase the nutrients? Many legumes grow better in spring and summer but it's not too late to plant field peas, clovers or vetch along with some winter rye for a thick, weed suppressing carpet. Guess I'll have to stop by the supply store.
* The invention in the early 20th century of a method to create ammonia through non-biological means and using it to make synthetic fertilizer was key in creating the modern agricultural system. Before that, nutrients were recycled through manures and compost, fallowed fields, and growing legumes.
Terri Gilchrist, Hannawa Falls, with radishes destined for relish.
Terri steps off her back porch to this orderly garden of herbs, flowers, and some vegetables.
I first caught sight of Rick and Terri Gilchrists' well-designed garden along Route 56 in Hannawa Falls two years ago, nearly causing a pile up on the highway when I impulsively hit the brakes to pull into their driveway. Hearing the trailing blare of car horns, Terri stepped out of her house and graciously offered a stranger a tour of the garden. The Gilchrists are owners of 3 Trees Farm, selling most of their produce through North Country Grown cooperative. Hannawa Falls is a bedroom community of Potsdam, the closest thing we have to a suburb in the North Country, so it's something of a surprise to find residents here earning income from their yard.
When I dropped in on the Gilchrists two years ago, the garden was contained in a fenced area directly behind the house. Faced with poor soil in their backyard, the Gilchrists constructed raised beds on a gravel base and placed a utility shed in the middle of the garden. Filled with topsoil and compost, the beds are very productive, especially since Terri sows seed every couple of weeks during the growing season.
Right after my visit two years ago, the Gilchrists created a second garden space on a strip of their yard running parallel to Route 56. This garden is surrounded by an attractive wooden fence, enclosing long rows of well-tended vegetables. With a second garden came more defined division of labor. Terri maintains the raised beds, Rick the long planted rows, and they keep up a fun "his and hers" rivalry about who is doing a better job. When I pulled into the Gilchrists' yard last week — again on an impulse — Terri was packing up beans to sell. She really believes in the local food movement, and plans what she grows very carefully to complement what other producers are selling. Unperturbed by my unannounced visits, Rick and Terri assure me they are always happy to give garden tours.
Rick Gilchrist calls himself "the dirt guy" of 3 Trees Farm. He manages production of compost on the property, with sufficient yield for generous applications on the planting beds every year.
Rick gets out to this garden by 5:30 a.m. to weed before breakfast. The success of Rick's compost project is obvious in the health of the plants.
Anneke Larrance sends along this timely pickle recipe.
Cucumbers like hot humid weather, something we’ve had a lot of lately. I returned home after a 2 week absence to find that my cucumbers were especially prolific this year, so I got out a recipe that I’ve modified over the years and my husband and I made 17 quarts of dill pickles.
My husband likes diversity in his dill pickles, so I had planted two cucumber varieties that pickle well: Marketmore 76 and Calypso Pickler. I also grow the garlic, dill and hot peppers that are needed for this particular recipe, but they should soon be available at the Farmer’s Markets across the area.
My mother taught me that you should let home canned goods cure until Thanksgiving, so I never open any of mine until about then. I suspect that her rule was an attempt to make sure that the canned goods lasted through the winter, but do let your pickles sit for at least several weeks so that the wonderful flavor has a chance to permeate the whole cucumber.
Dill Pickles
I Recipe Makes 6 ½ Quarts of pickles
1 pint Cider Vinegar
3 ½ Quarts Water
¾ cup salt without iodine
2 heaping tablespoons pickling spices
Mix above ingredients together. Bring to a boil.
Meanwhile, fill sterile jars with cucumbers.
After the cucumbers are packed in the jars, add
Hot pepper seed or 1 fresh chili pepper
1/8 teaspoon Alum
1 clove garlic
2 heads of fresh dill
When brine comes to a boil, pour into filled jars.
