Flying Tomato Farms

I am slowly converting my gardens into no-till beds with heavily mulched aisles. This tends to use a lot of mulch–especially initially, but it is great for conserving moisture and cutting down on weed control issues. The area shown above is a small bed with incorporated cattle panel trellis that I am carving out of the west side of the gardens that I mulched entirely with wheat straw last year.

The wheat straw I used as mulch ended up being a combination mulch and green manure–there was a good amount of wheat seed left in the bales, and it all sprouted (that’s why the background in this shot looks a bit like a lawn). Rather than it being a nightmare, it has been a benefit: when it gets a bit long, I just mow it.

The mower blades are set high enough (and the mulch is compacted enough) that it just takes off the fresh green growth and drops it right back onto the ground to decompose.

There are a number of good reasons to switch to no-till, not least among them cutting back the use of petroleum. Tillers churn the soil, breaking up the soil structure and its fine web-work of nutrient-carriers.

Tillers also tend to leave a hard pan right below the depth to which they work the soil. The top layer ends up being fluffy, but immediately below that you get a rock hard, non-draining sheet of (in these parts) clay that plant roots can’t penetrate to get the deeper nutrients.

I much prefer creating these permanent beds that can be worked deeply with a broadfork or digging fork. After a bed is created, I don’t turn the soil at all–I just drive the fork as deep as it will go and lever it up a bit, then shimmy the fork back out the way it came. Then, I use my hand-tiller to break up the clumps on the surface (this can be done in slightly wetter soil than a tiller can be used), separate the roots of any weed seedlings from the soil, and incorporate a little air to help them break down quickly.

This method gives you a fine tilth, and doesn’t upset the natural soil strata. It breaks up the mycelium network a little, but nowhere near as much as churning the soil mechanically. The mycelium network is basically a vast fungal “root system” that breaks down and transfers nutrients in the soil–it helps your plants get the food they need. If you want some fascinating reading on the subject of mycelium–see the Paul Stamets interview in the February 2008 issue of The Sun.

To make this particular bed, I used my digging fork to skim off the top layer of wheat straw and dumped it into the aisle. Then I dug the remaining straw into the soil with the same fork (this is a little more soil disturbance than I usually do–but this will likely be the only time I actually turn this soil). It’s a little hard to see with this image, but it really lofts up the bed, and the line between the compressed, mulched aisle and the fluffy bed is well-defined.

If you’re wondering what the rubber s-hook thing is–it’s an attachment point for a strand of electric fence wire. Harry runs a number of hot wires in differing patterns throughout the course of the season from one cattle panel trellis to another to discourage the deer. The tufts of baling twine are from the Brandwine tomato plants I had growing on this trellis last year. The pet taxi in the background was my night housing for last year’s ducks–I dragged it down to spread that manured bedding on my elephant garlic.

Overall the place is a bit of a mess right now as we try to get things spread, turned, mowed, and generally ship-shaped.

I think Vega found this lovely opossum corpse in the barn.  One minute she was poking around in the barn and the next minute she was standing over this dried-up leathery thing out in the upper gardens with a look of pride on her doggie face.

There are a number of feral cats in the area, and they do a great job keeping the gardens free of most smaller rodents. But every once in awhile they leave a present for the dog, and she thinks she’s doing me a favor by sharing it with me.

You’d think she’d stop trying to chase them, when they give her “treats” like this.  One of these days, she’s going to corner one in a spirit of playful good humor, and she’s going to get a face full of claws.  Will she learn from this experience?  Probably not.

I do not think anything short of an altercation with a mountain lion will teach Vega that cats exist for any purpose other than a good chase (and then it will be too late for her).  She’s not really even interested in catching them, as far as I can tell.  The combination of greyhound and border collie blood causes her to believe with every fiber of her being that other animals exist to be roused, chased, and herded for her own personal enjoyment.

I appreciated her generosity with these aged remains, but I removed the “gift” from the garden and hung it on the fence facing the road. Maybe it will scare the deer away. Or maybe I just have a sick sense of humor from growing up in a family that ran a trapline. I swear I will take it down before I schedule a farm tour.

