Fieldgreens

Fava Flowers

2010-05-31T22:50:00.004-05:00

Wisteria!

2010-05-31T22:20:00.009-05:00

It smells so sweet.

This is my wisteria's 4th year with me, and it's first bloom (I have two plants on different posts of my arbor).

I pruned the heck out of it last spring and late winter, following the advice of some you-tube videos. I'm still not sure it bloomed where they said it would, and whether my pruning was instrumental or incidental. But I don't care, because it's beautiful.

Here is an early bud, when I was still just hoping that that's actually what it was:

No Dig Potatoes

2010-05-08T23:02:00.001-05:00

I don't have a pile of tires or potato bin yet, but this is an easy way to grow potatoes.

1. let your potatoes go to seed. (Last year I bought some early from the co-op and stored them in a paper bag in the basement. This year I just failed to keep the last of last years crop of purples potatoes from sprouting. I kept them for months, hoping they'd make it to spring and...

2. throw sprouted potatoes, or chunks with at least on sprouting eye a piece, on the ground. (You can also bury slightly if you feel like it).

3. cover with hay, or clippings.

4. keep topping off throughout the summer with clippings, to keep the plants growing higher, and creating more height for the roots and potatoes.

Fungus Gnats!

2010-04-26T10:43:00.002-05:00

While tending my seedlings this morning after a long weekend away at the DFL convention in Duluth, I noticed some movement in one of the pots where the seeds had failed to germinate. Upon very very close inspection, I saw teeny tiny white/clear worms moving about. I dug around and didn't see them in any of the other failed pots (and most of the babies are doing great), but they are pretty hard to see. A little digging on line and I think I've got it: Fungus Gnat Larvae. As soon as I ruled out a few other pests and came across gnats, I remembered the little flock of gnats flying around my seedlings a couple of weeks ago, which I just hoped weren't a problem. Turns out they are - the larvae live on roots and seeds and can spread quickly. All my pots have the same organic mix this year, but I only washed and didn't bleach them, and may not have done a very good job with some. I'll have to do some more poking around in the dirt and on-line tonight to see if I can and should do anything to protect the other plants. (Other than take away the infected pot(s))

I'm blushing

2010-04-17T19:36:00.005-05:00

My neighborhood friend and huge garden resource Russ Henry profiled my garden in his latest newsletter, The Seed. It's a very glowing interpretation of my handiwork. I haven't felt like such an earth-mother since I was on the verge of leaving college to go bake bread on a commune. Thanks, Russ! (Okay, I never chose a commune. But I had a big book - before absolutely everything was on the internet - listing communal farms all over the country, and I was circling and day dreaming like mad.)

The best part of being interviewed was going back to look at some of the "before" pictures of my garden.

I inherited a great garden from the previous owners, in fact it's totally what made me notice this house, which they had just decided to sell, but hadn't even put on the market yet. But that's a story for another post. I was lucky though, because that garden stood in for details that as a first time home buyer I wasn't quite tracking. What I didn't realize is that the garden was so great because, with a house that faces the street, I had an alley on the East and a neighbor's yard to the West, and a low house to the North, meaning a ton of sun for the even bigger garden that was hardly even a twinkle in my eye at the time. Anyway - when the garden is a big swath of dirt this time of year, I can wonder if I was wise to tear up all that yard. But looking at those pictures, and reading Russ's insistent tribute, reminds me how much I love my garden.

Who are you and where did you come from?

2010-04-17T19:31:00.004-05:00

So now that my camera is back in swing, I can ask, what the heck is this?

I found it when I cut back the "winter interest" (dead stalks) on the side of my house this spring. I feel like it has something to do with a kegger. Do college kids run around dropping off odd garden ornaments these days?

Odder still: someone made this. Like, came up with the sketch, got a green light, mass produced it, was like "people will totally buy this." And then, people did.

Camera is back, and so is Spring!

2010-04-17T19:01:00.008-05:00

Finally! My camera broke last year, and I have been having trouble setting up a new cheap one for a while. It' finally working, and it seems "good enough for who it's for," as my mother always says.

