Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Towering III

Towering III: Last Update
November 20, 2015

I finally decided it was time to remove the potato "towers", or cages, from the raised bed. There had been one good frost so far, and the potato plants that had regrown in one tower had succumbed and wilted. After the Big Mistake I had made earlier in the season (see "Towering II"), I really did not know what to expect.

The old fencing cages and the mish-mash of poles holding them up were pulled up and set off to the side. I am not yet sure if I'll use them again.



What I had left were piles of rich compost, holding the mystery of possibilities within. Would I find nothing at all, or would I be surprised by piles of Magic Molly purple potatoes?

I rummaged through the first pile of compost. Then through the next. And the next. I went to get my English spading fork so I could move the stuff around more, as some of it had clumped at the bottom of the piles. I crouched down and rummaged some more.

I checked and checked, and then finally came up with my harvest.

Wait for it ... here it comes ....

Just about to show up ...



... and ... here it is!!

Yes, here it is!

One little Magic Molly purple potato.

Well ... I suppose I could use it. I could slice it up thinly and saute it gently with onions and garlic, then slowly savor every little bite.

Or, I could leave it on the counter top and glance at it now and then as it gradually shrivels over time.

I could tuck it into one of the compost piles (maybe it would even sprout next spring and I could transplant it.)

Or, I could enshrine it somehow.

Whatever I do with it (if anything), it will serve as a reminder of adages such as "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again" and "Learn from your mistakes." Will I try potato towers again? I might. I'll just make sure the material I put in them does not have a speck of green. I'm willing to try it one more time, I think.

Well, besides the lesson, I got something else out of this towering experiment, so it's not a complete waste. I also got four really nice piles of rich compost, which I can spread across the bed to improve it later on, after the surrounding plants are taken out.


In truth, my four raised beds are going to be completely transformed next year. Boards will be removed, and the whole area will be redesigned into an (mostly) herb garden with wandering paths. But, that's a blog post for another time.

For now, I will bolster my ego by reminding myself that I've been very successful at growing a number of other things, like giant Daikon radishes:

Yup ...

And bouquets of Rainbow Swiss Chard:

A truly most wonderful vegetable

And lots of other stuff:










The "emergency harvest" before a big freeze




Gardeners are the most hopeful, positive people in the world. Every single year, we say, "I'll do it better next year." 





















Gathering-In


Gathering-In
November 4, 2015



During late summer, our screened porch was constantly bedecked with piles of tomatoes, in boxes and spread out on newspapers. They were bright red, orange, pink, rosy and yellow. They were giant and tiny. They were bulbous, pear-shaped, smooth, convoluted. We had to toss some into the compost every day or so, but most were transformed into meals, sauces, ketchup and juice.

Eventually, the piles of relatively thin-skinned tomatoes gave way to piles of thick-skinned pie pumpkins and other winter squashes in various shades of orange.




We had switched from a summer to an autumn gathering-in.

The pumpkins will keep much longer than the tomatoes did, but will gradually be transformed into soups, pies and canned pulp.

Other piles have appeared on our porch – items left from our daughter Sarina's Halloween wedding on October 31.



It was a classy affair, both moving and fun, that celebrated this union through the celebration of Halloween. Through this we have gathered in our new son-in-law Jordon and his family into ours. This autumn, our family has increased along with the harvest.


Mini-pumpkins for reception table numbers








Jordon (left) and a couple of the groomsmen carving pumpkins for the reception hall







Sarina (middle) and a couple of the bridesmaids carving pumpkins for the reception hall

Sarina (far right), her three bridesmaids and her mother-in-law-to-be (center) getting favors ready for the wedding reception.


Through all the work and fretting of wedding preparation and details, I managed to take some time to enjoy the parade of autumn color from our windows and during occasional walks in the woods. The respite was much appreciated. I also made a trip to a local orchard, gathering in a variety of apples as well as cider, caramel apples and apple cider donuts.

Items from Apple Hill Orchard and Charlie's Caramel Corn and Candies, along with one of the local magazines for which I write


In late October I watched, through a kitchen window, two giant wild Turkeys sauntering about in our garden area.





Then, as November dawned, I watched autumn color through the screened porch.






On this morning, Cardinals are chattering and chipping in the Tulip Poplar out front, and the song of another bird reverberates through the woods. It is a damp morning, and the water droplets in the air amplify the song and carry it further, along with the moan of a faraway train.

Now and then, at woods' edge, a leaf drifts down from a tree. Some trees are bare now, but most are still abundant in fall colors, and some are still green.

