What Happened to July?

I've been asking myself the same question.

The answer explains a lot in terms of the absence of blog posts, given the number of 11:30 pm bedtimes, 6 am wakeups, and days scheduled completely full.
Literally, the answer is Interns.
In partnership with Ecology Action we are hosting two women from Thika, Kenya for a nearly 3-month internship in Grow Biointensive agriculture. Both are connected with Grow-Biointensive Agricultural Center of Kenya (G-BIACK), which is an incredibly productive non-governmental agency that serves as a resource for orphans, individuals with AIDS, and the elderly as well as local and regional farmers. I recommend checking out the G-BIACK website and this 12-minute video about their work. And, actually, you should send links to any friends or family who don't think anything good is happening in the world these days, because this organization's efforts are truly noteworthy.
The two women who are joining us are Peris Wanjiru and Mary Wangui. Peris (at left) and her husband, Samuel Nderitu, who have been teachers and practitioners of Grow Biointensive for thirteen years, are the founders of G-BIACK. Mary (at right) is one of the extension agents G-BIACK employs to travel locally and regionally teaching sustainable farming techniques.
Naturally we are honored to be sharing our knowledge with two such motivated and committed women, and have been gaining plenty from our side of the relationship.
You'll see a lot of them in the coming months' posts.
We learned early on that the range of temperatures they generally experience is from 60°F to 77°F. So the brutally hot and humid weather we had during July was especially difficult for them, and they get high marks for acclimating as well as they have so far. (For the record, our daily schedule has us in the garden during the morning, lunch around noon, and class in the afternoon under a tree.)
Needless to say, the garden is in excellent shape. We are right around 83% completion of the total area, with our sights set on around 4100 sq ft by the time Peris and Mary leave (the final 100 sq ft have a poison ivy infestation that is waiting for winter). The Garden Stats at right will reflect this when I get the numbers crunched.
So fear not, constant readers! We have not evaporated or succumbed to heat-stroke. We've been up to some great things, to which future posts will attest...

6175

Spring 2011 Wrap-Up

I intended to publish this post last weekend, but the same storm that changed our moisture situation sent a lightening bolt from the very heavens to fry our modem, router, and desktop computer. The Time Warner guy just came out today to fix the problem. So here's the post, updated and modified...

Solstice is less than a week away, and spring feels quite over. We'd been facing temperatures just grazing 100° F the week before last, and the sogginess of the excessive rain had long since worn off by the Thursday before last. In fact, for the first time this year it was too dry to dig. That's a problem we didn't face until mid July last year. Additionally, our 330 gallons of rain catchment were almost gone from watering seedlings.

That said, we were already in a much better place than we were this time last year. In fact, in terms of area dug and planted, we were in a better place than we were by the end of last season. As of June 7th we had completed 1,852 ft², 44.1% of the total, which exceeds last year's approximately 42%. As of the 8th we passed the halfway mark, which, though it is only symbolic, is a great boost to morale around here. And by last Thursday, the 16th, we had 62.8% of the garden prepared and planted!

How is it possible that our completed area grew so rapidly? It's all because Margo was off doing good works for days at a time, Alten dutifully by her side. They were off site for about 8 whole days, and that allowed me to obsess about how much work there was to do in the garden. Most of that amounted to bed preparation, compost sifting, and miscellaneous projects like putting up fencing and a tool rack. It has, of course, been good to have them both back. Margo returned to plant flowers (our first nasturtium bloom is at right), harvest our alfalfa and clover, build compost, weed, and remind me of the order of priorities.

Weatherwise, in the past month we've had 8 days in the 90's, and a concurrent run of 13 days with no more than .25" of rain, which is only a problem because we have so many young plants out right now. That spate of dry was broken by the aforementioned storm, which dumped 1.7" on us. A bit much all at once, but far better than nothing. We are now up to a titch over 28" for the year, with more rain in our near future.

Most of the garden is doing very well. We were a bit late in planting our sorghum, amaranth, tomatoes, cucumbers and zucchini, but they look like they are catching on well. The large sections that need to go in yet are sweet potatoes, sweet corn, 300 more ft² of flour corn, and the dry beans that will be interplanted with that and the rest of the corn.