The following treatment results in a better product texture but must be carefully managed to avoid possible spoilage. Place jars in a canner filled half way with warm (120º to 140º F) water. Then, add hot water to a level 1 inch above jars. Heat the water enough to maintain 180º to 185º F water temperature for 30 minutes. Check with a candy or jelly thermometer to be certain that the water temperature is at least 180ºF during the entire 30 minutes. Temperatures higher than 185ºF may cause unnecessary softening of pickles.
So your 10 foot row of green beans has produced 20 pounds of beans – all at once! And more are on the way. How you can share the bounty?
Most food pantries are happy to accept donations of fresh produce, but may have little space to store or display vegetables. Community lunch programs often put their menus together weeks in advance, so spur of the moment additions of fresh vegetables are not easy to accommodate. Here are some tips to smooth the process.
Contact your local food pantry (resources listed below) before showing up with a donation. Aviva Gold, associate director of Gardenshare, suggests calling a few days ahead to offer, for instance, a basket of tomatoes to give away. Talk to a pantry volunteer to arrange a drop-off time that doesn't require produce to be refrigerated over night.
Plan to bring your surplus to the distribution site yourself – don't expect the food program to send someone to pick the vegetables. Food pantries are staffed by volunteers, most of whom do not have the time or experience to harvest from your garden.
Wash and sort the veggies at home, culling produce that is bruised or beginning to wilt. Again, the volunteers will not have the time and facilities to sort through the "seconds." If you have a large amount of one item, packing it in bags or containers sized for one family – a pound of beans, 2 or 3 zucchinis – is helpful.
Describe how to cook and eat the produce that you've brought to food pantry staffers and clients. Members of the First Presbyterian Church in Saranac Lake who cultivate a plot in the Common Ground garden set up a card table next to the ecumenical food pantry on distribution days to provide information along with the vegetables they donate.
Resources for finding your local food pantry:
Gardenshare maintains a list of contacts for St Lawrence county food pantries on its website, here.
The Adirondack Daily Enterprise lists Tri-lakes food programs in its Community Resource Directory and on its website, here.
The Food bank of Central New York covers Jefferson, Lewis and Herkimer counties, as well as some further south. Find the link, here.
Those who do not have outdoor space for compost bins can turn their kitchen scraps into rich soil for houseplants and container gardens by vermicomposting: using worms in containers to make compost indoors.
Last winter, Hannah Harvester took up vermicomposting in her Canton apartment. She purchased composting worms at a farmers market, placed them in a plastic tub, and began feeding them organic waste from her kitchen. It took a while to figure out how much food the worms could process and how much moisture they could endure. Once balance was achieved in the system, the humus steadily accrued. This week, Hannah wrote to The Garden Plot with a cautionary tale about worms and heat:
When I first prepared my worm bin several months ago, I came across the term “worm crawl” in a book I was reading about composting with red wigglers. While the writer gave no description of a worm crawl, it was fairly easy to conjure up an image of one, and I hoped it would never happen to me. Today, my hopes were dashed. I woke up in my second-floor apartment after a night that was partly sleepless, due to the extremely high temperatures of the past few days. The first thing I noticed when I entered my living room was the dried out carcass of a worm on the carpet. Then another, and another after that. Upon lifting the lid of my worm bin, I saw hundreds of worms gathered at the top of the bin, trying to escape en masse: WORM CRAWL.
A couple of days ago, I'd fed the worms and nothing was amiss. I realized instantly that the high heat must have made conditions unbearable for my poor little worms. They live, or lived, in a large plastic tub with several cloth-covered ventilation holes, in my living room closet. I kept the tub filled with damp bedding, mostly shredded paper, and buried my food scraps in the bedding every few days. I don't have a garden; the reason for my worm bin was to divert organic matter from the landfill. I once read that due to a lack of oxygen in landfills, food waste does not decompose as it would in nature but turns to methane gas instead. Bad. Since then I have found different ways to keep food out of my trash bin. In the last place I lived I could bring my food scraps to the local co-op, a ten minute walk from my house. Here, especially given the long winters, I decided on a worm bin.