I removed the tall Sunflower stalks some time ago, after the absence of visiting birds signaled that the seeds had been all harvested. The Sun Root plants, which bloomed much later than the domestic Sunflowers, have also finished blooming, the stalks like brown sentinels. The roots are probably ready to harvest.

The Tulip Poplar and Dogwood are practically bare. I find large Tulip Poplar leaves in interesting places.



The Persimmon and Hawthorn trees are well on their way to bareness. There are still fruits hanging onto Persimmon branches. Oddly, no clusters of crimson berries appeared on the Hawthorn this year. Normally, they are the last berries harvested by birds near the end of winter.

The sky is puffs of dark gray layered with blue. White light from the rising sun burns intensely through spaces around edges of clouds.

The tiny, fine leaves of Asparagus plants are yellowed and many have drifted to the ground, allowing the tiny scarlet berries to stand out. Each berry glistens with a tiny ball of moisture hanging off the bottom, reflecting part of its surrounding world.

November is my favorite month. I love the cloudy, steel-blue skies, the trees changing from bright colors to skeletal shapes, the forest floor deepening with fallen leaves. I love the transition from autumn to winter, with always an edge of cold that keeps me wide awake and alert.



It is a gathering-in time – gathering in the harvest, cleaning up gardens. Wildlife gather in stores of food for the winter as well as leaves, sticks and mud for winter dens. We start gathering ever more into our houses, cleaning them up and making them a place we can stay for the winter.

We begin the holiday season, gathering in with friends and family, as we did during the wedding on Halloween.

We have had one good frost so far, followed by “Indian Summer.” At that time, I gathered all of the plants from the screened porch and brought them in to the bay window in the kitchen. Soon I will set up bird feeders outside that window. From my rocking chair and the warmth of our house, this will be my main view for the winter, through a country window.



********************************************************************************

A bit of prologue:


In late November, we canned seven quarts of Winter Luxury Pumpkin that Richard had grown and stored on the screened porch.

Friday, November 13, 2015

Towering II


Towering II
An Update on the Potato Towers
August and September 2015

Have they worked?
Yes, no, and I don't know yet.

Finally, purple potato plants were coming up. I don't know if it was the variety of potato or the growing method that made them late-comers. The plants grew vigorously. About every day, they would be taller and I would add more mulch to the towers. It wasn't easy to keep up with them. I envisioned piles of purple tubers developing under those piles.

I alternated between the well-rotted leaf mulch from our neighbor and the dry grass from Richard's lawn mowings.

Then I made a mistake.

One of the latter times I added mown grass, it was a wee bit green. Then it rained, rained and rained. The microorganisms loved the green parts. The microorganisms got very busy. The microorganisms created much heat from their vigorous activity of eating, moving about and reproducing.

Heat and dampness cause rot. My lovely potato plants started drooping, one after another. Then rotting, one after another By that point there was nothing I could do about it. One large plant hung on, looking healthy, tall and determined. But, eventually even it succumbed.

As Thomas the Tank Engine once said, “It's okay to make mistakes, as long as you learn from them.” I learned that one should not mulch live plants with anything that has the slightest bit of green. Be patient and wait for it all to turn crisply brown before you use it. If the weather had remained dry for a long time, it likely would have been fine. Possibly all of the mulch would have dried in the towers before it could cause a problem.

But, sometimes it rains. Even heavy dew can contribute to disaster, given the right situations. Don't hedge your bets. Don't gamble with live plants – just do your best by them, and be observant.

So, I let it be. All of that mulch would still enrich the soil in that raised bed when it would all break down. And, for all I know, there could already be some potatoes in there – they may have had time to form and grow before their upper, chlorophyll-filled, photosynthesizing, food-producing counterparts bit the dust.

Well, there must have been.

Recently, I took a look at the sorry piles in the towers and saw three little purple potato plants peeking above the mulch in one tower. Evidently, there were little potatoes (maybe even big ones) in there, and they sprouted new plants.




Hope springs eternal.  

Plentitude


Plentitude
July and August 2015

There is so much to see, and hear, from the screened porch on a summer day. Bright yellow sunflower heads are raised on tall, thick stems, bobbling in the breeze. Some heads droop deeper and darker, as centers have gradually turned heavier toward seed time.

Some of the yellow and black on a sunflower head moves – a male Goldfinch becomes evident. Males and females chatter to one another and dart around in the sunflower patch. They, the Tufted Titmice and Carolina Chickadees visit here for the ample supply of tiny caterpillars and bugs to feed their young and themselves.






Later, various birds will be visiting the sunflowers for the seed, stocking up on nutrition and energy to last the coming winter, or for migration.

