We delve deeper into the whys of a poor garlic crop this year, and although I highly suspect it was a combination of a long wet winter and spring, incessant strong winds, and too thick a mulch, I thought it might be a good idea to buy an NPK soil-test kit and see what the soil could tell me.
First, About My Garden and Soil
I have six 25-ft-square (more or less) plots around which I rotate the garlic. The first plot, however, I have decided to reserve for the family veggies, and I might turn the 2nd into a berry garden – but that still leaves a 4-year rotation for the future. When it comes to garlic, rotation is important in preventing diseases.
Last fall, I turned under a green-manure crop of crimson clover and also purchased 3 yards of very good plant-based compost for the plot (thank you Lazy J Tree Farm!), which I spread around in September. I built four 4-foot-wide beds the length of the plot and added lime, bone meal, and some raked maple leaves to the beds during the process.
I thought I would have the best crop ever this year. The soil seemed almost fluffy in the beds. Throughout the year, I was able to pull out long (very long!) dandelion roots with my bare hands. Weeds were rather prolific along the sides of the beds. I let them grow through much of the winter to help hold the beds in place, but in the spring, I whacked them all back and turned them into compost.
However – and this is a big however – in digging up the garlic plants (keep in mind, all watering had been cut off for a good 2 or 3 weeks prior), the soil did not seem “fluffy” at all to me. In fact, quite the opposite. Which was extremely disappointing, because I had been working green manures into this plot for several years now. And despite the dry streak, some areas seemed almost cold and damp.
My little test kit...hmm...what do the colors tell me?
So Now for the Test
I took only 2 samples to start with, a few inches down beneath the surface, as directed on the package.
Back at the house, I donned my lab coat and safety glasses. Ahm. As an aside, I used to work alongside chemists at a national lab (actually, I did administrative and marketing work, but our offices were next to each other, so I gained an appreciation for chemistry by close association), and I learned that one of the key things when taking samples for analysis is not to contaminate your own sample. This seems like a no-brainer, but is surprisingly easy to do. Well, let me just say to all my chemist friends out there that I totally disregarded “ultra-clean” techniques (Sorry. Have I learned nothing?). I got my bare hands right in the dirt and mixed it all around. I used spoons right out of my silverware drawer. I breathed all over everything. I used water right from our well. This is just a little home-test kit, after all. Jeesh. But if I really wanted to know exactly what was in my soil, I’d be more careful and send it to a lab where they would do it right.
Results
Ok. So what do my tests tell me.
pH
According to the ATTRA National Sustainable Agriculture bulletin, a pH of 6.8 – 7.2 is ideal for garlic. Our soils usually benefit with a light dusting of lime, which I apply every year on the garlic beds. The pH reading looks about right. This is good. Fungi and molds like a low pH. Healthy microbial populations cannot survive in extreme pH ranges. pH also affects availability of phosphorous and other nutrients. pH is not the problem. (whew)
N: Nitrogen
In the spring, the garlic is a starving leafy plant and requires a lot of nitrogen to do its photosynthesis miracle. Bigger plants make bigger bulbs (yes, size matters, relatively speaking). Also, vigorous plants are more resistant to disease. Microorganisms play a strong role in converting organic nitrogen to an inorganic form that plants can use. Heavy soils with a high clay content, however (which I am always battling), have a tendency to make nitrogen unavailable. When the garlic starts making a bulb, its nutritive needs shift accordingly; if you have too much nitro at this point, the bulbs will suffer.
I usually plant green manures in the off seasons, incorporate compost into the soil at planting time, and use a light side dressing of blood meal in the spring, along with foliar sprays of fish fertilizer and worm tea. Adequate? Maybe not.
My nitrogen reading is on the “depleted” end of the scale. This was a surprise to me. Unfortunately, I have no idea what the N levels were in early spring. I am leery of nitrogen when it comes to garlic. One year I topped everything with about an inch or so of well-composted and washed dairy manure, and I had a similar harvest to this year’s: lots of mold, neck rot, and insect damage. I was not sure whether it was too much nitrogen or whether the mulch kept everything warm and moist, ideal conditions for critters and fungi. Probably a combination of both. (That said, I am still a believer in the dairy compost and had approx. 7 yds of it dumped on the plot for next year – so we shall see how it goes! Thank you Dungeness Valley Creamery!)
I have already started my fall veggie garden where the garlic was. This low N reading tells me I better feed the broccoli. Soon.
