Here is a picture of some land at dusk that has been relatively unvisited today by the human who loves it.
And that’s fine. Plenty of other creatures are enjoying it. I just wasn’t into it today. I had low energy and some puzzles are confounding me to the point of inaction. Where to build my proper compost pile? What to do with all the bare soil around the planted trees? (I know that bare soil attracts weeds and erosion. My current plan is to apply biochar to kill the invasive jumping worms, a thin layer of compost to add life to the soil, and then do a stale seedbed. That means allowing weeds to germinate and grow a tiny bit, then wiping them out and putting in desirable seeds/transplants. It depletes the seed bank and leaves the coast clear for preferred plants to grow. Way too long of a comment for parentheses.) I just didn’t feel like doing anything out there today, and at times it bugged me, but I have made my peace with it. Not every day will be spent outside, as much as I’d like to. In other news, I was absolutely delighted to see Chickadees nesting in a birdhouse I put up. It is on the fence to the left of this photo. I put it near a shrub because I’ve noticed that birds like to land somewhere before they enter their house. I will move the bird feeder closer to it. The feeder is full of great sunflower seeds but no one ever eats from it. I don’t understand. It is right in the middle of the lawn, so maybe birds don’t like the exposure? I’m not sure. Maybe the Chickadee family will enjoy it.
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The fruit trees arrived in the mail in a giant box on Thursday. They are bare root, which having now dealt with them, is a giant pain in the neck. I would do it again, but I’m grateful I did not order more than four trees.
Fedco catalog gravely warns that they must be planted within 48 hours of receiving them and that the roots cannot dry out. Friday we dug holes, Saturday (today) we planted them, and then I realized we planted them too high! So tomorrow we will have to reposition them. All of my horticulture education warns against planting trees too low, so I erred on the opposite side and the graft was about 8 inches above the soil, when it’s supposed to be 2. We are tired and delirious. Trying again tomorrow! I am fascinated by the plants that come up in my yard, and sometimes they mystify me. So, in case you feel the same way about your plants, here's an ID rundown of some plants you might have in your yard right now. Getting there! The first two pictures are the front yard. The vegetable bed is done. (I might mix in some regular potting soil, since it is pure compost at the moment). The cute windy path in the front garden is done. I decide to spread a thin layer of compost over everything in order to get some life into the soil.
In back we have a few hugelkultur mounds, which are logs covered in wood chips, leaves, then soil and compost. The wood decomposes over time into very rich soil. The mounds are planted with seeds which will eventually grow and hold the soil down. I used red and white clover, phaecelia flower, and, honestly, a few packets of microgreen seeds because I ran out of the other stuff and just needed a bunch of seeds to throw on them. A hose is laying out a path in the backyard. I was going to dig it down and put woodchips in it, but I might just leave it as a grass path because I’m too lazy/focused on other things. A woodchip path is way nicer to walk on if some soil is removed before it’s laid, as opposed simply piling woodchips on top of the grass. Found invasive jumping worm babies in several places. This was very gloom-inducing, but when I start to feel bad about macro-level things like uncontrollable invasive species, I remember to trust the mysteries of the universe, vow to do the best that I can with what is within my control, and then go think about something else. There will certainly be plants that survive an environment overcome by these voracious worms, and I will have to find what they are if I can’t find a way to control the worms. Alternate title: You Can’t Sit On The Couch For A Week And Think You Can Move Compost All Day. And Then Again The Next Day.
