March 2017 - Spring has (sort of) sprung

I decided to plant some of my tomatoes early. I've been looking for temperatures around 75-80 degrees during the day and temps above 55 at night. Nighttime temperatures are the really kicker... and our weather doesn't like to be nailed down. It's been lovely and cool... I would savor it even more if I didn't care about growing tomatoes.

Fifteen tomato plants went into the ground last Tuesday, and I promptly lost 4 or 5. Those that survived the first transition are now covered in buckets and pots while winter breaths its last and hail threatens. With hope that the weather continues to warm as predicted, I'll be putting out all kinds of spring plantings by the end of this week. Tomatoes, peppers, more herbs, flowers, corn, greens, and so on.

In the meantime, my family has enjoyed the early harvests of February. Peas, asparagus, swiss chard, arugula, green onions. Daily harvests are small but sweet.

I have observed my awakening garden with quiet wonder. The grapevines, strawberries, raspberries, blackberries. The potatoes. My "Little Miss Figgy" dwarf fig tree. The herbs.



The oregano in particular has held my attention. It's a little embarrassing - admitting fondness for a plant you can buy at the store for $3. But this one is mine and it's back from the dead. I have such little experience with pruning, and last fall I cut the spent plant down to bare little twigs with no clue if it could come back. In January, soft green leaves winked at me from the base of skeletal branches, and by February they fluffed out into an aromatic pillow. I can't help but give it a pat every time I walk by.




The asparagus. It's pretty fulfilling to see it coming back. I cried when I saw the first spear. 

We can cut as much as we want this year. It takes a few days to get a handful right now. 

But we're not complaining. The harvest is sweet.

Decisions, decisions

To plant. Or to read about planting. Coffee is calling. The book is likely to win out.

Looking back on January

The weather has continued to be up and down. 80 degrees on a Friday. 30 the very next Sunday. I have planted a few things. Onions, potatoes... lettuce, peas. But mostly I've just kept an eye on things. At one point I reached into my pantry for some sweet potatoes and realized I had a new generation on my hands. Because I've had absolutely no luck starting my own sweet potato slips for the past two seasons, I wasn't even going to try this year. In fact, I've already pre-ordered a purple variety from Seed Savers. Ah well! I plunked several of these into jars of water in my south-facing seedling window, and the slips have continued to grow beautifully. (Hoping for some effortless sweet potato vines, I also tucked a few of the smaller sprouting tubers into hanging baskets with fresh potting mix.)

My Beira Sea Kale seeds have grown true leaves since this picture was taken. I'll be putting them outdoors soon. I love the thought of perennial kale, so I hope it thrives.

I've transplanted all of these tomato seedlings to Solo cups since this picture was taken. The Nyagous seedlings are the most precocious... my mouth waters just thinking about them.

I harvested a pathetically small amount of cauliflower and broccoli from my late November plantings. It was disappointing, but part of the gamble. When we actually had a week of 20 degree winter weather, I was out of town and left everything unprotected. This purple bite was vibrant with defiance. It was miniscule. But it survived!

January 30, 2017

It was a good day.

The activities of the day came to an end.

I put on my mother duck hat and led the kids on a walk to our larger garden space.

How do trees, grass and sky exude such stillness and such aliveness at the same time.

I planted some peas. 

The kids scampered off and rummaged around their exploring grounds.

Made their own adventures.

I found my first pepper peeping out with seed leaves today. 

And I noticed that the rhubarb has finally germinated. I'd about given up again.

I have several representatives for each of the eleven tomato varieties I'm growing.
Now I'm waiting for true leaves.

Beautiful day.

Simple pleasures.

Making a dent

In the dead of winter (well...the North Texas' version), I walked around my yard and harvested a salad to go with dinner. These lingering fall plantings have survived all manner of yo-yoing weather. I managed to harvest 2.5 oz of fresh greens - a small head of "Devil's Ear" lettuce, clippings of El Dorado swiss chard, and handfuls of arugula. These greens filled out 2 generous adult-size salads and 1 child-size salad.

(I hadn't figured out the Tare function of my scale yet.)

This tasty head of lettuce was undeterred by 20deg weather.

I'm going to estimate the monetary worth of my yields based on my Farmer's Market purchases, not my Costco ones. I love Costco. But this is fresh-picked, front-yard-local, organic produce. Anyone who actually reads this blog, please feel free to give me a reality check based on your own Farmer's Markets purchases. What is a realistic price range for fresh, organic, local greens / oz?

For now, I'm going to say $1/oz. 

Total expenditures: $221.12

Total yields: $2.50

Running balance: $218.62

Keeping Track

I've decided (with some trepidation) that I want to track my inputs and my harvest in 2017. Gardening has been a somewhat expensive hobby up to this point, and I'd like some more objective proof of its value. I'd like to see for myself that gardening can pay for itself in tangible yields.