After working out the initial kinks, like my desire to give my worms more food than they could handle when still a small population, figuring out the proper dampness of the bedding (less damp than I'd initially thought), and learning how to keep fruit flies out (cloth covering for the holes), my worm bin was great. It wasn't smelly, it was low-maintenance, and I loved being able to turn things like used cotton balls and q-tips into compost. In the late spring, I gave a gardener a big tub of nutrient-rich vermicompost. It all felt good.
This morning, realizing it would stay too hot for my worms in my apartment for a few days at least, I acted fast. I called Bob Washo and Flip Filippi, who run the CSA I'm part of, Little Grasse Foodworks. Bob agreed to take my worms. He said he was building a new compost bin the next day, and would work the worms and their castings into the new bin. Luckily, Bob and Flip are raising pigs, so I plan to take my food scraps to them for the rest of the summer. When the weather turns cold and I don't want to make the bike ride up to the farm, maybe I'll try again. I've saved a few worms who are in a mini-worm bin in my stairwell where it's cooler. Come October or thereabouts, they'll be the progenitors of a new population of apartment dwelling red wigglers, and my vermicomposting adventure will begin again.
Jan Rutella's potager in the village of Potsdam is luxuriantly healthy and productive this year. Jan made her first batch of pickled beets this week.
Jan is very happy about the ripe eggplant in her garden, not so happy about the disease attacking her dwarf apple trees.
I know from driving around the North Country peering into people's yards that many gardens are robust and apparently productive this year. That said, I've been hearing regularly from gardeners battling insects and disease they don't normally find in their yards.
Last summer, Dale Hobson reported at The Garden Plot about an invasion of leek moths in the North Country. This week, a reader in Potsdam reported that he has seen signs of these moths in his garden this year for the first time. He pulled his crop a bit earlier than he might have this year because it seemed stressed, whether related to the moths or not.
Crop rotation is one recommendation for outwitting pests. If you usually plant all of your garden space, crop rotation is complicated by the fact that when you are ready to plant garlic in the fall, other crops are still bearing in the space you might use. One solution is to always leave one section of your garden fallow for rotation. Is anyone else out there experiencing leek moths? Any other troubling insects besides the cucumber beetles we covered earlier this week?
Martha Foley and horticulturalist Amy Ivy periodically discuss insects in the garden during their Monday morning conversations. If you are not sure whether the insects on your plants are good ones or bad ones, listen to this discussion.
Canton gardener Judy Bailey called me this week to say that for the first time ever she has cucumber beetles in her garden. She's concerned that the population has increased beyond the point of being manageable with hand-picking. Judy is curious whether the beetles are visiting other North Country gardens for the first time this year. She also welcomes advice on how to control the population. Judy reports that the beetles in her yard are tucked way down into the flowers on her cucumber plants, where she is not sure her patrol of chickens will be able to reach.
Last summer, Sue Rau of Massena wrote to The Garden Plot to say that in spring she protects small plants from beetles by placing plastic cups as protection over them. Any good ideas for this time of year?
Donna and Bob Besaw wanted to grow some of their own food, so they rototilled an area behind their house in Vermontville this spring for their first vegetable garden. Luckily for them, the spot had previously been used for a chicken yard and the soil was rich and brown.
Starting with plants supplied by Campbell's Greenhouse in Saranac, they have rows of cabbage, zucchini, tomatoes, peppers, lettuce and broccoli pushing each other aside to grow. Donna says," I didn't know how big the zucchini plants would get! I've only seen the squash in the store before." They have already harvested their first peppers, and have had plenty of lettuce, enough to share with friends and coworkers.
Although it was Donna who initially pushed for starting the garden, Bob has been the one to visit it most regularly, keeping the weeds hoed and building a fence to deter a neighborhood woodchuck. Here are a few photos of their lovely vegetables, not bad for a first attempt!
With strawberry season winding down in our region, and raspberries just coming on strong, it's a good time to talk about fruit. Setting aside the fact that much of what we harvest from our vegetable gardens is, botanically speaking, fruit, it seems to me that fruits of the sort that end up in pies and jams are under-represented in North Country gardens. There are several reasons for this: concerns about short growing seasons, insufficient space for large bushes and trees, inability to fend off marauding birds, and lack of awareness about the diversity of fruits you can successfully grow here. One additional reason may be that wild fruits are readily available to many of us.
