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Gar Wang, Warwick
For most gardeners winter is a welcome respite from daily weeding and scouring for pests. But for me, the cold months are not as labor free as before. With each year I have increased the variety of vegetables I grow on the south-facing windowsill of my living room and have come to see January as the beginning of an active growing season.
By the end of that month, I have already germinated leek and onion seeds in flats of potting soil. These seedlings will be the first to be transplanted into the garden as soon as the soil thaws. Most leeks require 80-110 days from germination to harvest so an early start is important. The stout-stalked leek variety Bleu de Solaize has been a favorite to over-winter since it endures repeated cycles of freezing and thawing with minimal protection.
The tastiest portion of the leek is its white shaft which results when the developing stalk is covered with soil or mulch to prevent exposure to sunlight. Known as blanching, this technique is a common practice used on other plants when milder flavor is desired. I grow another leek, Lincoln, for its tender, long shank that does not require blanching. White asparagus is simply ordinary asparagus prevented from developing chlorophyll by mounding soil or mulch over the emerging shoots. Young endive, dandelion and escarole become succulent salad greens when covered with an upside down pot for a week prior to harvest.
Although spring’s last frost will be months from now, I begin sowing leftover lettuce seeds in 30-inch planter boxes that I fill with a 2-inch layer of compost topped with 3 inches of organic potting mix. Seeds do not germinate well in straight compost since it tends to be too rich and dense, resulting in straggly seedlings. Instead I mix well-rotted leaf mold and peat into my sifted compost to create loft and to enhance water retention in my homemade potting mix. Since it is so difficult to purchase quality, organic compost (somehow buying soil goes against my grain of pragmatism), I sift and reserve several five-gallon buckets of my own compost every fall to use in potting mix. Lettuce germinates best at temperatures below 70 degrees so my planter by the cold window offers perfect conditions as long as the soil is kept moist.
I prefer loose-leaf lettuces for their prolonged harvest. Unlike heading varieties, I can pluck the outer leaves over several weeks without diminishing the vigor of the plant. Oak Leaf, Lollo, Salad Bowl and Tango are tried and true favorites; however, there are numerous heirlooms that come in an array of stunning colors and shapes. In several other planter boxes I toss in leftover seeds of claytonia, spinach, arugula, cress, mustards, Asian greens, radishes, mesclun and scallions. I also push cloves of garlic into the soil and enjoy “green garlic” by the time the other plants mature. Although these indoor garlic plants do not produce significant bulbs, the leaves and stems are delicious.
Pea shoots are another easy-to-grow indoor treat. Fetching high prices, the tender tips and tendrils of pea plants have been enjoyed by Chinese for centuries. Snow peas, snap and shelling peas (Pisum Sativum) are suitable for pea shoots; however, the flowers and seeds of perennial sweet peas (Lathyrus Spp.) are poisonous. For winter harvest, I prefer Dwarf Grey Sugar Peas which I soak overnight in water before planting one inch apart. I find that presoaking large seeds increases germination rate significantly. Last year I sowed the seeds on February 6 and was harvesting shoots two weeks later. Snipped at the juncture of the first set of leaves and stem, the plants regenerated by repeatedly putting forth new shoots at the severed joint. We enjoyed fresh pea shoots for weeks in salad and stir fries. By the time the stems became tough, the soil outdoors thawed, and I was able to transplant these pea plants into my raised beds. These thrived in my garden and provided us with beautiful, edible blossoms and snow peas throughout the spring.
By Gar Wang, Warwick
I began writng this the day after Hurricane Irene unleashed her fury. Warwick was in a state of emergency with uprooted trees and collapsed culverts. Pine Island reverted to its ancient state, its flooded wetlands resembling a large lake.
I wondered how my local farmer friends fared, having already struggled with a difficult growing season. High humidity combined with frequent rainfall rampantly spread fungal and mildew diseases. Leaf spot had destroyed my chard and beet greens. My Fiesta broccoli molded by the time the heads formed in mid-August.
