So, that was an interesting week. I like how it also falls to the local TV weatherperson to explain earthquakes to viewers at home. I guess they have access to the maps in the studio? Took more than one gen-ed science class in college?
I got my comeuppance with my mocking of the earthquake earlier this week when the pepper plants really did topple almost completely out of the ground during Irene. The biggest plant is about an inch around at the base, so snapping completely in half would have taken a lot more wind. Some creative emergency trellising and we're back in the vertical position. The largest basil plant also was uprooted but I could just tamp that back down.
All in all, the neighborhood's plant life fared fine - nothing I would even categorize as a branch, let alone limb, came off a tree. Glad we got those oak saplings lo those many years ago.
I am a bit concerned that the insane amount of rain will drown out the seeds I planted last week for what will be the Green Leafy stage of the season. I sowed some chard along with more fennel, and started bok choi in the basement (or, if you prefer, bok choy, or pak choi, or even pak choy. Or Chinese cabbage). It's total guesswork here when to start these plants I feel with fall around here. It could be hotter than hell into September, or get really hot in the middle of October and force these guys to bolt. I'm holding off on the kale we'll plant until later, probably the end of September after the basil starts to go south. The chard should deal with potential early-fall heat better than the kale, and given I've seen boxes of kale being grown around Columbia Heights more or less in the middle of winter, I'm not too worried about waiting longer for it.
The bok choi isn't futzing around, by the way. It had germinated in two days after I put it under the desk lamp. In another day - bam! - sprouts.
Now for the ever-exciting compost update, How's It Rotting? Pretty well, actually. The "browns" of the can -- the sticks, leaves, etc -- have broken down almost completely, taking much of the paper with them. The compost was almost ready to use for the second planting but wasn't quite there. It probably will be come kale time, but truly will come in handy when we need to re-enrich the topsoil early next spring. If I had been better about watering the can it may have been ready now, but I don't think the tomatoes were that big of nutrients whores. Another dose of blood meal and compost tea should do the job.
8/23/11
Breaking News: Pepper Plant Listing in Green Line Garden after Earthquake
Today's magnitude 5.9 earthquake shook the nerves and strained the quadriceps of Washington's office workers forced to take the stairs to the safety of standing under plate-glass windows. It also, apparently, did major structural damage to the Green Line Garden. Reporters in the field have indicated that a poblano pepper plant within the garden is listing precariously after the temblor, and may be in danger of collapse.
Steps are being taken, garden officials stated, to ensure the safety of nearby plants and passers-by.
Fox News, meanwhile, is reporting that the lower raised bed of Green Line Garden has collapsed entirely and an enormous crack in the earth has swallowed up the thai basil plant. These reports could be independently verified.
Steps are being taken, garden officials stated, to ensure the safety of nearby plants and passers-by.
Fox News, meanwhile, is reporting that the lower raised bed of Green Line Garden has collapsed entirely and an enormous crack in the earth has swallowed up the thai basil plant. These reports could be independently verified.
8/19/11
Taste Tomatoes Saturday @ Silver Spring
From the Field to Fork Network e-letter:
The FreshFarm Market is set up on the street between the Borders and the row of restaurants in the commercial district of downtown Silver Spring. The market's pretty meh and in kind of a weird spot because there's a Whole Foods right there. Well, whatever. Go slop all over yourself.4th Annual Washington Gardener Magazine Tomato Tasting - August 20th
Kathy Jentz, Editor of Washington Gardener Magazine’s invites her fellow garden communicators to the 4th Annual of Washington Gardener Magazine Tomato Tasting on Saturday, August 20 from 10:00am-12:00 noon.
Sample the multitude of tomatoes at market and vote on your favorites. Stop by for tomato recipes, growing tips, and much more...The event is Free and open to the public. It takes place at the FreshFarm Market in downtown Silver Spring, MD. Wear a bib!
The slow, steady decline of the tomato plants
I've ripped all the large tomato plants out of the raised beds. The decline I described at the end of July progressively got worse, and the plants ended up as stringy stalks with a few sad leaves at the end. When the tomatoes started to decline in quality, too, it was time to pull the plug. The yellow cherry tomatoes started to pucker from a lack of water, suggesting that the fungus-based disease diagnosis may be the correct one. The infection interferes with the plant's ability to transfer water upward from the stalks.
The ripening tomatoes here were among the last of the crop. The stupice started to get splotchy and misshapen a few weeks ago and that was that. The last of the yellow cherry tomatoes held on until last week, when I hacked it apart and yanked it out.
Container planting, I'm sure, can be successful in its own way. But in the raised beds the tomatoes really had a chance to lay down roots:
The paper tube under my hand is the original defense against cutworms. The stalks of the plant more or less filled up the cylinder.
The plants grew so wildly that I had to cut them up with pruning shears to remove them from the beds. The trellises I put up were almost complete failures, listing uselessly toward the car pad. The anti-rat fence I hastily erected ended up doing just as much of the work. So if you're ever debating between those cheaper swinging-gate type wire trellises and the more expensive round ones, go round. Or don't try to get too creative with the cheap guys and make them into simply triangles for single plants.
Even with the bulk of the plants gone, we still have a crapload of tomatoes. The two plants I didn't get around to trellising are still hanging in there, producing delicious black pearl cherries -- which are my favorite of the varieties we did. We still had enough to can three pints, make a large tomato gratin, and throw together a quick salsa.
7/31/11
Bruce Monroe Community Garden is Filling Up
As of last count, 46 of the 55 plots planned at Bruce Monroe Community Garden are reserved. So hurry up and lay your $30 down.
Food porn -- Gazpacho
Soak it in...Yeah. Hells yeah.
Per Jose Andres (actually his wife's) recipe in Tapas. Usual deal -- tomatoes, cucumber, peppers. garlic -- but with lots more olive oil, some sherry vinegar, and all whacked in the blender before chilled. I used some home-grown poblano peppers rather than bell, and Persian cukes that I got at the DuPont Circle farmers' market because they are awesome. It's yellow because of (1) the olive oil (2) a few yellow cherry tomatoes I threw in and (3) the stupice, when blended, are a weak pink color.
The 100 Dollar Tomato
When we were breaking ground for the garden, a family friend jokingly suggested that our yield may not keep up with our start-up cost and that we'd be enjoying the "100 dollar tomato" come summer. We still might be over what we would have paid at the farmer's market in terms of cost-per-unit, but I think we've had a pretty good result for our first season. Here's the peak of our haul, with about a quarter to a half of the red stupice tomatoes unaccounted for because they were already cooked.
If anything, we've learned the lesson of planting too many cherry varieties, because of their culinary limitations. I'm tempted to go all roma varietals next time around for pure sauce potential. Like these guys -- the only canned tomatoes I buy (unless I'm making chili.)
We have five plants producing the tomatoes seen above. The lesson here really is, if you can figure out the space for one or two plants that are your absolute favorite varieties, it's worth it. In an urban setting, be choosy about what you plant, rely on farmers' markets for the spectrum of tomato choices, and be confident you'll have more than enough of your personal bread-and-butter variety to last a few months. Even if they catch the death fungus.
If anything, we've learned the lesson of planting too many cherry varieties, because of their culinary limitations. I'm tempted to go all roma varietals next time around for pure sauce potential. Like these guys -- the only canned tomatoes I buy (unless I'm making chili.)
We have five plants producing the tomatoes seen above. The lesson here really is, if you can figure out the space for one or two plants that are your absolute favorite varieties, it's worth it. In an urban setting, be choosy about what you plant, rely on farmers' markets for the spectrum of tomato choices, and be confident you'll have more than enough of your personal bread-and-butter variety to last a few months. Even if they catch the death fungus.
7/28/11
The Tomato Plants Aren't Looking So Good
Our wait for a garden-related calamity may be over: it seems many of our tomato plants have been afflicted with some kind of illness. The plants started to yellow from the bottom and middles-up. Clipping the dying portions didn't do too much to stem the problem. Now, fruit on some of the cherry tomato plants is starting to wither, suggesting not enough water is getting through the plant's vascular system.