Just in time to capture my bulbs!

So disclaimer: I am not a fan of showy bulbs. I like more delicate colors and small simple flowers. But I love free and I love scent. Free got me many of these non-species tulips which revert over time to red and yellow (from the former owners, and from the Minneapolis Parks, which toss their bulbs every year). Scent got me hyacinth and these fluffy daffodils. I like single layer narcissus better, but these smell wonderful, as promised by Mother Earth Gardens. Totally worth it.

By the way: Dear Squirrels: Thppt! I covered each patch of bulbs with chicken wire last fall, under the dirt. Hah! Guess you had to take a bite and toss aside something else all winter, eh? No more expensive (or free) bulbs of mine for you! (knock on wood)

Moderation in all Things

2010-03-18T11:19:00.003-05:00

Isn't moderation in all things a little immoderate? I think that's where I'm at. And also I'm more than moderate in more things than I'm merely moderate in. But this year, I am trying to moderate the garden. I'm only doing moderately well.

While updating my seed chart in preparation for indoor starting next week, I noticed that between two catalog purchases and a bargain seed bin at the end of last season I have a dozen seeds planned for my greens/roots bed, and um, 5 beans and 2 peas planned for the bean bed.

It's not the most outrageous ambition I've ever had for the garden. I'm just surprised because in honor of my July wedding I'm cutting back to one variety of green bean this year. It's in honor of the wedding in two ways -

# 1, my sweetie really likes blue lake beans (as do I) and finds the other varieties I've been growing kind of blech and generally taking up space that could be growing him more blue lakes to eat.

# 2 oh yeah, the whole moderation thing: can't handle preserving, cooking, etc. the # of varieties I've often had.

But, I guess while I was busy keeping myself from buying other green bean seeds, I went out and bought favas and 2 kinds of dry bean. The fifth variety isn't my fault - my mom asked me to grow her some edamame and how can I say no to my mom who does so much for me?

Final bean topic of the day - I did save my overflow green beans last year and they are fine, particularly the blue lakes. But I can see why some beans are privileged over others as drying beans, and that's yet another reason that I'm not growing such an overabundance of varieties and quantity this year. Blue Lake, and two heirloom varieties of dry beans - Yellow Indian Woman and Manteca Prim. Of course if I find space I do have a small handfull of the Hutterite soup beans I saved from last years crop which was too meager to cook...

Finally! Tomatoes!

2009-08-15T11:52:00.004-05:00

(And some purple potatoes.) So according to my plant markers, the yellow one up front and marbled one in back are both Gold Medals !? The one in back is what I remember from last year. I must have picked up a stray at the garden store and forgotten about it. I can't complain about the date, I've had Matinas (the smallest globes, except for the cherries) trickling in for a few weeks now, when no one else had any. But it's much later than usual to be getting my first baskets-full.

Beans, beans, beans!

2009-08-15T11:42:00.004-05:00

I swear, when I am planning my beds in the winter (and the spring, and the summer, and the fall) I feel panicked, panicked, that I can't possibly have enough space in this bed for that crop or that bed for this crop. It always seems there will not be enough to put up, to eat, to some day reach that elusive goal of not buying vegetables I can grow at home. And then comes August.

I haven't exhausted my taste for green beans yet, but let's say it is strained at the moment. Luckily I've barely started freezing. Since I didn't make it out to pick all week, there are a lot of overgrown beans on the vine, which got me wondering if I could just let them dry and use them as soup beans. According to this great discussion, I can. Can't wait to find out if they are any good, especially since the beans I've tried to grow for drying have so far not done well.

Stuffed Nasturtiums

2009-08-01T12:32:00.002-05:00

The closed nasturtiums on the plate are filled with a dollop of local goat cheese mixed with my chives and salt. Our new favorite appetizer! They are beautiful and delicious, and I have nasturtiums coming out my ears right now, so it's nice to add them to the so far slow-cool-summer harvest.

Mmm, Zuchini Pasta.

