Tripod and Pea Staking

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Staking is one of those topics that I was sadly unable to cover in the Grow Great Grub book due to space considerations. I covered it pretty thoroughly in You Grow Girl and I have to say that years later, and having experimented with other methods, my go-to cheap and cheerful method both in the ground and in containers is still the tripod. I find it exceptionally stable, especially on my roof where the spring and later fall winds can turn epic. It is also the cheapest and most accessible — most of us can find a source of long bamboo poles close to home for less than a dollar per pole. I have even found the occasional multi-pack at the dollar store for even less.

    The tripod method is simply 3 or 4, or sometimes more, bamboo poles (branches work well too) set into the ground at an equal distance around a plant or within a container and then pulled together at the top and held in place with a strong piece of string or wire.

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I have fashioned riffs on the tripod for tall plants and climbers including tomatoes, sweet pea, morning glory, pole beans, peas, and cucumbers. I add string or other supports depending on the type of plant I am growing. In 2007 I grew 16 tomato plants and several cucumbers by building 4 sets of 4 tripod stakes supported by 4 poles around the top as cross beams. The added support proved to be unnecessary and drove us nuts all season long as we continuously (and painfully) ran into those stupid cross poles with our necks and heads. A single indeterminate (vining) tomato plant was supported by each pole and I strung mesh along one side that supported the cucumbers and gherkins. You can read more about that over here.

p.s. That’s the ‘Variegated’ tomato in the foreground/left. You can just make out the white splashes in this small photo.

I have even made smaller versions using shorter poles to prop up heavily laden bush beans.

But I didn’t intend to talk about tripod staking today so I’m not sure why I am preambling with that. Today’s topic is pea staking. Of all of the easy, or what I coined “artfully lazy” methods in You Grow Girl, I like pea staking best, most especially when it comes to propping up it’s namesake: peas.

    Pea staking is as simple as locating a bunch of twiggy branches (messy end growth with plenty of small twigs and branches) and then setting them into the soil with the solid end down. Next, plant your seeds in and around where you have set them into the soil and wait for the climbing plants to hitch on and eventually cover the branches in greenery.

This method works both in the ground and in pots. While bare, it appears orderly and decorative in pots, but can just look like a bunch of branches stuck in the ground if used in a large, empty garden bed.

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

Last year, while walking home from the greenhouse, I came upon a large bundle of bright red, freshly cut dogwood branches. I had about a minute to brainstorm projects I could make with them and whether or not it seemed worth the effort to drag that bundle all the way home. In the end I decided that the dogwood was beautiful and chances were good that I might never come across sidewalk gold like that again. I walked a treacherous gauntlet back to my abode, and despite nearly poking the eyes out of hundreds of hipsters and small children, I was right, they were worth it. I haven’t seen a bundle of any branches, let alone dogwood branches that nice since.

I used all of the branches up; some in big pots as below and smaller branches in smaller pots. They made the pots look like something was happening while they were empty, and the red provided a beautiful contrast with pale green pea plants as they entwined themselves in the branches.

Here’s how it looked when the peas were fully mature. I believe this pea variety is ‘Carouby de Maussane.’

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

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Giant Cape Gooseberry (Physalis peruviana L)

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I can’t say with absolute certainty that this is what I am growing since the plant was given to me by someone way back in the spring, and she was unsure of the origin. All we know is that the plant is much larger and taller than the smaller ground cherries (I believe these are Physalis pruinosa) that are popular at farmers’ markets in this region. I have grown that plant in the past, and they tend to grow along the ground (hence the name), while the type I am growing has big leaves, big fruit, and a tall growth habit.

I’m growing the giant cape gooseberry plant on the roof in a very large, metal garbage can. It’s not a great year for tropical sun lover’s; however, the added heat from the metal and good drainage is doing wonders for it and there should be some ripe fruit soon if the warm weather keeps up.

If you’ve never tasted cape gooseberries or ground cherries I urge you to do so. They have a surprising citrus tang with a hint of pineapple. So amazingly tropical yet they will thrive in this climate and even self-seed into just about anywhere with an inch of soil. I’ve found plants coming up in sidewalk cracks and the part of my roof that is just a thin layer of gravel on top of tar paper.

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‘Gezahnte’ Tomato

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Behold, the first of the non-cherry, indeterminate tomatoes that has reached maturity for 2009. And it’s a beauty. Incidentally, I’ve managed to grow several ruffled tomato varieties this year purely by happenstance. Well, that and the fact that I have a very obvious preference for that shape.

I’m yet to try it out, but I believe this tomato is a stuffer, which means it is fairly hollow on the inside and great for stuffing with veggies and rice and baking in the oven. I’m waiting for another to ripen so it can be put to the test.