P: Phosphorous
Phosphorous is needed for roots, stems, and fruit – which is just about everything. A symbiotic relationship with mycorrhizal fungi assists this process. However, even though phosphorous is often abundant in soils, it is not always in an available form to plants. Clay soils (like mine) tend to bind the P. Plus, phosphorous is easily eroded in rains.
My P reading is somewhere between sufficient to surplus. Even though my P levels are high, I don’t think it negatively affected the plants. I usually add bone meal to the soil before planting, and I am going to keep doing that based on the advice of old-time farmers in my area who have been at this a lot longer than I have.
K: Potassium / potash
Potassium is needed for flowering and fruiting and helps plants resist disease. I think of potassium like the plant’s thyroid – it controls metabolism, helps them function, converts food into energy, controls water uptake, etc. Like phosphorous, though, it is difficult for the plant to get adequate amounts because it is either leached out in sandy soils or bound to particles in clay soils. Availability is also reduced by low moisture, low temperatures, or low root growth. Plants low in K have low root growth (you can see the cycle here), weak stems, and the outer edges of older leaves may appear burned from lack of water.
My K readings are, again, between sufficient and surplus (it’s kind of hard to match up the colors on these things, but it’s definitely more dark than light). If lack of K is a problem, I would guess it would be because it is not available. My main sources of potassium are grass clippings, alfalfa meal, and kelp. Some years I have added a little greensand to plots with particularly stubborn clay streaks, but I have read that greensand, although a good soil amendment, releases potassium so slowly that is not a good way to add K. Next year, I might take a soil reading midseason before adding more K supplements.
The Rest of the Story
The NPK readings tell us one part of the story. Amount of organic matter, minerals, and micronutrients tell another. I highly suspect these latter are the key to good garlic, but it seems like a roulette game to start throwing a bunch of single-sided amendments onto the beds and hope they work themselves out in the season. I make a growth booster that is a combination of seed meal, lime, bone meal, and kelp, as recommended by Steve Solomon in “Growing Vegetables West of the Cascades.” I have added alfalfa meal, but it makes more sense to me to just grow and turn under alfalfa. It is easy to go overboard on this stuff, and at a per-box price, the $$ quickly add up. It’s kind of like vitamins: if you eat a variety of whole foods, you have a better chance of getting what you need in balance. In the end, I am a strong believer in good ol’ compost, fish fertilizer, and worm teas, although I never seem to have enough compost.
Lessons Learned:
Test my soil both before planting and after harvesting (i.e., before planting something else in its place) and maybe again midseason
Keep adding organic matter to the soil – as much and as often as I can – to build a lighter soil with balanced nutrients and one that supports microbial populations. Good soil structure is key to good garlic.
International Plant Nutrition Institute: http://www.ipni.net/ – “The mission of IPNI is to develop and promote scientific information about the responsible management of plant nutrition for the benefit of the human family.” International focus; lots of useful information.
The Complete Book of Garlic: A Guide for Gardeners, Growers, and Serious Cooks – I have not read this book, but I did browse through it for quite awhile at my local feed store. It is definitely on my “next to buy” list. When they say “complete,” they really mean “complete.” It’s the best I’ve seen yet on the subject of garlic.
Obvious signs of neck rot and mold on these garlic bulbs. Don't compost them; just burn them.
In times like these, it is good not to panic. Take your bearings. Breathe slowly, deeply, inhale, exhale. That’s right. All those things that are important when it comes to living, keep on doing them while you sort through your options.
As previously noted, when I first harvested the varieties that looked the most mature – well, actually, over-mature – I found that the crackly brown and withered looking appearance was not the sign of maturity, but the sign of an early demise (mental note: stay away from mirrors!).
Subsequent harvests confirmed: rampant neck rot and black mold. This is serious stuff. Some of them just pulled apart from the stems. Some of the bulbs were completely missing. I picked up what I could and put them in the burn pile. It was a sad day.
Occasionally, however, I’d come upon a bulb or group of bulbs that weren’t too bad. Some appeared to have a thick layer of hardened mud around the outside of the bulb. I hadn’t watered them in at least 2 weeks. Some showed signs of mold; others, not so much. Most were average size; some were quite large, even though I had not removed the scapes (more about that later). I set these bulbs aside in a different area.
Maybe not the best, but still a decent bulb of garlic.