We've learned a few things already this season. We always try to keep experimenting in the garden, and often the experiments are results of compromise between what would be best for the plants versus what is possible for us. Our parsnips, for instance, which we flat and transplant. It would have required 10 or more flats for the area we planned, and we didn't have that many. We decided to plant 2 flats and broadcast the rest directly on the bed. It is clear at this point that we will get great results from the ones we flatted and transplanted, while the broadcast section has not come up well at all and is much weedier. At left are this year's flowers from last year's parsnip planting (since they're biennial), attracting beneficials.

Another lesson was compost in the flat soil. We don't currently have enough compost to either mix our ideal flat soil for all the flats or apply compost to all the beds, so we decided to use it on the beds that will produce our major biomass, like corn, millet, and sorghum. But it was becoming clear that our germination was suffering for the lack of organic matter and humus in the flat soil, so we started mixing it in for at least some of the important seeds. The result was much better germination, better drainage for the flats, and greater ease in removing seedlings when transplanting.

Along with flatting and transplanting, we have gained more insight into when seedlings have gotten too big to plant.

We learned the importance of cover-cropping, too. The one bed that was prepared last year but not cover-cropped for the winter has significant weed issues, in contrast with the cover-cropped ones, which have relatively few weeds.

The last example of lessons learned follows along with cover-crops. Our overwintered cover was a broadcast mix of wheat, rye, and Canadian field peas, the latter of which died without any significant growth. The wheat and rye, however, looked great (notice the yellowing band in the photo at top). So great, in fact, that we decided to leave many of them to grow to maturity. The learning is related to timing. The best-looking CC'd beds were planted on time. The beds we planned for winter grains, however, were planted very late. As a result the CC grains got a big boost and are healthier and fuller-looking (yield data will tell the whole story) than those planted specifically to harvest for grain.

And we came out of dandelion season with $116.46 worth of fictitious "Dandy Dollars", wherein each head plucked is worth 1¢ and each plant pulled is worth 10¢. Whew!

So we continue plugging away, proud of ourselves (and our cabbages) for the successes we're experiencing and the failures we're learning from.

5605

The Grand Inundation

The news here, which isn't really news if you are in the midwest or have watched tv or heard the radio this spring, is that we have had lots of water coming down from the sky. In light of that, the good news is that we are not in a low-lying area and are not bordering the Mississippi. So while we do have a large creek that runs through the property year-round, the foresightful ones who situated this house 160 or so years ago had the good sense to leave a healthy distance, both vertically and horizontally, between any of the structures and the creek. In contrast, over at the garden the water table has been within a foot of the soil surface for the past month or more. That's despite its placement at the top of a hill, which says a lot about how long it will take the conventional farmer to get his equipment in the field at the bottom of the hill a few hundred feet away.

We like data here, and everyone likes sensational data, so here are the details: we received 10.05" of rain in April. Not impressed? Keep in mind that we recorded 20" for all of last year, from April 15 (when we put up the rain gauge) to December 31. Still not impressed? How about the fact that from January 1st through May 3rd we have received 22.45"?

It's true, we missed out on recording rainfall from Jan 1 to April 14 last year, but one of our nearby market-farming neighbors can vouch for our missing time: He keeps a rain gauge that tracks rainfall through the whole year. It's a straightforward design, a clear 1½" diameter tube stuck vertically to a white board. He puts marks on the board to indicate where the rainfall was at the end of each month, then empties it at the end of the year (leaving the marks to compare to the following year). He showed us the evidence when we went over a couple of days ago, and pointed out that by the end of April his place had received as much rain as it had by the end of November 2010. He's never seen anything like that, and he's been paying attention for decades now.

But this spring is similar to the last in that we've gotten a LOT of rain over a short period of time, leaving us to wonder if the sky might dry up for the second half of the year, like it did in 2010. We're hoping not, but we're also doubling our rainwater catchment just in case.

The last time I got in the soil to dig was over a month ago, so we are in a tricky place for our planting schedule. The alfalfa, parsley, parsnips, onions and leeks would like to go in now, and we're staring at the corn planting date and wishing it a little further off. But the soil will probably be an absolute bog for at least a week after it stops raining, and the end is not in the ten-day forecast.

This causes us to question our assumed timing. For instance, should we double-dig before our main-season crops go in (between March and June), or should we perhaps dig before the winter cover crops go in (September to November)? Of course, if this year goes as last year, digging would be as difficult in the dry, dry fall as it would be in the wet, wet spring.

