Dreaming green

A New England spring - even in a mild winter like this one - can lead to some frustrating weeks of anticipation. Starting just after Christmas, the seed catalogs begin arriving, filled with tantalizing descriptions of vegetables and fruit that makes you want to break out your hoe and fertilizer.

However, less than 10 days ago, this was the state of my garden: 

See those tall, bare stalks? Those are the remains of nero di toscana kale (black Tuscan kale) that I had anticipated eating well into the winter, given its hearty resistance to frosts.  It showed much less hearty resistance to the neighborhood deer, however, who found a free feast in the remains of my garden just after Thanksgiving. Damn them. 

Thankfully, this snow retreated fairly quickly, like all the others this winter. As I watched the ground start to re-appear, the Critter & I broke out the spreadsheets and began plotting what we would be planting for this summer's harvest. 

This will be our fourth summer of 'serious' gardening, and each year, we've learned a little bit of what works up here in our Massachusetts plot and what doesn't. We combine that with what we like and don't like in terms of produce, and factor in how much we think my Bride will let us get away with planting. (the most iron-clad gardening rule in our house right now is no more than one row of collard greens shall be planted. I love them, and they are among the most bountiful and pest-resistant of crops, meaning that you're going to end up with a ridiculous amount of collards with anything more than 2 or 3 plants.) 

I've started keeping better records of what I've planted each year - this year, I intend to keep track of when I planted each crop also, and when I started harvesting from it, as this should arm me with better information for the future. 

Our garden is divided into two distinct sections.  Thanks to the Google space program, you can see them from overhead here: 

This was captured early last summer - I can almost tell the date by what crops I see in bloom. 

The three red arrows toward the bottom center point to our three raised beds, each 8' x 16' in area. (click here to see how we put them together). The red box at the top left encloses our more traditional, in-ground garden, which is probably somewhere around 30' x 50' or a little more. All told, this gives me just at 2000' square feet of garden space. (Note: the two blue dotted circles indicate where we planted the blueberry bushes, apple and quince trees (top) and where our two Concord grape vines grow on their arbor (left). There are also a few peach trees scattered about along the edges). For the curious, our ~25 hens live over in the bottom right corner below the barn. Their coop is mostly hidden from above by the oak tree in full leaf there. 

Again this year, the traditional bed will probably be extended another 8 or 10 feet in width, to accomodate 2 or three more rows of vegetables. I've been trained the hard way not to overcrowd most things - the bare earth in the springtime just seems to beg for more seeds, but you end up with healthier crops and better harvest if you give every plant sufficient breathing room. We're fortunate to have plenty of room to play around with, and I'm not really going for the absolute maximum yield per inch of space. (for those that are, may I recommend Square Foot Gardening - which probably has some good tips for practically any gardener). 

In the end, I try and create a blend of crops that give us something to harvest for the maximum amount of time - starting early with cold-tolerant greens (arugula, spinach, kale), then moving into peas and beans that sprout early, as well as broccoli and cabbage, and then into the more full-summer crops like cucumbers, tomatoes and zucchini. I always have a part of the garden set aside for fall squash and other pumpkins - I love them, but they do take up a large amount of space for the yield, with sprawling vines and large, shadowy leaves.  This will also mark the 4th summer I've attempted to grow corn. I've lost it to scorching heat once, and to marauding raccoons twice. I have some new ideas on ways to defeat these pests that I'm going to test out this year. Probably to their amusement and my frustration. But what is gardening, if not a test of wills and tenacity? 

After much consultation, planning and revision, here is our final list for the 2012 garden: 

• Radish - I always plant French Breakfast varietals. They sprout overnight, and you can harvest in 4 weeks. They're the closest thing you can get to instant gratification in the garden.
• Zucchini (a few go a long way. On the other hand, we love zucchini, and it freezes well. So I'm never really worried about 'too many')
• Corn - Butter & Sugar hybrid. Damn the raccoons. They won't discourage me so easily.  
• Carrot - This one is always request by the kids. They like the joy of digging up the big, orange treasures. 
• Spinach - Every year, I've doubled the amount I plant. We love it. 
• Collards - Every year, I've halved the amount I plant. For the sake of my marriage. 
• Squash (Acorn, Butternut, Hubbard) - Don't know Hubbard? You should. 
• Squash (Pumpkin) - I'll just plant one or two of these in a corner for the kids. 
• Watermelon (same as the pumpkin - given our northern clime, these are pretty much not worth the effort in terms of yield, but the kids love to pick them when we finally get one or two in the late summer)
• Rhubarb - This is a new one for me. I think it takes about a year to crop, so it's more about future pies than anything. 
• Arugula - one of my favorite salad greens. Crops pretty much all summer.
• Potato - Yukon gold only - it's the perfect potato
• Kale - nero di toscana
• Lettuce - Butter & Bib. Not a lot of either. 
• Cucumbers - medium sized, for pickling
• Cucumbers - longer, for fresh eating
• Broccoli - purple sprouting & 'traditional' packard
• Peas - Super Sugar Snap - great fresh, and also good shelled. 
• Green beans - Kentucky Wonder pole beans, reliable and plentiful harvest. 
• Cabbage - savoy only. I plant 3 or 4 in "spare" spots in the garden as filler. 
• Onions - red & yellow - from sets (tiny onions) rather than seeds
• Tomatoes - the last two years, I've had >20 plants each. Mostly, I opt for the bigger heirloom varieties, with a couple/three cherry-types for fun. Note: I always buy seedlings from local suppliers. This is in part because my luck at growing from seed and transplanting into the garden myself is terrible 

