Monthly Archives: April 2009

On the first foods of spring

img_1095When you grow your own, you can’t truly expect uniformity

Wow:  a weekend of warm temperatures, and it’s like we’ve traveled to a different country!  (And all without leaving home, how cool…)  It helps that the majority of the blooming trees are blooming.  Because we live in the fruit belt, we pass probably more different kinds of trees (and orchards full of them) than the average bear; I am teaching our daughter to identify different trees mainly by blossom.  Redbuds and magnolias are easy, but she seems to be able to tell her plums from her cherries.  Even I can’t quite tell the difference between pears and apples so she gets a pass on those.  It’s early yet for apricots and peaches though, as well as the vines and the blueberries; they’ll happen soon enough.

Perhaps you’re not enjoying your own asparagus quite yet, but do you have herbs in your gardens?  Freshly cut herbs in spring are a true delicacy.  They’re still spring tender, not woody, not sharp.  It’s this time of year I make excuses to make lots of herbed yogurt cheese and herbed butters.  Herbed butters can be frozen, too; I have often surprised myself by “finding” one in mid-summer when doing a freezer-filling session:  tossing freshly cooked summer veggies in a pat of chive/thyme/marjoram butter is a great cheat, I mean treat.

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Herbed yogurt cheese

  • Homemade yogurt, or store-bought plain: start with 2 cups.  Line a small colander or strainer or funnel with cheesecloth and set it over a small pot or bowl.  Add yogurt and drain; I usually let it go overnight and then give it a final squeeze until most of the liquid is out.  You’ll end up with about a cup of “cheese.”
  • Go to the garden and snip a generous handful of fresh herbs:  chives are lovely, but so is anything else that is up and is green and–most importantly–tastes good to you.  Wash and mince the herbs; add them to a bowl and mix in the yogurt cheese.  Add salt and pepper to taste.
  • This is especially good on a nice warm piece of toast.

The greenhouses in early spring

Early spring outdoors means late spring in the greenhouses!

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“Old” greenhouse:  You’re seeing 7 of 9 beds, most are 3′x6′

The old (Oct ’07) greenhouse has been acting as our seedling house:  it’s kind of boot camp before life outdoors.  In here, I transfer all seeds I start indoors.  Some of these seedlings have already done their turn in here and have been booted outside already (broccoli, cabbage, Asian brassicas like mustards and mibuna).  It’s also done duty for the last of the winter salads (planted December through February; that’s most of the color you see) that furnished the majority of our salads from February through April.  Soon, the seedling onions and leeks will go outside too.  That’s garlic in the back left; I am hoping for a late May-through mid-June harvest from here.

img_1107“New” greenhouse, now you’re seeing 10 of 12 beds, all 3′x6′

The new (Oct ’08) greenhouse is slowly being cleared of its fall and winter contents.  I still have lots of onions and leeks in here.  There are herbs, too, in here that are more or less permanent residents (parsley, celery, chives, chervil, thyme).  We are also presently enjoying lots of flowers from brassicas like purple sprouting broccoli and lancinato and red kales.  Speaking of flowers, and unlike the other greenhouse, this one has stuff that I am allowing to go to seed:  beets, carrots, lettuces.  Most of these plants that’ll produce seed have been self-selected by yours truly because they showed amazing perserverence over the slug and cold onslaught that left many of their siblings mushily dead mid-winter.  I appreciate hardiness!  I appreciate non-death!  Therefore, I will grant them the time and–more pressingly–space to go through their flowering and seeding.

Soon enough, both greenhouses will be too consistently hot for salad things so it will be time for the heat-loving summer crops.  As it is now, it does get mighty hot in there:  above 90 with the vents open, and as cold as 45 at night.  This is great for tomato seedlings but it’s a bummer for those pretty lettuces.

On the gardening workload

img_10661Flea beetle damage on the mustards, the little buggers

For the last two months since the snow melted I have been doing the gardener’s equivalent of thumb-twiddling.

I have limited my exertions to weeding the paths, tidying the beds, doing minor repairs, putting in new fencing, digging new beds (yes in wet clay soil bad me) and in general just fussing.  I’ve made a couple of furtive runs to a farm down the road to get some of their lovely composted horse manure.  Chicken coop cleaned, compost turned, animal fencing repaired.

Damned seedling light tuned off, freeing me from the tyranny.

And now?  NOW there aren’t enough hours in the day to garden!  How did that happen?  I thought I got all the time-consuming-but-necessary work done and out of the way!