When the hurricane was forecasted, I hurriedly pulled out diseased tomato plants to prevent the winds from spreading disease spores to other plants. Usually, late August would be the height of my tomato harvest. Hoping to salvage as many tomatoes as I could, I harvested any that showed the slightest hint of color. I knew from past experience that partially ripe tomatoes split readily if allowed to absorb additional water.
With trepidation I ventured into my garden. To my surprise, the damage was relatively minor compared to the devastation other farmers and gardeners experienced. I expected to find my vegetables underwater but discovered my raised beds intact and well drained, while the paths between the beds were ankle deep in water. The sight was yet more proof that the labor and material required to construct raised beds were well worth the investment
The heavy downpour bruised the tender leaves of lettuces and Asian greens I had carefully transplanted a week before. Strong winds toppled a few top-heavy plants such as Brussels sprouts and peppers, and apples littered the orchard. Not all the apples had fallen, so I reassured myself that this was nature’s way of culling the fruit, and perhaps the remaining apples would be larger.
My six-foot tall tithonia sustained the most damage from the strong gusts. Its brittle stem snapped leaving its long branches sprawled on the ground. This Mexican sunflower is a favorite annual of mine. I grow it from seed every year for its cheerful cadmium red blooms attract hummingbirds, butterflies and pollinating insects. It is not cold hardy, so its demise at this late date in August was not a total loss. Pole beans were whiplashed, but squash vines hung securely on the garden fence. I marveled at the strength of their thin tendrils, supporting long vines laden with butternut, sweet mama, and tromboncino squash. Indeed, as the skies began to clear, these vines held forth a flush of new blooms.
My lower garden abuts a large pond adjacent to acres of protected wetlands. As I watched the pond rise, I expected the surrounding fields to flood. Remarkably, these low-lying areas drained quickly as the wetlands absorbed the overflow from the pond and fields.
It is a testimony to the importance of wetlands as a buffer for flood control, as well as a refuge for wildlife. Numerous migratory birds feed and nest amongst the cattails and reeds. They are friends to the gardener, eating caterpillars and insects that would otherwise ravage crops. The wetlands and spring-fed pond also support a host of creatures that play critical roles in the food chain. Must we wait for natural disasters to remind us to respect the forces of nature, and protect the balance and diversity that she has gifted us?
Climate Change
Scientists have predicted that with climate change our area will experience periods of extreme temperatures and precipitation. This summer that has certainly been the case, with unusually high temperatures early on followed by the wettest August I can remember. As gardeners we may have to accommodate these changes by selecting different varieties to plant. Most importantly we must reconsider our use of water and reduce our consumption of natural resources.
By Gar Wag, Warwick
As fall approaches with shorter days and cooler nights, most gardeners assume that the growing season must end. Usually the self-sufficient gardener’s winter diet turns toward preserved vegetables and storage crops such as winter squash, cabbages, onions and potatoes. This need not be the case. It is possible to extend the harvest season well past frost without expensive greenhouses or elaborate devices. With an unheated cold frame and several low tunnels, I provided my family with fresh vegetables throughout the bleak months last winter. During the shortest days of the year, these vegetables may not put forth new growth and are essentially dormant, but with a little protection from the elements they remain edible and delicious.
Critical to success in cold-season gardening is knowing which plants thrive in low temperatures. The selection is surprisingly diverse. Kale, brussel sprouts and collards actually become tastier after exposure to frost. I have had these Brassicas as well as Swiss chard survive several winters with only a single layer of plastic draped over my low tunnel hoops. Kohlrabi are less pithy after frost exposure, and root crops such as radishes, turnips and beets are not prone to becoming woody when grown in the cool season. Carrots and parsnips become sweeter after exposure to frost. Fresh leeks, scallions and celery are mainstays in our winter diets, and I look forward to our first scorzonera this fall.
