A follow up on the ickies..

In the days that have followed this application, I have come to notice something else that Steve recommends in the book, though I had not fully dared to acknowledge until now... as it becomes very clear, evident, and obvious.  One of the best growth-enhancing "products" for your garden's health is, in fact, pee.  Yep.. every day, run-of-the-mill urine.  Yick.  As if the blood, bone, and poo wasn't bad enough?

Collard Greens

My study was very simply conducted in a small, discrete area, over the course of several weeks this spring.  Pepper, my small but mighty male chihuahua, boastfully marks the same spots on our daily walking route to ward off other dogs, cats, possoms, and men (he has a thing for ladies-only, go figure) from entering or approaching our front and side yard.  Over the course of the last few weeks, I have noticed a couple of patches of thick, beautiful, abnormally healthy patches of grass which just happen to be located in the pee spots.  Now, this could just be coincidence, a chicken and egg sort of thing, but my guess is that, in fact, our dear pal Steve might actually be onto something.  So maybe, on a particularly bold day, I'll test out this theory and purely for scientific progress, of course, report back.  And only then will we truly know the sick, yet intriguing, pleasures of plants...

Pepper on watch duty

Adding blood, poo, and other ickies to the garden...

It's funny that, after thousands of years of human cultivation, development, and improved seed varieties how simple, and yet icky, the best sources of nutrients are for promoting productive plant development in one's garden.  Over the course of the last several weeks, I took the opportunity to reflect on our lessons from last year (and maybe if I get motivated, I'll actually share that).  And, after vetting several sources, searching through online journals, websites, and blogs, and purchasing the pretty magazines at the end of the isle at Wholefoods, it's come down to this.. one person's waste is anothers treasure.  There is no cuter or more pleasant way to put that.

A Tulip pronouncing spring.. bring on the rain!

The sources that I have come to trust the most, and maybe this is more personal preference than fact (I guess we'll see how things turn out!), are the old guys who knock "new" technologies like artificial fertilizers (introduced in the 1950s.. but still not proven to actually work long term), monocropping, intensive planting schemes, and other new-fangled concepts that sound really good (like Topsy Turvy) until you realize that in the battle of man versus nature, nature always wins.  In other words, according to the conservation of mass, you cannot create new energy, you just borrow, beg, and steal it from other places.  And using chemical fertilizer, pesticides, and herbicides, (in addition to a whole host of other bad things) strip the soil of its nutrients kind of like Bernie Madoff did with a bunch of old people's money.. in other words, 'don't worry soil, it sounds like a good idea because it is!  I'll hit 'ya back next time, I swear'.. meanwhile the soil shakes its head in objection, knowing full well that the "borrowing" is chronic and, in the end, everyone loses. (see Organic vs. Chemical Fertilizers article)

The "icky" additions to this year's garden bed

Long winded sidetrack later, my garden adviser for this early season has been Steve Soloman's Gardening When it Counts.  And, thanks to his advice, I bought some icky things for the garden.  And by icky, I mean:  bone meal, garden gypsum, dried blood, chicken poo, and garden lime.  In a highly scientific process, I dumped them all into a bucket, mixed with a garden hoe, and lightly spread the mixture over the beds which are weeks away from our first planting.

Another Year Another Garden!

As fellow Bostonians are well aware, this spring has been unpleasantly chilly.. a neverending winter filled with constant snow and record-making curb piles, ice outs, and lots of days "working from home" with shovel in hand and hot cocoa on the stove.  So now that we have finally reached that time of year that we like to call "spring," the constant cold rainy days have left our garden a little...well.. uninspired.  After all, how can we, as responsible urban gardeners, bring little seedlings into a cold, rainy, horrible spring?  It would be irresponsible.. reckless.. miserable... ok fine, it would be a little less fun than last year.

The Ring!!

But, alas, food must still be grown and farmers always work outside of accuweather forecasts... so it's time that we get to it, suck it up, and start some seeds!  And not even a short engagement and upcoming summer wedding are enough of an excuse to push this off any longer (it is April, after all!).

So we set aside the invites, put a pause on the music selection, ignored the seating charts, neglected the dress shopping, drafted the favor making.. oh my! And planted a few little seedies for our summer of love.