For Peg Cornwell, a summer resident of Tupper Lake, picking wild blueberries is a favorite ritual of the season. Her family has been coming to the same spot for years. Photo courtesy Cornwell family.
Peg is the quickest picker in her family and rarely comes home with less than a good bowlful, even though bears work the same patch.
Right now in overgrown clearings and meadows around the North Country, wild raspberries, known to locals as "black caps," are ripening. Easily recognizable, black caps are an obvious choice for wild picking. Here are other options:
-Wild grapes are too bitter for my taste, but when the conditions are right, you can pick enough for a pie. Several years ago I interviewed a Greek woman in Watertown who picks wild grape leaves to make dolma.
-Elderberries are usually picked to make wine, but with enough sweetener you can produce a respectable pie or jelly. Anyone care to write in about the virtues of the elderberry?
-Mayapples are an endangered plant in the Adirondacks. Herbalist and plant conservationist Jane Desotelle believes this may be due to maturation of the forests where they grow. Jane harvests fruit from a patch of mayapples growing in sun alongside her solar panels. Some years she collects enough fruit to make jelly to sell at farmers markets.
Jane Desotelle, Chateaugay, built her business Underwood Herbs on wild plants. Her product line includes jams and jellies made from wild fruit.
-Abandoned orchards and wild-seeded apple trees are common where farm land is reverting to forest. With just a bit of pruning, these trees will produce fruit for cider or sauce.
Next week, I'll write about growing fruit in the garden. If you are growing unusual or less common fruits in your garden, please send me photos and a description to share.
And now, for the latest episode of pest-of-the-week we bring you…grasshoppers!
Wandering through my garden recently I noticed that not only had many of the recent plantings of chard and cabbage been obliterated by insects, but entire leaves of full-sized spinach, beets and kale were heavily chewed. No insects remained on the plants when I examined them, but it became clear that the culprits were the innocuously small but numerous grasshoppers that scattered at my feet as I walked through the field.
Grasshoppers eat almost anything green and they feed throughout their life cycle, which takes the form of several similar-looking stages over the summer months. (The insects I saw in my garden were in one of the nymph stages.) Although not a widespread problem in this area, they are characterized by population explosions or outbreaks which do major damage to western crops. Early predictions call for this year to be the worst in 30 years in the Great Plains and the Pacific Northwest.
Because these voracious insects are mobile and numerous, backyard controls focus on protecting vulnerable plants. Here are some recommended methods:
Row covers. Fairly effective, although one or two hoppers trapped underneath can still cause damage.
Homemade spray of cayenne pepper and water, with a drop of dish soap to help adhere to the leaves. Must reapply after every rain.
Garlic Barrier, a commercial product of 100% garlic juice. From the Fedco website: "One warning: this stuff stinks and is best mixed outdoors."
Nosema locustae, Grasshopper pathogen. Sold as NoLo bait, this is a disease that affects only grasshoppers. If spread early in the season, it causes the nymphs to slowly sicken and die. It is a bit tricky to time the application properly, but it is thought that the pathogen can carry over to subsequent years.
Bug Juice. Not for the fainthearted, this concoction is made by selecting dead and dying grasshoppers, pureeing them in a blender with water, and letting the mixture sit at room temperature for a day or two before applying it to the plants. I have not been able to bring myself to try this, but if you have had any luck with this method, let me know!
The garden I'm reporting on today began with three neighbors hatching a plan over coffee more than 40 years ago. It's located right in the heart of the village of Canton, surrounded by houses, but when you are in this garden, you feel like you must have blinked your eyes and been transported to the country. There are mature fruit trees, berry bushes, and long rows of many different kinds of vegetables. You can sit here and feel removed from the bustle of nearby streets.