On spring’s progress

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Saved from the frost!

Things are proceeding apace this spring, despite the small fact that it’s been a very chilly season this year.  I occasionally listen to Chicago Public Radio and am always struck by how much warmer it is on that side of the lake:  Lake Michigan is cold, see, and casts us still in its chilly embrace.  This “lake effect” is responsible for our humongo snowload, as well as our cool springs and summers; on the flipside, we’ve got warm falls and winters (comparatively speaking, of course).  I just have to hold on and keep wearing warm clothes.

I have not been tempted to put anything into the ground in the gardens yet.  “Anything” means anything leafy, actually; there are peas and favas growing greenly outside.  I also have some onion plants that I set out in a fit of madness.  Last night, I expected one of our last remaining killing frosts.  Blankets over those new asparagus stalks:  I didn’t want to lose our first potential harvest.

So, I have simply settled for the dirt of the greenhouses.  There’s so much growing in there for both our use and for the school garden that I am not tempted to rush the outdoor gardens at all.

On ectotherms

dscn3464From the archives:  our daughter at 2

Yesterday was a downright chilly day with a high of 40*F., and rainy too.  Our lone resident frog in our pond still sang his lovely tune, albeit much more slowly.  I took our daughter outside to hear it and to see if she had noticed the difference.

“It’s cold out here, so the frog is slowing down.  It means he’s not putting so much energy into his calls,” I told her.  “He’s got to save his energy because he’s cold-blooded, baby.”

“No, Mama, he’s not cold-blooded.  He’s ectothermic.”

Dang, but you gotta love Montessori!  She’s five, and I had to go and look up the word to see if she was correct.  (She was.)

Happy Earth Day.

Natura abhorret a vacuo

img_1061Bubbly trouble

We have a little pond that I dug in the yard outside our dining room four years ago.  It’s a blobby Y shape, holding about 750 gallons of water, and has been home to various amphibians, snails, bugs and some goldfish; it’s also chock-full of water plants and bordered by a decent-sized perennial garden with some bushes thrown in (buddleia, rose, dogwood, mock orange, tree wisteria, forsythia, hydrangea).  It has a small pump and waterfall, and a bench.  It is a pleasant little place.

Lately, we have been serenaded by a single Western chorus frog and a couple of toads.  The windows are open now and it is nice to hear the bubbling of the pond, the calls of the amphibians.  It’s actually more than nice.

You see, we killed all the animals that were in the pond this winter.

Mostly inadvertently, of course.  This is an instance of one’s green save-the-earth principles (let’s not waste the electricity by running the de-icer) actually have done more harm than good.  In most winters, see, the pond will ice over but it won’t last long.  This year it iced over and stayed that way, trapping all gases under the ice and killing all the fish and frogs.  Tom pulled out close to 100 frogs and all 30 of our goldfish.

So, yes, it is great to see some creatures return.  There are a few green frog tadpoles that also survived:  nowhere near the 100 that are gone, surely, but there’s hope for the future.

It is an indulgence to us humans, this little pond.  But by digging it, stocking it with fish, and enjoying the natural critters that come requires us to do what we can to ensure the pond critters’ health, safety and welfare.  Otherwise, I need to triple the size of that little pond and make it fully natural…something I doubt I will do, given how hard it was to dig through that damned clay to begin with.

On new harvests

Last weekend we were all due to be away from home:  my husband as an instructor at a swanky design camp, and we girls off to a weekend of cardplaying and gabbing with the women of my mother’s family.  Our daughter got sick, though, so she and I spent the weekend at home.

img_1043Yum.  But look at that nasty clay soil.

I don’t care how sick someone is:  if it’s beautiful weather, one really needs to go out to the gardens!  And look at what we found.  The beginnings of the asparagus.  Now, our daughter loves these shoots so much that I had to raise the latch to the gate so she couldn’t pilfer them all.  This was a couple of years ago and now she is tall enough to unlatch it and eat at will…but she was simply glad I let her have one, a tiny one.

img_1049She’s eying the rest of the patch

“Well, how is it,” I ask her.

“Good, Mama.  Do you still have that salt in your greenhouse?”

Wow.  I can’t put anything past her.  That salt was for tomato-eating!

On broody hens

img_1020Ruby isn’t our only broody girl around here.  Our should’ve-been-dinner pullet Chicken Patty is feeling the urge too!