2009-07-30T11:57:00.002-05:00

As is pasta - like strands of zucchini, not pasta with zucchini. Look:

It's honestly closer in texture to al dente pasta than most non-wheat pasta substitutes. It's a million times better than the other vegetable pasta - spaghetti squash (about the only squash I don't really like). I use a tool like a vegetable peeler but with little teeth on one side of the blade. It cuts the zucchini into strips. Then I sautee it in a little olive oil and garlic until it is getting translucent and releases it's liquid. Sometimes I strain it (you should) and it gives off a beautiful bright green zucchini broth that I haven't figured out what to do with. The pasta is delicious with simple simple tomato sauce. The pot in back is my last jar of grilled, frozen tomatoes from last season, pureed with a stick bleder and cooked down with a little garlic - c'est tout!

Since inventing this dish (I've since found other suggestions for it, but I swear I came upon it on my own, when I saw the "julienne-er" in the store) I've never felt overwhelmed by the zucchini crop. Sometime I even wish for more!

Potato Green Bean Salad

2009-07-20T12:27:00.000-05:00

Golden Bacau and Blue Lake beans, radishes from the farmer's market, and peruvian blue potatoes, with a lemon and chive dressing.

Squash Blossom

2009-07-15T12:24:00.001-05:00

Peruvian Happies

2009-07-15T12:18:00.001-05:00

(Peruvian Blues in front of a mixer-cover hand quilted by my grandmother)

Next year in the garden...

2009-07-14T12:04:00.006-05:00

Inspired by Skippy's Garden, I'm starting this list of things to try (or avoid) next year, and I'll add to this post as the year goes on. Maybe this way I'll actually look at my list in time to implement it :)

This all comes to mind because I've just been caught up with that peculiar mix of anxiety and eagerness that accompanies so many of my garden plans - the desire for perfection! the desire to try it now! - by stumbling across this flyer on:

Cover Crops from the nearby Dowling Community Gardens. I have been mulching with cocoa bean hulls, because they look lovely and I like the smell, but they tend to compact and both mold and split. The larger problem for me is actually the splitting - they cake up and then split into chunks, leaving ample room for weeds to get through. And putting on a thick enough layer adds up in $$. So for that, and because I am dangeroudly lazy about adding soil ammendments etc., this fall I want to plant a mix of cover crops to use as mulch and to enrich the soil.

Raised Beds - this may or may not take place, and may start sooner than next year. I'm picking up a load of nice old bricks from the ReUse Center later today that could be used in this service. I haven't wanted to raise the beds because I like the idea that I, or a future owner, could move them. But I have no desire to move them or to move, and in the meantime the beds are a bit of a mess and that adds to the difficulty of keeping the paths free of weeds. (Ha!) So I'm looking for the right material, that keeps the organic appearance of the garden, and is easier to move about than the big logs used by the previous owners, which I removed just last spring.

Green beans - try higher trellaces. I've been tying my own pyramids out of bamboo, but the plants want to go higher. Oh yeah, and plant fewer beans.

Okra - plant more, closer together

Happy Accidents

2009-06-23T16:49:00.019-05:00

"How agitated I am when I am in the garden,
and how happy I am to be so agitated.
How vexed I often am when I am in the garden,
and how happy I am to be so vexed.
What to do?
Nothing works
just the way I thought it would,
nothing looks just the way
I had imagined it,
and when sometimes it does look
like what I had imagined
(and this, thank God, is rare)
I am startled
that my imagination is so ordinary....

Mystery cucurbit - a rotted watermelon?
the legacy of the tossed remains of the last
of my overzealous end-of-season squash
purchase? - growing in the compost
(surely a sign of my compost failure, which
sign I instead find delightful)

Potato flowers from gone-to-seed organic
Peruvian Blues cut up and tossed in a bed.

"... Next year (that summer, this summer!)
when I see the results of my handiwork,
the results of my vexations,
I feel sure I will be irritated
with the joy of success
or deeply vexed
by the results of my miscalculation."
- Jamaica Kincaid
Excerpts from "Wisteria" in My Garden (Book):
(line breaks added)

Selfed coreopsis in front of a
thriving flax.

Sprout!