I also plant a few herbs, mostly in pots towards the sides of the garden:

• Basil, Sage, Thyme, Oregano & Rosemary

About the only thing left off this list are the strawberries (planted in hanging baskets on the patio) and peppers, which I try every year from seedlings, with crap luck. Peppers need more warm sunshine than we're likely to get most summers, so my garden tends to be greens-heavy. 

Other than adding a fruit tree or two (I've got to replace one apple devastated by deer last fall) and maybe a couple of chestnut saplings, that should just about do it for us this year. I've been trying to figure out how to optimize what plant to put next to which a bit better this year (I planted my beans next to the corn last year, leading to entanglement - some was good. too much was bad), and running out to test the soil warmth every few days. Most of the crops above really can't be planted until the end of April or even May. But with the soil starting to show through a little earlier this year, I can feel my restlessness to break out the hoe and marking stakes start to rise. 

Finally, this weekend, I sacrificed about five bucks worth of seed to an early planting of spinach and arugula, unable to resist getting an early start on things.

Damn the risks of a Yankee spring snowfall - I live on the edge. Especially when the reward is so very, very delicious. 

Last dregs of the autumn garden

The autumn weather in New England can be kind of hit or miss. We had snow at Halloween, but the past few days have been in the mid 50's. This weekend was down right glorious, and much needed, as we had been kind of slow to do the final clean up of patio furniture and the last little bits of the gardening in preparation for the coming winter months. 

We're still enjoying a few last bits of harvest. The Boy isn't as happy that the last of the beans and peas have gone, but he'll still help me harvest a handful or two of arugula to top a steak or a risotto. 

We still have a number of the heartier herbs available. Rosemary and thyme and oregeno. I'll be out in the garden picking fresh herbs as long as possible. Not much of this will go to waste. I was really happy with these couple of pots right at the entrance to the bigger of our garden plots - a perfect way to grow the herbs we wanted.

I don't know why I didn't plant sage this year, though - definitely going on the list next year. 

I didn't harvest nearly as much of the collard greens as I had in past years, but we still put several quarts worth in the freezer. It'll be perfect come early spring, when I'm really craving some fresh green something. 

In the meantime, I'll put The Boy to work hauling these out of the ground for the chickens. They'll definitely enjoy a bit of the garden leftovers.

My kale, though, will be fine in the ground for some time yet. A good hard frost makes this black tuscan kale even sweeter.

This was definitely one of our favorite new crops this year, and will be on the list from here on out. I'll keep coming out to the garden for a bowl full whenever we're making soup or pasta this winter, as long as it lasts.

Surprisingly, we have a bit of mint still growing under the fallen leaves. No more fresh peas to go with it (that'll have to wait for spring again), but there should be enough left for a few more mojitos, and memories of summer days. 

When I turned aroung to look for him again, the Boy had disappeared. He was supposed to be pulling up collards. I guess it all got to be too much for him, and he needed a break.

There was one other surprise left in the garden. Two whole rows of onions that I had thought a lost cause had sprung to new life in the last few weeks. I'm not sure if these will be productive or worth having or not, but I'll let them keep going until things get a bit colder for a last minute harvest. Leeks are harvested after the snow falls, after all... maybe we'll get lucky with these.

The Critter wasn't quite so productive as the Boy and I had been. But she still managed to get a little bit of fresh air in on this last, sun-drenched autumn day. 

Unpacking my hoe and getting dirty

With the first part of the garden cleared, we're ramping up the readiness for planting.

This past week saw about 20 inches of rain fall in 72 hours. At one point, when the water was rising rapidly enough for our sump pump to emit a little whimper of dismay, and the flow of groundwater streaming in through the nearly 300 year old stacked-stone foundation of our farmhouse basement was creating a sopping mess of whatever we happened to have left on the floor (fortunately, all the meat in the cellar is hanging), I had to run down to a neighbors and borrow a bigger wet vac. When the rain kept up for another day after that, I began trying to lay in a supply of gopher wood and looking up how many feet there are in a cubit.

But eventually, the sun came out, and we're still (knock on wood) experiencing weather in the middle double digits. It's supposed to hit the upper sixties tomorrow!

However, this is Massachusetts, I remind myself, and it's only March. I have to be wary of anything Mother Nature promises before May. While my brother, The Historian, has been calling me from his home in South Carolina, telling me about the vegetables he's already set out, we are still some weeks away from being able to safely plant our garden. April blizzards are a not unknown occurrence up here so far north of the Mason-Dixon line.