Then I came across a few bulbs that appeared halfway decent – some were as large as any I had grown. Had conditions been better, I knew this had the potential to be a very good crop. It also occurred to me that although garlic bulbs appear tough and sturdy, they are actually very easily bruised at this point. I treated them with the utmost tenderness and hung them to dry under the eaves of the north side of our barn.
I went back to the imperfect bulbs that I had left on the ground to dry. I found that sometimes I could rub off the dirt and a decent bulb appeared. I hung these in a different area, separated from the good bulbs. On the ones with a darkened (sometimes almost black) outer skin, I found I could peel it back and lo and behold (!), beneath it were clean, white cloves! I bit into one. Flavor burst in my mouth like the fiery flames I used to fan last summer when, after a particularly memorable afternoon of fire breathing, I was told I smelled so strongly of garlic, I had to sleep on the couch!
Hmmm.
I put these darkened bulbs in a bucket and brought them in the house under cover. They were like my dirty little secrets. I would keep them away from the other bulbs; after all, molds have a tendency to spread. I certainly wouldn’t sell them, much less plant them, but I tell you what, I will have no problem at all eating them! I do not expect them to stick around long; I will have to do something with them soon. Dehydrating and pickling might be good solutions.
Dig away the dirt and look! This garlic is still growing! And it looks good!
Another surprise for me this year is that I am still harvesting. Normally, bulbs would all be hanging by the 4th of July or the following week. Based on how my remaining bulbs are doing, I’d say I harvested some of the plants a bit prematurely. I dug some of the dirt away to inspect a bulb or two of the Siberian and Russian Giants – and guess what? They look fine! [Interesting how disaster makes you appreciate small successes. Please join me in a little happy dance, and without much provocation, I’ll probably whip out my harps!] I will probably dig them up in the next day or so.
Hope is good.
I will be taking a closer look at the soil, water, weather, growing methods, & whatever etcetera remains, and toss around some more thoughts to think about – but the lesson for now is that even when all seems lost, good things might still be found.
A sad farewell to my garlic crop, which did not do well this year. Adieu, my friends. (And a thank you to all the frogs that spontaneously joined me in my farewell tribute.)
I don’t know about you, but when I am sad, I go buy plants. At one point in my life, I did an inventory and realized I had over 100 different kinds of herbs. Ok – maybe that wasn’t all sadness – some of that was just pure compulsion.
BUT – I have seriously cut back to what I still can’t handle and learned to somewhat focus, which means I look at the yard through squinted eyes so it looks kind of like a series of splotches – kind of like a Monet Impressionist painting – the weeds kind of flow from one disarrayed patch to another in a peaceful blur of color, shape, and form.
I focus with open eyes, hard labor, and position of control, however, on three things: the garlic, the berry patches, and the veggie beds. The rest of the garden plots bring me great joy, but they do so by more-or-less fending for themselves. Mostly more.
The garlic, of course, is my main passion. Much more than the herbs, which are hardy survivors without my help. Much more than the veggies and berries, which I can buy from dedicated local growers if I need to.
I don’t mean to play favorites, but the garlic is my “thing.” It has become my identity (seriously – people call me “the garlic lady” – which is ok – Blythe isn’t that easy to remember). When I tell them I grew over 1300 bulbs last year and around 25 varieties, their jaws drop. “I had no idea…” is the common response of someone who knows of 3 or 4 kinds of garlic or maybe just the white blobs that pass for garlic in the supermarkets.
I have grown garlic for over 30 years, always carrying my seed from one year to the next. Building up the varieties and the seed stock to grow on a commercial scale has taken me years. To buy that amount of seed stock now would be rather spendy, to say the least.
So if something wipes out my garlic crop, I would have to seriously reevaluate whether after all this time, I should even continue. Certainly, from a business perspective, the labor required to grow something that takes as long as a human bean in utero, does not make a lot of sense.
No one ever said gardeners had to be sensible.
Which is why yesterday I purchased things I would normally not even consider, considering I have a zillion seeds I could still put in the ground, have a yard full of assorted garden plots that all need weeding, and seriously do not need more herbs, flowers, and least of all, zucchini.
I can’t resist wandering through greenhouses. That dense, sweet smell when you first walk in the door … shelf after shelf of assorted leaf shapes and colors … baskets heavy with blooms reaching down from above ….
I seriously showed some restraint when I passed up the root-beer scented plant (what is that thing?), but I admit to a little weakness in the herb section. After all, I didn’t get around to planting the dill or the cilantro – and I spotted some that were obviously crammed into their 6-paks and desperately needed to spread out their roots.