By the way–yesterday I got in the shell (English) peas. I used to grow all three kinds of peas–shell, snap, and snow. But peas are arduous to pick and process, so I cut back to doing mostly just snap peas. This year, one of my CSA members made a special request for these, so I decided to give it another go.

Also got in some kohlrabi (both purple and white), rucola selvatica arugula (a slower-growing and spicier strain), Persian garden cress, and a little five color silverbeet (aka rainbow chard).

This morning–more snow–which promptly turned into a slushy mess when it hit the warm ground. Then, an hour or two of rain, followed by a few more flakes. I believe tonight we are supposed to get a couple more inches of snow.

Well, at least I don’t have to water.

Was going to do this post last night, but I was worn out from yesterday’s planting frenzy. I take what windows I can to get crops in this time of year. Yesterday the ground was a bit more moist than the window at the beginning of the week, but dry enough to crumble when worked with digging fork and hand tiller.

My absolute favorite hand tool for working up the soil–once it is worked deeply with either broadfork or digging/potato fork is my Glaser 4-tine hand tiller. It looks a little like those cultivators you get in the sets with the hand trowel, but the handle is longer (more leverage) and the tines are much longer and much sharper than your typical model.

It might seem hard to justify spending $53 on a hand tool, but once you get this thing in your hand, you’ll never want to let go of it.  I have had mine for three years now, and would immediately replace it if anything happened to it.  I would even order to extra to have on hand, except I am superstitious: I’ve noticed the moment I get an extra tool, I lose the one I had originally.

So yesterday was mostly potatoes–that old saw about planting them on Good Friday was not going to happen this year, and I always get peas and spinach in first, so I waited for the next planting window for these tuberous delights.

I pretty much only grow fingerling potatoes anymore–the big growers can harvest hundreds of pounds of Yukons and Norlands, but I don’t have that kind of space to devote to one crop.  So I find my niche with the best-tasting potatoes around.

Fingerling potatoes are typically smaller than your average potato, and skinny like a finger.  Their flavor is nutty and fantastic, and they make the best roasted potatoes around.  They tend to be a little longer season, and they don’t work for new potatoes, but their yields can be quite high if you treat them well.

Yesterday I got in a 50′ row of Peruvian Purple fingerlings (about 2 1/4 lbs) , plus a small bed across the garden for the few French fingerlings I had left over from last year.  I seemed to remember that I’d ordered more–so I checked when I got home: yep–I’ve got 5lbs. of Australian Crescents coming from Pinetree Garden Seeds.  Where the heck am I going to put those?

Well, I’ll figure it out when they arrive.  I also seeded a 50′ x 3′ bed of lettuce: black-seeded Simpson, lollo rossa, buttercrunch, plus cilantro to finish off the last few feet.   Also sowed a similar-sized row with my favorite Easter Egg radish blend (the one with pink, purple, and white all together).

Today looks promising for a little more work before the promised rains come.  Next on the agenda: carrots, beets, rapini, turnips, arugula.  I’ll be breaking out some lengths of row cover for some of these crops–either to protect from big swings in the weather, to keep the soil moist for lengthy germination times, or to isolate from my garden’s most rapacious predator–flea beetles.

Right on cue–about an inch of heavy, wet snow.  In case you’re wondering–the peas will be just fine.  So will the spinach.  These cold hardy crops shrug off this sort of weather.

We had a hard freeze after I planted last year (and with bare ground)–but the early-seeded crops were fine.  A little snow is nice, too, because it metes out its moisture more slowly as it melts, making a nice germination cover.

Spinach is so hardy that a few years ago I was harvesting fall spinach by breaking the frozen leaves off the plants.  They thawed out and were none the worse for it.

If you get a good patch of fall spinach going, you can harvest the plants and cover them loosely with mulch before the serious cold and snow sets in.  In the early spring, remove the mulch, give them a little fish emulsion shower, and watch them take off again.

The only thing spinach just cannot take is heat.  That is why it’s so important to seed as early as possible–with the incredibly fast heat up in these parts (what you call spring, we call the time in which our weather vacillates hourly between winter and summer), spinach bolts to seed very quickly.

