Monthly Archives: December 2008

On red beauty

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It actually gets redder with the cold.

Like Cinderella in her finery, the radicchio looks frilly and magnificent in the greenhouse.  Like Cinderella’s stepmother and stepsisters, I rip the frills right off the plants, usually from the outside train in.  A few leaves per salad is a gorgeous addition.

img_9258Hairy beauty:  Started from seed in late August, these plants were transplanted to the greenhouse in mid-October

Radicchio:  it’s a chickory, and as such, it hasn’t been fully tamed by us humans.  It cross pollinates easily with any wild chickories around (those blue-flowered ditch weeds seen commonly in the Midwestern midsummer), and even if its flowers are fully protected, it will often not come “true” just to spite you.  I grow two types of radicchio:  the heading or ball type and the more upstanding romaine type (Treviso).  In the greenhouse, Treviso has a habit of getting freezer burn and then rotting from the top down, but the ball type remains pretty and edible throughout the winter.  I save Treviso for our summer salads.  It’s also great on the grill.

My favorite way to eat radicchio?  Atop a pizza!

img_9255I just love the mix of colors found on just one plant.  It’s nearly white at the base of the leaves.

On turkey hormones

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Pft!

Maybe it’s the wacky weather, but our tom turkey has hit sexual maturity.  (Re:  weather.  The less said the better, as I would rather not jinx us, but let’s sum up by saying 1* to 63* in 4 days, and all 18 inches of snow is now melted and has moved through our basement.)

Is it all the sun?  He has been practicing the traditional pose for about a month off and on (mostly off) but his “on” switch appears to be thrown, and stuck.  As I blearily did critter chores pre-coffee this morning, I kept hearing this noise.  Pft.  Pause.  Pfftt.  I realized it was the tom.  Apparently, he needs to suck in some air to fluff up!  Such…puffery!

Of course our hen turkey wants nothing to do with him.  She’s escaped the pen twice today.

img_9268He:  HeybayBEE.  You come here often?  She:  Psst, lady!  Get me outtahere!

On downtime

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Aunt Jean’s Pole Bean pole beans (a lovely heirloom soup bean): so much time on my hands, I even took time to shell them, plus about another 8 pounds of dried beans.  These lovelies were left on the vine to dry a bit too long, so they automatically become seed stock for next season.

A few days off:  it’s something we all wish we had more of, isn’t it?  (I should clarify by saying a few paid days off.  Nobody willingly wishes for days off without pay.)  I will admit, though:  days off mean trouble for me.

I suppose it’s good trouble.  I get things done.  But it’s bad trouble too as it’s in this downseason, this between-betweens, that I have time to…set lots more work up for myself!  Yes.  So I did things like begin the cure on a couple of hams, make lots more milk-y things (out of the regular repertoire of the biweekly yogurt; we made more kefir, some ricotta, even some ice cream), make entirely too many cookies and baked goods, and plant (in my head) the entire garden plus another half-acre at least.  I inventory, I categorize, I conquer.

And then I wonder why I am so exhausted in the evenings.

On seeing the sun

Christmas brought some sun for us, which, quite frankly, was all I really wanted.  (N.b.:  anyone who says she doesn’t want anything for the holidays will not be satisfied with nothing.)  Sun here of course means salad.

img_9206Young arugula.  The wider-leaved varieties are the ones that do well in the greenhouse.  Avoid the yellow-flowered, skinny-leaved sylvetta forms, which don’t do as well (and also self-seed like mad).

I was able to have a harvest of lettuces!  Lettuces and a few other things, like onion greens, sorrel, radicchio and carrots.  The one rockstar in the greenhouses is arugula.  It will always grow, and still be edible.  The pimpled, bubbly surface of the tops of the arugula and (below) lettuce leaves is their defense to the cold.  This has something to do with extending surface area and spreading out the cell walls, but in plain English to me it means “you can eat your lettuces in the winter.”

img_9207Baby Grand Rapids and Red Sails lettuces, ready for a bit of a trim

On home-made garden goodness

img_9036Round One of the lip balms: lemon/mint and lemon/lavender

Christmas, yet finances are tight:  how about making some home-made goodies?