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And this is where I admit that my rooftop, container-grown tomatoes are doing pretty well this year despite the troubles that most in-ground gardens are facing with so much rain and cool weather. Don’t hate! These are the sort of conditions under which rooftop and container gardens have the upper hand (finally). I can regulate excess water, I rarely have to pull out the watering can to keep things moist enough, and the garden is warmer than gardens on the ground because it’s up high and exposed. In a typical year I am fighting the excess heat, sun, and drought but this year is almost too easy.

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‘Mini Purplette’ Onions

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Every year I go a little nuts growing large crops of onions such as ‘Egyptian Walking’ over at my community garden plot.

Onions grow easily in the ground, but they tend to take up a lot of space in containers. In the past I have grown smaller, bunching onions in pots as a way to have the odd onion on hand without wasting the kind of space that could be dedicated to coveted crops like tomatoes and basil. I like onions well enough, but nothing, not even a batch of slowly caramelized onions is coming between my mouth and a caprese salad.

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Speaking of which, I made my first caprese salad of the season last night.

But I’m always on the lookout for something different to try, just in case. In the early spring I nabbed a pack ‘Mini Purplette’ onion seeds with the promise that I would have bulbous, miniature yet mature red onions come late summer. [I got mine from Urban Harvest however, Seeds of Change has them in the U.S.]

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And sure enough, this afternoon I reached my hand into the soil of a medium-sized pot and discovered several round, golf ball sized red onions.

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I’m very pleased with them and plan to grow more next year. I grew mine in fairly deep containers (about 10″) but am absolutely certain they would size up well in a window box. In fact, I would like to see that — several little onion tops neatly lined up in a row.

Or not. Because really, who am I kidding? My gardens are anything but neat.

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Mid and Late-Season Planting

My latest Globe and Mail Microfarming article came out on Saturday. I’ve included the text below.

My editor sent a photographer out this time so there are some pictures in the printed version not taken by me, and one of me planting arugula online. I didn’t lay chickenwire over the flat as protection after planting, and that night the raccoons dug it up. They’ve been busy diggers this summer! What are they looking for?

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The time is ripe for mid-season planting

A gardener friend recently gave me a few pinches of wild Italian arugula seed, Rucola selvatica, the most fantastic arugula I have ever seen or tasted. The leaves are peppery and pungent yet delicate, unlike the hairy self-seeder I inherited at my community garden plot from its former resident. I can’t wait to grow those seeds into salads; fortunately, I don’t have to wait until next year to get started.

Contrary to popular belief, spring is not the only season for planting. In fact, arugula is one of several crops that actually prefer conditions at the end of the growing season, when the climate shifts to progressively cooler temperatures.

By contrast, trying to grow arugula and other tender, leafy greens as the summer heat rises is an exercise in futility. The leaves grow bitter and tough (if they grow much at all) and the plants rush to produce seeds like their life depends on it.

And that’s because it does. Just like us, plants get rather antsy about procreating before their time comes. Living with the stress of heat and drought signals cool-loving plants to get on with the business of reproduction sooner rather than later. Root veggies suffer a similar fate. They go straight to the flower-making stage, completely skipping the part you want most, the bulbous root.

The good news is that the end of summer isn’t the end of the gardening season but the beginning of another chance to reap further rewards from your garden before the year is out.

When to sow a late-season crop depends on how long that plant takes to reach maturity. To begin, check the number of “Days to Harvest” listed on the back of the seed packet. For example, arugula takes about 40 days. Tack on a week or two to the total time to account for the slower growth rate of plants as the days and nights get progressively cooler. Next, calculate the sow date by subtracting the total number of days from the “First Frost Date” for your region (www.almanac.com provides listings).

Fast-growing lettuce, spinach, chard, radicchio, endive, mâche and mustard greens can be sown into September or later if you’re on the West Coast. Broccoli, kale, cauliflower, cabbage, turnips, kohlrabi, Brussels sprouts, collards, peas, beets, carrots, parsnips and radishes love the last half of the growing season. When to sow varies wildly among veggies, so calculate individually.

Sow annual herbs including basil, cilantro, pansy and viola seeds right now. Better yet, speed the process up and double your bounty by taking cuttings from basil, mint, oregano, rosemary and other herbs that sprout roots easily in a glass of water.

Early fall is also one of the best times to make a permanent home in the edible garden for hardy perennial herbs, fruit bushes and trees. The cooler season is much more forgiving on new transplants and gives the roots a chance to get established before the winter forces the plant into dormancy. It just so happens that most garden stores are eager to get rid of their stock in the fall. Take advantage of end-of-the-season sales to get big discounts on oregano, marjoram, thyme, sage, sorrel, mint, blueberries, strawberries, currant bushes, grapes and apple, plum, peach and pear trees. While the bounty will be meager to nothing this year, you’ll get a bumper crop of fresh herbs in the earliest spring straight through to the following winter and beyond.

- Originally printed in The Globe & Mail (July 25, 2009)

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