At this point in the season, it's actually not that big a deal to lose some plants. We're overflowing an entire colander with tomatoes right now, and there's at least a dozen more stupice and many cherry ripening out there today. The tops of the plants also remain healthy, so more fruit may be possible. And three cherry tomato plants are relatively if not completely unscathed. How much fucking tomato salad can one couple eat? We're about to find out. And I don't love tomatoes, either.
Google tomato disease and try to self-diagnose a problem. Good luck with that. I think what we've got is this, or maybe this, or this. One is caused by a virus spread by aphids; the other two by fungus. It doesn't really matter the cause because the only treatment is not to grow tomatoes the next season or even two seasons. So I suppose our experiments with this version of container gardening will start next year if we want tomatoes. Or do it in Bruce Monroe's community garden.
At this point in the season, it's actually not that big a deal to lose some plants. We're overflowing an entire colander with tomatoes right now, and there's at least a dozen more stupice and many cherry ripening out there today. The tops of the plants also remain healthy, so more fruit may be possible. And three cherry tomato plants are relatively if not completely unscathed. How much fucking tomato salad can one couple eat? We're about to find out. And I don't love tomatoes, either.
Google tomato disease and try to self-diagnose a problem. Good luck with that. I think what we've got is this, or maybe this, or this. One is caused by a virus spread by aphids; the other two by fungus. It doesn't really matter the cause because the only treatment is not to grow tomatoes the next season or even two seasons. So I suppose our experiments with this version of container gardening will start next year if we want tomatoes. Or do it in Bruce Monroe's community garden.
7/15/11
Speaking of Tomatoes Being Pollinated
Fruit abounds on the tomato plants. The stupice are ripening now and I can harvest two or three a day. They are roughly the size of a golf ball so it takes a few days to have enough for a salad. Flavor, however, has been outstanding. I made a variant on a caprese salad earlier this week that came out very well.
- 8-10 stupice tomatoes, or similarly sweet, red variety, sliced.
- about a cup of basil leaves, roughly julienned
- 8oz of mozzarella -- I used small balls I cut in half so it didn't all fall apart
- a generous coating of olive oil
- half as much balsamic vinegar
- S&P
What Happens When You're too Lazy to Trellis Tomatoes
They get all sprawly.
Probably too late to disentangle these guys now.
No Shortage of Bees Now
In my last post I mentioned concern about the flowers on the tomato plants not being pollinated adequately because of a lack of bees. I'm concerned no longer thanks to the passiflora. With a half-dozen flowers at least opening daily now, the bees have found the backyard in droves. The passiflora flowers make a buffet line for the bees given how large they are -- the bees can just walk around the whole thing.
I've seen as many as three honeybees on a flower at a time. If you need a bee attractant and can trellis the plants, here's one good solution.
The other variety of passiflora (Lady Margaret) is blooming now, too:
I've seen as many as three honeybees on a flower at a time. If you need a bee attractant and can trellis the plants, here's one good solution.
The other variety of passiflora (Lady Margaret) is blooming now, too:
 |
| Perdy! |
7/5/11
Too many plants
When I transplanted the young tomato plants outside, I tried to follow the guideline of leaving a foot of space between plants. Planting the tomatoes in staggered rows, two plants to a row, I accounted for this space on the diagonal between plants. In this pattern, I had two rows of plants that started closer to the back of the garden and one row started closer to the front in the center of the box. In between the spaces, I planted the basil to help ward off pests.
This pattern had the advantage of allowing me to zig-zag trellises through the tomato plants and avoid having to use cages around all the plants. It is easier to access the plants with their metal support closer to their center.
Well, at least it was while the plants were relatively small. To my imagination, the plants were not going to grow nearly as much as they have turned out to have. I spent the better part of Sunday morning disentangling the plants and trying to free the basil from being taken over completely. We have four basil plants, but one is totally subsumed in the tomato forest now. Essentially, the wire fence makes the raised bed look like a big green box.
It's dense in there, but the air flow should be enough to keep mold at bay. Finding the tomatoes in there, though, is another story. I almost missed two very ripe ones at the bottom of the box. We've harvested five in all so far, but many, many more are on their way. Not a bad thing.
Of course, the box isn't the limit of our tomato crop. We have a similarly-sized plant in the other box. I though we had lost it during a nasty storm this weekend, but it bounced back up and seems no worse for wear. There are also three smaller (thankfully) cherry tomato plants in the front of that box that are flowering. The plants we potted, though, are not doing nearly as well. Some have fruit, but not nearly the number of healthy leaves the ones in the raised beds have (deep or shallow). Clearly, the pots we used were just too small. Lesson learned.
I roasted the tomatoes above along with half a red onion on the grill last night. Everything then got chopped and added to about 2T of red wine vinegar and a bit more olive oil than that, plus salt and pepper, a teaspoon of sugar and chopped chives. I whisked everything together until it emulsified into a rough relish and used it on grilled flat iron steak. It was a nice complement to the smoky, chipotle powder and cumin-based rub I used on the grilled meat.
This pattern had the advantage of allowing me to zig-zag trellises through the tomato plants and avoid having to use cages around all the plants. It is easier to access the plants with their metal support closer to their center.
Well, at least it was while the plants were relatively small. To my imagination, the plants were not going to grow nearly as much as they have turned out to have. I spent the better part of Sunday morning disentangling the plants and trying to free the basil from being taken over completely. We have four basil plants, but one is totally subsumed in the tomato forest now. Essentially, the wire fence makes the raised bed look like a big green box.
It's dense in there, but the air flow should be enough to keep mold at bay. Finding the tomatoes in there, though, is another story. I almost missed two very ripe ones at the bottom of the box. We've harvested five in all so far, but many, many more are on their way. Not a bad thing.
I roasted the tomatoes above along with half a red onion on the grill last night. Everything then got chopped and added to about 2T of red wine vinegar and a bit more olive oil than that, plus salt and pepper, a teaspoon of sugar and chopped chives. I whisked everything together until it emulsified into a rough relish and used it on grilled flat iron steak. It was a nice complement to the smoky, chipotle powder and cumin-based rub I used on the grilled meat.
6/28/11
Waiting for the plague
Loyal Green Line Garden readers Kristin and Carl were in town this past week, offering unsolicited admiration for our gardening exploits. Yes, we're fortunate to have more space than the average Brooklynite -- but our stuff is also growing like gangbusters. I spent Monday wrangling tomato plants that have now completely taken over the raised bed, trellising them a third time this season already. And these are cherry tomato plants.
Things are going well here. The four basil plants I planted could provide pesto for an entire Italian village, the tomatoes are the size of small trees, and even the lame-ass cilantro finally is making a strong showing above ground. There's a dahlia the size of my (very large) head over in the flower bed. We could bring three bags of lettuce and herbs to our friends Will and Lucy's house over the weekend and still have a bag, plus three uncultivated heads, waiting at home. Just walk by our house and we'll force something on you.
Still, we're waiting for the other shoe to drop. We joked at lunch with Kristin and Carl that the swarm of locusts, or stink bugs, would descend imminently and put an end to our beginners' luck. I've seen exactly one Japanese beetle and one stink bug in the yard and instantly, think, ok, now it starts -- even after I've killed the bastards. The sight of finches adorably searching for nesting material on Monday morning, stubbornly tugging on the metal mesh around the higher raised bed, made me think, "next time, they come for the tomatoes."
I am legitimately worried that we are facing a systemic problem in the lack of bees I've seen around the now plentiful tomato and pepper flowers. The zinnias and cosmos in the flower bed and the marigolds directly in front of the vegetables are not drawing them in, if they are floating around the city at all. It just seems like we should have more fruit at this point.
Things are going well here. The four basil plants I planted could provide pesto for an entire Italian village, the tomatoes are the size of small trees, and even the lame-ass cilantro finally is making a strong showing above ground. There's a dahlia the size of my (very large) head over in the flower bed. We could bring three bags of lettuce and herbs to our friends Will and Lucy's house over the weekend and still have a bag, plus three uncultivated heads, waiting at home. Just walk by our house and we'll force something on you.