I normally don’t plant a lot of flowers, this year being an exception – and then I came across these coleuses. They were just so striking! Seriously, though, why do I need an outdoor houseplant? For color, of course! Come to think of it, I DO need colorful leaf patterns to enrich my life! I need LOTS of them!
And it’s time to plant summer veggies for fall. Squash plants should be well underway, but I have to admit, my pampered starts are looking rather dismal. (The unknown things sprouting out of my compost pile, however, are obviously on steroids. Hard to say what they will be. Gardens are, after all, like life – full of uncertainties.) I could not resist the “Sweet Mama” squash plants and the images of the rave reviews I would get when I bake that “Sweet Mama” squash pie come fall. And me in my apron, smiling down at those seated around a finely set table, with their cleanly scrubbed faces smiling back up at me, spotless cloth napkins tucked neatly under their chins, holding up their plates and cheering, “Seconds, please!” And I would be saying, “Would you like freshly whipped cream with a little dust of nutmeg with that?” And they would be saying, “Yes, please! You’re the best!” Oh Yes, I had to get the Sweet Mamas.
And after last year, you’d think I’d be insane to buy zucchini — but what can I say. These obviously needed a home. At least I know I can grow them.
I was obviously not in my right mind.
My garlic failed.
There. I said it.
It’s the worst crop ever.
I am still investigating the reasons why. These things are usually a combination of factors, not just one. Gardening is, after all, always a learning process.
I am going to finish the harvesting, which due to our very cold wet spring, is later than usual. I will finish counting the losses and will get back to you.
Suffice to say, it’s a sad day at Barbolian Fields. The reality is, it’s the middle of July in the middle of the day and only 57 degrees out. The wind is doing its usual thing, blowing like crazy. For now, yes, the coleus will add a little needed color to an otherwise very gray day. That is a sure thing.
Everything else? Not so sure. Maybe its time to reconsider going into the kite-making business.
Blue sky, green trees, and the graceful curl of a garlic scape....What? In the desert? How can this be?
I have a serious case of scape envy. There. I’ve said it. I have so-called “friends” who send me pictures of their garlic scapes and how well they are doing. Don’t get me wrong. I love to see how the garlic is growing in other parts of the country – especially garlic bulbs that are descendants from our own. It’s just that we have had so much wind and rain and cold here in the Northwest, I can hardly call it “spring.” I am only just beginning to see the tips of these little bulbils emerging on my earliest varieties. Sure, I am getting a few scapes off the elephant garlic, which are always the first to emerge, but it will be awhile before the hardneck varieties offer theirs for the picking. Usually I am harvesting around Memorial Day and into the first week of June.
In the meantime, I have been working on compiling my favorite ways of using garlic scapes in the kitchen, which, considering the way I cook (it’s called “fling theory”), is turning into a stream-of-consciousness novella. I am hoping to get this little cookbook finished before scape season is over, but believe me, it has been a drooling undertaking that has only added to my misery.
Course, the person who sent me the pictures knew very well what he was doing, judging by his dry humor. But I have to admit the photos were strong evidence of his gardening prowess. He has been able to get hardneck varieties to thrive where they are least likely to survive – an undisclosed location in the desert. (I wouldn’t want to be held responsible for someone sneaking into his backyard and snipping off these delicacies. Not that I would do such a thing. Er… I mean, anyone.)
Garlic scapes make a nice bouquet
Green garlic, aka scallions, are like green onions, only garlicky
And speaking of scapes – or maybe scallions – I had a good question from a reader the other day who asked how big they can get before they’re too tough to put in a salad or just grill. He had recently purchased some at the farmers’ market that were about ½ inch diameter, and said they were much too tough to eat raw or grilled, but that sliced and sautéed in scrambled eggs, they were great. I am not sure whether he was talking about scapes or scallions, so this is a good time to bring up two things: 1) not all scapes are the same, and 2) the difference between scapes and scallions.
Scapes are the shoots that come out of the center of the garlic plant at this time of year and form a little bud on top that later develops into little seedlets (which can be planted or eaten). Only the hardneck varieties produce scapes (actually, the softnecks will, too, but only under duress). Elephant garlics, which are not a true garlic, but of the leek family, also produce scapes.
I was in our local grocery today and saw garlic scapes bundled up with rubber bands like asparagus spears going for about $4/lb. They were tall and straight and a little on the thick side: definitely elephant garlic. The top bulbs were quite large. Obviously older than the ones I had just picked from our garden.
