Gardening 101

November 25, 2009

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Letting Go

A sad mess of dessicated branches soon to meet the compost bin is all that remains of my beloved ‘Chinese Ornamental’ hot pepper plant. I had grown fond of this little hot pepper plant and was sad to let it go.

I started the plant from seed two years and lovingly nurtured it through the dry, dark days of winter to bring it outdoors in the spring. The plant began as an experiment in how productive this variety could be in cramped quarters, but it’s resiliency and determination won my heart. My little plant turned out quite a harvest in its first year, despite life in a 5″ pot. Following its first winter indoors, the plant produced new growth, bloomed, and eventually turned out a fine second crop of teeny little hot peppers. Those hot peppers have since been harvested, dried, and divided up into little envelopes as gifts for gardening friends. The cycle is complete.

However, I didn’t intend to write a eulogy about my dead ‘Chinese Ornamental’ hot pepper. My real intention for this post is to talk about letting go of plants.

At the end of any gardening season, I dutifully bring all of my houseplants indoors for the winter, adding in a couple of tender herbs or hot peppers that I’d like to try my hand at keeping inside. Over the last decade I’ve gleaned a lot about strategies for keeping certain plants alive in a dry, sunless apartment and which varieties can tough it out better than others through these seasonal experiments. It’s also good fun and makes the long winter without a functioning outdoor growing space tolerable.

I’m going on a month-long trip very shortly and can’t expect the friends who will be taking care of my plants to put the same effort into dutifully watering and tending to the sixty odd plants that currently live here. Keeping track of the widely varying moisture needs of each plant will be torture for them, let alone the fear of killing any of my most beloved and needy babies. I can’t expect that a certain percentage of my plants will make it through this period alive. Short, week-long trips have always resulted in some inevitable loss. I’m afraid to imagine what kind of deaths an entire month away will bring.

One of my early strategies for dealing with this period away was to repeat the mantra, “No new houseplants!” throughout the growing season, the idea being that I would not bring any new plants into the fold and potentially reduce the number my friends would be left to care for during the month we’ll be away.

How successful do you think that strategy was?

At last count the total number of new houseplants brought home between the months of May and October 2009 total just under 20. In my defense, there seemed to be a lot of temptations out there this year and a particularly high number of friends getting rid of this and that. I wasn’t about to turn away gems like this and this. And this plus, you know, 16 others.

Before bringing the outdoor plants in, I always do a big shift around and cleanup of my indoor growing spaces to make room for the plants that are migrating back inside. Not surprisingly, this year’s clean up took nine hours from start to finish. Nine hours! I will admit that I put a bit more effort into carefully nurturing each plant this year as a strategy for counteracting the difficulty they will soon face. And it was quite therapeutic.

When it came time to decide which plants were going to make it back into the warm cocoon indoors, I had to be brutal and make up for the 20 new plants that had stealthily crept into my life. And so the little ‘Chinese Ornamental’ plant that could had to go as well as many other hot pepper plants and herbs. In a feat that goes completely against my nature to keep on trying with even the most hopeless plants, I managed to toss out a few succulents that had been clinging to life for far too long. It was easier than I imagined and I’ve already forgot which plants they were. Yet for some reason I can’t forget the spider plant I cruelly discarded ten year ago.

A pachypodium that I’ve been itching to see the back of for the last five years is on my currently hit list, if only I can absolve the feelings of ruthless abandonment in time for my impending departure. After all, one less plant for my friends to care for could result in one more, much-loved plant surviving my time away. You think?

Which plants did you let go of this year?

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October 19, 2009

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Extending the Harvest

This piece was originally published in The Globe & Mail over the weekend as a part of my series on kitchen gardening.

Regarding using burlap and burlap sacks: Just to be clear, do keep them away from the crowns of your plants since they can get awfully heavy when wet. In fact, they are best used over the winter to prevent the erosion of large, open patches of soil from which annuals have been removed. Even better still, place the dead plant matter (browns) and some kitchen scraps (greens) underneath the burlap and you’ll have fresh compost on the spot come spring.

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I love a fresh, crisp fall day. Many of us would agree that it would be the best season of the year if not for the fact that it is a stepping-stone to the inevitable: winter.