Still, we're waiting for the other shoe to drop. We joked at lunch with Kristin and Carl that the swarm of locusts, or stink bugs, would descend imminently and put an end to our beginners' luck. I've seen exactly one Japanese beetle and one stink bug in the yard and instantly, think, ok, now it starts -- even after I've killed the bastards. The sight of finches adorably searching for nesting material on Monday morning, stubbornly tugging on the metal mesh around the higher raised bed, made me think, "next time, they come for the tomatoes."
I am legitimately worried that we are facing a systemic problem in the lack of bees I've seen around the now plentiful tomato and pepper flowers. The zinnias and cosmos in the flower bed and the marigolds directly in front of the vegetables are not drawing them in, if they are floating around the city at all. It just seems like we should have more fruit at this point.
New Community Garden at Bruce Monroe Park
If you live in the greater Columbia Heights area, you may have heard from other blogs and sources about a new community garden that is being built at Bruce Monroe Park. Work to construct raised beds started this past weekend. I feel guilty blogging about this development because I signed up to work but skipped out for a last-minute out-of-town invite. The good news for slackers like me is they seem to be not even remotely done with the project. Huge dirt mounds and stacks of lumber remain.
I've seen some of the community gardens around town, more or less stumbling upon them by accident, and must say that I understand why it took more than a weekend at Bruce Monroe. The boxes being assembled are gargantuan! The seven boxes finished so far are from 57 to 24 feet long and 6 feet wide.
Residents looking to volunteer or sign up for a plot in the garden can find out more information on the Bruce Monroe site on Wiggio or by emailing Steve Seuser at steve [dot] seuser [at] gmail.com.
The community garden movement remains fairly weak in DC. The Neighborhood Farm Initiative counted 36 such gardens for its 2010 garden census. The Bruce Monroe garden would be only the third in Ward One and the only one in Columbia Heights proper that they list -- although there is a community garden behind 11th St. opposite Wonderland Ballroom that's not on their report. Overall, the city gained only one new community garden came on line between 2009 and 2010. The Field to Fork Initiative has a great map of these 36 gardens here.
Ecolocity DC, a broader-focused community organization that has helped promote the Bruce Monroe project, has created a more comprehensive map of the region's foodshed. It's mapping of city community gardens is less complete, though.
I've seen some of the community gardens around town, more or less stumbling upon them by accident, and must say that I understand why it took more than a weekend at Bruce Monroe. The boxes being assembled are gargantuan! The seven boxes finished so far are from 57 to 24 feet long and 6 feet wide.
Residents looking to volunteer or sign up for a plot in the garden can find out more information on the Bruce Monroe site on Wiggio or by emailing Steve Seuser at steve [dot] seuser [at] gmail.com.
The community garden movement remains fairly weak in DC. The Neighborhood Farm Initiative counted 36 such gardens for its 2010 garden census. The Bruce Monroe garden would be only the third in Ward One and the only one in Columbia Heights proper that they list -- although there is a community garden behind 11th St. opposite Wonderland Ballroom that's not on their report. Overall, the city gained only one new community garden came on line between 2009 and 2010. The Field to Fork Initiative has a great map of these 36 gardens here.
Ecolocity DC, a broader-focused community organization that has helped promote the Bruce Monroe project, has created a more comprehensive map of the region's foodshed. It's mapping of city community gardens is less complete, though.
6/21/11
Briefly, Ladybugs
Hunting for Thai basil plants last week, I came across a cool organic pest control solution at Ginkgo Gardens (as well as the basil). They sell cottage cheese-sized containers of ladybugs to release into your yard to eat any soft-bodied pests like spider mites and aphids. Watching the horde of bugs scuttle about on the wire mesh lid was pretty disturbing, I'll be honest, but I guess it's no different than purchasing live bait. If you're the kind of person who needs to do that.
I took home my little teeming impulse buy and released the ladybugs that night. They instantly seemed content to crawl around the passiflora vines and the tomato plants. Two mornings later, I realized that I essentially had wheeled out dim sum carts for the neighborhood finches. Those ladybugs who survived the great bird massacre I drowned in their cup with the garden hose accidentally.
Clearly, I should have released the ladybugs a few at a time as to not attract the avian onslaught, or force some to fly away. The container would have supported them for awhile. The good news is that there has already been a reduction in spider mites, perhaps thanks to my previous regimen of aggressive spraying.
I took home my little teeming impulse buy and released the ladybugs that night. They instantly seemed content to crawl around the passiflora vines and the tomato plants. Two mornings later, I realized that I essentially had wheeled out dim sum carts for the neighborhood finches. Those ladybugs who survived the great bird massacre I drowned in their cup with the garden hose accidentally.
Clearly, I should have released the ladybugs a few at a time as to not attract the avian onslaught, or force some to fly away. The container would have supported them for awhile. The good news is that there has already been a reduction in spider mites, perhaps thanks to my previous regimen of aggressive spraying.
6/10/11
A Passionflower
Two of the three passiflora I've planted have taken off and grown over much of the corners of the back fence line. The middle one is still being hacked, this time by ants. Today, I noticed that one of the enormous flower buds on the plants has opened.
It looks like something from a Star Trek set. So cool.
When full sun really is full sun
It was abundantly clear that our backyard got lots of sun before this week's mini-heat wave. When I first put the containers of juvenile plants out for hardening this spring they ended up looking like I'd put them into the solar wind. Fortunately, they all bounced back and what we have is mature enough now to take the 100-degree heat just fine with enough water.
Keep in mind we've had salad four nights in a row so we've cut several plants to the nub.
Finding shrubs that will tolerate this environment has been a bit tricky, though. If you have a similar situation in your yard, I can recommend the stuff we selected. As vertical-growing plants, the Japanese pencil sky holly and the euonymus have done quite well.
The first six inches of the holly is new growth (the lighter green).
We also planted, as I mentioned before, a ninebark. It's native to the East Coast, but I've never seen one before. It will wilt in weather like this but perks up with a nice soaking.
This picture does not do the complexity of the colors in this plant's leaves justice. In the evening it's very nice.
Short of being on the roof, or in the Arizona desert, our garden could not get more sun. For the vegetables we've planted, that's generally been fine. Look at this lettuce patch
Keep in mind we've had salad four nights in a row so we've cut several plants to the nub.
Finding shrubs that will tolerate this environment has been a bit tricky, though. If you have a similar situation in your yard, I can recommend the stuff we selected. As vertical-growing plants, the Japanese pencil sky holly and the euonymus have done quite well.
The first six inches of the holly is new growth (the lighter green).
We also planted, as I mentioned before, a ninebark. It's native to the East Coast, but I've never seen one before. It will wilt in weather like this but perks up with a nice soaking.
This picture does not do the complexity of the colors in this plant's leaves justice. In the evening it's very nice.
6/9/11
Final Analysis: Arugula
Arugula is one of those ur-foodie items of produce. The writer David Camp harmoniously replaced the word "America" with it in the title of his book on the rise of the nation's recent discovery of culinary taste. It is the antithesis of the green leafy champion of American culinary mediocrity: iceberg lettuce.
I feel a certain pretentiousness in saying to people, "we're growing arugula" as a result. But my wife loves the stuff, and it started early enough for our succession planting plan. We sowed it directly into the bed and it sprouted right around the beginning of spring. It was ready to eat when it was still too chilly to eat outside yet. It didn't live to see the end of May, though. After it started to bolt in the warmer weather, I had to spit out a taste-test leaf because it was so revoltingly bitter. Guess I solved that mystery of its mildness earlier in the season. Fennel seeds have now taken its place.
We definitely planted too many seeds and should have culled some small plants. Mac did his part by digging up the bed a bit and offing a few early on. The arugula turned out to be small and didn't yield as much as I expected. What we did harvest was tasty through the mid-spring. But it was constantly competing for my attention with the lettuce variety pack planted directly behind, which went completely bonkers and is still producing all kinds of tasty greens. The yield for the arugula seems so skimpy compared to this lettuce, which, for all of my inexperienced worry about the small plants, really is ten times more than we can keep up with.
I'd do arugula again, but I would not allot it much more space than it got this season, and certainly not at the expense of the lettuce.