2009-05-06T17:33:00.004-05:00

As if I couldn't get over-excited enough about a regular year of seedlings, the honorable Heart of The Beast Theater landed on "Our Common Treasury" (dirt) as the theme for Minneapolis' May Day Parade.

The resulting "Sprout" section of the parade sent out a call for seedlings to be carried through the heart of Minneapolis and distributed to anyone in the crowd of thousands who would plant them.

Coincidentally I had decided to take a rare year off from helping with the May Day workshops (in which hundreds and hundreds fill the HOTB theater - gutted just for this purpose for one month and tranformed into a giant art studio for the people - to make papier mache and cardboard puppets and costumes from small to gargantuan in the month of April. It makes my heart swell just to remember it.) So these (below) became my contribution (kale, plus a few peppers and maters). There they are waiting for the car-ride to meet their destiny, and then nestled in a rapidly-filling room next to the workshop the night before, where I helped label seedlings and covered plastic containers with brown paper:

and the seedlings on parade (one of many boats, carts, and wagons-full), cheered on by spring-hungry Minnesotans:

Full Swing

2008-08-19T16:15:00.001-05:00

All Garden, No More Yard

2008-08-09T16:10:00.000-05:00

Grasshopper with Tomatoes

2008-08-08T14:07:00.004-05:00

Tomato Season

2008-08-08T13:23:00.004-05:00

Clockwise from Left: Black from Tula; Gold Medal; Red Siberian (the red one in the middle too); Cherokee Purple; Matina (the little guy); Black from Tula again; Green Zebra

Going to Seed

2008-08-05T14:44:00.004-05:00

Interesting things can happen when you ignore your garden in the heat of summer...

Clockwise from top: Lettuce, Chard, Arugula, and Radish

On Beauty and Being Just

2008-08-04T14:16:00.004-05:00

Apologies to Elaine Scarry for co-opting the title of her book for this post. As she's also a gardener, I hope she doesn't mind. I came across this beetle on my tomatillos while I was spraying away for cucumber beetles (which for some reason, in my yard, don't eat my cucumbers at all anymore, but devour my tomatillos wherever they sprout up.) Cucumber beetles are lovely, I should take a picture sometime, before I kill them. And they lay tidy little rows of angled bright orange eggs on the underside of my tomatillo leaves. So lovely until they hatch and turn into oozing fleshy maggots. I used to have a real hard time killing them until I saw them in that stage, but they do so much damage even my cruel bias towards beauty couldn't save them. And don't worry, they spray is organic. The kind of organic that eats through the shells of little cucumber beetles and dries them out. "Natural." Anyway I was on the hunt for cucumber beetles when I came across this lovely.

I of course let him live because there was only one, and he couldn't mean any harm, sitting there glistening so pretty. I saw him later in the day over by the door, suspiciously close to the arbor. Little did I know he is in fact a Japanese beetle, responsible for turning about an eighth of my grape leaves to lace. (They eat out the leaf flesh but leave the vein structure intact). I discovered this only later while researching the source of a seemingly unrelated gall on another grapeleaf. I'm still not sure if I could have brought myself to kill him. My grapes are still thriving and every year it's been the same - just some of the leaves, not all. But truth be told, if I found him in some grubby or multiplous stageI wouldn't be so logical or forgiving - it's his beauty that leads me to be fair, if I can call it that.

What gall!

2008-08-04T13:33:00.001-05:00

I looked up from my Sunday Times to see this hanging overhead. I can find similar "maple spindle galls" on -line but nothing on grape leaves. These are only on this one leaf on this plant. Not knowing whether they are a damaging creature or not but suspecting yes, I am about to drown the leaf (or worse if necessary).

Look closely to see the little yellow worm emerging from the gall I split open. One per package, wriggling away. Mmmm.

These I am less sure are a gall. They have no wriggling worms inside and each knob seems to be a single seed with a pit like sliver of a cavity in the middle. I am woefully uninformed about my grapes. I have not removed these yet and I'm not sure if I should.

