Category Archives: Garden

Garden

The Garden This Time

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Summer                                                                                         Solstice Moon

Since Friday night, we’ve seen explosive growth in our tomatillos and tomatoes.  It seems impossible, but I’m pretty sure the tomatillos gained 6 inches almost overnight.  The tomatoes both rocketed up and produced blooms.  We have fruits on both.  Not many, but some.  We’ve also been harvesting strawberries all week.

Carrot thinning, a task today, proved difficult on one row because tiny ants on both row ends felt disturbed by all the pulling.  They climbed onto my hands, up my arms, down my legs and onto my neck.  Nothing harmful about them, but they felt creepy.  Even so, I got all the carrots thinned.  Some beets have begun to mature, not ready yet, but they’re close.

The garlic crop, a diminished one as I’ve reported here before, also went from no scapes on Friday to scapes I could harvest on Saturday.  I’ve not done anything to the plants except for the initial broadcast and the jubilee and transplant water on the transplants.  The nutrient drenches and foliar sprays start next week.

My opinion of this year’s harvest potential has grown more positive.  The garlic, which I would have already harvested in years past, should be ready in the next week to ten days. It has brown up three leaves from the ground, then I’ll pull it.  The leeks and onions both look good.

 

Friends, Garden, Great Work, Weather +Climate, Woolly Mammoths

Svalbard

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Summer                                                                            Solstice Moon

Friend Tom Crane and his wife Roxann are going polar.  Not bi polar, but north polar, getting all the way to the 78th parallel.  Pretty damned far north when you consider the pole itself is 90 degrees north.  On a long list of populated areas by latitude there are only three closer to the north pole and I’m guessing they’re not the kind of places you’d go to get lost in.

(Svalbard in brown on a polar projection.)

Two years ago Kate and I visited Ushuaia, Argentina, the fin del mundo, as it bills itself.  It’s where expeditions for Antarctica set forth.  By contrast it is only at the 68th parallel, a full 10 degrees closer to the equator than Svalbard.

This is one lonely location, though it’s not as isolated, interestingly, as the Hawai’ian islands.  But, I’ll bet when you’re there, it feels more isolated.  Tom says he’s drawn to this trip by the very high caliber naturalists who are along to give lectures and guide.

Svalbard came to my attention, as perhaps to yours, not as a tourist destination for an Arctic experience, but as the home of the Svalbard Seed Vault.

(The entrance and the portion under glass were designed by Norwegian artist, Dyveke Sannes.)

What is it?  Here’s a quick explanation from their website:

“The Svalbard Global Seed Vault, which is established in the permafrost in the mountains of Svalbard, is designed to store duplicates of seeds from seed collections around the globe. Many of these collections are in developing countries. If seeds are lost, e.g. as a result of natural disasters, war or simply a lack of resources, the seed collections may be reestablished using seeds from Svalbard.”

Here are two typically nordic answers as to why they chose this location, especially the last sentence of reason 2.

1. Svalbard, as Norwegian territory, enjoys security and political and social stability. Norway understands the importance of preserving Svalbard as an area of undisturbed nature, which is now an important research and reference area. The seed vault fits ideally into this concept.

2.  Svalbard has an isolated position far out in the ocean, between 74° and 81° N and only 1000 kilometres from the North Pole. The archipelago is characterised by an undisturbed nature. Permafrost provides stable storage conditions for seeds. Besides which there is little risk of local dispersion of seed.

 

 

Garden, Weather +Climate, Writing

When the heat is on

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Summer                                                                                 Solstice Moon

Wandered out to the garden, picked a few hot strawberries, felt the Solstice sun on my bare head and retreated.  Dew point is down to 68, but the temperature was at 87 earlier.  Hot for us.

Working on Missing.  Still plugging my way through the revision.  Sometimes it’s fun; sometimes it’s work.  Sometimes it’s just something I’m doing.  Today was the last.  Having to add in some material I fail to expand will be more fun.  Gonna do that now.