I feel a certain pretentiousness in saying to people, "we're growing arugula" as a result. But my wife loves the stuff, and it started early enough for our succession planting plan. We sowed it directly into the bed and it sprouted right around the beginning of spring. It was ready to eat when it was still too chilly to eat outside yet. It didn't live to see the end of May, though. After it started to bolt in the warmer weather, I had to spit out a taste-test leaf because it was so revoltingly bitter. Guess I solved that mystery of its mildness earlier in the season. Fennel seeds have now taken its place.
We definitely planted too many seeds and should have culled some small plants. Mac did his part by digging up the bed a bit and offing a few early on. The arugula turned out to be small and didn't yield as much as I expected. What we did harvest was tasty through the mid-spring. But it was constantly competing for my attention with the lettuce variety pack planted directly behind, which went completely bonkers and is still producing all kinds of tasty greens. The yield for the arugula seems so skimpy compared to this lettuce, which, for all of my inexperienced worry about the small plants, really is ten times more than we can keep up with.
I'd do arugula again, but I would not allot it much more space than it got this season, and certainly not at the expense of the lettuce.
6/1/11
Final Analysis: Snap Peas
Given that I'm very familiar with eating everything in the garden but not so much with growing it, I'll produce a summary of each crop we produce once its harvesting is over. It's a chance to evaluate how things went with the plants, how everything tasted, and whether or not the crop was worth the effort. Call it ... Final Analysis.
The first thing into the ground this spring were the snap peas, which we sowed all the way back in late February. Once the weather gets hot they really start to struggle and the pea pods become tough and unappetizing, so Christine actually ripped them out last week and planted fennel seeds in their place. I was sad to see them go because they were the first thing we had to give us produce consistently. I was thinking we might squeeze one last harvest out of them before their extirpation, but it was so hot here this week that would have been for naught anyway.
We had two rows and probably about 24-30 plants total. I cooked them three different times as features parts of meals. Add walk-by snacking to that total. I'm guessing we got 6 cups of peas out of this crop. Considering the limitations of snap peas as an ingredient, that's plenty -- but given that these plants were with us since March, it's not particularly inspiring.
The pods themselves were good in stir-fried Asian dishes (I do not make "stir-fries") but I have to say they were best simply raw. They were tasty and refreshing, but not remarkably better than store-bought alternatives. I mean they were, but not anywhere near as comparably more delicious as fresh English peas are from their grocery store counterparts (or, gag me, frozen peas). If you see fresh peas at the farmer's market, pounce -- even if you're iffy on peas in general like me.
So were the snap peas worth it? Yes, in that nothing else would have been ready when they were. I may bang the drum for larger shelled peas next year, though, simply for their greater utility in cooking.
 |
| Remember this? |
We had two rows and probably about 24-30 plants total. I cooked them three different times as features parts of meals. Add walk-by snacking to that total. I'm guessing we got 6 cups of peas out of this crop. Considering the limitations of snap peas as an ingredient, that's plenty -- but given that these plants were with us since March, it's not particularly inspiring.
The pods themselves were good in stir-fried Asian dishes (I do not make "stir-fries") but I have to say they were best simply raw. They were tasty and refreshing, but not remarkably better than store-bought alternatives. I mean they were, but not anywhere near as comparably more delicious as fresh English peas are from their grocery store counterparts (or, gag me, frozen peas). If you see fresh peas at the farmer's market, pounce -- even if you're iffy on peas in general like me.
So were the snap peas worth it? Yes, in that nothing else would have been ready when they were. I may bang the drum for larger shelled peas next year, though, simply for their greater utility in cooking.
5/31/11
Keeping Things Alive
When I'm not actively trying to kill things, I'm often passively killing my plants. It's only May, but I've almost done in the tomato plants twice. First, I got them sunburned while setting them out to harden them in April sunny days. A simple screen made from left over window screen material worked well as a sunshade, and I've built a reusable frame for the garden for this purpose.
The fledgling tomato plants quickly grew new leaf stems, and I plucked off the damaged leaves. They're doing fine.
I mentioned in the last post our challenges with pests. Many of the tomato plants were trimmed almost to the nub by birds, and that poor one pepper plant was left merely a green stalk. Well, they've all bounced back -- even the pepper:
Slugs, I forgot to mention, also devoured the tops of the bulbs Christine planted in the side flower bed and took hunks out of the zinnias. All have subsequently recovered.
I think the lesson learned is, fundamentally, as long as one provides the water and sunshine the plants will pretty much do the rest because they've been at it for several billion years.
The fledgling tomato plants quickly grew new leaf stems, and I plucked off the damaged leaves. They're doing fine.
I mentioned in the last post our challenges with pests. Many of the tomato plants were trimmed almost to the nub by birds, and that poor one pepper plant was left merely a green stalk. Well, they've all bounced back -- even the pepper:
Slugs, I forgot to mention, also devoured the tops of the bulbs Christine planted in the side flower bed and took hunks out of the zinnias. All have subsequently recovered.
I think the lesson learned is, fundamentally, as long as one provides the water and sunshine the plants will pretty much do the rest because they've been at it for several billion years.
Killing things
Gardening feels like a benevolent activity because one is creating life out of the dirt. But it reverse is also true. To be successful, the gardener must become well versed in the various methods of slaughtering other species.
Through early May, we'd been lucky to avoid pest infestation in the garden of any kind. The paper tubes around the fledgling tomato plants were unnecessary defenses. Then my parents visited and my dad jinxed the whole thing by commenting how pest-free our garden was. The moment they left, wave after wave of intruders descended.
I can't say I've seen it all in these last few weeks, but I've faced my share of enemies large and small. It started when large hunks of the new passiflora plant in the center of the fence -- the extravagantly named "Lady Margaret" variety -- started to disappear.
It is made from a roll of wire mesh available in the garden section of Home Depot. I cut it into two pieces and bent it into the angles needed to make a crude box, then secured it with leftover toe rail (what I made the trellises out of). It's four feet high so I can use it with tomato trellises later. I also bought a plastic net for the top once there's fruit to defend from birds. The whole thing is held together with this awesome outdoor velcro.
I read in the comments section of a post on Prince of Petworth this week, though, that the original assailant was likely starlings, not rats or squirrels. They clip plants to use for nests. Either way, the cage is doing the trick and the damaged plants are recovering -- even the headless poblano.
Deterring things is obviously a lot easier than killing them off, so I hope other measures we worked into the garden plan will perform as expected. I planted basil between the tomatoes to deter flies and Christine put in a section of marigolds in front of the box to keep worms and beetles away. With a really bad stink bug season predicted, we'll see how we fare.
Through early May, we'd been lucky to avoid pest infestation in the garden of any kind. The paper tubes around the fledgling tomato plants were unnecessary defenses. Then my parents visited and my dad jinxed the whole thing by commenting how pest-free our garden was. The moment they left, wave after wave of intruders descended.
I can't say I've seen it all in these last few weeks, but I've faced my share of enemies large and small. It started when large hunks of the new passiflora plant in the center of the fence -- the extravagantly named "Lady Margaret" variety -- started to disappear.
- Small black flies were on the underbelly of the plant's leaves. They seemed too small to do this kind of damage, but what do I know. Urban Sustainable's solution was insecticidal soap, a concoction made of potassium salts and fatty acids that destroys the flies' exoskeletons. Awesome.
- The other night I noticed this same poor plant was covered in little orange ants. Back to the soap I went, and they seem eradicated.
- Once it warmed up, I also noticed the hard surfaces of the property were infested with tiny red bugs that I assumed were carnivorous because they leave a nasty blood-like stain when you squish them. In fact, they are herbivorous spider mites. These tiny bastards operate on the cellular level, sucking the liquid out of the cells in plant leaves. I found an organic pesticide at Home Depot that kills these things instantaneously, but it's so hard to see them on plants that I've taken to spraying down the top of the entire brick wall with the solution. Ladybugs also prey on spider mites, and hopefully more than the two or three I've seen around will swoop in and gobble these things up. There's certainly no shortage.