Hummingbirds buzz, hover and dart all over the gardens. They find nectar in some of the flowers, but, more importantly, insects all over the place.

There is plenty for insects, birds and other wildlife in our gardens and, this year, plenty for us humans. Here is how our porch usually looks this time of year:




    
In the house there are always bowls, boxes and piles of vegetables and herbs – heirloom tomatoes, eggplants, hot and sweet peppers of various shapes, okra, green and yellow beans, cucumbers, summer squash, parsley, basil, chives.






It's really too much, and that is a very good “problem” to have.

We have been busy canning quarts of tomatoes. I saved the slipped-off skins, cleaned and dehydrated them, then ground them into flakes (later, to powder.) These will add extra tomato-y “umph” to soups, sauces, etc. My sister Laurie has some plans for them, too, that I'm curious to know, so I save plenty for her, too. Richard and I have also been canning pints of tomato juice and sauce. I plan to do a batch of ketchup – so much better than store-bought.

Cucumbers keep tumbling into buckets and into the kitchen, so I have been doing all sorts of pickling – naturally fermented dills for the refrigerator, canned Sweet Pickle Spears (our favorite for potato, tuna and egg salad), canned Curry Pickles, sweet freezer pickles.

Earlier in the summer I fermented sauerkraut from green and red cabbage and kimchee from Chinese cabbage. We canned a slew of green and yellow beans. We froze many quart bags of sweet corn. There is much, much more to come.

We find various ways to use eggplants, and figure out how to use the plentitude of hot and sweet peppers. I keep picking the bright red ones because they are so vibrantly beautiful, but I'm not sure what I'll do with them yet. There are only so many very small jars of intensely hot fermented pepper sauce that one can use, or even share.



We unearth a pile of potatoes from just one plant, but they keep well. I am learning more about cooking Polish food, so I can incorporate from the garden more cabbage, beets, potatoes, green onions, celery and herbs (especially dill.)

I have been making an effort to dry leaves and grind them for “green powders” to use later. This year, I have been using the deep green, shiny, slippery leaves of Malabar, an African plant. It is a most satisfying plant to grow, climbing to great heights on whatever holds are provided, growing densely with leaves, and becoming spotted with clusters of tiny pink flowers that turn into deep purple, shiny berries. The very successful vining Petunias are using the Malabar vines to hoist themselves further up, creating a wallpaper of blue-purple-pink hues. If our house was nearer the road, I would grow this combination where passers-by could see and enjoy it.

The Nasturtium leaves grew larger than I’ve ever seen them before in my garden. I have collected them to dry for green powder, and also made Nasturtium Pesto using leaves and flowers.




Needless to say, we find it very difficult to keep up, but do our best.  Meals are wonderful, as we keep trying to use up produce in creative ways. But, things rot. Every day we toss vegetables into the compost bin. In that way nothing goes to waste.



Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year – a celebration of bounty and the sharing of it, and of gathering, no matter what anyone’s ethnicity, religion (or no religion) or family situation.

At our place, it seems like Thanksgiving much of the time. We are constantly thankful, constantly aware of our good fortune, constantly able to share, whether meals or extra produce. Our table is often well-laden.

Because of plentitude, I am thankful for these:

-          That we have the space to grow and produce so much (though I love the creativity involved in seeing how much a person can produce from a small space)
-          That we are both in great health, enabling us to grow, produce, process and make meals with this bounty
-          That our garden food produced with healthy soil, organic amendments, no genetically modified components, no synthetic chemicals, and the good heritage of heirloom varieties, contributes greatly to our health.
-          That working in the gardens also contributes to our health – exercise, sunshine, fresh air, contact with soil
-          That we can also enjoy the environment around us – singing birds, darting hummingbirds and dragonflies, a myriad butterflies, moths, wasps, bees, beetles, spiders and other bugs, and other wildlife such as rabbits, deer and raccoons (yes, even when they eat from our garden) as well as the sound of wind through the leaves, clouds floating over, the feel of rain – you-name-it
-          That we can find enough time in our lives to work gardens and put up food.
-          That we have so much we can share with family, friends, neighbors, co-workers, etc.
-          That we have family, friends, neighbors and co-workers, etc.
-          That we normally have enough sun, rain, heat and cold where we live
-          That we have each other to share the work, the joy, the disappointments, the flavor, the plentitude. I know that sounds sappy, and I don’t like to be sappy, but I don’t know another way to say it.
-           
Happy Thanksgiving (early, technically)!
I wish you plenty of anything you truly need.