 

Garden, Weather +Climate

A Thinnin’ and A Mulchin’

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Summer                                                                        Solstice Moon

After the cold and the gray comes the bright and the damp.  81 degrees already at 9:30 am with a dewpoint of 75.  That’s well beyond uncomfortable, which begins at 60.  Mulching the new lily and iris bed along with the areas Kate weeded last week followed by thinning the beets on the third tier left me with as much outside exposure as I wanted.

Looks like we’ll get some rain today.  A good thing since the electricity outage in the garage has crippled my irrigation clock.  No clock, no water other than rain.  That’s on the get it fixed list.  Soon.

We’ve entered the rapid growth phase of the growing season, with the nectar flow ready to begin next week.  The compressed season makes for exaggerated rhythms, a feature of the northern garden. Like Chinese cooking, preparation is 90% of the ingredients needed to succeed.

Javier will come by some time in the next few days to price out mulch and weed suppression for the orchard and mulch for the vegetable bed paths.

Garden, Great Wheel

Yes

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Beltane                                                                           Solstice Moon

 

The earth has reached the point in its orbit where its tilt reaches toward the sun.  This is one solstice, the solstice of leaning toward.  At the solstice of leaning toward, the sun reaches its highest point in the sky.  Heat begins to build and will continue to do so after the solstice even though the arc of the day has begun to diminish and the arc of the night to expand.

This solstice can be seen as a moment of extravagance, of the sun blessing us with its bounty. (though it must be observed that the sun spends itself without discrimination as regards our home.  it is, rather, our capture of more of its expenditure that defines the season)  In that regard we can look into our lives for those blessings, those extravagances that assert themselves right now, throwing heat and light into our days.

The summer solstice begs us to enjoy them.  Grand kids shine their innocence, a brilliant beacon, into us and in the reflection of that innocence we find ourselves restored.  We can wonder whether astronauts have tushies, read books all the time, giggle at negative numbers, shoot long threads of silly string over the forest, smile or even act mischievously in that ingenuous way kids have.

The garden’s green and growing things:  carrots, lilies, iris, beets, leeks, hosta, juniper, kale, chard, sugar snap peas, lilacs, hydrangeas, ferns, cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, asparagus, strawberries, rhubarb, raspberries, daisies, peonies, bug bane and begonias.  The orchard with hundreds of apples, cherries, plums and pears, currants and blueberries, gooseberries.  What a cornucopia.  And the bees, working at building their colony.  This is life throwing itself away for the life of others, a joint dance with humans and plants and animals in it together.

23 years of marriage.  A wondrous extravagance, giving that many years and promising that many more.  The time, the memories, the trust, the hopes, the suffering, the joy.  Yes.

This is the time to say yes.  Yes marriage.  Yes garden.  Yes grand children.  Yes home.  Yes state.  Yes earth.  Yes sun.

This is the time to lean towards.  To react with great warmth.  To shine as brightly as you can.  Wherever you can.  Yes.

Garden, Great Wheel, Our Land and Home

Heat

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Beltane                                                                              Solstice Moon

All beds but one mulched and that one I want to plant some carrots in tomorrow or Sunday.  Planted another row of carrots in the large raised bed today.  Put down jubilate and transplant water on the carrot seeds and on the leeks.  Having the heat is good, the tomatoes, peppers and egg plants need it.  Now this isn’t much heat, I know, if you’re reading this in, say, Riyadh or Singapore, but still it counts here.

The growing season has begun to rock on.  I thinned some early beets and onions today, the strawberries have fruit and all the orchard trees have fruit, too.  Kate’s already given away rhubarb and lilacs, plus tomato marmalade from crops awhile ago.

In just one week the sun will hit it’s peak height here in the northern hemisphere:  “The summer solstice occurs when the tilt of a planet’s semi-axis, in either the northern or the southern hemisphere, is most inclined toward the star (sun) that it orbits. Earth’s maximum axial tilt toward the sun is 23° 26′. This happens twice each year, at which times the sun reaches its highest position in the sky as seen from the north or the south pole.”(Tauʻolunga)

After that, as the maximal tilt gives way, slowly, the days grow shorter, the dark begins to dominate and I move into my favorite half of the year, the part headed toward the winter solstice.  Though I love the growing season, it doesn’t feed me in the same way the gradual darkening and cold does.