- Roaches are unavoidable in any city, but I wasn't prepared for how many would appear in the yard and on the parking pad during nights this spring. I know stomping on them is an ineffective method of control, but it's satisfying. I tried boric acid but spread it too thickly it seems -- the best method, I've read, is to use just a light dusting because otherwise they'll walk right by a drift. Removing a pile of broken concrete and bricks from the parking pad corner also really helped. That's probably my best advice: keep down the clutter and debris in your yard and populations will remain small(er). Unfortunately, the homemade composter seems to be a big draw for them and regular-old flies and there's not much I can do about that except shake it a lot.
- I had assumed that the rats living in our side yard wall were seeking their revenge on some of our plants by nipping off whole leaf stems from the tomato and pepper plants I had recently transplanted. One poor poblano plant was totally decapitated. With chemical warfare not an option here, I overreacted instead with technology in the tried and true American fashion. Ok, I built a big ugly cage.
It is made from a roll of wire mesh available in the garden section of Home Depot. I cut it into two pieces and bent it into the angles needed to make a crude box, then secured it with leftover toe rail (what I made the trellises out of). It's four feet high so I can use it with tomato trellises later. I also bought a plastic net for the top once there's fruit to defend from birds. The whole thing is held together with this awesome outdoor velcro.
I read in the comments section of a post on Prince of Petworth this week, though, that the original assailant was likely starlings, not rats or squirrels. They clip plants to use for nests. Either way, the cage is doing the trick and the damaged plants are recovering -- even the headless poblano.
Deterring things is obviously a lot easier than killing them off, so I hope other measures we worked into the garden plan will perform as expected. I planted basil between the tomatoes to deter flies and Christine put in a section of marigolds in front of the box to keep worms and beetles away. With a really bad stink bug season predicted, we'll see how we fare.
5/16/11
Food Review: stuff we grew
Eating things directly out of the garden by early May, I'm not going to lie, is pretty awesome. It all started with a few pieces of lettuce on hamburgers a few weeks ago.
The lettuce patch is seriously overcrowded, but instead of culling it down to size, we're just eating it at it matures. Sandwiches was step one.
We then moved on to a single small salad a week ago:
We ordered some kind of seed mix, so there's about half a dozen varieties of lettuce growing out there - so there's romaine, red, and bibb in here. I'm glad we went with the mix - the romaine added a desired crunch to the earthy other greens. For someone as resistant to menu planning as me, being able to run out back and have something like this plate ready in minutes is an exciting prospect. If I bought a bag of something like this at a farmer's market it would be (1) $5 at least and (2) rotting in my fridge by Wednesday.
The peas I mentioned before are maturing rapidly. We had enough last night to share a little bowl as a snack. They're snap peas, so you just eat the whole pod. Pretty much delicious. I'm not sure I'll bother to add them to stir-fries (which I don't really make anyway in a traditional sense, preferring actual Asian vegetable preparations instead) to preserve their subtle crispness.
Finally, we had enough young arugula to make two, actual adult-sized servings of salad last night.
I like arugula just fine, but sometimes it's a bit too peppery for my taste. The stuff we grew was fantastically balanced and made an outstanding simple salad with just a bit of bite. I have no idea why arugula tastes the way it does -- perhaps a question for Harold McGee -- but whatever we did/didn't do works for me. And, of course, the arugula will grow back and we can do it again!
The lettuce patch is seriously overcrowded, but instead of culling it down to size, we're just eating it at it matures. Sandwiches was step one.
We then moved on to a single small salad a week ago:
We ordered some kind of seed mix, so there's about half a dozen varieties of lettuce growing out there - so there's romaine, red, and bibb in here. I'm glad we went with the mix - the romaine added a desired crunch to the earthy other greens. For someone as resistant to menu planning as me, being able to run out back and have something like this plate ready in minutes is an exciting prospect. If I bought a bag of something like this at a farmer's market it would be (1) $5 at least and (2) rotting in my fridge by Wednesday.
The peas I mentioned before are maturing rapidly. We had enough last night to share a little bowl as a snack. They're snap peas, so you just eat the whole pod. Pretty much delicious. I'm not sure I'll bother to add them to stir-fries (which I don't really make anyway in a traditional sense, preferring actual Asian vegetable preparations instead) to preserve their subtle crispness.
Finally, we had enough young arugula to make two, actual adult-sized servings of salad last night.
I like arugula just fine, but sometimes it's a bit too peppery for my taste. The stuff we grew was fantastically balanced and made an outstanding simple salad with just a bit of bite. I have no idea why arugula tastes the way it does -- perhaps a question for Harold McGee -- but whatever we did/didn't do works for me. And, of course, the arugula will grow back and we can do it again!
5/13/11
Pea Envy
As row houses in the District go, we're fortunate to have a very sunny backyard. We have very limited shade from neighboring buildings, and our lot is on one of the more elevated portions of our street. We'll be able to supply our table with much of the produce we'll eat this summer because of these advantages. Or, to put it another way, we can just stick stuff in the dirt rather than have to make use of unconventional gardening means -- like vertical containers or rooftop gardening. (Gayla Trail's website is full of tricks for that stuff)
During walks around Columbia Heights, it's been cool to see how people have put much less ideal spaces to good gardening use. I've stumbled upon small boxes of Russian kale on a tiny side yard, tomato plants growing on no more than 10 square feet, and front-yard squash. The other day, we saw a three-by-three (maybe) area next to someone's front stoop on 11th st. that had peas growing a yard high on a trellis that looked like was strung by a dyslexic spider. Christine immediately felt disappointed in our own peas, which were almost half the size of these. I ribbed her for experiencing pea envy.
Our peas, actually, are kicking ass. They are snap peas, so they're not supposed to be gargantuan. They are solid little bastards at stem level. And, most importantly, they have pea pods!
The peas are occupying about a 4'x2' area of the lower garden box, so they could fit practically anywhere that can be trellised. They will be all done with early enough in the season to make way for fennel later in this same space.
During walks around Columbia Heights, it's been cool to see how people have put much less ideal spaces to good gardening use. I've stumbled upon small boxes of Russian kale on a tiny side yard, tomato plants growing on no more than 10 square feet, and front-yard squash. The other day, we saw a three-by-three (maybe) area next to someone's front stoop on 11th st. that had peas growing a yard high on a trellis that looked like was strung by a dyslexic spider. Christine immediately felt disappointed in our own peas, which were almost half the size of these. I ribbed her for experiencing pea envy.
Our peas, actually, are kicking ass. They are snap peas, so they're not supposed to be gargantuan. They are solid little bastards at stem level. And, most importantly, they have pea pods!
The peas are occupying about a 4'x2' area of the lower garden box, so they could fit practically anywhere that can be trellised. They will be all done with early enough in the season to make way for fennel later in this same space.
4/19/11
The price tag
I forgot to mention, we did all of what you see in the previous post for under $1,000. The vegetable garden and this project took a weekend a piece. So when I see threads like this one on Prince of Petworth, I feel pretty good. Do it yourself.
Backyard nears completion
After some long days of hard work this past weekend, we've added two major new elements to the backward that really transform it into an entire garden.
First, I built a wood raised bed for shrubs. We installed it in the middle of the yard to act as a visual screen between the first third of the yard and the vegetable garden beds. I selected and planted some vertical-growing shrubs -- sky pencil Japanese holly and golden euonymus that I'll prune the crap out of -- for the effect.
If you remember, we decided against wood for the vegetable raised beds. This time around, without worrying about eating anything that comes out of the box, I was going to go with pressure-treated lumber. But what I found in wide enough widths was too thick (2") for my liking and looked like I was building a boat. I went with 1" untreated pine in foot-wide lengths to create roughly a 2x8x2 box. I then used the USDA wood preservative to treat it. The recipe for that is:
1 oz paraffin wax
1.5 cups of linseed oil
enough mineral spirits/paint thinner/turpentine to make a gallon total.
It was way more than I needed for this project. I followed an internet suggestion to grate the paraffin wax rather than melt it, as the recipe calls for, in a double-boiler. I like my kitchen gear too much for that. After a few days the sealant looked more emulsified, so maybe give it a day if you use the grating method before applying. Water beaded on the boards, so it looks like this may work ok.