Who knows what this fall will bring given the wacky weather hijinx we’ve experienced this year. But let’s pretend for a moment that everything will go as planned and there won’t be snow sprinkled on the peppers tomorrow morning (please gods). We can’t control the weather or stave off the inevitable, but as gardeners there are a few methods we can employ to hold back the effects of seasonal change and keep the party going just a wee while longer.

You’re already one step ahead if your garden is a raised bed. They warm up slightly early in the spring and tend to stay warmer as the fall cools down. A thick layer of mulch such as straw, buckwheat hulls, or shredded newspaper keeps the soil and surface roots warm through nippy nights and breezy fall days. An actual blanket made of burlap gets the job done too, but can get awfully heavy when wet so be sure to cut big holes to keep it off the crowns of plants. An even better blanket still is black plastic. The dark colour attracts the sun’s rays and the plastic holds moisture through fluke fall droughts.

In lieu of cumbersome blankets, which can be difficult to maneuver in small spaces, or used alongside them, are an assortment of store-bought and homespun contraptions that can be fitted over individual plants or entire beds to trap warm air and create the effect of a miniature greenhouse. Hoop houses are toasty-warm tunnels made of metal or plastic hoops draped with a clear plastic tarp that let’s light in and keeps warm air from escaping. You can buy them ready made from garden suppliers such as Lee Valley or make your own inexpensively using bendable metal shaped into arcs or dollar-store hula-hoops cut in half. Push the arcs into the soil intermittently to support the length of the tunnel and cover with a big sheet of plastic. Secure the plastic in place by stapling to the sides of raised beds or with clips purchased at the hardware store.

Greenhouses made to cover individual plants are called cloches. Fancy glass cloches are nice to look at but expensive at about $30-40 a pop! Never mind, you can make as many as you like in a variety of sizes for free from plastic water bottles rescued from the recycling bin. Simply cut off the bottom and set the cloche over tender greens or frost-sensitive plants you’d like to keep in the garden just a little bit longer. Keeping the cap in place locks warmth inside, or you can remove it to water your plants and let heat escape on particularly sunny days.

Cold frames are the way to go if you’d like to get a shot at keeping particularly cold hardy greens such as mâche, kale, spinach, and arugula producing food straight through into the winter (and beyond). It’s really nothing more than a low-tech box with a hinged glass or plastic lid. The trick is to dig the box at least a few inches into well-draining soil and give it a south-facing position. Open the lid when it gets too hot, and insulate both the sides and top with newspapers, straw, and old burlap sacks when night temperatures drop below freezing. They’re not exactly practical when growing up on a roof or in pots but compact versions set on top of a planter box will ensure at least a few extra homegrown salads this fall.

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October 14, 2009

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Fruits of Passion

The other day I happened upon a store that was selling four different types of passion fruit (passiflora) simultaneously. While I have tried some of these types separately before, finding four at once posed an excellent opportunity to judge them against each other.

Then I figured why not try to collect the seeds and grow them while I’m at it? I have grown passion fruit vine in the past but have never tried to start them from seed. This will be an interesting experiment. The trick seems to be to start the seeds fresh, straight out of the fruit so I’d better get on it quickly. Dried, older seeds can take ages to germinate, although I figure it’s worth the experiment to try the seeds in either state for the heck of it just to see what happens.

The other negative I expect to come up is that the fruit I bought are probably commercially grown hybrids. As a result I can’t be sure of how the plants will turn out. However, I’m not worried about it since I’m growing for the flowers, not the fruit. If they germinate, great. If not, oh well.

The Results of the Taste Test:

Photo by Gayla Trail All Rights Reserved
Golden Passion Fruit (Passiflora edulis var. flavicarpa)

Apparently this belongs to the same species as purple passion fruit but the taste is very different. In a word, yuck. However, I am reticent to leave that as my definitive judgment. When imported, these kinds of tropical fruit are often tasteless and horrible compared to those picked fresh off the vine. Based on online photos, I’d hazard a guess that ours was simply not ripe yet. I’d like to try this type again under different circumstances.