We got a delivery of four yards of compost from Grillo Services in Milford. I’m very glad we had it dumped on a tarp, but I wish we had gotten it on the driveway. I moved compost for hours the first day we got it. And then I iced my arms and back, rubbed Arnica gel on them, put heat on them and then ice again. ...And then heat again. And then I shoveled again the next day because compost weighs 2,000 pounds a yard and that was four yards sitting on my worm-filled vegetable bed. I did not want to crush those babies. By Day Two I felt good. At the end of Day One, I felt really discouraged in a way I think is worth sharing. They way I felt about the giant pile of compost in our front yard is similar to how I felt about the humongous pile of wood chips we got last fall. (See the third photo for reference.) Defeated, embarrassed, and unsure. Compost is easier to share, though, and we’ve made some neighbors very happy. After hours of moving compost, I started to make choices I was worried I would regret, and it’s possible I have created extra work for myself. The explanation is too long and stupid, so just trust me. Making bad choices bothers me. I made a careful plan, I spent lots of time reading so as to avoid making mistakes. But there are so many variables that it’s hard to make decisions, and I often end up doing extra work, or doing things in the wrong order. I am not a perfectionist, but I grew up getting 102s on spelling tests and I just want to get a 102 on everything in life. But I’ve never done anything on the scale of this yard project before so I can’t get a 102. Probably not even a 90. Adam gave me some wonderful perspective when we talked about it that first night at dinner. He said it would take “freakish luck” to do a yard project like this without making any mistakes. He also reminded me of the platitude that mistakes are how you learn. I have a hard time accepting that because I do NOT want to learn my lessons in our front yard for the whole neighborhood to see. And that’s sort of why I haven’t shared this blog widely. It’s mostly just friends who read it, and almost exclusively my Nana and Granddaddy who make comments. (Thanks, guys!). In my heart, I know that this is the most interesting stage of the project. The messy stage, when you don’t know how it will ever come together. The drama of mounds of organic material decomposing everywhere to feed the soil. The mystery of what the neighbors think of you. The suspense of not knowing whether you will achieve your vision. This is the stage everyone will go through if they plant a large garden on a budget, and it’s valuable to show, even if it’s messy. Especially if it’s messy, because everyone will know it doesn’t have to be perfect, and you’ll get somewhere beautiful eventually. It’s boring and it’s cheating to just unveil a perfect yard. It shows no respect for the process. Shoveling compost today, I thought about how new ideas are only weird until everyone adapts them. Sure, people are building edible landscapes in rural areas, but it hasn’t really happened in the suburbs yet. And it needs to. Our millions of suburban yards have to turn into pesticide-free habitat for wildlife and food-bearing plants. I genuinely believe that the fate of life on earth depends on it. Not ONLY on that, on lots of other things too, but a collective mindset shift towards environmental consciousness would work wonders. Maybe in ten or twenty years yards like this will be commonplace. Then my anxiety will have been put to good use— helping pave the way for people to feel comfortable doing what I’m doing. As Adam says, “people are ready for humility.” Well, this whole project is humbling to me. I hope to continue to report on it with humility, reflection, and a respect for the process of learning. Now we can really start planting stuff! Seedlings bought from a nursery (if you must go, with everything that's happening in the world) can start getting transplanted into the ground. Anything they’re selling now would be cold tolerant enough to handle our temperatures. The seeds I planted mid March are not blowing me away with their performance—I don’t have a professional growing situation, so I’ll chalk it up to that. They get a little cold because my scrounged greenhouse has some holes in it! Most nights I’ve been bringing them indoors, which might be a shock to their systems. Now that nights are hovering around 40 degrees, I’m going to leave them in the greenhouse.
I also sprinkled some compost on top of them for extra nutrients. The more delicate seedlings will get watered with diluted liquid fertilizer. Oh, and here’s another reason your seedlings might not look like those that come from a nursery, especially any perennials you’re growing—growers manipulate the plants to get them looking amazing. Not always in a bad way, but in ways that home growers don’t have the equipment for. Some of their potted perennials are a few years old and some of them have been given various fertilizers (those little green balls you see in the dirt are inorganic, slow-release fertilizer). So a home grower can’t really approximate nursery-grown stock. Eventually all the plants will grow lush and beautiful, but it will take longer if you’re growing at home. That said, I will probably start my vegetable seeds two weeks earlier next year just based on the slow start they’ve had. My timing for when to plant seeds has come from the Johnny’s Seed Catalog and The New Seed Starters Handbook by Nancy Bubel. Ok so the reason you’re reading this post: here's what you can plant now, in early April. (Say, April 1st-10th) The best days for planting based on moon cycles will be those right around the full moon on April 7th (April 5-6 and 8-9). Seeds absorb more water at that time. I admit that I planted peas today (April 3rd) because this gentle rain is absolutely perfect for seeds or transplants. Indoors in cell trays The only things you’re going to be planting indoors in pots now are warm season transplants, such as:
Seeds you can plant directly in the ground
Seedlings you can transplant into the ground If you bought them, or grew them yourself and they are large and healthy.
Here's a run-down of what you can plant now.