With the box in place we then dug out much of the remaining turf in the back yard and put down a patio. There's a million places to learn how to do this out there so I'll spare you how we did it. Long story short, we pulled this off and without major disaster/killing each other. The hardest part was figuring out how the irregular-shaped pavers we had bought fit together (suggestion: take a picture of your dry run first). Also, you're gonna be seriously sore in strange places -- the hand tamper I rented to pound the base really made my hands sore the next day.Tamping is basically the same process the ancient Chinese used to build large blocks for fortifications and palaces, so now I have an idea of what conscripted labor was like back then. Except I got to stop and have a beer.
It's a little more sloped than I hoped for, but we ate on it last night just fine.
First, I built a wood raised bed for shrubs. We installed it in the middle of the yard to act as a visual screen between the first third of the yard and the vegetable garden beds. I selected and planted some vertical-growing shrubs -- sky pencil Japanese holly and golden euonymus that I'll prune the crap out of -- for the effect.
If you remember, we decided against wood for the vegetable raised beds. This time around, without worrying about eating anything that comes out of the box, I was going to go with pressure-treated lumber. But what I found in wide enough widths was too thick (2") for my liking and looked like I was building a boat. I went with 1" untreated pine in foot-wide lengths to create roughly a 2x8x2 box. I then used the USDA wood preservative to treat it. The recipe for that is:
1 oz paraffin wax
1.5 cups of linseed oil
enough mineral spirits/paint thinner/turpentine to make a gallon total.
It was way more than I needed for this project. I followed an internet suggestion to grate the paraffin wax rather than melt it, as the recipe calls for, in a double-boiler. I like my kitchen gear too much for that. After a few days the sealant looked more emulsified, so maybe give it a day if you use the grating method before applying. Water beaded on the boards, so it looks like this may work ok.
With the box in place we then dug out much of the remaining turf in the back yard and put down a patio. There's a million places to learn how to do this out there so I'll spare you how we did it. Long story short, we pulled this off and without major disaster/killing each other. The hardest part was figuring out how the irregular-shaped pavers we had bought fit together (suggestion: take a picture of your dry run first). Also, you're gonna be seriously sore in strange places -- the hand tamper I rented to pound the base really made my hands sore the next day.Tamping is basically the same process the ancient Chinese used to build large blocks for fortifications and palaces, so now I have an idea of what conscripted labor was like back then. Except I got to stop and have a beer.
It's a little more sloped than I hoped for, but we ate on it last night just fine.
4/7/11
Field to Fork highlights
For you DC readers, I highly suggest signing up for the Field to Fork newsletter. Some events that caught my eye include:
For pre-ordering, please contact us as soon as possible at NeighborhoodFarm@gmail.com
Ed. I love Community Forklift, which is a hidden gem for antiquing. I got some really great vegetable crate labels from the 30s for almost nothing that are beautiful and I'm going to put up in my kitchen once they're framed. We also bought a kick-ass mantel there that we put up in our living room as a faux fireplace for under $200, mirror included.
If you're looking for a CSA, consider this:
NFI & Community Forklift
2nd Annual Seedling Sale
Every Saturday in May
Every Saturday in May, 10am-1pm!
NFI will be partnering with Community Forklift to host our 2nd annual seedling sale! Featuring organically grown tomato, pepper, and basil seedlings!
All proceeds will benefit NFI, a non-profit educational urban farm project.
For pre-ordering, please contact us as soon as possible at NeighborhoodFarm@gmail.com
Ed. I love Community Forklift, which is a hidden gem for antiquing. I got some really great vegetable crate labels from the 30s for almost nothing that are beautiful and I'm going to put up in my kitchen once they're framed. We also bought a kick-ass mantel there that we put up in our living room as a faux fireplace for under $200, mirror included.
DC State Fair Seedling Swap
For all those new and experienced gardeners who collected seed at Rooting DC, this is a great opportunity to share the seedlings you are growing and your experience with neighbors!
DC State Fair will be hosting a seedling swap of vegetables and herbs for area gardeners.
Please start extra seed to share with your neighbors and bring them on down to Columbia Heights on May 14!
Get new varieties, share tips with new and experienced growers, and learn a little more about DC State Fair. If you don't have seedlings to share, come by anyway, we'll have extras to get you started on your DC State Fair entries for this fall!
Date & Time: Saturday May 14, 10 AM to noon (please arrive promptly!)
Location: 14th Street NW and Park Road NW (one block north of Columbia Heights metro at the Columbia Heights Community Marketplace)
Cost/Registration Details: Free! Please come promptly at 10 AM with your seedlings to ensure everyone is able to share information about the plants and see what's available during the swap.
Web Link and E-mail for More Information: Please visit dcstatefair.wordpress.com/2011/03/08/swapping-seedlings for more information or e-mail kenneth@thedcstatefair.org.
If you're looking for a CSA, consider this:
City Blossoms
We are so excited to announce that this year City Blossoms will be working with a group of children and youth at the Marion Street Intergenerational Garden to create our first ever Herb CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) Project. This is an exciting chance for local kids to learn basic business skills and improve their garden and herb know-how while sharing very-locally grown fresh herbs with neighbors. Shares are distributed every other week & include 3-5 bunches of herbs, recipe ideas, usage tips, facts about the herbs and updates on the garden. All proceeds will go towards supporting the garden and youth gardeners.
CSA DATES: late April through October 2011
COST: $60/ Share for the whole season (that's less than $10/months for almost 7 months & can be paid in two $30 installments)
WHERE: Marion Street Intergenerational Garden, 1517 Marion Street, NW (near P Street) Washington, D.C. 20001
After February 26, 2011 the application to the CSA will be available online. To learn more about City Blossoms or to become a CSA member contact info@cityblossoms.org or call 202.870.8158.
Nothing Illicit
Although I've written a lot about the outside, the real action for the garden is happening in our basement. In early March we planted tomato seeds in leftover recyclables, plus one batch of red poblano chilies. All but one variety of tomatoes planted are cherry-sized or equivalent. I don't really like (raw) tomatoes -- like mushrooms, I prefer "expensive" varieties -- so the smaller guys are something of a compromise in that I'll eat them in salads. Bigger guys we'll still get from the DuPont Circle Farmer's Market - even if they're 5 bucks a pound.
We're pressed for space downstairs so we've set up our little nursery on top of the washing machine. Two full-spectrum compact florescent light desk lamps are providing the energy and they seem to be doing the job just fine.
The peppers are in the immediate foreground. The tomatoes are doing really well, as you can see. They will be ready for the outdoors at the end of the month. Most of them are going in pots we bought at Home Goods, which I highly recommend if you're looking for cheap pots.
The lights make it look like we're growing weed in our basement. I'm not too worried about drawing the attention from the fuzz, though. Some guy in Bloomingdale left his basement door open and a couple of cops on foot patrol walked by. Concerned about the security of the property, they stuck their heads in and discovered a large pot farm inside. So it's not too hard to figure out who's really growing weed in these parts.
At this stage, the plants are super-easy to deal with. We're using a washed-out spray cleaner bottle to water and have to rotate them once in awhile to keep them growing straight. The desk lamps are working well because the closer the light can be the better. Some straws and toothpicks hold the more top-heavy guys up.
Outside, lettuce, arugula, and marigolds are in the ground. We're training the dog to chase off the birds from the garden, but I fear they may have won round one.
4/5/11
Gardening and ennui
Anticipating poor weather two weekends ago, I spent an embarrassing amount of a surprisingly sunny Saturday staring out my back kitchen window at the backyard. I was looking for something to do with the garden, but there really wasn't anything to do. What could be planted at this point in the season had been, and our washing machine was entirely covered with sprouting tomato plants growing in leftover salad clam shells and yogurt cups. With straw still covering much of the raised beds, there were no weeds to pluck.
I couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to conjure up some new project, to make something from scratch out there. If all goes well, there will be plenty to do out there later in the summer. But much of the appeal of gardening for me - besides the part that stocks my kitchen - is satisfying my inner homo faber. Faced with significant projects of the mind, like my Sisyphean task of book editing, or simply figuring out how to reinvent my post-academic self, I have craved doing things that are concrete and finite in duration. Buying a house created a rush of all sorts of these little projects. A shelf is needed so up one goes. The kitchen is too small, so I screw up peg board and hang my pots. Going to Home Depot, once the utter definition of tedium for me, is moderately pleasant -- if still a time suck so profound that I think Home Depot exists on another dimension of space-time.