Maggie, our black Australorps, was the only other girl that we’ve had who’s ever sat for more than a day.  And Patty, who is such a dear of a bird, is the funniest Angry Hen that you could meet.  (When they’re broody, see, they get all pissy and puffed-up fluff-the-neck-feathers “mean.”  Like, that is going to stop me from getting those eggs.  Wait!  I forgot about the fact that their beaks are quite sharp…)

Anyway, with no roosters around here (yet) our Patty is sitting on duds.  I am surprised, though, by her persistence.  It means she’s not had the urge bred out of her, which makes me recommend these slow-growing Cornish all the more from Privett Hatchery.  They’re great.  She’s great!  We plan to save a rooster and another hen from this year’s meat birds to make more Chicken Patties.  Wouldn’t you?

On baby brassicas

img_1014-1I don’t know how anything can grow in this blue light of the fluorescents, but it does

I confess I love the sprouting enthusiasm of the brassica family, don’t you?  It’s something I need to learn every year:  that the cole family with their cute little round brown seeds are ALL FABULOUS SPROUTERS, and I needn’t sow them as heavily as other families.  Indeed, I should really wise up and learn that one seed = one plant with them.

Oh well.  Live and learn, and relive what you learned before.  Relive and relearn?

Again, though, with the school garden as my excuse, I am able to use up all these pretty little things, and that makes me quite happy.  These are sowings of Aichi cabbage (napa-type), mibuna, pak choy, gai choi and chrysanthemum greens, most destined for the children.  They’ll get bigger, get transplanted to the greenhouse this weekend, then out to the gardens in 2 weeks.

On adventures in seed-saving

img_1027The Milkman’s child amongst the green Amish Deer Tongue seedlings

I’ve been saving most of my seeds from one year to another for a few years now.  In some instances, growing things to save their seed is actually more arduous than growing the plants to simply be eaten…but some veggies are not so very hard or complicated.  Beans are probably the easiest, right up there with saving seed potatoes from one year to the next.  Lettuce, thankfully, falls in the “easy” category.

A couple of years back, I mentioned my slam-bang way of saving lettuce seed.  Likewise, planting the autumn volunteers from the fallen seed of blooming plants is another way we keep our greenhouse in salad all winter, as is planting little greenhouse volunteers. But one thing I haven’t really addressed is the potential for cross-pollination amongst the various lettuce types that I grow.

I hadn’t really noticed much change when I harvested seeds from same-colored, different-leaved types of lettuce in times past:  the genotype for leaf expression must remain fairly steady between generations.  But what I have discovered, happily, is the variant for both color and spotting seems to be fairly readily cross-pollinated.  So, what the hell does this mean?  It means I get spots from my Freckles Romaine on the second generation of Amish Deer Tongue lettuces that grew next to it.  It means I get a blush on the green Bibb lettuce that grew next to Red Sails, a loose-leaf lettuce.  It’s not happening all the time, but maybe 5% of the time; it’s fascinating to me.

img_10251Please, tell me that I’m pretty

I figure I have the next 50 years of my life to kind of figure out this whole botany thing.  But for now, I just say, look, let’s eat that pretty salad.

On nature, tooth and claw

sad_henSad Ruby on Friday

I have a bit of an update on Ruby and her eggs.

Early Friday morning, I exited the house on critter chore duty and I was greeted by the sweetest sound.  “Goodness,” I thought, “Earl has learned to imitate Ruby and her sweet coo,” when actually it was our Ruby that I was hearing…and seeing!  How in the world…?  What happened?  Why is she out and about, why is she not sitting on her eggs?

She couldn’t have gotten out on her own, and I was right.  Apparently, a raccoon got into the brood chamber and attacked her, and eaten all her eggs.  We were all so sad, but not as sad as Ruby herself.

She’s safe now, back on a bunch of (dummy) chicken eggs, and I have thrown the Chicken Tractor over her nesting chamber, so now she’s doubly (triply, counting the new fence) secure.

But that particular raccoon won’t be bothering her again.

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Mean omnivorous bastard.  Our daughter wanted to make a coonskin cap out of him.

On the chicken rush

_dsc2575The child and I went online last weekend to put in this year’s chicken order (meat and egg birds).  The online catalog at our normal place was down (weird, but perhaps just a fluke) so we went looking around the other online hatcheries to see what we could see.

What we could see was booked chicken orders going from now to June!