Banana Passion Fruit (Passiflora tripartita var. mollissima) or (Passiflora tarminiana) aka Curuba

I did not care for the fruit to be honest, but I’m willing to chalk it up to produce picking error on my part. Chances are it just wasn’t a good sample. Regardless, this is the variety I am most excited about growing. The powdery soft, pink flowers dangle from the vine and remind me of plastic caps that covered the string of lights on the Xmas tree when I was a kid.

Purple Passion Fruit (Passiflora edulis)

I’ve tasted this type of passion fruit both here and purchased from a farmers’ market for mere pennies in Mexico where I am sure it was ripe and straight off the vine. The taste was comparable and very good in both conditions. It’s sweet with a sour kick. The seeds are crunchy and edible so you might as well just eat it all since they are difficult to separate from the gelatinous fruit.

The flowers of this species are your prototypical passiflora, at least in my region. I say this not to suggest that they are dull, simply that this is the vine most commonly seen for sale at corner shops and garden centres here in Toronto. For many years this was the only species I could find locally, until the demand rose and other varieties started to appear.

Granadilla (Passiflora ligularis)

I often see this type sold in Latin American food stores. It is the best tasting of the lot as far as I’m concerned. It has the sweetest and least sour taste and the seeds have a very satisfying crunch. Its droopy, purple and white flowers are very unusual and remind me of a of sea creature.

Growing Passion Fruit

Passion fruit vines aren’t hardy to colder, northern regions of the world, but with a few measures you can keep them alive for years and years. I grew one in a very large container (about 14″ deep) for several years consecutively and even managed to produce a tiny, inedible fruit from another variety during one particularly warm summer. It may have been tasteless and almost empty inside, but I sure was proud of it. Passion fruit vines requires a longer summer to produce real fruit, but it is still worth growing for the flowers.

Oh, the flowers. There are so many incredible flowers in interesting shapes, colours, and intoxicating smells. One could devote their entire growing life to this genus alone since there are hundreds of different species kicking about across the world.

Passion flower vines grow big and lush very quickly. As a result they need rich, fertile soil to flourish. I have found small, straggly plants growing in horribly dry, nearly dead soil in vacant lots in Mexico. These plants were alive, just not very nice to look at and the fruit were impossibly tiny. Passion flowers also need a lot of sun and decent moisture and humidity. If you plan to grow these indoors in a really dry apartment or electric-heated house I would suggest giving them a spray now and again through the winter months when the air is driest.

Overwintering

In the past, I overwintered my passiflora plants by bringing their containers inside just before the first frost. I forced them into dormancy by cutting the vine back hard down to the lower branches and placing the pots in our cool (but not freezing) hallway where there is dim north facing light. Basements and cold mudrooms also make a good location. I watered the soil every once and a while to be sure the plants didn’t go dry, but tried to keep them on the dryer side of moist. The plants went back outside in the spring once all fear of frost was behind us.

I know others who have simply grown passiflora indoors year round in a very sunny window. When it got to be too big and unruly they would cut it back hard and start again.

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August 13, 2009

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Special Order for Comfrey

I recently wrote about the nutritional benefits of mulching and fertilizing with sea kelp. A commenter mentioned using comfrey, to which I replied that I am a big fan of comfrey as a fertilizer and would recommend it as a mulch, although I would suggest chopping it up or drying first since the leaves are very large and would form a dense mat when wet.

Comfrey is definitely worth growing as a ready made source of potassium, magnesium, and phosphorous if you’ve got the space. The trouble is it is awfully aggressive and will take over where ever you plant it, and then some. This is why I don’t grow it. I do however, have a secret location where I go every year to harvest a bit to make into liquid feed. That was until this year when I went to harvest from my secret stash and discovered it was no longer accessible. Noooooooo……

The tally so far: Summer is too wet and too cold, the tomato harvest is mostly crappy, and I can’t get any comfrey. The horrors.