Scapes from Elephant Garlic are also called "spears" for obvious reasons
The elephants have a much different flavor than do the smaller, more delicate scapes of gourmet hardneck garlic varieties, which often twist and turn in circles, depending on the type. Although the elephants in general are milder than regular gourmet garlic, they also tend to have a slightly bitter flavor. Care must be taken not to cook them at too high a heat, which can bring out that bitterness. Personally, I prefer them in soups and stir fries. In fact, I used some the other night lightly sautéed with some pak choi and a little celery, and it was delicious over cous cous.
In general, young scapes from hardneck garlic varieties are better for grilling or eating raw. Even the very curly ones, though, if left on the plant too long, make better floral arrangements.
Regardless of the kind, fresh scapes should snap like an asparagus. Old ones get tough and woody. Yes, the flower tips are good to eat, too, but also can get quite tough, depending on when you pick them.
The other thing I’m seeing in stores is “green garlic” or “garlic scallions.” These are not scapes. These are just immature garlic plants. They look a whole lot like green onions and are about the same size. They can be either hardneck or softneck varieties, since we’re talking about the whole plant, not just the scape shoot. Elephant garlic scallions, which are often advertised as “green garlic,” are much larger and more like their leeky cousins. You will often see the little nubs starting to form on the bulb that are characteristic of the elephants. These will grow into those hard-shelled corms or bulblets that can be planted and grown into rounds the first year and full-sized elephant bulbs the following year.
Hope this answers some of the questions out there about scapes and scallions. Whatever the variety, they are all similar in that they are best when young and tender – and there are so many things you can do with them, I can’t begin to list them in a post – hence, my upcoming cookbook!
Garlic - against the wind - tougher than you'd think!
All I can say is that I am really looking forward to harvesting a few garlic scapes of my own. It has been a challenging spring on our little back acre. My garlic has been literally whipped by gale-force winds – repeatedly – for months. Not to mention downpours. It’s amazing that it is still standing. No wonder the tips are yellow. At least it has been a good opportunity to see which varieties are faring the best under adverse conditions. We have our own little Survivor episode going on out there. (So far, my newest arrival, German Extra Hardy, has been outperforming every other garlic on the plot – but size, strength, and tenacity are only preliminary characteristics. Bulb size, flavor, disease susceptibility, and storage capability are yet to be tested.)
Pathetic Tomato Under Glass - this gallon jar serves as a makeshift greenhouse, but life is hardly tropical for this little tomato
As for the rest of the veggie garden – it’s kind of a gamble. If I waited until nights are consistently at 55 degrees before planting (as many seed packages suggest), I’d be a long time waiting. Heck. We’re lucky to reach 55 in the heat of the day. As you can see from the status of my tomatoes, I’d probably better stick to garlic. Course, last year, I purchased plants from A New Leaf (which is now housed at the Red Rooster Grocery), and they just about took over the worldas I know it – the tomatoes, that is, not Mark & Lisa at the Red Rooster, although they are definitely getting a “buy local” movement going that is doing its part to change the world.
Still, I can’t complain. I think about my desert-rat friends trying to grow garlic in what is quickly approaching 100 degrees, and I imagine I would be breaking out in some kind of rash under those conditions. I wish them well and hope that they enjoy those tender scapes while they can, because they are likely to be harvesting their garlic bulbs pre-cooked (which might not be half bad – hmm, they might be on to something there – and if nothing else, time for a neighborhood barbecue!).
Yes, this is SO me! (click to purchase - the print! Not me!)
This post is a bit outside of my upbeat homespun backyard farm ramblings, but trust me, it comes back around to our own little field. I can’t help but think how fortunate we are to live in this Utopian spot on the planet where everything grows. As I write this, I am watching a live cam of the gulf oil spill, 5000 feet below the surface of the ocean. It is a world away from here, but still very close to home. My stomach turns at the sight. It is a pulsating smoky plume in shades of brown, and as I speak, people are trying to force 50,000 gallons of mud into a crack in the earth in an attempt to stop Pandora’s scourge. I cannot grasp what kind of pressure must exist a mile under the ocean, much less what kind of pressure the plume must be exerting as it gushes out of our planet – nor what it is going to take to pump something twice the density of the water into the hole at a rate of somewhere around 2000 gallons per minute. Please. Quit calling it a leak.