Fall is the same deal, which is why I’ve found it difficult in the past couple of years to get a good patch of fall spinach going.  By the time it gets cool enough to sow it, the hours of daylight are reduced enough that it’s hard to get it mature before mulching it down for winter.

Spinach does not germinate well in high temperatures–and we tend to have only small sporadic windows up until about November when sowing fall spinach would be feasible.  By the time October or November rolls around–it’s too late to bother.   Which means I end up kicking myself when there’s a massive California spinach recall in the fall and I don’t have any to sell.

So, spring sowing it is–and we’ll see if this year there’ll be a late August/early September cool and rainy window for a fall and overwinter crop.

I just have to remind myself this late summer about how good fresh spinach would taste in March, and have my seed ready.

That’s when you plant peas–and that’s what I did today.  About 90 row feet of sugar snaps down the cattle panel trellises I constructed last year–topped with a light covering of straw mulch to keep the soil from crusting.

The earth was tender–a little more moist toward the east end of the garden that gets less sun due to the neighbor’s shelterbelt.  There were a few earthworms and sow bugs active already.

Didn’t get any of the potatoes planted yet–I spent the rest of my time out there working on clean-up projects.  Harry got the heavy duty push mower going to break down some more of last fall’s weeds, so I pulled the rest of the tomato cages out of his way.

On tap for the next round of planting–shell (English) peas, lettuce, cress, arugula, cilantro, chard, potatoes–oh, just a whole slew of stuff.  I am trying not to overdo it too much in this first week and let my body get into the swing of things gradually.

But, I do have 100 bales of straw mulch on the way–so I guess my shoulders are about due for a bale-tossing workout.

Maybe I should call my massage therapist in advance.

Last night, three of the five Vermillion Area Farmers Market Board members attended the VAAC Board meeting to sort out whether or not the Farmers Market would be granted a lease for this season.

The Farmers Market Board had asked me, as president/spokeswoman, to see if we could renegotiate with the current Arts Council Board now that the accommodations didn’t seem to be a factor (see my earlier post–Farmers Market denied lease at the VAAC).

But, despite our earlier rejection letter by the previous VAAC Board which cited the VAAC’s “regrettable” inability to offer the  same accommodations as in the past years, I was told yesterday by a current Board member that the real reason the farmers market lease was rejected was personal rancor against me.

This rancor carried through into last night’s decision.  I had been asked whether or not the Farmers Market lease should even be on the agenda, since it wouldn’t pass.  The reason it wouldn’t pass: the old board and their cronies are still really mad at me for asking them to step down, and they were applying immense pressure on the current board (which they hand-picked to replace them in a private meeting–see my earlier post) to reject us as well.

I said that I preferred it be on the agenda so that if there were personal issues with me–they could be aired openly and honestly (kind of like I’ve tried to voice my own gripes openly and honestly) instead of this grade school business of “we don’t like her, and we won’t like you if you work with her, either.”

But, apparently, those past board members felt comfortable enough that the new board they picked would do their bidding–none of them showed up last night.  At the previous week’s meeting, they did show up, but waited until after I and the other market board members had left to voice their disapproval that the current board would negotiate with us (me) at all.

But, the market was on the agenda last night, so at least the real reason for the rejection of the Farmers Market lease (me being involved) was made publicly–which is a nice change of pace from all the behind-the-scenes maneuvering that has been going on.

Between last night’s discussion, and the calls for me to step down as the “face” of the community garden, it is ironic that just last week I was told by a VAAC board member that it would not be appropriate for the VAAC to take an official position against working with any particular person.

That seems to be exactly what happened last night.

In a way–it’s a start.  A number of VAAC members, including myself, have been calling for more open and honest communication.  While rejecting projects and partnerships because of who’s involved with them isn’t a great precedent to set, at least this board was honest about their decision-making instead of masking it behind “regrettable” circumstances.

Got my first round of spinach seeded today, and mulched the elephant garlic planted last fall with the remainder of the duck bedding left over the winter in their night shelter-box.

Generally, I think the smell of manure is a good one–it is the smell of fertility.  This stuff–not so much.  While I’m sure the garlic will love it–it was pretty rank stuff.