This garden in Canton has been a place for neighbors to spend time together over decades. This is approximately 1/3 of the total area John Hall cultivates.
When John Hall moved to Church St. in the late 1960s, he discovered that his neighbors Don Peckham and Don Huddleston were avid gardeners. They decided to share equipment. Soon, their adjoining lots blended to form one big garden across three backyards. As John explains it, this was not so much by design as an outcome of spending a lot of time out there together: "That evolved. We all worked together, liked each other, and helped each other." Betty Peckham recalls, "They had some great conversation in the yard, solving the problems of the world."
Donald and Betty Peckham moved into their home in 1956. Donald's garden was known for raspberries and the rhubarb Betty made into punch for neighborhood parties.
Needing more space, John negotiated in the 1970s to purchase a piece of land stretching behind the three backyards. The parcel had been rented to store concrete vaults and mortuary equipment; John spent years improving the soil. Further down Church St., neighbor Jack Klemens also had a garden and joined the annual neighborhood competition to grow the first ripe tomato of the year. The prize was a six-pack of beer.
For many years, the men happily grew and processed fruits and vegetables from their Church St. gardens. Their wives were supportive, but not interested in gardening themselves. Betty remembers that even though she didn't garden, her life revolved around the garden: "We couldn't go out of town in the spring until the plants were in, and we couldn't leave later in the summer when the raspberries were ripe. I was always very aware of what was happening out there." John's wife Dotty has been known to support her husband's work by blasting her trumpet at a woodchuck to scare it out of the garden.
Small animals are the bane of John Hall's garden. He built this cage around his blueberry bushes to thwart the birds who would beat him to harvest.
In 1995, Anne Mamary moved into the house where the Huddlestons lived. Though she loves her house, the communal garden was a major factor in her decision to purchase the property. She was attracted to the obvious care that went into building and maintaining the gardens over time: "You have all the convenience of the village out front and paradise in the back yard." Don Peckham and John welcomed her into their garden community. Anne's garden produces a consistently impressive harvest of currants, thanks in part to the pruning her mother does.
L to R: John Hall, Betty Peckham, Anne Mamary
Don Peckham gardened until his death in 2009. Since then, younger neighbors have helped Betty keep Don's garden cultivated. John still spends long summer days working amongst his plants. Anne freely invites friends to come pick produce during the long periods she is out of town for work.
I received this message a few days ago from Janet Stein, site manager of the Common Ground Garden in Saranac Lake. Her plight is familiar to an unnumbered contingent, many of whom have failed to outmatch a determined woodchuck. If you have won this battle, please let us know your strategy. The gardeners in Saranac Lake need all the help they can get!
Our woodchuck is back in action at Old Lake Colby Road Garden. I hadn't see any sign of it before now and was hopeful that it had passed peacefully this winter. But, no, he is back! I'll call it a "he" because I sure hope it is not a "she! " He lives under the house. He has an obvious entrance outside of the fence to the right of the front gate. He, however, has a taste for garden goodies and digs holes from under the house into the garden. Unfortunately, as evidenced by me, this guy has already done a lot of damage especially in the plot closest to the garage. I have filled in two of his new holes into the garden, already.
This guy really needs to go and unfortunately, I don't know how.
"How do you grow your crops?" When customers at the farmers' market ask this question they often want to know: (a) if the item on my table is something that I have grown, and (b) whether it is "organic." Answering the first question is easy – I grow almost everything that I sell, and label those items that come from other farms – but the second question delves into more complex territory.
The produce from my postage-stamp sized farm is not certified organic, mainly because of cost and record keeping requirements. To comply with the USDA standards, a farm draws up a production plan including crop rotation, cover crops where applicable, and practices that enhance soil structure and biodiversity. In addition, they agree to use only approved substances. (Scrupulously detailed lists of allowed and prohibited substances can be found here, at the Electronic Code of Federal Regulations.) Farms are inspected yearly, and are required to show that no prohibited substances were used for 3 years prior to certification.