It’s great right now though, heat for the plants, which will, ironically, feed me when the dark season comes.

Family, Feelings, Garden, Memories

Archaeology of the Heart

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Beltane                                                                         Solstice Moon

While watching a NOVA program on dogs, a reference was made to archaeology.  I studied archaeology and the broader discipline of anthropology seriously in college.  Seriously enough that I applied for doctoral work in theoretical anthropology.  Why I didn’t follow that up is a story for another time, but archaeology resonates for me and the mention of it in this context triggered a memory only recently interpreted.

Over the course of my life when confronted with the odd plumbing job or carpentry task, you know, the men things, I would fob them off with the stock phrase, “Oh, I learned everything my Dad knew about these things.  Nothing.”  And, as far I know, that’s a true statement in both instances.  I’m still not able in those areas though I admit I’ve never tried too hard to learn.

Kate and I work outside together a lot, though she works in one area and I work in another.  I found myself having a rising sense of impatience, irritation about her work.  Those who know me well would recognize this mood in me.  I’m not proud of it, but it does surface from time to time.  This time I knew my mood simply had no basis in reality.

Kate works hard.  She works well.  And she was doing both of those, as I know she always does, so this mood was about me, not her.  Suddenly buckets of water sloshing in the wee hours of the morning came to mind.  Uh, oh.  When we moved to our home at 419 N. Canal, it was the first, and last, home my father and mother owned.  We moved there in 1959 and my dad had his stroke there in the  1990’s and died after having moved to a nursing home from there.

In my years there, from 1959 to 1965, I don’t recall a service person ever coming to our house to repair anything.  Likewise, I don’t recall anything ever getting repaired.  Must of have happened, but I don’t recall it.  The only such incident I do recall was a recurring one in which our basement, which housed our furnace and little else, would flood.  When that happened, Dad would get me up and together we would bail out the basement, one bucket at a time.

Roused from sleep, cold and wet, these were not my favorite memories.  I do remember that as we worked, Dad would become silent, sullen.  In fact, I remember him being irritated and impatient with my willingness to do this chore.  Aha.  My memory of teamwork seems to be tied to those nights and I seem to have selected my father’s attitudes to carry on, carrying his water into my own life.  As sons often do.

Rethinking this time also made me realize a second thing.  Why didn’t Dad try to solve the problem rather than resort to such a makeshift solution every time?  I don’t know the answer.  It might have been money.  It might have been pride.  It might have been that these matters simply didn’t show up as problems to solve, but rather came up as problems to ameliorate.  Whatever the reason, I learned to be incurious about solving problems around the house.  Doesn’t matter.  Maybe it’ll go away or fix itself.

Now, I have owned homes since 1969, 7 altogether, one in Appleton, Wisconsin, one in Minneapolis, one outside Nevis, Minnesota, 3 in St. Paul and 1 here in Andover.  Over that time I’ve learned some very minor skills in home repair and one big one.  The big one?  Hire somebody.  Works most of the time.  As far as I can tell, solving day to day problems in the house is one of the few things I’m incurious about.  Fortunately Kate is better than I am and together we can call anybody.

The archaeology of our own thoughts and feelings is the most rudimentary and personal dig we will ever engage.  And that, I’m plenty curious about.

 

Faith and Spirituality, Garden, permaculture

It’s Growing On Me

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Beltane                                                                                    Solstice Moon

Becoming a horticulturist takes time.  Time learning plants, learning pests, learning flowers and vegetables and fruit.  Learning soil, chemicals.  Time with hands in the soil, with seeds and transplants and irrigation.  It takes failure.  Those tomatoes with the yellow leaves.  The potato leaves shredded by the Colorado beetle.  Over mulching that garlic. (which I did this year.)  It’s been a long time now since I started down this ancientrail.  Slow at first.  That garden at the Peaceable Kingdom.  Heating with wood there, too.

Small efforts on 41st Avenue in Minneapolis and Sargent Avenue in St. Paul.  Some more on Edgcumbe Road.  Mostly flowers.  Then this property.  We hired a landscape architect who laid in the first beds, added some elevation changes, planted the first plants, designed the early iteration of irrigation and rolled out the new lawn.  After that I learned about perennials, trying to get a seasonal symphony, color throughout the growing part of the year.