What comes up

2008-08-03T18:36:00.006-05:00

It's been an incredibly slow summer in the garden. At first I thought it was all the cold spring, which has made a difference for everyone. But on top of it I think the 3 cubic yards of composted manure I added to my new beds (the 4th yard is still on the floor of the garage) led to prolific growth for some plants, stunted growth for others, and restrained flowering and fruiting for most. I don't want to go all Hobbesian but maybe the rich environment doesn't lend itself to vegetables feeling the need to survive? And I know this is not really an accurate interpretation of Hobbes but it comes to mind that maybe for some the nasty, brutish and short life inspires urgency. I guess that's more Conservative Republican. Big compost keeping the little man down.

But not the turnips. The turnips I planted on a whim in the midst of a rare turnip craving (I.E. heretofore non-existent) thinking they would come up in time for fall soups. Unlike my carrots and beets which have scarcely grown at all, this root has been happy and fast. Alas I am not quite yet in the mood for turnips. I harvested just 5 - two small that were too close to others, and three good size ones - and the greens were outlandish - oversized, lush, indulgent - nothing like the frugality I associate with the humble turnip (thanks to Socks for Supper - a good read at any age). I blanched and froze them looking forward to vitamins in winter. The roots I sliced and browned with garlic. Passable - but I'm looking for other summer appropriate options when I pull the rest of them - in time to lay down a second crop for fall.

Defrosting

2008-07-20T18:10:00.000-05:00

Half of the last bag of frozen green beans from last season went into a salad of millet, white beans, peas (from the farmer's market, I didn't grow enough) and toasted walnuts with a walnut oil and thyme vinegar vinegrette. This years' crop is just trickling in but I'm holding out hope for late summer. Also shown are vases of flowering dill and arugula.

Outdoor Creatures

2008-06-25T23:37:00.006-05:00

I guess the whole mystery rodent threw me for a loop. Summer is well under way. The garden has long been dug and planted. But I lost my will to record it for a while. The good news is there are friendlier, lovelier mystery creatures outdoors in the garden. Well, so far friendly - how much damage can one guy do to a whole grapevine? And if you've any idea who this guy is or who he will become, drop a line. The other good news is I've never had so many grape bunches on my vine - was it the pruning? Age? Luck? How many will make it past the squirrels and into adult grape-dom?

Radish, Morning

2008-06-25T23:37:00.004-05:00

Discovery

2008-04-23T12:18:00.004-05:00

I'm not sure it's a shrew. I'm positive I haven't stopped it, whatever it is. Nothing seems to tempt or satisfy it like the now completely eradicated celeriac, but it continues to appear every single day, nibbling on just enough so I know it is still around, I am still at risk. But I'm not at all sure it's a shrew. I'm just sure that that's a possibility, and that in itself is inordinately comforting. Disturbingly comforting.

I know of the possibility of a shrew because somebody mentioned it and then I googled it and found that, according to Wikipedia, it is a small mammal, not a rodent, which is the size of a mouse or smaller and with a longer nose. The one pictured, also from Wikipedia, is not likely the one I have, if I have one at all, for it only lives in Asia and Europe, supposedly. But shrews in general have characteristics that would lead them to eat all of my celeriac in a couple of days and dig holes around several other things: "In general, shrews are terrestrial creatures that forage for seeds, insects, nuts, worms and a variety of other foods," "They are very active animals, with voracious appetites and unusually high metabolic rates. Shrews must eat 80-90 per cent of their own body weight in food daily." Great. "Female shrews can have up to ten litters a year, and...have a gestation period of 17–32 days." Double great.

I can think of no comparison to my feeling at relief at discovering this probability more apt than being in Mexico City in March of 1995, on my way back from Nicaragua, coinciding with international women's day and the arrival of a caravan from Chiapas to Mexico City. There was an enoromous march. March is inadequate to describe it, it was a congregation of people from the central plaza out for farther than was relevant, on foot or by eye, to measure. This was just after the time that the Mexican army had "discovered" that Commandante Marcos was in fact a German professor. They had sent thousands of troops into the forests of Chiapas, armed with this new information, his birth name and his rough facial description, to find him. In Mexico City the streets were overflowing with signs depicting everyone from ants to Jesus in Marcos' typical ski-mask. "Todos somos Marcos" the signs said, we all chanted. The delusion of the military was highlighted, mocked. As if. As if to know his name was any relevance to finding him in the forest.