This is the season when we finally enjoy slow-growing celeriac and Jerusalem artichoke. The latter is a hardy native perennial that bears cheerful yellow blooms on 8 foot stems. Starting in October we harvest the tubers, which resemble crispy water chestnuts. When roasted, Jerusalem artichoke is a delicious, low-calorie alternative to potatoes. It is said that Native Americans introduced these wild tubers to the Pilgrims at their Thanksgiving feast, roasting them in earthen pits lined with rocks.
Slightly less cold-hardy are the numerous Asian greens including the large family of bok choi and mustards, which are more succulent and less sharp when grown in cooler temperatures. A floating row cover or cold frame provides enough shelter to extend their season through the fall. One of the benefits of raising leafy greens during this time of year is the absence of flea beetles and the cabbage moth caterpillar that decimate cabbage crops during the warmer months. There are fewer pests to contend with in cold weather gardening, with the exception of aphids. These uninvited guests inevitably appear every winter but repeated dousing of water usually keeps them at bay.
Last but not least of the hardy plants are numerous delectable salad greens that I germinate in a cool spot and transplant out in early September. Spinach, arugula, endive, escarole, tatsoi, mizuna, claytonia and minutina all thrive in the cold. I direct seed mache and cress. Of course there are the lettuces, including many wonderful heirloom varieties that are now becoming more readily available. Some lettuce varieties withstand freezing temperatures better than others. Red oak leaf and Tango survived single digit temperatures last year with an additional layer of row cover floating over the plants in my cold frame. Imagine the delight of harvesting fresh salad greens on a bone-chilling day in January while standing knee-deep in snow.
Cold frames
Our 4’X8’ cold frame is a wooden raised bed with a sloping top made of two polycarbonate sheets. The back of the frame abuts our south-facing foundation.
As the sun warms the concrete wall, it slowly releases heat to the plants, regulating the temperature throughout the night.
The bottom of the cold frame is lined with ½” galvanized hardware cloth to prevent voles from tunneling in and consuming our crops. I filled the bottom of the cold frame with several wheelbarrows of fresh horse manure followed by a 10” layer of well-finished compost.
As the horse manure decomposes it slowly releases heat. The roots of the plants are not in direct contact with the manure since it would burn them.
Gar Wang, Warwick
I feel bad for the zucchini. The butt of many jokes, it provides the gardener with abundance yet is derided for its prolificness. Gifts of ripe tomatoes always find a welcoming home; not so with zucchini. But there are simple ways to keep squash plants in check.
Many Asian cultures consume squash vines, simmering the tender tips and leaves in broth. What better way to prune an aggressive plant and have a nutritious meal at the same time?
Another method of restraining your squash’s over-productivity is to eat the delicious blossoms. Enjoy these nutritious delicacies while simultaneously practicing squash fertility control. To consume the blossoms and have mature squash as well, one needs to understand the plant’s anatomy and cultivation requirements. Technically a fruit, the squash develops after the blossom has been pollinated. Reducing the number of blossoms controls the number of fruit per plant.
Each plant bears male and female blossoms. In order for the plant to produce fruit, it is necessary to have a male blossom for every 10 female flowers. The male blossom appears on a long stem whereas the female has an immature fruit attached to the base of the petals.
All squash prefer a sunny location and thrive in well-drained soil enriched with rotted manure and compost. There are basically two groups of squashes: summer and winter. The former includes many varieties of zucchini, pattypan/scallop and yellow squash that come in a vast array of colors and shapes as a result of open pollination. Summer squash is best when harvested young and the skin is tender. Left unpicked, the plant will stop producing new fruit.
Winter squash, on the other hand, is usually allowed to mature on the vine and harvested when the leaves have withered and the skin is hard. The curing process continues for several days as the squash is left in the open field, protected from frost with a light cloth when needed. Unbruised winter squash stores well and is a staple for the winter diet.
This distinction between summer and winter squash is not clear when it comes to my favorite, zucchetta rampicante, which straddles the fence. This vigorous vine grows to 15 feet long and produces trombone-shaped fruit that gives it its common name, “tromboncino.” Three plants easily feed a family of four for the entire season. When the squash matures at 24 inches long, it remains remarkably tender.