There was that two year correspondence course from the University of Guelph in London, Ontario.  It was good, laying down the conceptual basis for much of the work, though I feel I’ve under utilized what I learned in it.  Anyhow I have a A.A. degree in horticulture as a   result.

Kate started planting vegetables; I focused on flowers.  Somewhere in there I cut down the locust, as I said a while back.  Bought a big roto-tiller and tried the traditional surface of the earth garden.  Not good.  Got the raised beds.  They helped a lot by keeping grass and other things out of the soil.

That permaculture business made sense to me.  Design your gardens, your whole home around the way nature lays out the land in your area.  Become one with the land and use it to your advantage while giving back to it.  We’ve done some of that but I think it would have been better years ago, when we were just starting, still young enough to have the personal strength to work it.  It’s very complex and required more learning than I felt like giving it.

Now I’m focused on the bio-dynamic agriculture and horticulture of International Ag Labs. I would characterize my approach as pragmatic and eclectic, trying to integrate material from the traditional world, like the Guelph course, the more theoretical models like permaculture, organic and ag labs into usable information for our property.  There is just one permanent goal:  improve the land while providing ourselves with nutrient rich food.

The land and the plants will teach if you see what you’re looking at.  I’m still learning the language of our land.

Faith and Spirituality, Garden, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

Outside Inside

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Beltane                                                                          Solstice Moon

Bagging apples again this morning.  Another hundred done, a hundred yesterday, at least that many, maybe more to go.  I don’t know how practical this would be for a commercial operation but for our purposes, it’s time well spent.  I have noticed that there are leaf rollers on many leaves and some of the baby apples have already been eaten into by either an insect or something else, but for the most part the trees are healthy and the baby apples are, too.  I also noticed that apple production seems heaviest on branches off branches that attach to the trunk.  Not sure what that means.

Outside and inside.  So this was outside, working with the apple trees, individual apples, leaves, watching as the sky grew cloudy and dark, feeling the heat begin to build.  Using my hands, opening the ziploc bag, placing it around the apple, sealing it with two fingers, checking the seal, moving on to the next apple, checking for fruit I missed.

All the time, too, I thought about how to create a ground cover that would keep the orchard neat, beautiful.  We had clover, but it didn’t fight off the grass and the grass keeps coming. Kate fights it, but the battle is a losing one.  We need a different solution.  I’m thinking suppression with high quality landscape cloth and thick mulch.  Javier, maybe.

Inside.  I’m writing this, reflecting on the time outside.  Trying to fit together a foreground/background idea that has popped up over the last day.  That is, when outside, my thoughts often turn inside, I become meditative, while inside, I often stay on task, up at the conscious level and it takes an effort to get inside.  So, in a sense, when I’m outside I’m inside and when I’m inside I’m outside.  Just a curious bit right now.

Garden, Latin, Translating Metamorphoses, Writing

What Comes First?

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Beltane                                                                                       Solstice Moon

Still trying to work out a way to give the garden what it needs and my other work what it needs.  Right now, this week, I’ve decided to work outside in the morning (my best work hours) until I’m caught up on critical garden chores:  broadcasting and transplant aids, bagging the apple trees and laying down leaves for mulch for example.

(Reinier Willem Kennedy – The source of life)

I’m done with the broadcasting and transplant aids.  I have the honeycrisp done and will move on to the other two trees tomorrow.  They have fewer fruit sets so they’ll probably be roughly the equivalent of the honeycrisp.  When that’s done, I’ll use the leaves from last fall to mulch the vegetables.  Probably finish on Wednesday.

Then I’ll focus back in on the writing and translating.  Getting a regular rhythm down was a primary reason I set aside the Sierra Club work and the MIA, but this interruption comes from decisions we made long ago to grow as much of our own food as we can and to do it in a way that improves our property over time.  So it may be that the real rhythm lies in recognizing the horticultural imperatives gardening brings during the growing season, making them number one during that time and fitting the other in around them.  Probably the sensible way to go.

Any ideas a reader might have would be welcome.