Tom and I made an assortment of body care products last night.  Lip balms, hand balms, bath scrubs.  We infused a few of our herbs (rosemary, mint, lavender) but otherwise everything else was purchased and then made in our kitchen, mad-scientist style.  I am kind of a hand-balm, lip-balm fool, and Tom definitely leans metrosexual, that is if you can lean that way and live on a farm…so, this was an enjoyable exercise.  You can make all these things too; it’s actually pretty fun.  I like the fact that these things are all natural, all are even edible; no petroleum products or other unpronounceable chemicals here.

(And if you’re the recipient of these things and I am ruining your Christmas day surprise, well…still act surprised, okay?)

The greenhouses in winter’s cold grip

img_2614Greenhouse shallots, chilly but fine.

I am so glad this is not my first year with a greenhouse.  This fall/winter season has been uniformly horrible as far as the greenhouses are concerned:  cold, sunless, and did I mention cold and sunless?  And the lack of sun? And the cold?

Had this been the first year, I would be terribly disappointed.  The root crops are fine, and the hardier chickories and escaroles and kales are all limping along, but those poor fleshy lettuces could use some loving sunshine.  The sun will eventually come out again, however, and our own household discussions about what constitutes a blizzard will cease.  I looked at my gardening calendar and realized that December ’07 was sunnily out of the norm, whereas January was spot-on as far as expected temperature and solar radiation (which is of course a fancy way of saying how much sun had shone).  The greenhouses’ very long January last year has merely moved up a month this year.  February was stellar, and March even more brilliant.

Here’s hoping we see the sun again.  I for one am glad we’ve made it through the darkest hours of the year.

Peace and warmth to all of you.

Tree hunting

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The nine of us (three humans, three geese, two turkeys and a dog) went tree-hunting on Saturday.

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We always get the most Charley Brown-ish of trees.  We don’t exactly grow the Christmas kind:  ours are white pines, which are quite pretty, but rather bough-spare.

img_8857Everyone had fun running around out in the cold.  Except the tree, perhaps!

On a child’s-eye view to the season

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That’s our daughter in the crazy-colored coat.  What you can’t see in this photo is that she’s dancing from one foot to the other in anticipation.

Today is the last day of school, and it’s a snow day!  Practically every school in the Lower Peninsula is closed due to snow and ice, and the child is horribly disappointed.  It was to be Pajama Day as well as a whole roll-out of Solstice, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, and Christmas-related celebrations.  Poor child.

Seeing Santa yesterday was entirely her idea, or rather, an idea she picked up from school.  I certainly try not to feed into the myth (I tend to have a no-lying policy) in that if she asks, I say, “Yes, honey, some children believe Santa will come, and we’ll just have to see if he comes here too.”  In point of fact she’s a lot more interested in his reindeer and, according to her father, she didn’t ask Santa for a thing but grilled him about his flying sleigh-pullers instead.

This has nothing to do with gardening, I realize.

On frozen gardens

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This was a hard-fought battle:  me, a garden knife, iced-over soil and deeply bedded leeks.  I won.

We had a bit of a warm-up this last weekend, and frankly I hate it when it warms up.  We get so much moisture, see, that a warmup means simply that the near-daily snowstorms will simply be rainstorms, followed by snow.  This is of course what happened.  Granted, we didn’t get the ice storms that hit much of the country and in all honesty I have nothing to complain about, as I could’ve simply lifted a few leeks out of the nice fluffy non-frozen greenhouse soil but NO.  Had to be up for a challenge.  The leeks’ gorgeous frozen green leaves snapped right off in the cold.

And so:  leeks + potatoes = leek/potato soup, my absolute favorite, joined by more sprouted-wheat bread.  Around here,  leeks are an excuse to eat potatoes, and soup is an excuse to eat warm bread, and warm bread is an excuse to eat lots of butter.  (Do you like my math?)

On what’s for dinner

Somebody mostly wise once said there are two kinds of people in the world:  people who wake up wondering what’s for dinner, and people who do not.