As you might know, I am a glass-half-empty kind of person.  I wouldn’t say I always skew negative, but I do so more often than not.  But (but!) I think this uptick in chicken-rearing is a good thing.  More people are giving it a try, it would appear.  As you know, my perfect world would have most houses with backyard greenhouses AND chicken coops, so my inconvenience seems like great news to me.

Eventually, we would like to be self-sufficient in chickens, both as meat and as layers…that day will one day come.  Last weekend, though, I just wanted to mail in my check for my 50 birds, expecting them at the homestead in early June.  And it would appear that June is the earliest I can get them, isn’t that strange?  So, on June 2nd, I expect to receive a call from our post office about a box of 50 peeping chicks…_dsc2577We got two more bantam chicks on Thursday due to another trip to the feed store.  Actually, the child wanted two white Brahmas but the minimum order from our hatchery was five and (gosh) I almost hesitated and said “sure,” sucker that I am…then I remembered I could probably take her to the feed store and find her a single white bird, satisfying her singular desire.  So here it is, the cutie.  Tiny little thing two weeks younger than the other baby bantam Ameraucana:  we have no idea what kind of bantam this white one is, but the other unseen small one is a frizzle Cochin bantam: crazy!  Chicken crazy!

Happy fuzzy Easter chicks to you all!

On starting new gardens

3408013991_7a179fc0e5Planting red set onions.  Set onions (little bags of seed onions you’ll find at garden stores now) can be eaten at any size, and the greens can be eaten at any time too.  They’ll never get as large as onions you grow from seed but they’ll do in a pinch.

I thought I would give a bit of a primer on garden-starting, considering that we’re starting our school gardens from scratch (and have great plans for them soon).

Whenever you start anything, of course, there’s a bit of an up-front investment you must make in time and materials.  Before that first seed can sprout, some earth probably needs to be turned.  In our school garden’s case, we had a working garden: it produced pie pumpkins most recently, so the whole garden was covered first with weed-suppressing fabric and then a layer of woodchips.  To start our beds, we needed to build the beds (each bed required (2) 2″x8″x8′-0″ boards and (1) 2″x8″x6′-0″ boards cut in half), rake away the woodchips, cut the fabric away, and do a bit of weeding.  Our soil at school is rather nice, but raised beds are nicer:  they warm up/dry out earlier in spring, they’re easier to weed and water, and–probably most importantly–are off-limits to little running feet!  We dumped some semi-composted sheep poop and bedding onto the bottoms of the beds, then we filled each bed with about 4-6 loads of topsoil.

(The above steps assume you have:  1. a saw, 2. a drill, 3. a rake, 4. a shovel, and 5. a wheelbarrow.  Having access to sheep poop is a bonus, and topsoil is the dream but not reality for many gardens:  raised beds do NOT need to be filled to the brim, especially not with topsoil.  Do what you can with what you have.  I certainly do!)

We expect to end the school year with a Harvest Festival sometime during the third week of May.  Our last frost date here in chilly Michigan is somewhere between May 1st and May 15th:  and yes, I am expecting a harvest of goodies 2 weeks later!  Am I crazy?  Nope.  I am simply working with things that don’t mind the cold.  Some of these things I am starting from seed both indoors at school and inside the semi-warm confines of our home greenhouses.  Many of the seeds, though, are being planted in the beds now:  peas, carrots, beets, radishes, turnips, potatoes, set onions, lettuces.

3408764690_5723b3109eLettuce seedlings can take a bit of frost, and the smaller they are, the hardier they are.

Our garden’s focus this semester is Asia.  Fortunately for us, many Asian countries grow things that appreciate the coolness of a Michigan spring, and have a very short (under 40 days) growing season.  I ordered a large portion of our seeds for things like mibuna, pak choi, flowering Chinese broccoli, Napa cabbage, chrysanthemum greens, daikon radishes, etc. from the esteemed Kitazawa Seed Company in California:  they specialize in Asian goodies AND have both a fantastic selection and really wonderful literature supporting each seed variety.  At $3.50 a seed packet they’re running nearly double what you’d find at a garden center of your local big-box retailer, but the seed quantities are generous AND you can’t expect to find Oka Hijiki (seaweed mustard) on a rack at Home De(s)pot.  But say you’re not that interested in Asian vegetables.  You can still easily start your garden now by planting many of the other things I listed.  And don’t stop at the big-box stores for sourcing cheap seeds!  Get out of the city and suburbs and find a feed store in the country.  Most farmers still have kitchen gardens out back and it is at their local farm/feed store that they often get their seed potatoes, carrots, and beans.  Most feed stores sell seeds out of a bin, cheaply:  expect to pay 40-80 cents for more carrots than you could ever eat in a year.