HOWEVER, before I delve into the cold-blooded world of black and red numbers, I must insist that the truest benefits of this sacred hands-in-the-earth work are immeasurable. Gardening keeps me in the air and light of nature's sanctuary, which has been for me a place to mourn, a place to test my strength, a place to be poured out and to be renewed. A place to meet with God. In Him is a well of creativity, ingenuity, resourcefulness and strength that never runs dry.

Growing food also makes vital contributions in the life of my family -- teaching my children how to feed themselves well, how to understand the seasons of produce, how to value fresh produce and the work of farmers, and on and on. It is a worthy pursuit in and of itself.

The end.

And now we can go back to the numbers.

It's very tempting to cushion my outcomes by starting with a friendly zero balance. No place to go but up and into the black. However, the truth is that I am beginning the season with a generous supply of seeds. I bought a lot on clearance last year and some I saved myself... and then I got a bit trigger happy with my seed catalogs in November. Thus, like so many farmers I've read about and listened to on podcasts, I'm starting out in the hole.

Seed Savers (peppers, tomatoes, beans, greens, herbs & flower seeds) - $50.87

Gurney's (sea kale, sweet potato slips & raspberry vines) - $40.98

Baker Creek Rare Seeds (fig tree, cucumbers, herbs, peas, okra, broccoli & flower seeds) - $41.75 

Archie's Gardenland (potatoes, onions, potting soil, compost) $87.52                            

RUNNING BALANCE = $221.12

That is a big red number, folks. Time to start making a dent.

Starting seeds seems like a good place to begin.

Update on Leeks! Success!

I have an update from my post three weeks ago! Of the ten cuttings that I replanted, three have rooted and grown green tops! Maybe not the best growth ratio by some standards, but I'll take it. After all, they've already provided one meal - any further growth is a bonus.

I'm experimenting wildly with the wood chip gardening method practiced and promoted by Paul Gautschi in his "Back to Eden" film. (You can watch this documentary for free online. Or if you prefer to read about it, Growing Food God's Way is a free book through Amazon's KindleUnlimited that further expounds on Gautschi's approach and inspiration.)

Jose's Tree Service in Fort Worth brought me load after load of wood chips. It's been a fair amount of work to distribute and spread them, but I'm pleased with the results up to this point. (I've also been absconding with lawn bags full of leaves from my neighbors, using these as more compost and mulch material.)

I've layered wood chips all over my raised garden beds (and even several containers) to a minimum depth of 4-inches. On a larger space I'm developing, I've covered swaths of land in sheets of wood chips up to 12 inches deep. The wood chips maintain an even moisture and temperature level that is quite impressive, regardless of consistent precipitation. As much as I dread the high heat of summer, I'm looking forward to evaluating how the wood chips measure up to lore. I have rain barrels and soaker hoses, but my hope is that I won't have to rely on them this season as in seasons past.

As best as I understand it, here's the wood chip method in short. The wood chips are not for planting IN, as you would plant in soil. You part the chips to place seeds/plants in the soil beneath. The woodchips stay in place around the plants you want to grow, but not covering them. The idea is that the chips provide a cover for the soil that eliminates (or drastically reduces) weeds, maintains moisture and temperature in spite of drought or deluge, and protects/encourages microbial activity. I'm still a bit unclear about the need for fertilizer inputs... plenty of sources insist that fertilizers aren't necessary. I've spread additional chicken bedding on some areas. I plan to spread coffee grounds on others. But most areas I will leave alone and compare results.

Planting something is better than nothing.

I'm planning out where I want to start with my seeds this year. 

It always makes my head spin a little.  

How to get organized, where to plant what when... 

There's nothing for it, but to dive in and start somewhere. 

Anywhere.

Today it started at my kitchen table.

I took my humble, but newly organized seed box, and pulled out a smattering of packets. They ended up in piles labeled:

ROOT CROPS TO PLANT NOW

• Carrots (Cosmic Purple, Muscade, Oxheart, Purple Dragon, 
• Beets (Detroit Dark Red)
• Radishes (Early Scarlet Globe and Plum Purple)

PERENNIALS TO START NOW

• Victoria Rhubarb (I'll feel like a miracle gardener if this actually turns out to be a perennial for me. More likely I'll have to replant every year.)
• Sea Kale, also labeled Beira and Tronchuda
• Comfrey

WINTER CROPS TO START NOW (includes Herbs)

• Broccoli (Summer Purple, Waltham 29, Rapini)
• Cabbage (Brunswick, Red Acre)
• Cauliflower (Chef's Choice Blend)
• Kale (Dwarf Blue Curled Scotch, Scarlet)
• Spinach (Monstrueux de Viroflay)
• Stevia (herb I'm curious about)
• Swiss Chard (Rhubarb Red)
• Tansy (herb to repel insects)
• Yarrow (herb for blueberry polyculture-Colorado Mix)

PEPPERS TO START NOW

• Ancho Gigantea (medium hot, 4" poblanos)
  *Side note - I have yet in 4 seasons to successfully grow these. Time to try, try again.
• Aurora (medium hot, small 1-1/2" fruits)
• Georgia Flame (hot, long 8" fruits)
• Jimmy Nardello's (sweet, long 10" fruits)
• Macaroni Red (sweet, long 12" fruits)
• Sheepnose Pimento (sweet, small fruits)