The gardens are pretty well set up for spring planting.  Usually this time of year I am trying to get trellises secured and running around like crazy.  I’m not saying that won’t happen–but much of my set-up from last year is going to work pretty well again for this year.

Last year’s effort in constructing more permanent beds will pay off in a lot less grunt labor early this season.  Tomorrow, I should be able to get some peas in.  We’re supposed to get a few days of rain starting tomorrow afternoon/evening, so whatever early crops can go in before that will have great conditions for germination.

Heck, I might even get a few of those purple Peruvian potatoes in!

There will be an organizational meeting for the Vermillion Community Garden Project on Wednesday, March 26, 7pm at the Washington Street Arts Center.

Those involved with coordinating the garden have redrafted the contract in order that garden plot leases will be honored through the end of the season, regardless of any possible sale of the property (which is not anticipated at this time).

You can sign up for a garden plot or volunteer to work on the gardens.  If you can’t make it but want to be involved, call Dean Spader at 624-6831.

Seeds of Change has generously donated 100 free organic flower, herb, and vegetable seed packs to be given away!

See you there!

I’m posting on this because the meeting time has changed: The Vermillion Area Arts Council Board will meet at 5:30pm tomorrow night (Tuesday, March 25) at the Washington Street Arts Center.

The time had to be changed due to a class scheduling conflict.

See you there!

The consensus: eat the crazy knobbly celeriac root.  That’s what I did, and it was fantastic!

Though all of the proffered salad ideas looked good, the chilly weather drove me to make something warm and hearty instead.

I peeled the root and cut it into 1″ cubes–boiled about 15 minutes, then added two medium-sized skinned and cubed Yukon gold potatoes and boiled about 15 minutes longer.  It ended up being about 1/2 potato and 1/2 celeriac–maybe slightly heavier on the potato side.

Then I drained the tender cubes and mashed with about a tablespoon of this great butter from Hope, MN and one or two tablespoons of thick farm cream from Burbach’s in Hartington, NE (this in the kind that comes in the returnable glass bottles).

The result was a lightly golden, fragrant cloud of celery-potato deliciousness that got better with every bite.  It had none of that bitterness that stalk celery sometimes has.  The only variation I might make next time is a sprinkle of fresh-grated nutmeg.  I was wishing I had some left to top a shepherd’s pie!

I served it with burgers made from the grass-fed steer we got last fall, topped with slices of melted havarti.   Though this meal wasn’t exactly elegant, the mashed celeriac-potato recipe would seem a good way to give a food everyone loves and all chefs tend to mess with (adding roasted garlic–adding horseradish–adding bacon) a bit of subtle flair and complexity.

So, will I attempt to grow celeriac?  Yeah–maybe not so much for farmers market sales–but for CSA deliveries and my own root cellar, definitely.  It’ll make a nice addition to the more common root veggies I grow: potatoes, carrots, beets, turnips, rutabaga.

Hmm…I wonder if celeriac would be good mashed with rutabaga?

If you are both a gardener/farmer and a lover of history and of language (that’s philologist, for the initiated), this book is the ultimate in gratifying geekery.  The title page offers this summation of the book’s contents:

“An excursion into the mysteries of botanical names; and, I hope, an answer to your friends who fix you with a glassy eye and ask, ‘What’s that in English?’” 

In its pages, you’ll find the botanical (usually of Latin or Greek derivation, or named for a botanist) names for all kinds of plants (it’s not comprehensive, but it’s pretty broad) and their meanings, a bit of history about how they got their names, and juicy tidbits about what those names mean.  A sample:

“Vinca (Periwinkle) Family: Apocynaceae

The Latin name used by Pliny, probably from vincio, to bind; referring to the long tough runners.  A genus of seven species, mostly trailing perennials widely distributed over Europe and Western Asia.  The hardy species are useful for ground cover either in sun or under trees and hedges.”

This is one of the shorter entries–it does go on to name the species and some useful cultivars as well.

A few more details: My copy was published in 1972 in New York by Charles Scribner’s Sons.  ISBN: 684-14439-5

Every time I pick up this book, I get lost in it.