Oh, yeah - the other good news is that it was a fabulous year for digging dandelions and finding morel mushrooms.

I'll take one last moment to describe the photos here. At top right is a trench I started for a new bed, interrupted by weather. It's important to note that the trench didn't simply catch rainwater. If you dig a hole anywhere around the garden these days it will fill up with water whether it is raining or not. Next photo down, on the left, is a lakeside dandelion patch, which in dryer times is actually a path. Third, the 2010 parsnips that we replanted for 2011 seed. On close inspection you can make out water running from the further side of the bed to the closer. The fourth photo is of the biggest morel I have ever seen, found by friends while pulling honeysuckle in our yard.

And, last but not least, Alten has been preparing to deal with any water issues in the house. Routine inspection, he assures us...

4285

Beautiful, but Deadly

Ok, maybe just dead-smelling. The first tree-blossoms we see at the garden are from the ornamental pear on the north side, pictured here. And this morning was the first time this spring that I caught a whiff of its flowers, which reek like week-old carrion. My first thought was that something must have crawled up to our garden fence and died. Then I remembered the duplicitous nature of this tree, which smells terrible for about two weeks, but provides wonderful shade for at least eight months...

My third thought was that I should write it down on my calendar. Now before you start wondering what kind of calendar this might be, I'll tell you that I keep it for objective reasons.

It wasn't too long after we started our first internship with Steve Moore out in Pennsylvania that I realized the natural world has a lot to say to a seasoned farmer. Signs after the manner of Punxutawny Phil, but much more accurate. One crop would go in the ground when the daffodils bloomed, some things would get started when the walnuts leafed out, and a number of roots would get left in the ground til after the first frost. Whether these were statements about warming soil temperatures, some critical amount of light in a day, or the edibility of certain crops, farmers who knew would swear (and plant and harvest) by them.

And so, when we knew we'd be in Willits for a few years, I started keeping track of different annual mile-markers, like the buckeye trees blossoming and buckeyes dropping, the first rainfall after summer, the first salamander spotted, and so on. Of course, we'd need to have been there much longer than we were to have made any sense of these events.
Now, however, we plan to be in one place for a good long while. I already have recorded the lilacs leafing out (4/3, at left), the first morel spotted (4/11, courtesy of our 80° Sunday last weekend), first tree swallows in the garden (4/13), and first dandelion flowers out (4/10). The next step will be to try and remember what I noted the year before...

Anyone who has been to a class I've taught will tell you my biggest piece of advice for any gardener or farmer: observation is vital. Pay attention to what you're doing and what you see happening; it's the only way to learn, and the only way to salvage a failure. Otherwise, you have no idea why a crop succeeds or fails to thrive, and it is impossible to recreate excellent outcomes reliably.
In this case, as I noted, it will take a long time and a lot of experiments before we can put our fingers on what the natural world is telling us about the coming season. But we don't have anything better to do anyway...

3995

Ice Storm!

When talk began Sunday about the possibility of an ice storm coming through this week, Margo and I got pretty excited. The odd mixture of below-freezing surface temperatures and slightly above-freezing precipitation, which coats everything exposed in an icy glaze, never seemed to happen in Willits while we were there. While they cause multitudes of wrecks, power outages, interruptions in commerce and the like, both Margo and I have always enjoyed them, and despite their destructive potential, no one who has taken a walk through the fields or woods after (or during) an ice storm can argue that they aren't beautiful events.

It started Monday night, and as I was heading home from Aikido on I-70 the windshield actually froze entirely over. That got me into the slow lane. Tuesday morning brought school closings and gratitude that none of us had anywhere to go for the day. On the half-mile walk to the garden to check our temperatures I found that the branches of honeysuckle, one of our many invasive shrubs, can be broken right off at the swing of a stick!

They were predicting up to a half-inch of ice accumulation, which seems incredible when you realize that every available surface will get coated, including roads, doors, steps, weeds, grass, littered trash, mops left out to dry, fences, power lines, and the dead limbs that have been waiting over those power lines for just such an occurrence... Which might explain the amazing green glow we each saw out different windows when the electricity was trying to decide whether to stay on or go back out last night. We only lost power for about an hour, which was long enough to be grateful for lots of candles, our new woodstove, and the foresight to have put a bunch of water aside for drinking water and toilet flushing.