Technically, I could say that my veggies are organic, because I do follow the organic standards and I make less than $5,000 a year from my farm (unfortunately.) In fact, I am in the process of having my farm re-certified through a grassroots peer-to-peer network, Certified Naturally Grown, which sends farmers, consumers and extension agents into the fields to document that growers are adhering to organic production methods.
Yet I harbor misgivings about the sharp delineation made between "organic" and "conventional" growing practices on today's farms. By completely separating certain substances and ways of growing, we give the impression that one way is "good" and the other is "bad." As in most of life, things aren't that simple. I'll try to dig into the more subtle questions in future posts.
On Fridays we find out what's been happening in gardens around the region. Send your updates and photos by clicking on the email link at right.
First, a goof: though Anneke Larrance sent this update before June 18th, I neglected to post it in time to let people know about the garden workday. Here is the contact information for anyone who would like to help out with this project.
Second, Val White sent a few lovely photos of perennials, posted below. Keep the garden pictures coming!
From Anneke:
The Canton Central School is beginning the third year of their garden project. Spearheaded by two teachers the cafeteria manager and a parent, the garden project consists of 9 raised beds that are located close to the school. Workers hope to ready a second garden area during a work day on June 18.
Harvesting spinach in the Canton Central School Garden
This spring Canton school children sowed seeds, squashed bugs, weeded and then harvested spinach, lettuce and radishes that were really enjoyed in the cafeteria. Local volunteer garden adopters will maintain the gardens over the summer, harvesting and preserving any crops that are ready before students return to school.
Various local businesses, farmers, individuals and families have donated everything from seeds and starts to gravel and topsoil, to skilled labor and snacks during work days.
Val White's flowers, including a gorgeous closeup:
When it began to rain this afternoon, I gave up weeding and moved onto the porch to read Growing a Farmer: How I Learned to Live Off the Land, written by restaurateur-turned-farmer Kurt Timmermeister. It's a story that's popular with publishing houses and readers these days: an urban businessman in Seattle, who once helped raise a few vegetables in his parents' garden, decides to leave the city behind to earn a living on the 13 infertile acres he purchased on Vashon Island. The learning curve is steep; the author prevails. I never get enough of narratives like these.
One of the things I like about this book is that Timmermeister moved to his land 20 years ago. He writes from the perspective of someone who has committed to a piece of land long enough to write about his successes and failures with the understanding that only time allows. He's gratifyingly honest about all the things that can go wrong when you set out to plant an orchard, or tend a garden, or raise livestock. Part of becoming a gardener is accepting that every year there will be disappointments. Yesterday, I stood with a gardener in Morrisburg, Ontario, who was fretting that the Cinderella pumpkin seeds he'd planted have not germinated. The rest of his 1/2 acre garden is magnificent and well on its way to an abundant harvest, but he couldn't stop staring at the bare dirt where pumpkin vines should have been. Timmermeister writes about planting 130 apple trees one year, most of which he promptly lost to deer browse. He's been on an annual program of replacing trees lost to one hardship or another ever since.
We had our own disappointments at home this year. The eight varieties of heirloom tomatoes and three varieties of specialty peppers we carefully selected from a catalog and babied in seed flats in the house all spring withered up and died right before planting time. I'm blaming the potting soil we used, but who knows? We bought replacement plants and vowed to try again next spring.
The backbone of my flower garden, perennials pop up year after year like neighbors returning to camp in the summer months. Reassuring in their predictability, they nonetheless impart an element of surprise by laying dormant for
Barb Heller's perennial island
months and then suddenly shooting up up flower stalks when they are ready to bloom. Perennials are the lazy gardener's friend, persevering in less rich soils, without additional watering. There is an art, and science, to planting a perennial flower bed that will provide color and contrast all season; however, I am largely ignorant on this topic. My enjoyment comes from the fact that these flowers add beauty to the world with so little effort on my part.
Here are a few photos of perennials taken over the past few days. If you'll send me some pictures of your garden, we can have a blooming bouquet for Friday's post!
On Fridays we find out what's been happening in gardens around the region. Send your updates and photos by clicking on the email link at right.