The seedies are started!

Of course we had all of the usual suspects: heirloom tomatoes of several varieties, pickling cucumbers, hot jalapeno peppers, green culinary peppers, italian basil, and standard garden variety spinach. We also cut some corners and purchased round yellow tomato seedlings, front-yard broccoli, a second variety of thyme, and italian flat parsley. And, in honor of our big day, I scattered, sifted, and started seven varieties of flowers in our front bed, several seed pockets, and the front yard window box. 

 
Hopefully with a little luck, moisture, and some S-U-N the little seed-ies will have time to catch up to the more punctual garden counterparts!

First Harvest

On Sunday Elsbeth and I had our first, albeit modest, harvest of the season.  Two of the four strawberry plants in our front bed had each produced one scrumptious red berry.  We split the bounty and spent a few short moments enjoying the spoils of our labor.  And while our garden will certainly not produce enough berries to make it past the hands (and stomachs) of whoever picks them, I am ever more eager to PYO (pick your own) until my red-stained fingers become crippled in arthritic pain...well, it's a possibility anyway.

 .. our next strawberry treat ..

 What happens when you forget to pick your broccoli?    ...   Flowers!

A much larger yield came from the proud and patient broccoli crowns which were picked from their center-right portion of the front bed.  The broccoli has special meaning to us as small urban garderners who choose, if sometimes by accident, to draw others into the beauty, wonder, and anticipation of growing one's own food.  It is a unique plant to choose for the front yard in a small but crowded side street where buildings compete with one other in the game of interior square-footage, fences, and concrete walkways in place of  open green space.  I'm not placing criticism on that choice, but it is interesting to consider what others find to be important.  

Our broccoli, in all its glory, has served as the cornerstone and benchmark of growth and progress since the first weekend of the Granite Street Garden.  It is tolerant to cold weather and thrives on little sun, occasional drought, and generally does best when you just leave it alone.  Even when temperatures were cool and the only weather we knew was grey, cloudy, unpleasant days (you know, the kind that make you say - "why do I live here, again?"), the broccoli still managed to keep our interest.  Matthew, our 12-yr old neighbor, recently mentioned that he always checks on the broccoli, in particular, to see how much it has grown.  It is a point of interest, a show-stopper for its upright stance, our sergeant at arms.  And now, it's lunch!  Just in time for the tomatoes and squash to star making things really interesting...

In a trusting moment, I took Elsbeth's suggestion to try the broccoli greens with the mind that she had very recently lead me to try several wonderful and surprising leafy treats.  But, alas, I cannot claim to have enjoyed or even really appreciated that experience.  Broccoli greens are bitter, thick, and rigid.. and that is exactly how they taste.  Even after I spit it out, the residual disappointment actually prompted me to reach for some weeds (yes - edible, nutritious, weeds) to take the sting away.  I'm sure if we had not gone a little mad with greens (red lettuce, pea tendrils, and a lot more) at the farmer's market just the day before, we might have actually tried to make the greens edible.. maybe... or maybe we would have stared at them for a few days until wilt took over anyway.

Admiring the harvest..

Botany of Desire

Today I came across a quote from Michael Pollan, my narrator-extraordinaire on morning walks to work.

"Sooner or later your fingers close on that one moist-cold spud that the spade has accidentally sliced clean through, shining wetly white and giving off the most unearthly of earthly aromas. It's the smell of fresh soil in the spring, but fresh soil somehow distilled or improved upon, as if that wild, primordial scene has been refined and bottled: eau de pomme de terre. You can smell the cold inhuman earth in it, but there's the cozy kitchen to, for the smell of potatoes is, at least by now, to us, the smell of comfort itself, a smell as blankly welcoming as spud flesh, a whiteness that takes up memories and sentiments as easily as flavors. To smell a raw potato is to stand on the very threshold of the domestic and the wild. (241)"

— Michael Pollan (The Botany of Desire)

In developing this post, I learned that PBS has an ongoing series inspired by the book.  While it is not currently on air (at least in my area), you can watch archived episodes on pbs.org!

More to come on potatoes and the miracle which is a spud...