As I walked around yesterday afternoon to take photos there was nearly a quarter-inch already.Today it has gotten worse from the additional fall of rain overnight, and now many businesses have decided that the school districts knew what they were talking about.

Here are some of the pictures I took... At top are weeds completely coated in ice, including their seedheads (which has something to do with how popular our bird feeders are right now). Next, one such bird feeder with a nuthatch on it. It has been entertaining watching the bigger birds, like grackles, sliding off the sides. Third, the chicken-wire roof of our hen-house run, sagging appreciably. Below are our clothesline, out of commission, and branches of a sugar maple with next season's buds encased.The weather forecast shows temperatures staying below freezing till at least Saturday, so I guess this will all stick around for a while...

2835

Emancipating the Potatoes

While we were having Thanksgiving in northern Indiana our garden received the biggest rainfall since we began recording it in mid-April of this year. It won't be a surprise to folks in this area to know that the season's record breaking amount was only 1.85", and that fell over two days. (The next greatest two days were the 9th and 10th of July, adding up to 1.3".)

But it was enough. Anyone who asked how the garden was doing in the past three months heard "It looks like our sorghum did really well. The last thing we have to harvest is the potatoes, but they are locked in our brick-like soil. It's going to take a good rain to be able to get them out." People quit asking about the garden after awhile.

Now I have been volunteering, triumphantly, that the potatoes have been freed. We got back Sunday, and Monday's first order of business was to dig as much of the remaining potato area as possible because of the rain scheduled for Tuesday. (At left are the seed potatoes cut, ashed, and ready to plant, back in April.) We had planted 245 square feet of potatoes, and between July 20 and September 23 I dug out 143 sq ft of them. Mostly coinciding with one of our measly .1" rains. And the most area I managed in a day was 55 sq ft, because the ground was so hard.

Heading out Monday afternoon I dug the remaining 103 sq ft in an hour and a half, which is a testament to the qualities of perfectly moist clay soil. Not too mucky, not too dry, and the fork pulls them 'taties out like a dream. Well, almost.

We planted these potatoes in April and May, and I think the May plantings had just gotten their tops all established when it quit raining. Our yields reflect that we're working heavy soil that has had its fertility pillaged.

Just a hint of what I'm talking about: the May planting, our worst yielding, was 65 sq ft of Kennebec potatoes, and we got a total of 4 lb from that (Margo and Alten weigh them on our itsy-bitsy scale at right). It works out to 6.2 lb per 100 sq ft. For all of you commercial potato farmers out there (and I know you're reading my blog) that works out to 1.34 tons/acre. For the rest of you, it works out to .13 lb of harvested potato for every pound planted. Which is what we call deficit spending.

It is easy, at this stage, to look at our potatoes and declare failure, commencing to plant petunias next year instead. But I maintain that failure is important, and I routinely tell folks that in classes. When someone wants to know the most important thing to master in gardening I answer "observation." Paying attention to the processes in your garden means the difference between learning from your mistakes and suffering from them time after time. Also important (when discussing failure) is perspective. This is our first year here, and we hope to be producing all of our food within a few years. Is it better to have crop failure in one of our most important foods when we are getting on our feet, or to experience it when we are depending on that crop?

So what went wrong with our potatoes? There were two obvious culprits, which I have already mentioned. First, our soil is heavy clay, and little organic matter remains from its previous 20 or more years of being gardened. Root crops don't like that. They aren't allowed to expand, so they grow small and in funny shapes. The second was the lack of water, which we were counting on as rain (the healthiest form of irrigation for crops and soil). Additionally, we planted them about a month later than we wanted. Earlier planting would have given them quite a jump on growth before the hot (and dry) weather of summer hit. Quality of seed potatoes may have played a role, but most of ours looked very good. The first three variables are so overwhelming that smaller ones, like varieties planted, pest damage, and availability of micronutrients wouldn't add up to much.What will we do differently to address these troubles next year? Well, we'll start by getting a bigger scale, cause weighing even a small potato harvest 1 lb at a time gets tedious. Seriously though, we plan to post production of compost as a top priority, and though adding compost will probably take years to make an impact on this soil we're committing now. We saw that most of our crops needed at least twice as much water as they got which, though that wouldn't really be much water in the big picture, it is way more that we can store currently. So we'll add some rainwater storage and water more than just the newly planted stuff (and, of course, hope for a different weather pattern next year). We'll be as on-schedule as any farmer ever is next year, since we'll be starting out with more than practically nothing. And, finally, we'll watch and see what happens in the completely different conditions that next year will undoubtedly bring.
Until then we will be a little short on the homegrown mashed potatoes...