I certainly wake up wondering.  Tuesday I worried we wouldn’t be able to have our usual salads:  this cold weather, these cloudy days, conspire to keep our green leafies too chilled to eat.  (This is one of the sad truths of greenhouse gardening in someplace chilly like Michigan.  Give us a sunny day, even if it’s really cold outside, and the leaves will be fine.)  Sure enough, it was really cold and snowy.  Ugh:  what to do about dinner’s raw food component (i.e., salad)?

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Carrots.  We are quite rich in carrots, both in the garden under straw and dirt, and in the greenhouse itself.  It’s so dark by the time I harvest that the flash went off on my camera.  The leaves, like I thought, were cold, too cold to harvest, but the ground is not (and probably won’t get) frozen.   Pulling these big babies then was quite easy.

So this year I have leaned a bit away from the root cellar and toward the idea of using the greenhouse and burying certain root crops under dirt and straw in the garden itself.   So far, this method of storage has worked fairly well, and our early snowcover has certainly helped.   I still have lots of cabbage in the root cellar and, on cloudy days like today, a nice slaw made with apples and walnuts and some of our apple cider vinegar is a quite-fine substitution for our greenhouse’s lettuces.  But a girl needs to mix it up every once in a while:  I wake up thinking about dinner, after all.

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Next Post

img_8044One thing is clear:  there will be more of this kind of greenery in our future.

I seem to be affected by a seasonal version of a need for a horizontal hold knob.  Remember back in the days of analog televisions?  You know, pre-cable, when the station wouldn’t quite tune in, and the image would flicker by fast, like pages flipping  in a book?  I kind of feel that the future is like that right now, no matter what the subject.  I can see the image, but it’s flickering by.

Maybe too much is expected of all of us in this season of Comfort and Joy.  Of course, I am the biggest Scrooge on the planet, at least according to my husband, so it could be that I am especially prone to dark clouds now.  So this inability to focus could simply be due to my lack of seasonal good cheer.

Maybe I just need more spiked eggnog.

Holiday season came early this year

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Ugh:  yet another photo of a page out of a book that you probably can’t read!

I curled up in bed with my highlighter and my 2009 Fedco Seeds catalog yesterday.

I will not claim that this outfit is all things to all gardeners, because it is not.  Even if Fedco has a nationwide reach now, it is avowedly pro-Maine in its seed selections as far as climate goes.  The seeds it sells that won’t reliably perform well in its home state tend to get a big disclaimer in their description, to the effect that the variety “will grow in a good season.”  Point taken.  And every year, I always have to go to another seed outfit or two to retrieve all that I need for the homestead, but every year, Fedco reliably adds a wanted item to its catalog, usually a year after I have bought the variety elsewhere.  (Good King Henry is this year’s addition.)

But I will show you why I love this catalog so:  Here is a photo of the example page showing how people should fill in group orders. As an example, it used the Wall Street recipients of the government’s $700B federal bailout, and addressed the order to The Bail Outs, c/o Henry (Hank) Paulson.

Now who said gardening wasn’t a political act?

On December seeds

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I started some seeds yesterday.  It felt pretty good, considering how big and burdensome my digging jones gets when the snow comes and stays.

img_8307Best table found ever in a gardening book (in my opinion):  p. 33 of Nancy Bubel’s The New Seed-Starters Handbook (Emmaus, PA:  Rodale Press, 1988). I hope you can read it but it clearly shows that a wide temperature range is acceptable to most seeds.

The greenhouse is a funny place.  The double coverage on most of the beds means that, technically, seeds can start to germinate.  (The big secret of seeds is that they don’t need 68* soil to get started.  They’ll start if it’s colder than that, but they will do it ever so much more sloooowly.)  Of course, I am in a bit of a hurry (as ever) so I am starting a few lettuces indoors now too to be transplanted around the first of the year.  They’ll live on the front porch (heated during the day, unheated at night).  Because of the porch’s wild shift in temperatures, the seedlings will get well acclimated to the cold of the greenhouse.

img_8289Remember these babies? Look how big they’ve gotten in less than 2 months!

I have very small seedlings going in the old greenhouse now, destined to be eaten in January.  I also have lots of seeds I threw in the ground in mid-November.  These seeds (spinach, orach, minutina, mizuna, lettuce) will come up and start getting big in February.   The ones I will plant in January will be ready for March.  And so it goes.