To give ourselves some sort of outlet for our burgeoning spring fever, we've taken to poring over the half dozen or so seed catalogs that have shown up at our door in the past months. Everything from a gorgeous glossy heirloom vegetable catalog to the more mundane (but still enticing) list of crossbred-for-heartiness, might-just-be-genetically-modified seeds and seedlings.

If you've never looked at a seed catalog before, I highly recommend you go find some of your own. We had a few on the counter when we had our recent cider tasting party, and I swear to you, half the people that came by spent endless minutes thoughtfully flipping through the pages, oohing and ah-ing over the colorful images of tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers. It is probably a symptom of Northern Winter Life that our neighbors all find the same, almost sexual appeal in dreaming of seeing a fresh ear of corn again.

As much as we really fell in drooly love with veg like the Turkish Striped Monastery Tomato or Laxton's Progress No. 9 Garden Pea , we had to face up to the fact that we are really not skilled enough gardeners to attempt some of these more delicate, but no doubt delicious varietals. We need things that include descriptions like "hearty" or "robust," or maybe even "it doesn't matter how hard you try, you can't kill this."

We ended up with steady, somewhat less exotic Gurney's compiling a list that contains delicious looking, but somewhat un-inspired items like "Gotta Have It Hybrid Sweet Corn," "Improved Golden Wax Bush Beans," and "These Collard Greens Will Fill Your Freezer".

Ok. I might have elaborated on that last one. (But it's true.)

In a moment of organization inspired by my Bride and the home-bound limitations of the incessant rainfall, I carefully organized our order & vegetable plans into an elaborate Excel spreadsheet, complete with notes about what farmer's market stand we'll be sourcing our seedlings from (including getting all of our tomatoes from the Concord Tomato Lady. I don't remember her name, but we ended up making the most amazing home-made ketchup from her crop last year. Gorgeous.)

With that done, I dialed up Gurney's and placed an order for $350 of seeds and such (including 2 pecan trees, which apparently you can grow way up here at this northerly latitude. Where the heck am I going to plant those? And will my Yankee neighbors know what a pecan tree is?) Either we're going to have a bumper crop of goodness this year, or I'm pissing away a bunch of money on tiny packets of disappointment once again this year.

But either way, I can't wait for the weekend. The weatherman has promised us some more sunshine!

Spring is near. And bottling

I know Mother Nature is just messing with us, but this recent spate of warm weather has gotten us all in the mood to be outside, and active, and getting things ready for the onset of green-ness that I am too busy wishing is just around the corner.

But first, let's talk alcohol. Our attempt at cider making had been percolating in the cellar for long enough, keeping our hanging meat company. I had nothing but a couple of very rough guidelines from a couple of books to go on, but I figured not-quite-five-months was about the right fermentation time, and I did what any good amateur brewer would do: I brought up the buckets, lined up the bottles, and gathered the children.

I honestly had no idea if we had managed to create something drinkable when we brought it up out of its resting place. The steps to create a hard (fermented) cider are pretty much to put a bunch of raw cider into a bucket, add some sulfide to kill off the bacteria, come back a day later with a bunch of sugar of one sort or another, add some yeast, and seal it up. Don't touch it for lots of months.

I opened this not knowing if we had created 15 gallons of vinegar or something else equally unpalatable. Like sarin gas, maybe. Fortunately, it turned out to be remarkably... not terrible. Actually better than that. It was almost... really good.

Wait, take a look again at my kids helping me bottle it all. Have you ever seen anything cuter than a 2 year old operating one end of a siphon?

We created batches of 'still' cider, and batches of carbonated 'long necks'. We painstakingly crafted labels for our brew, marking the batch that was "sweet(er)" and "less sweet". [What's the difference? Well, I used two different kinds of yeast, and two different kinds of sugar - honey & brown sugar. Unfortunately, I may have forgotten to label what went into which bucket. And so it's possible that I don't have any way of knowing how to recreate our favorite (the "sweet(er)"). This oversight on my part might drive my Bride - the Scientist by training and trade - just a little bit insane. Just a little.)

After a couple of weeks of additional carbonation time, we invited over a bunch of neighbors and friends for a taste test. Critics agree, it didn't suck. We all pretty much preferred it a little bit sweeter (the other tastes more 'yeasty' - a bit more like beer, actually. For the record, both ended up at right about 6% alcohol in the end).

Ok. One more picture of the Critter and the finished, labeled bottles. I really just took this picture to show you her shirt. You love it, I know. (If you want one of your own, go here)

We'll definitely be doing the cider thing again this fall - it's certainly not an instant gratification thing, but I'm happy as heck with the final product, all in all.

Which is good, because after a day clearing a season's bracken and crap from the garden bed, I was in need of something to relax the aches.

Fortunately, my pair of young bottlers were on hand to help out once again.

Those kids can be shockingly useful at times.