I don't mean to belittle the Zapatistas by comparing the violence of my distraction at a potential shrew to the violence of the Mexican government against the indigenous of Mexico, nor to identify with the military in this case. I mean, as usual, to belittle myself, if anyone. And to reminisce on a moment a long time ago in my life that moved me. But mostly to chide myself for my comfort at discovering that there is a thing called a shrew that it would make sense if my ongoing seedling destruction was caused by. There is a thing called a shrew that shrinks the likelihood of my craziness, or of the digging and disappearing of seedlings being a sign of something. There is a thing called a shrew that could do what is being done to my plants, and in fact would likely do just that if given the chance. It still bothers me that I have not caught it, but I feel relieved to know it's potential name. And that relief, I also notice.

Invader

2008-04-19T12:18:00.006-05:00

It was warm a couple of days ago, and my tomatoes have outgrown their shelf, despite two raises, so I moved them and many of my established seedlings to the porch to make room for more new guys. That meant I forgot to go to the basement for a couple of days, and when I stopped in Friday morning, before heading to work early for a long working weekend + Passover weekend, I found this (see above). Somebody has been eating my celeriac.

I feel silly. I noticed some nibbles on the chard when I moved it upstairs, and what appeared to be some holes dug along side a couple of plants. I don't know what I thought. I thought I didn't want to deal with it. I thought it might be the box elder bugs that were suddenly appearing in my basement, even though that didn't really make any sense.

What it was was apparently something that doesn't like chard that much, but really likes celeriac (celery root, good substitute for potato in a soup, also good chopped small in a salad). Of all the plants I started way too early this year, celeriac actually needed it. I grew it last year from seed for the first time. I've never seen it offered anywhere as a started plant. I started it early, as recommended. It grew thin and leggy, but once separated and re-potted it fleshed out a little. Eventually transplanted outside it grew into a lovely neat (unplanned of course) border plant for my bean bed. But I hadn't started it early enough and by the end of the summer each "knob" (one per plant) was only a couple of inches across. In an attempt to let it grow ever larger, I waited too long and lost most of it to a hard freeze.

So this year I started extra early, but someone likes celeriac even more than me. I'm mystified.

It's not Samson (see http://www.sammysleeping.blogspot.com/) because there are also a couple of brand new tomato seedlings on the top shelf whose first leaves have been delicately gnawed off without tipping over the filament-like stem, not to mention the tray and everything else, with only an inch of room between the seedling and the lights, and that's not Samson-knock-everything-off-the-bedside-table-with-one-swipe-to-get-a-snuggle's style. It's not mice because there's no mice poop in sight, and I have mice elsewhere in my house, so I know whereof I speak when I say, they don't just decide to not poop for a while because they are eating something they like.

It's a mystery critter and I'm upset. Seriously upset. Surprised at myself upset - I'm sad. I've moved everything that can stand to be out from the lights up to the porch (a closed, windowed porch - it's still relatively cold here) and the rest I've surrounded with mouse traps, even though it's not a mouse. I feel distracted, invaded, perplexed.

Starting Over

2008-04-06T12:18:00.010-05:00

The tomatoes that I started in February are outgrowing my grow-space. I've raised the shelf above them twice. Today I sent several extras over to my mom's grow-lights. I'm afraid if I take them out from the lights with another 6 weeks to go before planting, they'll get too tall struggling to get light through the windows. I have taken a few into my kitchen though - my favorites from last year, the Black from Tulas, are curling and losing some leaves and it looks like one of the Green Zebras has or caught the same thing. I'm not sure what the condition is or how it spreads, several tomatoes suffered through it but still produced last year. To be safe I planted one more BFT and one more GZ along with my Matinas and Gardener's Delight Cherry Tomatoes this weekend.