My goal is that the new greenhouse’s lettuces will be eaten or spent come mid-February.

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eat me!!

On new off-season rituals

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Sunday wheat berry sprouts = Wednesday nutty bread

and look at that cool lid I found at the local hippie store

I guess I never quite know how much time I spend gardening/harvesting/preserving until it’s the off season.

My daughter and I made more apple cider vinegar this weekend from some of our windfalls.  It’s really quite easy to do, and microbes are my friends, as you might well know.  Every batch is slightly different, and that is quite fine with me.  We’ve also begun sprouting edible seeds again.  I even decided to make a new sourdough starter, as my last one has lost some of its tangy oomph.

I will tell you, though, what I have begun to do every Sunday afternoon.  Both of these things take little time, and both of these things are things I need to do weekly anyway so…it is nice to set a slice of time aside, no

Small hands love small tasks like tearing the pesky peels off of shallots.  We have two salad dressings:  a vinaigrette and a buttermilk.  The child likes harvesting the parsley and chervil out of the greenhouse, and she knows where the stash of shallots is stored in the basement.  She gets to harvest, wash and peel, pour and measure; I get to chop; she gets to shake.  It’s a pretty decent arrangement.

I get to sharpen the knives, though.  Maybe when she’s a little older, she can handle the whetstone.

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ORDER UP!  BREAD RECIPE NOW IN THE COMMENTS

On winter gardening

I suppose the title of this post is misleading:  this is not winter gardening, it’s winter harvesting.  Such is the case with the greenhouses too:  that’s also harvesting, but…I don’t need to clear the snow off of the goods first!

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Purple-top turnips

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Tools needed:  Garden fork, hand knife (hori-hori), warm gloves, boots, Mother of All Colanders; child and sled optional

img_8204A fistful of carrots

img_8220Peeking at us through a hole in the collards

It’s early December here.  We’ve had snow and cold weather but the ground is not frozen.  These outdoor goodies, therefore, have yet to be completely done in by the cold:  the water in their cell walls has not frozen, expanded, thawed, gone mushy. With the exception of the leeks and the collards, in a month everything will be too icky (and probably too buried in snow) to eat.  Gotta feast now then!

On thanks for small things

img_8018I am so thankful for gorgeous waves, beautiful skies, bracing winds, singing sand and….img_8003…wet dogs in early winter.  (Penny, the hardest-working critter on the farm.)

On the wisdom of cats

I’ve decided it’s Farm Critters Week here at Old Vines.

Little Edie, our barn kitty, has the life of Riley.  Other than my screaming at her for climbing the greenhouses, she’s got a fairly posh life for a working animal.  Tom built her the most sound little cat house in the tractor shed out of many bales of straw and a down-filled sleeping bag.  It even has a windproof flap.  We lock her up every night as we worry for her safety at night…that, and we expect her to kill all the mice in my adjacent potting shed.  She is not the most terribly thick-furred cat, but life outside seems not to bother her.

I work at home three days a week.  Mostly, I work on the back porch:  it’s close to the critters, and has a great view.  But it’s not insulated so I commute to the front porch to work during the winter (I did winterize this porch).  It didn’t take Edie long to figure out the front porch is a fun place to be, too.  In the morning she’ll come to the front door and ask to be let in.

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Then she’ll nap most of the day away.  (The porch faces southwest so the light here is quite nice.)

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And then, if she wants to go outside, she stands by the door and lets me know.

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The indoor cats are not too happy with this treatment.  Echo simply wants to kill Edie, and Nixie is sad she’s denied the front porch daybed.  Ah well.  Unlike our worthless indoor cats, Edie works for her kibble, after all, so she’s due a bit of compensation.  She’s still finding a vole or a mouse every day or two.  (Good kitty.)

On big poultry (or, And then there were five)

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Our goose (isn’t she pretty?)

So.  I mentioned feeding the turkeys and geese some cabbage yesterday.  I figured I should show you them, too.

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Tom has started calling our tom turkey Travis.  I’m not in love with the name, though.  That’s the hen in the front:  she’s impossible to take a clean picture of because she loves to peck at the camera.