2175

It's Been Hot

And dry.

Ok, so it's not saying much to note that this is the hottest summer since we've been keeping track, but we have had some hot weeks. The area farmers we've talked to attest to the fact that, though the season started out very promising, this has been one of the driest mid and late seasons they've had. Since their corn loved the heat and was able to cope with the lack of rain it doesn't look too bad. But the soybeans committed to many pods full of peas, which then didn't have the resources to develop into an ideal size. So while they are worth being harvested, they're disappointingly small.

The man who farms the land surrounding our garden also grows for the local farmer's market. When he's by looking at the fields we chat by the garden in that uniquely farmer-ish way. He said it has been a terrible year for produce, and most of the other market-gardeners he's talked to say the same. We had been feeling disappointed by the lack of time we had to give our garden this Spring and Summer, but he made us feel a little better by laughing and saying "You sure picked a year to start out! Whew!"

But of of course, what is talk without numbers?
First the temperatures:

Our last hard frost was the 28th of April, and our last light frost came May 10. It didn't reach 80 ° F in the garden until May 23rd, but that may have been a fluke.

Before I go any further, I have to explain our thermometer placement. When we first set it up there were no fenceposts, so we used a huge ornamental pear tree directly north of the garden. I was a little paranoid, I admit, that someone would steal our precious min/max thermometer, so it was buried thick in the foliage. We realized by July that the placement was seriously affecting our high temperatures, so we moved it to a box on a prominent fencepost on the 26th of that month. So all I can talk about before that point are trends, that one week was hot and another one cool.

Which is, really, what happened to screw up a lot of the serious market gardeners. For instance, the week after Alten was born the highs were in the mid-70's. The week after they were in the the mid 90's. Ensuing weeks were in the 90's, then low 80's, then up to the high 90's, then low 80's or high 70's. And, of course, you don't remember the cool reprieves. The hottest it got for us was 100° F, on August 13. I wish we had a humidity gauge, because I think those numbers would really impress you all.

The daily low temperatures are as interesting as the highs, maybe more so. Back at Ecology Action we talked a lot (covetously, mostly) about the optimal growing range for plants in general, which is 60° F to 95° F. Below 60° F most plants slow down their processes, and above 95° F as well. At the research farm and at the Golden Rule garden summer days would not uncommonly top 95°, and summer nights would rarely stay above 60°. It's a pretty big handicap to have your plants shutting down twice in a 24 hour cycle. So we would keep track of the number of nights in a summer that stayed above 60°. The first summer we were there was very hot, and yielded 16 nights above 60°. The next summer there were none.

This place is a different story. Tomatoes seem to gain a foot and a half overnight, and if you sleep outside you can hear the corn growing. June through August gave us 74 nights above 60°, 13 of which were above 70°. Which is only good for plants, being a little warm for the farmers.

And since Alten is going to be working in that sun and heat with us, I made him a little sun-hat for his own...

Now rainfall:

Between April 16 (when we put up our rain gauge) and the end of June we received 12" of rain, on the dot. Then the tide turned. July totaled 2.45", and early August rains totaled .55". We haven't gotten more than a hundredth of an inch since then, and that is too little for our gauge (or our soil) to register. Luckily, our rain barrels are attached to a roof so large that a hundredth of an inch can fill them up. So we've made the 110 gallons of stored rainwater last the two weeks or so between brief spates of precipitation.

Rain would be good for the crops, but it is absolutely necessary for bed preparation. Our soil is quite clayey and severely lacking in organic matter. The best time to dig has been two days after a good rain of between .5" and 1.5". Earlier is too muddy, later is too dry and brick-like. What happens, then, when you haven't had any rain of note for a month and a half? Well, you water the soil heavily if you have water. If not, you hope it rains before you need to put in Fall crops.

The good news is that yesterday we acquired four new 55 gallon drums from our local soda pop distribution facility, which will triple our capacity for storage.

Of course, they won't do any good without some rain...