But then, a happy turnaround. The other day I ran into a fellow forager/gardener. The subject of nettles came up which lead to comfrey and my recent loss. She mentioned that the farm she works for has a huge patch of comfrey that they use for making their own fertilizer. All I had to do was pay for the time it takes her to pick the leaves. Two days later I rode over to a local market and picked up a big box of comfrey. And while it did rain briefly, Monday was oppressively hot and humid so I stopped at the hardware store on the way home and bought a fan for my office window. Then I balanced a box of comfrey and a fan on top of my bike basket and walked it home because I am not adept enough to ride while balancing both, unlike those dudes you see balancing a twenty-four case of beer (we call it a two-four around these parts) on top of the turned around handlebars of their 10-speed with one hand and a six pack dangling from the other. While I’m on the subject of death-defying balancing feats on a bicycle, I once saw a guy balancing a massive rug on the handlebars while riding. On another occasion, I witnessed a guy with a TV, although that didn’t work out and the TV smashed onto the road.

And that, friends, is the story of the week summer finally arrived (we’ve had sun AND heat for days!), hope returned for our tomatoes, and I got my comfrey. Things are looking up.

Photo by Gayla Trail All Rights Reserved
1. Chop up the comfrey with a pair of sheers or scissors and soak in a tub of water. I put a brick on top to hold it all underneath the liquid. 2. Let it sit for a day or two until it gets stinky and the leaves are broken down. 3. Strain off the leaves and put them in the compost bin or bury them in the garden. 4. Use the remaining liquid as a fertilizer by spraying on the leaves of your plants or pouring into the soil around the roots.

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August 6, 2009

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Mulching with Fresh Kelp

I traveled to Rhode Island a few weeks ago on what was a whirlwind 24 hour (including transport time) trip to shoot a food gardening segment for the show Cultivating Life. I’ll tell you about that some other time. They had ducks!

However, what I would like to tell you about today were the planters I saw sitting outside of Coastal Roasters in Tiverton, Rhode Island when we stopped so that I could be properly caffeinated with real coffee (I am a terrible coffee snob) before braving six hours in an airport that reminds me of the movie Logan’s Run. Because that’s the only Logan I know, and The Carousel is not the mental image I prefer to have before flying. Sure, we’re all just going to step onto this “plane”, defy gravity by flying high in the sky and land safely at our destination. RIGHT.

Except that I clearly lived to tell so back to the planters. They were mulched with FRESH kelp, from the sea. In fact, the coffee shop sat next to the water with a view of a small, pebble beach. I could see kelp while I sipped my coffee. Just sitting there. This is the kind of little detail about traveling to new places that I get abnormally excited about. One does not have to buy (as I do yearly) a bag of dried kelp or liquid kelp concentrate that has been shipped from some unknown place. No, one can just step outside and scoop up a handful for plants that are growing within a few feet. Here was the view:

And here is the container with a thick layer of nutrient-rich, fresh kelp laid on top of the soil as mulch:

Photo by Gayla Trail All Rights Reserved
Please forgive my terrible photo. This was taken with my crappy point and shoot digital and it does not read contrast well. The blown out white thing is a crab shell. Also a pretty good fertilizer! And somewhat decorative too.

It’s pretty, don’t you think? I have never seen such colourful kelp! The stuff I get in a bag is always the same uniformly-coloured grey/green.

Kelp makes a great mulch and plant fertilizer. Here’s why:

It’s loaded with potassium and a bunch of other trace minerals. Potassium is a container gardener’s friend since it is an overall plant stress reliever, and container plants generally tend to experience more stress than in-ground gardens.
It’s got plant growth hormones in it that can help your plants grow stronger.
Kelp breaks down into the soil very quickly, conditioning the soil, improving texture, and fertilizing all at once. Yes please.
It does not carry weed seeds, unlike hay (and sometimes straw when it is mislabeled. Boo).
It does not share diseases with land plants that could be spread to your garden.

I’d suggest rinsing off the salt and salty sand before adding it to your garden but a lot of seaside gardeners say they don’t bother and their plants are fine. I’d also recommend not taking too much from any one area since there are lots of critters that depend on the seaweed that washes onto the shore for their food and shelter.

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You Grow Girl™

Books by Gayla Trail

Letting Go

Extending the Harvest

Fruits of Passion

Special Order for Comfrey

Mulching with Fresh Kelp