Laments and curses were uttered this week by several of my gardening friends upon seeing the mess that crows had made of their corn and potato plantings. It reminded me of Jill Breit's recent suggestion to add a scarecrow to the garden mix. For inspiration, here are two more scarecrows of years past sent in by Bob Washo.
His...
...and hers.
Anneke Larrance has been reveling in a different garden aesthetic. She writes:
Ever notice the smells in your garden?
Earlier in the week my front yard was so strong smelling that I almost couldn’t stand it. I have Miss Kim lilacs (Korean lilacs) in the front yard which bloom a bit after the regular lilacs. Wow! I first noticed it on a muggy, warm day and I straightened from my wedding job and just stood there, inhaling the odor—and almost got light headed.
As I moved around the beds, weeding, I found myself breathing in my favorite flower scent: the smell of iris. Oh, I love that distinctive scent and I wish I could describe it for those of you who don’t grow iris. I can’t seem to find the words—lavenderish-sandlewood with a very faint hint of musk—is the closest I can come. Some of the hybrid iris don’t have the distinctive smell of the older “common” ones, and I’ve also found that blue iris seem to smell the best.
These two scents got me thinking about other distinctive smells in the garden right now. I’ve been pulling volunteer dill (Good heavens, no! I don’t discard it. It ends up in a salad or in my famous dill dip) since there’s so much of it– and its clean crisp smell is always a welcome one. I also recently thinned the garlic and whew–it can take my breath away. My garlic is a distant relative from my grandmother’s garden in Michigan some 40 years ago and I think of her when I pull it. I also have garlic chives and regular chives which are pretty smelly, but I cut them only when I need as a special garnish.
Oh, an update on Sophia’s radishes. Some of them are ready now and she’s not due here for 10 days yet. I hope we continue to have some cool weather so that there are still radishes to pull when she’s here. Another confession: I didn’t completely trust the “days to harvest” note on the seed package, and I also planted a few seeds between the celery plants—just in case the first ones were gone by.
Garlic scapes are the stalk and flower bud of the garlic plant. They emerge in June on hard-necked varieties, and start to curl around on themselves if not trimmed off promptly.
We're picking garlic scapes in our garden this week — lots of them. If you grow hard-necked varieties of garlic, you are familiar with the rush in June to cut them off the plants before the plants set seed, stealing energy from the bulb growing under the soil. Occasionally, soft-necked varieties of garlic will send out a scape. These will be more delicate and less conspicuous than those on hard-necked garlic, and fall more in the category of shoots than real substance. For reliable scapes, stick to hard-necked varieties. Purveyors of seed stock will always indicate which type a particular variety of garlic is.
Until recently, we tossed scapes on our compost pile. Then I discovered that I actually prefer the mild flavor of scapes to that of the pungent bulbs we grow. If you wait until the scapes are more than a couple of inches long, you'll have a tough product and might want to go the compost route. If, however, you get to them sooner, they are very fine in salads, grilled with asparagus, or used for early batches of pesto. A quick search online has revealed that many chefs currently tout the wonders of garlic scapes in early summer meals. If you don't have any in your garden, look for them at your farmers market. Garlic growers have begun to sell them as more people have learned to use them.
If you are interested, here's a recipe to try. It's posted on a gardening forum called iDigmyGarden. com, shared by contributor hikingonthru:
Garlic Scape Soup – Served Hot or Cold
2 tablespoons clarified butter or extra-virgin olive oil
2 dozen garlic scapes, flower buds discarded and green shoots chopped
3 large russet potatoes, unpeeled and cut into ½ inch dice
5 cups vegetable stock or water
2 large handfuls spinach leaves, stemmed
Juice of ½ lemon
½ teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup heavy cream (optional)
Chive blossoms, for garnish (optional)
Heat the butter in a large saucepan over medium heat, then add the scapes and sauté for 2 minutes. Add the potatoes and stock, cover, and simmer for about 20 minutes, or until the potatoes are cooked through and beginning to break down.