We got them as babies at the end of June from Privett Hatchery.  The geese are production Toulouse and the turkeys are Bourbon Reds.  I ADORE them:  they make life on the farm so very fun.  Since Day One, they’ve been friendly and people-focused:  you have to train baby chicks to like you, so having these six little instantly amenable puffballs of fluff was quite a surprise.  The turkeys bonded with the much-larger geese and the geese bonded with our much-larger daughter.  We’d let them out in the grass and they would follow her, running, flapping, after her as she’d tear off, giggling.  We would do our nightly play sessions with them after dinner all summer and fall.  It was like having six feathered dogs following us about the property in the evening.

Six, and now five.  One turkey, a girl, was the highlight of our Thanksgiving feast.  Heirloom turkey is quite different than your average Butterball bird.  It’s really tasty, for one; the meat is darker, and very juicy.  Another difference is there isn’t a lot of meat.  Bourbon Reds are medium-sized birds, and our birds can fly, and do.  (You won’t see even a half-grown broad-breasted production bird fly.)  So we didn’t have a lot of leftovers, which, frankly, was fine by me.  Turkey can get tiresome.

It took about forever for the turkeys to get large enough that I could discern if I had boys or girls or both.  The geese took lots less time, but that’s mainly because they matured so much more quickly, not because the job of sexing them is easy!  Toulouse geese and ganders look a lot alike, so you have to look for more subtle clues:  the boys, for example, have more prominent eyebrow ridges, and are more aggressive with strangers and dogs.  I had one tom turkey and two hens, and I have one goose and two ganders.

img_8120The three boys out front,  yelling at the dog.  The two girls are hanging back but are also giving the dog a piece of their mind.

They all fly, incidentally.  If they get anxious and see me come outside, at least four of them (usually two geese and two turkeys) will fly out of their pen and run to me.  It’s dark outside now while I am writing this.  If I were to, say, open the back door right now, I will get honked at by the geese!  uh-WAYYahhAHH!  I usually let them out in the evening still, just before dark:  the turkeys come out of the pen and hang out with me as I do my chores, and the geese come out and fly up and down the side yard.  I always wonder what they think when they see all the Canada geese flying overhead.  Do they think “I can do that,” or do they think “Hey, cousin!”

For the most part, these guys don’t eat very much, at least not when the grass grows.  I pastured them and they pretty much would mow the grass down to nothing for us.  I just moved their pen around.  Now, during the winter, I supplement their feed with lettuces, veggie peelings, fruit, and on occasion whole cooked root veggies: they love anything we give them, frankly.  And this little factoid (i.e., that they love garden goodies) is making me adjust my planting plans for next year.  Gotta grow the critters some grub too…

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Got some food for us?

On vegetative beauty

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Des vertus savoy cabbage in the sun on Saturday

My world is white now:  white, and ice-covered.  I swear, though, that half the reason I am a vegetable gardener is because of the undeniable beauty of the produce itself.  I cannot help but think that humble savoy cabbage above is as beautiful as the most fussy and pristine tea rose.  Or maybe it’s just me:  I do have a vested interest in how beautiful that cabbage becomes, after all.

This lovely cabbage, incidentally, was destined for the turkeys and geese.  It never headed up completely so it stayed in the garden, unharvested, until this morning:  I pulled it, shook the snow off of it, and put it in their pen, whole, with the roots attached.  I am not sure if they liked its beauty but they did agree that some pretty things taste good too.

On catalogs and cataloguing

img_8068Thinking about next gardening season: need more winners like this golden self-blanching celery

I am not sure what it is (the downseason that is winter?  the after-Thanksgiving haze and post-feast fullness that is the refrigerator, reducing my need to cook down to zero?  or is it just watching the snow fall?)  but I am going through the seed catalogs already and making lists for next year.

I checked with the back catalog of posts I have made on the subject of seed catalogs.  Having a long-running blog, it is quite true that I run over the same subjects again and again:  my life is seasonal, as is the blog, is my excuse.  But one thing I noticed is that it’s usually another month or more before I get bitten by the need to catalog my holdings and assess seed purchases.

Maybe I need another hobby?  Then I remembered that a friend said the Mormons have rolled out another fabulous web portal in their arsenal of genealogical study.  Okay, that should occupy me for a week or so, teasing out our own heirloom history.