(Note: I'm following the moon cycles for planting this year. It's an ancient way of planting that believes that the moon influences all water on Earth, not just the seas. So you plant seeds at times when they will absorb the most water. This is like a level-up if you've been gardening for a while. If you are new to vegetable gardening, don't worry about moon cycles!) It’s too early to plant seedlings unless you have serious protection! I'm talking two layers of row cover or hoops covered in plastic. Natureworks is selling onions, and even those should wait in their cells to be transplanted in late March or early April. March 19th-March 24th 2020 are not great days for planting based on the moon, either indoors or outdoors. March 26th-29th will be favorable moon cycles, and they will be nice rainy weather for planting outdoors. March31st-April 2nd will also be favorable moon cycles. What to start indoors mid March:
What to sow outdoors mid March:
What to start indoors late March:
What to sow outdoors late March:
Many favorite vegetables are best seeded in April. And brussels sprouts, I learned this year, are best seeded in May for a fall harvest. We hold off until April to seed things because the soil is still quite cold, despite the air growing warmer. So stay tuned! Oh, and you can always grow microgreens or pea shoots indoors under lights or in your sunniest windowsill. Microgreens are usually marketed as such and come in larger packets. Thickly spread seed over soil, grow as normal, then cut the plants down when they’re a few inches tall and eat them! This is a great nutrient boost in the winter. You've got a pile of seeds from last year, or maybe three years ago. Which ones are still good?
Most of them are. Most seeds last for 3-5 years when kept in a cool, dark location. I keep mine in a box in the dining room cabinet. The only seeds that lose almost all viability after one year are chives, onions, leeks, and parsnips. (I’ve forgotten to harvest parsnips in a container and they went to seed the next season, so I just saved them. I did genuinely nothing in this equation, so it’s very easy to save parsnip seeds.) Corn is surprising, lasting only 1-2 years. I grew some heirloom corn last year with seed that was at least three years old. The highly bred sweet corns are probably the ones with a short shelf life. All the rest are said to last between 3 and 5 years, as seen by this High Mowing chart If you are unsure about the viability of your seeds, you can test them by submerging them in water or wrapping them in a wet paper towel for 24-36 hours. (Make sure the paper towel stays wet). If you see any signs of life in that time (white roots emerging or seed husks swelling) they're still good. If not, it may be time to get new seeds. What, you’re not bored yet? You want to hear about some really long lasting seeds? Ok, if you insist. I've heard stories of tomato seeds germinating at 15 years old. Again, these are probably heirlooms. Beans, too, last quite a long time. One time I was planting beans at my aunt's farm and ran out of seed. She went to the shed and gave me a worn out packet and said to keep planting. When I asked how old they were, she said they were ten years old and seemed unconcerned about it. I didn't stop back in to visit them, but I'm sure they grew. Those are my seed stories. It is my goal to share knowledge of growing vegetables with people, so I’m starting a series called Vegetables to Plant Now where I will share what I am planting, how to do it, and tips. The seed sowing season actually got away from me a little bit. It begins in February with onions, and there are several things that like to be planted in early March. (All of these are indoors unless noted.) Mid February until mid March
On March 11th I planted:
Here is a little photo essay of what I did. Seeds and supplies are sold at Natureworks and we open again Thursday March 19th, the first day of spring. Gardening with Raynaud’s syndrome: a condition that affects circulation in fingers and toes2/29/2020 The other night, I hurt my hand mildly before improv practice and arrived late. I told my team about it as I took off my mitten. They screamed when they saw my hand. “Yeah,” I thought in satisfaction, “I have a legitimate injury.” I took off my other mitten and they screamed again. Both my hands were bright red and purple. “I have bad circulation,” I muttered. I guess I don’t get glory points for an injury after all. Raynaud’s prevents proper blood circulation in fingers and toes, and I pretend I don’t have it. My mother has it, and her fingers can turn pure white in the winter. Mine has gotten worse as I’ve gotten older. My toes can turn white if I don’t protect them properly, but I mostly see the effects in my hands. When they get cold, they turn a dark purple, almost dead-looking, which heals to a swollen red that lasts for weeks. If my hands get intensely cold, even for a minute, I get chilblains, an affliction of Victorian orphans. My knuckles or fingertips turn bright red and swell to twice their size, and get itchy when they’re hot and painful when they’re cold. (It’s a cool party trick to hold up pinkie so swollen that it looks like the other one belongs to a baby. Except when the people at the party actually care about you they get worried.) Out of 25 people who work at Natureworks, FOUR have Raynaud’s. That is more than I’ve ever met in my life. One works in the office, and one was smart enough to become a houseplant expert, but a landscape crew leader and I work outside a lot. I genuinely do not know how Lisa, the landscaper, survives out there. But I will share with you the things that have worked for me.
As you can possibly tell, I am writing to also remind myself to do these things, since they are easy to forget. Once summer rolls around, this will not be a problem and I can be outside like a normal person—but still wearing gardening gloves. Everyone should wear gloves when gardening. There’s an infinite number of things your could accidentally touch out there, and some of them you don’t want on your skin.
Raynaud’s is no joke (talking to myself again, here). It can lead to arthritis in joints that are constantly too cold. Stay safe out there! |
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