Your gardens needn’t be (16) 3′x8′ raised beds to be productive.  A family of four could easily do quite well in trimming their grocery bill with four raised beds of such size.  The key to a great harvest, frankly, is constant production.  If I were such a family of gardeners, I would use approximately 1/4-1/3 of one bed as a seeding bed (i.e., using it to start seeds and then move the leafy seedlings around to other beds as they get big); I might even place an old window on top of this area to heat things up and hurry things along.  Most root crops (carrots, turnips, potatoes) like to stay where they’re planted, so having a seeding  transfer bed mainly helps leafy greens.  To save space, tomatoes and pole beans can be trellised, as can certain kinds of vining melons and squash; going vertical does save lots of precious growing area for other things.  There are many great get-started-gardening books out there:  I would recommend Square Foot Gardening or Ruth Stout’s method of Lasagna Gardening to get you thinking about both how to maximize a small garden and how to garden without breaking your back.  My absolute favorite beginning-gardening book is Barbara Damrosch’s Garden Primer:  she’s very approachable, and she covers more than just veggies.  I also worship her husband Eliot Coleman and have used his Four-Season Harvest to get my own greenhouses up and running.

Get digging, everybody!  Spring is here in half the world, fall in the other:  both are great times of year to start new garden beds.

On a better way of seed-starting

img_0989The seedling transfer bed, bottom to top:  Amish Deer Tongue lettuce (two leaves seen), arugula, spinach, unemergent seeds of spinach, Red Sails lettuce, orach, broccoli, minutina, mizuna, more spinach, more Red Sails and Grand Rapids lettuce.  Those are two beds of garlic you see beyond, as well as the overwintered fig trees.

Outdoors in the greenhouse is where I *love* starting our seeds.  It’s here, too, that some indoor seedlings find temporary shelter, growing out as best they can before they go outside to their permanent spots.  I have 6 of 9 beds in the old greenhouse that are filled like this one.  Now can you see why I hate starting seeds indoors?  Inside, I only have so much dirt and so much light:  here, well, here I can go crazy.

Perhaps a little too crazy!  Now that I have the excuse of “well, I am growing for the school garden too” I am, uh, taking it to heart.

On sweet spring bounty

img_0999We liked it so much I made it again

Ah, the beauty of the spring garden!

Of course as I type this MY spring gardens have barely budged past the crocuses:  my forsythia stubbornly remains closed, the daffodils up but not blooming.  So what could I possibly be talking about then?  Ah.  The gleanings of the greenhouse of course.

I made a pizza recently as a side dish to whatever bigger better thing I was serving.  I cannot remember what that bigger dish was but it was probably some meat.  But the pizza:  we keep talking about it!  Why?  It was covered with spring onions.  Spring onions, parsley and thyme; chopped chives.  Olive oil, sea salt, pepper.  That is it.  No cheese, no tomatoes.  Wrinkling her nose, our daughter, who is onion-phobic thanks to being served some commercial pizza, said she absolutely would not eat a green pizza.  “But it’s not bitter,” we told her.  “It’s actually sweet, kiddo:  just trust us and try it.”  She did, and she loved it.

Many things out of the ground right now are heartbreakingly sweet.  Parsnips, carrots, leeks, multiplier onions, spring (overwintered seed) onions or onion sets; lettuces, turnip greens, arugula.  Without the goosing that the heat of a hot spring day gives them, these goodies, biennials all, are sweet tasting.  Once the heat hits them, they react with a “touche-pas” bitterness that keeps everyone from eating them:  their goal now is seed production, so it does them no good at all to be attractively delicious.

Eating-wise, this is becoming my favorite season.

On that nesting instinct

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Doesn’t she look cozy?

Our girl turkey, Ruby, has gone broody.  Nothing would make us happier than if all the hard work of sitting on a nest for 28 days actually yielded a turkey poult or two, but I’m not overly hopeful.  I don’t know how effective our tom, Earl, has been as far as mating goes:  Ruby hasn’t been the most cooperative of mates, you see.  She’s a flighty girl all around.