Unlike other zucchinis, it has no seeds except at the bulbous end. Its flesh is firm and less watery than ordinary zucchinis. Thinly sliced, it is delicious raw as a low-caloric alternative to crackers for spreads. If tromboncino is allowed to remain on the vine until frost, its skin turns tan and its flesh becomes orange. At this stage it tastes like and resembles an elongated butternut squash. Zucchetta rampicante is a mainstay in my garden because of its resistance to the vine borer, a hidden invader that often decimates other varieties of my otherwise unstoppable squash.
Hidden invaders
Squash borer’s white larvae appear at the height of summer. They chew through the vine’s hollow stem, destroying it from inside out. The adult is a ½” moth with transparent wings and orange abdomen.
• Examine the wilted stem for frass particles resembling sawdust near the borer’s hole.
• With a sharp knife, slice from this point upwards along the length of the stem.
• Bury the wound in soil.
• Organic defense: cover the plant with agricultural cloth.Remove cloth when plant blooms to allow natural pollination or hand-pollinate.
By Gar Wang, Warwick
Many years ago, I was determined to harvest the first ripe tomato in the neighborhood. Old timers warned that May 17 was the critical last frost date in this area. Three killing frosts could be expected after the peepers began to fill the night with their high-pitched trills, or so went local lore.
Originally from South America, tomatoes suffer when temperatures dip below 50 degrees. Still I kept planting my seedlings earlier each spring, until a cold night in April took my entire tomato crop. Nowhere is the adage “learn from one’s mistakes” more apt than in gardening. Luckily Mother Nature gives us another chance with the return of subsequent years.
So began my experimentations with numerous devices to protect these cold sensitive transplants from spring’s erratic temperatures. First, it was inverted nursery pots or gallon milk jugs with the bottoms cut off placed over the tender plants each evening. These were economical yet inelegant versions of the glass cloches used extensively in European gardens. The difficulty was remembering to remove these containers before the sun’s heat cooked the plants the next morning. Simple as this may sound, the routine quickly became cumbersome.
I moved onto commercially available “water teepees,” which were truncated, double-walled cones made of plastic tubes filled with water. Warmed by the sun during the day, the water slowly released heat at night. Unfortunately the thin plastic would spring a leak in a season or two. After many attempts at patching these holes, I eventually gave up and decided that at $4 each, I would be better off simply delaying my transplant date.
I continue to experiment with ways to extend my plants’ growing season. My most successful technique is planting in low tunnels made by draping 6mm plastic over semi-circular supports spanning the width of my beds. I made these hoops by bending ¾” plastic water pipes and securing the ends to the wooden sides of my raised beds.
By capturing the sun’s rays, these “miniature greenhouses” warm the soil and provide protection from harsh winds and excess water. Indeed, the air temperature in these tunnels can soar on sunny days. I simply release the heat by lifting the plastic accordingly.
The tunnels enable me to plant many different varieties of cold tolerant plants four to six weeks earlier in the spring and later throughout the fall. In February I plant peas in the tunnel’s friable soil when snow blankets the paths in the garden. By May the tall pea vines provide welcome shade for a variety of salad greens.
The tunnels’ greatest success came two years ago. Another axiom to remember in gardening is that nothing is etched in stone. We had a killing frost on May 19, 2009, two days after what was supposed to be last frost. In their miniature greenhouses, my tomatoes survived.
Transplanting tips
• Acclimatize seedlings by placing in a sheltered spot outdoors for an hour and increasing length of time daily for a week or two.
• Transplant on a cloudy day or in late afternoon.
• Water seedlings before removing from container.
• Dig a hole twice as deep as the root ball. Place a spade full of well-rotted compost and finely crushed eggshells in the bottom of the hole.
• Plant tomato deep, with its stem buried several inches below the first set of leaves. Being a vine, the portion in contact with the soil will develop roots.
Gar's tunnel, full of snap peas
dirt 