Gushing is good!

A gushing water hose—nothing more normal and mundane wherever electricity for pressurized pumping, and of course WATER, are in plentiful supply. This tiny farm is in such a place, yet the gushing hose signals something much happier, an elevated event, because it’s proof positive that the dug well that irrigates the field is back in action once again after another frozen winter.

Priming the pump is usually a mid-May thing, when freezing is over. The operation is simple enough: slowly pour a couple of gallons of water into the pump so it backfills the pipe that goes into the well, turn on the pump, and wait for it to catch. It may take two or three top-ups and retries. When water gushes, the pump is primed for the season! It’s not foolproof, though, the pipe could’ve gotten hopeless clogged, or the well-used and dilapidated pump and tank could decide to give up a seal or conk out entirely. Then the simple would likely become costly repairs or replacement. But not this time!

If the irrigation fittings look small, they are indeed. I’ve seen photos of irrigation set-ups on big farms that are full scale waterworks, orderly grids of giant pipes. Here, the setup is a 1″ plastic pipe that snakes above-ground out into the field—it’s the disconnected part on the left. The pipe can be this small because it’s only meant for supplemental low-pressure drip irrigation: not every day, not all crops all the time. And, a dug well like this doesn’t have an endless water supply, you don’t want to get ahead of its reservoir size and replenishment rate. So drip irrigation by section is the max use case, although hand watering, filling up barrels, and the occasional sprinklers can all be deployed in a pinch. Overall, 1″ is fine for a slow, steady drip!

Don’t stare

The Sun breaking through fog and clouds as a perfect white disk

It’s just the sun at around 9 am, but looking unusually crisp, a clean white disk cutting through clouds and fog. Today is set to be the first near scorcher of the year, in the high 20s C (80s F) and humid, after the overcast is burned away. While the source of all planetary light and heat seems a little muted on the brightness side—you can actually stare at it right now—for the safety of your eyesight, the smart money says, “Look away!”

A big little fix

Wheel hoe as tool carrier

Today, a tiny farming breakthrough—I found I could securely balance multiple tools on the wheel hoe, and easily wheel the whole setup between the tool shed and the field! When the tiny farm was operating at a larger scale, I’d hitch the flatbed trailer to the John Deere riding mower, load up with everything we could possibly need for a job, and drive on out. That was deluxe! But for a couple of hand tools—here, a hay fork, leaf rake, shovel—plus the wheel hoe, driving is just overkill. It’s not that far a walk. Still…guiding a wheel hoe while carrying tools is a bit of a balancing act, and I usually make two trips. This new way, using the wheel hoe as a tool carrier, flips it from irksome to fun! I figured out how to quickly insert tools so they brace each other and don’t slip out the bottom, and that was it…upgrade complete. (Yes, I could just pick up the not so heavy wheel hoe, but then, that’s what wheels are for! :)

Grow the whole bulb!

A left-behind garlic bulb from last year has set out on its own, with six cloves all making their way. Decided to leave it to see how things turn out. Not the greatest experimental venture into the unknown: in this quite heavy soil, when things are multi-planted, when it’s veg that grows in the ground in one spot, they tend to crowd and even flatten the sides of each other where they press together. This I know from experience. So expect small, maybe partly flattened new garlic in a couple of months!

Leek moth invasion update!

Garlic scape

Here we are, a week after leek moths invaded the garlic, gazing at a healthy scape. If you’re not familiar, scapes are the curling tips that emerge as the garlic gets close to harvest. They’re also clearly a favorite target of the moth larvae: they chew their way in and start tunneling down. All of the attacked scapes had to be snapped off, right as they were emerging. Happily, many also survived. Snipped when tender—they get woody if left too long—scapes are filled with a full, delicious garlic flavor, a preview of the garlic to come. Let your imagination decide how to use them! (It’s also said that removing the scapes directs more plant energy to making the bulbs bigger, though I haven’t seen that for myself.) As for the bulbs and the leek moths, this is my first encounter, so we’ll only know for sure if all that hand-picking and scape snipping worked when the garlic comes out next month.

Tomatoes just want to root

Adventitious stem roots on a tomato seedling

Most of us don’t spend much time at all looking at plant roots. Meanwhile, the things going on underground are quite wondrous. Take this humble tomato seedling, demonstrating a special power: adventitious rooting—a catchy way of saying they can grow new roots from their stems. Tomatoes, potatoes and peppers, all relatives from the nightshade family, have this ability. And? Well, if you have leggy tomato transplants, stretched from too much time indoors in tiny plug sheet cells, this ability allows for a neat trick. You can dig a little trench instead of a hole and lay the seedling on its side. Then, bury the root ball and most of the stem, gently curving up the last bit. Ta-da, a sturdy little transplant. I did this for a few leftover tomatoes two days ago. Today, I found one snapped off—wind? rabbit?—so I pulled it, revealing roots that had already started pushing out. It’s just another little bit of all that goes on in the hidden part of the garden!