So flighty, actually, that finding her nest was something of a challenge!  Every day she’d fly out of the pen with the geese, in search of fresh greens and general mischief (well, mischief is something the geese excel at, whereas Ruby just kind of tags along, hanging with “the bad crowd”).  At one point in her time out of the pen, she found a nesting site, and for longer and longer periods, she’d simply be “gone,” apparently sitting.  That time stretched into a longer and longer period until last Friday when she didn’t return to the pen at all.  Huh.

Saturday morning came, afternoon, evening; snow threatened for Sunday so we moved her, and her clutch of 7 eggs, to the goose/turkey egg hutch (mostly ignored by the intended poultry; the guineas, though, love it and it’s there that I find their three eggs a day).  She’s been sitting ever since.

It is interesting to note that, for the first time in many years, wild turkeys have been spotted in and around the area.  About a month ago I noticed the geese and turkeys running in their pen, very agitated; I went outside and saw twelve, maybe 15, wild turkeys in the field just behind their pen.  Whooshwhooshwhoosh, all the wild birds flew away, gigantic brown birds, without a peep or a sqwawk amongst them.  A few days later two wild toms ran in front of my car as we went into town for some errands, and then, last week, I saw Ruby in the same field behind her pen with…two toms!  She was chasing them, though.  Can I tell you how gigantic these birds are?  They look easily to be 1.5 times the height of Earl, which means they’d come up to my waist, easily.

So I do not know if Ruby was tramping around or if she was merely being territorial; I suppose time will tell if those eggs yield some wild-looking poults.

On school gardens

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That’s me pushing the wheelbarrow

We’ve been busy lately, leaving me too busy to do much blogging!  The school’s garden is up and running.  This Thursday we had our first “Weed and Feed” event, which is simply a dinner picnic/gardening session.  Some wonderful parents, teachers and their children helped to fill our 16 raised beds (3′x8′, made of untreated 2x8s) with the school’s sheep poop and bedding, and then beautiful topsoil.  We avoided the raindrops!  And the snow!

Our school has always had a garden, but some years it has been tended more lovingly than others.  A few years back I’d joined up with some other parents to rid the school of prepackaged foods, especially in the school’s daily snack, by starting a Slow Snack group based roughly upon the principles of Slow Foods.  This group has become something of a Trojan horse:  by committing the school to slow down and source healthful, organic and mostly local edibles, our food-is-important agenda has taken root.  It has meant quite a bit of work on the parts of some parents and teachers, but it has been very popular with the children.  Food IS important.

3407976507_1c135b5350Wheelbarrows do hold more than just topsoil

We decided to further close the loop and utilize the gardens as a tool for both learning AND easy food.  My model for this was simple.  Each semester, the whole school studies one continent:  this means 3 year olds and 13 year olds are studying the geography, history, peoples and food heritage of a particular corner of the globe.  The garden, I decided, shall study that continent too and will wrap up each semester with a big harvest festival.  This spring’s area of study is Asia.  Asia!  HUGE!  Fun!  We’ll be growing everything from mibuna to bok choy to daikon to chrysanthemum greens:  quick, easy greenery for a nice spring harvest.

3407950687_693097efacEgyptian Walking onions

The summer gardens will supply the school snack’s Salsa and Pizza obsession (two big hits as ever with children) and we’ll be growing and freezing the bases for both so we simply thaw it and add more canned tomatoes as required to feed 150 children.  The fall gardens will be planted both in the spring and summer:  this Fall’s area of study is Europe (thankfully) so things like celeriac, leeks, cauliflower and long-season winter squashes will soon find their place in the beds.

Frankly, it feels really great to be putting my knowledge to use.

On seed stories

img_0948Baby asparagus

We’re in the asparagus patch on a warm, windy day in February.  There’s not much to see but last year’s dead growth.  Not much, that is, except these bright-red berries.

“OOO!  Berries!  Mama, can I pick them?”

“Sure, honey.  But are they berries?  Do you remember what these brown plants were?”

“Artichokes?”

(Smart kid!  They’re in the bed too, buried under leaves and burlap.)  “Nope.  Asparagus.  Those are asparagus seed pods.”

“Can we plant them inside?”

And we did.  Here’s the result, some six weeks later.  Tiny little asparagus!  She was so excited, she wanted to show her father, so she took the pot up to his office for him to see.  “Look, Daddy, they’re little asparagus plants, and they look like little asparagus!”

“Well, that’s great, honey, but what did you expect them to look like?”

Ugh!  Obviously, I am gardening with the best person in the family.