Remove from the heat, add the spinach, and puree using a hand blender. (If you must use a conventional blender, be careful; the hot liquid can burst out the top and make a huge, potentially painful mess. Try leaving the lid slightly ajar to allow steam to escape. Cover the top with a kitchen towel and blend in batches at low speed.) Season with the lemon juice, salt, and a few grinds of pepper. Whisk in the cream for a silkier texture. If the soup tastes flat, add salt a few big pinches at a time until the flavors really pop. Serve garnished with the chive blossoms.
On a sunny morning a few weeks ago, Chef Kevin McCarthy of Paul Smith's College shepherded culinary students from his summer session into Gould's Garden, an area adjacent to the soccer field given over to garden plots for the Paul Smith's community. The students were there to plant vegetables that would later be harvested and served in the on-campus St. Regis Restaurant. Joe Orefice, forestry professor and instructor in sustainability studies at Paul Smith's, directed the group to hoe, smooth and plant seeds – carrots, Swiss chard, beets – in double rows, watering them in with pond water hand-carried up a steep bank at the back of the garden.
Future chefs sowing seeds
McCarthy is one of a growing number of chefs who promote locally sourced foods in their restaurants, some going so far as to start their own farms to insure fresh produce. In other cases, chefs work closely with farmers to craft menus highlighting local specialties. Diners appreciate eating the seasonal bounty of a region, and farmers are more free to experiment with a wide variety of crops.
"We'll tend this garden through the season, then harvest and serve the vegetables along with locally raised chickens and ducks. The students will take part in all stages of food production, including processing, plucking and preparing the poultry," McCarthy says. "This will give them the full experience of how food gets from the producer to the table."
This modest garden will give the future chefs a sense of what it takes to grow a beet or carrot. Meanwhile, rows of little seedlings have appeared, interspersed with less welcome plants. I'm guessing the next gardening lesson might be titled "How to Weed."
On Fridays we find out what's been happening in gardens around the region. Send your updates and photos by clicking on the email link at the right.
A couple of years ago I bought an old Ariens Rocket rototiller from a friend for $200. I believe it dates from the 60's, with a 7 hp Tecumseh cast iron engine that uses dual shafts to go in forward and reverse. It weighs a ton, and could break into fresh sod without jumping around the way lighter rototillers do. When it worked.
Alas, it tills no longer. My spouse applied his ingenuity to keeping it going for two years by, for example, replacing the head, welding the counterweight, fixing the starter motor, re-gluing the flywheel weights and rebuilding and reattaching the carburetor.
Despite his attentions, the Beast had been in declining health all spring. Yesterday, I steered it confidently into the lower part of the garden where it putted uneventfully for about 10 minutes before abruptly choking up and going silent, leaving wisps of steam or smoke curling from the air baffle. The engine had seized.
While it sits motionless in the field, I ponder whether it is now time to commit unflinchingly to the Ruth-Stout-No-Work-Garden route, or whether I need to find another rototiller. Let's just say that I'm in the market, if anyone wants to pass along some leads.
The Garden Plot
We want to follow your garden through the growing and harvesting season. Gardening conversation, tips, maps, photos and resources.
Gardener Ellen Beberman is the principle author and editor, and is looking for others to join in about their areas of their expertise. She is looking for: gardeners, farmers, chefs, eaters --please get in touch if you are interested. Email for Ellen Beberman.
Jill Breit, folklorist, Executive Director of Traditional Arts in Upstate New York, and avid gardener, is a regular contributor to Garden Plot.
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It's a pretty neat trick: beans, peas, clovers – any of the 
Wash and sort the veggies at home, culling produce that is bruised or beginning to wilt. Again, the volunteers will not have the time and facilities to sort through the "seconds." If you have a large amount of one item, packing it in bags or containers sized for one family – a pound of beans, 2 or 3 zucchinis – is helpful.
The produce from my postage-stamp sized farm is not certified organic, mainly because of cost and record keeping requirements. To comply with the 
The Garden Plot
