Here we are growing food, so it stands to reason that what we eat while working in the field matters. Like today’s midday meal, a slightly updated ploughman’s lunch I suppose, minus the beer. It’s an entirely supermarket-sourced concoction. Ham, cheese, and romaine lettuce on a bagel, with regular yellow mustard (French’s style, and French’s in fact). There’s no reflection of what’s growing in the garden. And future prospects of adding in the homegrown only really includes lettuce. Substantial, tangy, full-sun field grown lettuce would be magnificent. Other than that, getting hold of local baking isn’t hard, but costly. As for ham and cheese, prices are stratospheric for true small-farm local meat and dairy. One way or the other, we’ve all gotta eat—things will look up as the field fills out, as it always does!
Mike (tfb)
Wind and more wind
At this point, end of month, I’d have to say WIND has been the weather theme of this May. Practically every day. Gusty enough to sometimes threaten the more delicate seedlings, and to put off ladder work on the big greenhouse. Here, the wind has blown off the garlic’s row cover. Not a problem as far as protection from the nocturnal leek moth horde that may be lurking, but more work to put back. Complicating this little matter, the garlic is growing up and straining at the cover, gradually pulling it out from being fully weighted by the rocks. Since the cover should stay on through June, that will have to be solved. Stay tuned!
Brave garlic
A few garlic, left out of the row cover leek moth protection tent, to see if the moths do arrive. I haven’t seen their eggs, or the moths, in person, just the busy boring larva. The eggs are apparently tiny and laid singly on the leaves, so hard to spot. I check daily. Pretty sure these brave guys, ready to take one for the team, are so far leek moth free.
Morning carnage
Weed tree, trash tree, table-eating tree, time to step back! Cutting back the invading box elder from the work table, using probably antique garden shears, the best tool at hand, seems kind of brutal, but this is tiny farming. The whole idea is to guide some space, some land, to your liking. It is kind of militaristic in nature, there’s no getting away from that! Take over, suppress what you don’t want, install what you do, and hunker down to maintain position. I’m kidding, of course, actually thinking about farming and gardening in those start terms is not helpful or enjoyable, IMHO, you layer on your framing and do what you have to do.
The garden shears only work well on the pencil-thick still-green upper stems, but that’ll do for now. Loppers—lopping shears, with long leveraging handles—would be perfect here, the tool for the job, though at the base this tree is probably a little past even them. So then, a pruning saw. I have neither, so a real saw, a sharp knife, and some bending and twisting may be involved for a proper cutback. Or, much as I don’t want to invest in a box elder battle, I’ll get ahold of a pruning saw. I wonder how much the roots can expand, year after year, without any leaves to feed them…
Weed tree
This volunteer tree started growing there maybe four or five years back, and is now almost literally trying to eat a table where I work on gear and put out seedlings, blocking the morning sun, getting in the way. Plus, what’s that dense little micro-environment hosting that might crawl or fly directly onto the veg plants?
It’s known as the box elder, a scrappy, scrawnier member of the maple family that’s described unaffectionately as a weed tree, or even a trash tree. That’s cold, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t know or wouldn’t care about what people call it. It’s too busy growing at an insane rate for a tree, at the same time spreading its multiple stems. In some countries, it’s officially classified as invasive, a menace to society.
Cut it off at the ground, which I’ve done every year since it appeared, and its resilient root system cheerfully sends up more. I don’t have time for a root excavation and eradication project at the moment. You’d think I’d have gotten to it earlier, but this growth snuck up in the last week or two, as the weight of the new leaves bent its weak and spindly stems over the table. Guess I’ll chop it back again for now. Carnage!
Pot experiment
Which pot is better for tomato seedlings, the narrower, deeper, or the shorter, wider one? This is an experiment I’ve started probably half a dozen times over the years, then got so caught up in everything else going on in a typical growing season, I never followed up. Maybe in this quieter repair year, we’ll get to a result!
The general idea is simple: roots like to grow down, looking for food and water. Give them a headstart in the down direction, and you should get better results. Earlier fruiting, bigger fruit, overall more productive plants, especially good if you have a shorter season like here, where fall frost will put a halt to the toms. But there’s a big tiny farming BUT.
Labor is that big thing. If you have hundreds of toms to transplant, especially in our heavy soil, digging that extra couple of inches actually takes time and effort that adds up. Having tomatoes a week earlier, if that proves out, won’t offset not getting the transplanting done on schedule in the first place. Adding extra work for a cool idea is a tough one on a hand-run farm that’s not optimizing in terms of thousands of tons of produce like a big commercial, mechanized farm.
I’ve usually gone the other way. Grow toms in plugsheets that would seem ridiculously cramped and tiny compared to the substantial home garden seedlings available for five bucks a pop at the garden center. Get them in the ground early, buried up to their first leaves. Frost risk? There’s always row cover! Let them get on with it from a young age.
Still, experiments are fun, and when you learn stuff by trial and error, first-hand, the knowledge usually finds a way to become useful. Hopefully this year, there will be a solid deep pot vs shallow result!
The tree at the end of the field
The sun’s almost set but the howling wind and bursts of heavy rain aren’t slowing down. It’s pretty wild out there, with ankle-deep marshy wet patches hidden in the grass. Stepped out for a last look around, and the tree at the end of the field caught my eye as it usually does. It stands in the middle of a large pasture, far from the woods, at the point where the main veggie beds end. It seems quite independent, holding back on the leaves when the other trees are already green, exactly the same shape year round, with leaves or without. Lots of big trees, sheltered in the surrounding forest, were snapped like twigs in the big wind and ice storms of the last four-five years, but this guy remains unbothered. I’m glad because it’s a central part of the tiny farming scenery here these last many years. Would be sad to see it snapped!