It's the same feeling that attracted me to cooking as a serious pursuit. In a few hours, the dish is done and the reviews are in from fellow diners. The tinkering I do takes hours instead of months, and the direction for improvements along the way is usually obvious to me at this point: More salt. Lower heat. More acid. If the dish disappoints, make it again or don't and move on to something else.
The garden is much cooler than cooking because instead of rearranging molecules a bit on the stove I'm producing something entirely new that wasn't there before. But it's living new things and I can't do anything in a Saturday to make them ta-da, done! That's fine. Patience is part of this game. But I hope this enterprise simply becomes another avenue to become impatient with myself.
My wife had a TA in college who got a bearded collie. Because this dog is a herding breed he felt sorry for the pup and bought a sheep for it at a local livestock auction. But he bought just one sheep, which probably didn't make the bearded collie feel any better or more inclined to herd in the first place. I have no idea what came of this guy's career as a scholar. I'm just glad I have a really small back yard.
I couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to conjure up some new project, to make something from scratch out there. If all goes well, there will be plenty to do out there later in the summer. But much of the appeal of gardening for me - besides the part that stocks my kitchen - is satisfying my inner homo faber. Faced with significant projects of the mind, like my Sisyphean task of book editing, or simply figuring out how to reinvent my post-academic self, I have craved doing things that are concrete and finite in duration. Buying a house created a rush of all sorts of these little projects. A shelf is needed so up one goes. The kitchen is too small, so I screw up peg board and hang my pots. Going to Home Depot, once the utter definition of tedium for me, is moderately pleasant -- if still a time suck so profound that I think Home Depot exists on another dimension of space-time.
It's the same feeling that attracted me to cooking as a serious pursuit. In a few hours, the dish is done and the reviews are in from fellow diners. The tinkering I do takes hours instead of months, and the direction for improvements along the way is usually obvious to me at this point: More salt. Lower heat. More acid. If the dish disappoints, make it again or don't and move on to something else.
The garden is much cooler than cooking because instead of rearranging molecules a bit on the stove I'm producing something entirely new that wasn't there before. But it's living new things and I can't do anything in a Saturday to make them ta-da, done! That's fine. Patience is part of this game. But I hope this enterprise simply becomes another avenue to become impatient with myself.
My wife had a TA in college who got a bearded collie. Because this dog is a herding breed he felt sorry for the pup and bought a sheep for it at a local livestock auction. But he bought just one sheep, which probably didn't make the bearded collie feel any better or more inclined to herd in the first place. I have no idea what came of this guy's career as a scholar. I'm just glad I have a really small back yard.
3/26/11
Misc.-a-go-go: Garden Clones Pt. II, cold, rats
Going old-school Peter Gammons "Diamond Notes" style this morning on a garden update.
- The rosemary we hit with the cloning gel continues to flourish in their little pots (a yogurt cup and peanut butter jar, respectively). When we last spoke of the cloning gel the thyme was doing nada beyond staying alive. Well, slowly but surely, it too is growing roots. This stuff probably cures baldness.
- The peas will be fine in the cold snap - the hay will do as insulation - but we planted some johnny-jump-ups that need a cover. A cloth shower curtain hopefully will do it.
- A member of our local neighborhood crew reported the city's rat abatement crew filled 29 rat holes in yards down the street. Ugh.
3/21/11
Progress
It sounds nerdy and lame, but we're really getting into the simple physicality of these plants. They really do change overnight, and the biochemical things going on that allow a plant to add so much mass so quickly are really interesting to imagine -- imagine, because I really can't recall much of my high school biology any more. These beginnings of leaves seriously weren't there two days before I shot this.
The hay was something of an adventure. We bought a bale out in Merrifield, VA (coinciding with a bahn mi run) and it barely fit in the trunk of the car. We had more than enough to cover the boxes to keep them from leeching out nutrients and to deter weeds. It's also useful for killing grass/weeds that need to die.
One of our big questions going into this project was how our dog would react to the changes in his yard. We took away one of his favorite pee spots to plant bulbs and after being yelled at a few times he now just pees on its periphery. And if he pees on the hay, fine. But the organic fertilizer we're using is going to be an issue. The organic guides Christine read suggested a combination of blood meal and bone meal for nitrogen and phosphorus fertilization. They're pretty much what they sound like -- ground up bone, and ground up dried blood. Mac obviously can tell because he's started licking the dirt when we're not looking. This is not ok.
Fun fact - apparently there's a slight risk of bovine spongiform encephalopathy being spread through bone meal. Yeah, Mad Cow Disease. But not as a fertilizer - just in feed. Still, don't lick the dirt yourself.
3/7/11
Composting for non-gardeners
While checking out the Field to Fork website I came across a service called Compost Cab. Feel bad about throwing out trash that's perfect for a compost bin because you don't have a garden? These guys give you a bin and come pick it up so a local nonprofit can use your organic waste for their composting. And they service anything from your house to restaurants to reception halls.
From my own very brief experience with composting I've learned that the process is not particularly efficient -- it takes a lot of volume to produce anything in a useful quantity. So batching a bunch of people's trash is a pretty clever idea.
From my own very brief experience with composting I've learned that the process is not particularly efficient -- it takes a lot of volume to produce anything in a useful quantity. So batching a bunch of people's trash is a pretty clever idea.
Blog Fail
Blogging is supposed to be about being in the loop, not out of it. In my typical lazy/incompetent style, though, I only today stumbled across news of the Rooting DC event of a few weeks ago. Of course, I'm not the worst culprit here -- I learned about it from a dcist link to the 2010 event, posted yesterday.
Anyway, Rooting DC kept some videos of the event up if you want to see some of what was offered. The event was organized by the DC Field to Fork Network, which, according to their website, represents "urban gardeners, farmers’ markets, distribution co-operatives, food banks, local government agencies, academic institutions, nutrition educators, community organizers, and cooks." The group also puts out a monthly e-newsletter via subscription and links to a google calendar that lists community activities.
From the perspective of someone very new to the gardening hobby and this kind of civic activity, there are a lot more urban gardening/food production efforts going on in the District than it would seem. I'll try to do my part to give these efforts some pub.
Anyway, Rooting DC kept some videos of the event up if you want to see some of what was offered. The event was organized by the DC Field to Fork Network, which, according to their website, represents "urban gardeners, farmers’ markets, distribution co-operatives, food banks, local government agencies, academic institutions, nutrition educators, community organizers, and cooks." The group also puts out a monthly e-newsletter via subscription and links to a google calendar that lists community activities.
From the perspective of someone very new to the gardening hobby and this kind of civic activity, there are a lot more urban gardening/food production efforts going on in the District than it would seem. I'll try to do my part to give these efforts some pub.
3/6/11
Trash, Space,Control
After months of good intentions, my wife and I finally joined a neighborhood clean-up crew in our little corner of Park View this Saturday. The group is one of those informal, facebook-and-email driven projects that I'm sure exist unseen all over cities everywhere. It grew up around concern for the incredible amount of crap people were dumping on a tiny little parcel of unused and unusable land (well, unusable unless you deal drugs) in the middle of a large alley. Battles over that spot with the city have been victorious, so now the crew picks up Irving, Warder, and Kenyon Streets for three or so blocks.
This kind of activity is a good thing for all kinds of reasons: meeting nice neighbors we wouldn't have otherwise; getting broken glass out of kids' ways; protecting my property value by ensuring my block doesn't look like crap, etc. Along the way, we talked about shared concerns like rats and tagging and derelict homes. Against all of these forces, of course, we are fighting a losing battle. The trash will be back, and so, too, the rats, graffiti, and drunks. I started thinking along the way how much chaos, how much filth am I willing to tolerate as part of the bargain for living in an urban setting. Or to put it another way, how much control over the appearance of the spaces around me am I willing to cede to others to sully as they want.