The seeds came in the mail a month ago, but I decided to wait until the official "4-6 weeks before last frost" window when you are really supposed to start tomatoes indoors. Matinas are usually the earliest fruiting. I get them from Cook's Garden and they produce beautiful uniform 2" round tomatoes with strong tomato flavor. They were my only variety not to split and crack in the exhausting rains last summer that turned half my crop to mush for weeks. The GD Cherries are sweet but not too sweet and grow in cute little pairs side by side along the branch, making them very easy to harvest. All of which is just to explain why I am still planting tomatoes when my basement is already full - I'll just give the extras away.

Starting Over part two

2008-04-06T12:18:00.009-05:00

My seed starting area is more elaborate than it was a couple of years ago, but it's no Martha Stewart work station and it doesn't need to be. It is after all, an area in my basement where I work with dirt. I am a big fan of ignoring instructions and warnings if they seem inconvenient, but here are a few rules I've decided are useful:

1. Use good seed starter mix. I got some great organic stuff with rice hulls from my local garden store. But only after (during my frantic February seed-starting) I picked up a bag of Miracle-Grow "Organic" potting soil during a late-night Home Depot run for lights. Not only was the potting mix too chunky for starting seeds (I grabbed the wrong bag) but I am highly suspicious of its organic qualifications, and many of the pots developed a sheen of white fuzz and green mold before I dumped them and re-potted with the good stuff.

2. Mix it with a lot of water before putting it into the pots. A bucket you don't use for other things is good for this, so you don't have to scrub the dirt out.

3. Do wash the pots, if you are re-using them. All my tomatoes immediately got some sort of rot my first year, when we reused old dirty pots and old potting soil. They produced for a while but succumbed soon after the first crop of the season. Last year I washed the pots and none of the tomatoes had significant problems.
4. Put the "labels" (masking tape and a sharpie) on the pots before you fill them, unless you are a very neat person who will not slop dirt and water that will keep the tape from sticking and the sharpie from writing.

5. Once the plants germinate, keep the lights CLOSE to the plants. These are the toughest, squattest tomato plants I've ever started, which is lucky, since as I've mentioned, they still have a long wait before it's warm enough to stick em outside.

One instruction I have found not that useful, in my experiments: putting the whole tray of newly potted seeds in a plastic bag until germination. The trays I did this with stayed too wet. I find draping the trays (or the whole shelf, if you have a big set-up as I do) with plastic works just fine if you check on them daily. Either way uncover them as soon as the seedlings are up so they get light and the plants aren't damp.

I also started some seeds in egg cartons this year, the first time since grade school I think. I've found they dry out very easily so you have to commit to water them at least once a day.

And with that, I'll return to my dirty workspace, to pot the okra seeds I've been soaking since yesterday - a new crop for me.

12th day of Spring

2008-04-01T12:18:00.000-05:00

Kale

2008-03-23T16:35:00.001-05:00

Eager

2008-03-23T16:29:00.005-05:00

Gardening in the middle of winter may be like how women's magazines describe going to the grocery-store hungry. It seemed logical in January that I should take advantage of some time off of work to build a better shelf for starting seedlings in my basement. When it nearly fell over and crushed me weeks later, it seemed obvious that I should never try to build a shelf again, and instead replace the deadly one with store-bought metal. Once that was assembled, it seemed obvious that I should plant something on it - all the somethings I would like to eat earlier and more of than last year. Thus I arrived at this moment, at the very snowy end of March, with 20-some envelopes of vegetable seeds in waiting, and 5 trays of plants in various stages of infancy, including two trays-full of healthy heirloom tomato plants that may not really want to wait another 6-8 weeks to be planted. I was advised, after this mid-Febrauary flurry of planting, that really truly I should try not to plant my tomatoes outdoors until June, when they will thrive in the warm soil and produce healthier plants. That is the opposite sort of advice from the kind of person I am. Over my three planting seasons in this garden (this being the third), I have been slowly inching up my interpretation of our "frost-free date," due to global warming and all. So now I'm just waiting to see if my eagerness will produce an early crop, or a bunch of sun-starved leggy tomato plants. In the meantime, they are beautiful.