TOMATOES TO START NOW
Cherry Tomato Varieties

• Black Vernissage
• Jelly Bean Red & Yellow
• Igleheart Yellow Cherry
• Riesentraube
• Velvet Red

Smallish-Medium Tomato Varieties

• Nyagous (I grew this variety with fantastic success a few seasons ago. They were DELICIOUS, and I desperately want to taste them again.)
• Principe Borghese
• Speckled Roman
• Ukranian Purple

The Big Guns

• Mortgage Lifter (Halladay's)

My limited experience has been that cherry tomatoes are much easier to grow, at least around my house and in my climate. Because of this I sadly limited myself last year to only cherry tomatoes and a few plum-size varieties. This year, I've decided to be brave again and try out one large variety, the Mortgage Lifter. It's very name makes me visualize a tomato that puffs its chest and crows.

Simply organizing all of my seed packets feels so satifisying. It's not fancy. It's a salvaged cardboard box from the hardware store that used to hold edging stakes. It's roughly the right width for upright seed packets and long enough for...  holy cow, I just counted 115 seed packets. YIKES! I've bought so many freaking seeds! And WOW! I could grow so much food if I manage to plant all of this!

If you're just starting out, please allow me to give you a bit of unsolicited encouragement. 

Plant one or two things that you would love to eat. 

Even if it dies or gets eaten by a bug you didn't know existed before now, 

you will learn something and gain new skills for next time. 

Planting something is better than nothing. 

Garlic & Leeks

This past November, I planted garlic in one of my new lasagna beds. 

It's finally breaking through the soil's surface. 

I bought the "Music" variety from Seed Savers, because gardening brings out my romantic side. 

It even makes me laugh at myself, but it's true. 

I want to know what "musical" garlic tastes like.

"Italian variety brought to Canada by Al Music in the 1980s from his homeland. Bright white bulbs with a hint of pink and brown on clove skins. Large cloves are easy to peel. Rich, sweet, and caramelly when roasted. Delicious and spicy raw flavor. Hardneck, 4-6 cloves per bulb." - the catalog description from Seed Savers

I had eyed and circled the bed, and then unhurriedly pressed each clove where I sensed it had the best chance to thrive. I had to fight off the desire to chastise myself for not measuring and marking. Then I read this week in Elizabeth Anna Samudio's beautiful work The Unconventional Edible Garden that:

"Intuitive gardening goes beyond textbook gardening and is instead built on the foundation of our inherited relationship to the earth and the earth's creator." 

I'm deeply moved by this perspective. It's wonderfully freeing. When I began gardening 5 years ago, I approached it as I've tended to approach much of life - by the book. And I was quickly frustrated when perfect vegetables didn't emerge from my best attempts at perfect gardening. In fact, it was Elizabeth that I went to when I found my pitiful seedlings covered in flea beetles that first spring.

I was a stranger to her, but her reputation as an organic farmer-gardener had been repeatedly praised in my presence. She personified restorative agriculture long before I ever heard the phrase. She asked me what my soil was like, and I answered back with the exact soil mix I'd created using a formula from a well-known gardening book. She looked more than a little exasperated and proceeded to quite literally take me back to ground zero. The brief exchange did not contain the advice I'd expected or even wanted. But like a train switching tracks, she shifted my gardening path in a life-giving direction.

Incidentally, she also taught me how to correctly pronounce "humus," instead of "hummus." She was very matter-of-fact about it and moved right along, but I was more than a little embarrassed. I'm better all around for the healthy dose of humility she gave me that day.

As I began to build lasagna-style beds this fall, I loosely followed the sheet mulch plan from Toby Hemenway's Gaia's Garden: A Guide to Home-Scale Permaculture. I also referred quite a lot to Patricia Lanza's Lasagna Gardening book. I took a lot of liberties and made each of my beds a little differently. Building soil is a pretty fascinating endeavor...

Despite a lingering sense that I should allow the freshly laid soil layers to "cook" for a season, I went ahead and planted in most of the beds (both seeds and transplants). My internal compromise is that I will hold my expectations for harvest loosely. After all, I did plant in November of all times.

So many things die with a freeze. The peas I planted all around this garlic might actually survive, but they are terribly shriveled and more than a little offended by the sudden arctic blast that came our way (finally) right before Christmas.

But I knew I would find the garlic rising up out of the ground like a victorious song.

I also experimented with leeks this week. A friend cooked some amazing leeky-meatballs over the holidays, and gave me her leftover cuttings. I watched a video about how to re-grow them, and then did my own version of the instructions. They sat in about an inch of water for a few days. Then, I put them in a sunny window for a day or two. And this morning, I found the faint greenish glow in the center had become the beginnings of a new plant.

So I pushed them into the soil of my mostly dormant spiral garden.

I felt a bit like a squirrel. 

We'll see how they do.