Having lived in urban areas for the last five years I'd have to say the answer now is I give up quite a lot of control, or let quite a bit slide. I guess I never wanted to feel like the one neat guy trying to live in a frat house (not that I'm neat or was in a fraternity). One of the appeals of gardening, though, is precisely this maintenance of some control on one's tiny little part of the city. My neighborhood might look like shit, but damnit, my back yard's not gonna.
There is an element of this desire to control space even in community gardening, even if it is expressed in a much more communitarian way. It is taking space that otherwise would be left to others to screw up and imposing a particular vision upon it. That vision could be anything -- makeshift monument, public art, playground, grassy field, parking lot -- but more and more we're choosing "garden" for it. I'm not questioning or criticizing the idea of seizing control of such spaces from those who would rather just chuck bottles and piss in them; but it is interesting how an inherently non-spontaneous, productive, and in some respects anti-urban activity has emerged among the alternatives.
This kind of activity is a good thing for all kinds of reasons: meeting nice neighbors we wouldn't have otherwise; getting broken glass out of kids' ways; protecting my property value by ensuring my block doesn't look like crap, etc. Along the way, we talked about shared concerns like rats and tagging and derelict homes. Against all of these forces, of course, we are fighting a losing battle. The trash will be back, and so, too, the rats, graffiti, and drunks. I started thinking along the way how much chaos, how much filth am I willing to tolerate as part of the bargain for living in an urban setting. Or to put it another way, how much control over the appearance of the spaces around me am I willing to cede to others to sully as they want.
Having lived in urban areas for the last five years I'd have to say the answer now is I give up quite a lot of control, or let quite a bit slide. I guess I never wanted to feel like the one neat guy trying to live in a frat house (not that I'm neat or was in a fraternity). One of the appeals of gardening, though, is precisely this maintenance of some control on one's tiny little part of the city. My neighborhood might look like shit, but damnit, my back yard's not gonna.
There is an element of this desire to control space even in community gardening, even if it is expressed in a much more communitarian way. It is taking space that otherwise would be left to others to screw up and imposing a particular vision upon it. That vision could be anything -- makeshift monument, public art, playground, grassy field, parking lot -- but more and more we're choosing "garden" for it. I'm not questioning or criticizing the idea of seizing control of such spaces from those who would rather just chuck bottles and piss in them; but it is interesting how an inherently non-spontaneous, productive, and in some respects anti-urban activity has emerged among the alternatives.
2/26/11
First seeds in!
We planted our sweet peas today, using the very technical "jam it down with a chopstick" method.
The Greenline Garden Roster
Deciding what to plant in a small space is a bit of a mental challenge. We started our plan by listing veggies and herbs we use frequently and would want readily on-hand. Simple enough. But choosing plants that all germinated at the same time would crowd somebody out. Fortunately, three of our must-haves -- chard, kale, and bok choi -- can be grown in the fall instead of the early spring and peas are ready to be ripped out by the time mid-summer seedlings are ready to go outside. So here's our roster going forward:
A zillion places on the internet sell seeds. We bought some of ours from this outlet Uprising Seeds that Christine's uncle out in Portland recommended. He met one of the owners at a "deep ecology" meeting. She introduced herself as a Gypsy. So, I think it's a pretty safe bet that these seeds will grow.
- ancho/poblano hybrid peppers
- snap peas
- lacinato kale
- rainbow swiss chard
- lettuce
- arugula
- fennel
- pak choi
- parsley
- lemon balm
- cilantro
- thyme
- sage
- chives
- mint
- dill
- thai chili
- rosemary
- oregano
- thai basil
- holy basil
- tarragon
A zillion places on the internet sell seeds. We bought some of ours from this outlet Uprising Seeds that Christine's uncle out in Portland recommended. He met one of the owners at a "deep ecology" meeting. She introduced herself as a Gypsy. So, I think it's a pretty safe bet that these seeds will grow.
2/24/11
DYI Compost in the City
I've found the homeowner equivalent of Jim Carey's "most annoying sound in the world:" the horrendous metallic squeal made as my pitifully-underpowered cordless drill worked its way through a metal garbage can. It was also an incredibly loud most annoying sound. So loud, in fact that a contractor working next door walked up and asked me what I was doing. When I told him I was making a composter, he said, "so it's not just wanton destruction." Well, I replied, there is that element, too.
People with suburban yards (at least w/o deer or raccoon problems) of course don't need to poke holes in perfectly good trash cans to compost - they can just throw everything on a big pile out back. Or they can build a neater wooden box, like the kids at Harriet Tubman Elementary have for their great schoolyard garden in Columbia Heights. Those of us fighting the constant battle against vermin large and larger need the security of zinc. Everything I read, including this handy guide from the DC government (pdf) waved away from plastic since the bastards can chew through.
The metal (zinc?) wasn't impossible to get through, but it took sacrificing a drill bit and some serious wrist exertion on my part to get 'er done. I started out trying to poke a hole with a nail and then widen it out somehow. Don't do this. It took forEVER, made even more noise, and puts your thumb needlessly in peril. I felt bad about all the noise either way, but it was in the mid-afternoon on a weekday. One of the advantages of being unemployed is you don't have to piss off your neighbors every weekend with your inane shenanigans.
Here's how the bad boy turned out: Kind of a la climax of Bonnie and Clyde ...
I'll spare you the "what the compost looks like shot." Besides, the top was mostly leaves and paper anyway, which is how you keep the stinky composting stuff happy. Directions I've read suggest throwing in not only your plant cooking waste, but eggshells and "browns:" leaves, paper towel and toilet paper rolls, small sticks, cardboard egg cartons, etc. I've got some packing paper from Crate and Barrel that has a cool woven structure in there. Whatever you toss in, keep it small and airy.
Christine's uncle out in Portlandia has totally embraced our new-found eco-whatever and gave us a small under-the-sink odorless composter for Xmas. I was skeptical, but the thing works great and it remains odorless enough to keep under there and not notice unless you open the cabinet. Pairing up the indoor and outdoor composters is a good strategy because in cool weather it's hard to get the microbes going. The indoor composter gets warm as the food breaks down, which is kind of eerie I'll admit.
The DC government apparently will let you take leaf compost for free from the Ft. Totten trash station. I can't find the details about this, though, as my wife told me about it and she's not here right now. But she didn't make it up. It'll probably be tough to get usable compost out of our bin by spring, so we may have to figure out a delivery device there -- i.e., con her brother once again into letting us use his truck.
People with suburban yards (at least w/o deer or raccoon problems) of course don't need to poke holes in perfectly good trash cans to compost - they can just throw everything on a big pile out back. Or they can build a neater wooden box, like the kids at Harriet Tubman Elementary have for their great schoolyard garden in Columbia Heights. Those of us fighting the constant battle against vermin large and larger need the security of zinc. Everything I read, including this handy guide from the DC government (pdf) waved away from plastic since the bastards can chew through.
The metal (zinc?) wasn't impossible to get through, but it took sacrificing a drill bit and some serious wrist exertion on my part to get 'er done. I started out trying to poke a hole with a nail and then widen it out somehow. Don't do this. It took forEVER, made even more noise, and puts your thumb needlessly in peril. I felt bad about all the noise either way, but it was in the mid-afternoon on a weekday. One of the advantages of being unemployed is you don't have to piss off your neighbors every weekend with your inane shenanigans.
Here's how the bad boy turned out: Kind of a la climax of Bonnie and Clyde ...
Christine's uncle out in Portlandia has totally embraced our new-found eco-whatever and gave us a small under-the-sink odorless composter for Xmas. I was skeptical, but the thing works great and it remains odorless enough to keep under there and not notice unless you open the cabinet. Pairing up the indoor and outdoor composters is a good strategy because in cool weather it's hard to get the microbes going. The indoor composter gets warm as the food breaks down, which is kind of eerie I'll admit.
The DC government apparently will let you take leaf compost for free from the Ft. Totten trash station. I can't find the details about this, though, as my wife told me about it and she's not here right now. But she didn't make it up. It'll probably be tough to get usable compost out of our bin by spring, so we may have to figure out a delivery device there -- i.e., con her brother once again into letting us use his truck.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)