The latest estimate is that so far 1.5 million barrels (not gallons) of oil have been released into the Gulf, and it is still gushing. The truth is, no one knows how much – but one thing we do know: no amount of money can compensate this level of devastation.
But compare these figures with this: The U.S. consumes 21 million barrels of oil every single day. 21 million. Barrels. Every DAY.
You can talk all you want about alternative energies, but the sun and wind won’t fix our oil addiction. Vehicles run on oil, and this big, spread-out country of ours is populated by over 300 million gasaholics.
I am sickened by this spill. I am sickened by the mindless consumers we have become. We cannot entirely blame BP. We have to blame ourselves.
So what can we do? Plenty. But changing what you take for granted sometimes takes planning and hard work.
So. With this in mind, let’s shift gears to our little dot on the planet: aka Barbolian Fields.
Get one, ya gotta have two. These ladies knew how to get er done! Don't mess with them!
Here’s my situation: I rotate my garlic crop around six 25-foot square plots. Actually, 5, because I reserve one for the vegetable garden, in which I have built 8 raised beds, and I rotate the veggie crops around those beds. This set up makes it a little easier for me to water. That makes 1 garlic, 1 veggie, and 4 green manure plots at any given time. Current cover crops are a rye-vetch-clover mix, crimson clover, Nash’s wheat, and a fava bean mix. Nash’s wheat and the rye mix produced the best, with the clover not far behind. The fava plot did not do as well, but I might try planting at a different time. The rye plot was particularly lush – a beautiful bluish green, very dense, in full bloom, and over head high. It should have been cut back long ago.
Now for a Confession: I have several problems. (who knew?)
Vincent would have liked my little backyard endeavor.
The first is this love-hate relationship with machinery. Yes, we own gas-guzzling tillers, weed trimmers, and lawn mowers. Yes, all plural. We have a big field that at this time of year has to be mowed every week or it goes wild and out of control. I am all about wild. My husband is all about control. Actually, he just likes things clean and neat. “Neat” does not describe me. Go figure. So yes, we are part of the gas-guzzling problem, and that, too, is a problem, but probably not the greatest of ours.
I tend to *think* things like tillers and weed trimmers are going to save me time and chiropractor costs, but more often than not, they are more trouble than they’re worth. My little Mantis tiller has been in the shop since February, and good riddance. It usually doesn’t take that much more time to just use a shovel – and if I’m growing green manure crops anyway, why not just cut back the weeds and throw them back on the soil?
But my other problem is the size of our little operation, and this is the crux of the conflict. Serious farmers use tractors. Backyard gardeners use hoes, rakes, and shovels. What if you are somewhere in the middle?
Still another problem is this “age” thing. I am going through a bit of a crisis in being unwilling to accept that I can’t do things I did in my 20s (I’m now in my late 50s, but who’s counting). I mean, I used to buck bales and pull green chain. Seriously. I was 5’ tall and 100 lbs. and nobody messed with me. I’m still 5’ tall and 100 lbs and everybody messes with me, but usually in good humor. That’s what I get for having 5 kids. But lest I digress…
The truth is, the mere thought of holding a vibrating weed trimmer or tiller is painful to me. Plus, this whole oil spill thing makes me want to puke. And yes, I have already admitted I am part of the problem and taken that first step toward recovery. But it sounds kind of silly, considering my problems with arthritis, that I would think it might be just as easy to cut this lush rye crop down with a sickle.
I have two of these antique rusty tools with wooden handles and curved blades. Not sure where they came from. I imagined someone stronger than me putting these tools to good use, cutting grains, hay, grasses….maybe feeding horses. I held it in my hand, felt the worn wood, and thought about how they might have watched the weather and the maturity of the grain and decided when to cut, probably in the morning after the dew had dried. I swung it back a forth to get the feel of it, imagining myself to be a Russian peasant….er, more likely Italian.
My trusty sickle and an old wagon wheel
This little dreamscape was just another form of procrastinating. The tool needed sharpening. I’m no expert on the grindstone, but I managed to give it a sharp shiny edge and take a little skin off my knuckle in the process. Now to test it. Once I got the knack of holding my hand steady and firm and getting a swinging momentum going, I found the sickle cut through the grass with relative ease. Catching it on the backswing, rather than holding a bundle with the left hand and hacking with the right, worked best for me. Halfway through, I stopped to resharpen. It was a workout, and sure, I am sore, but I got it done. It gave me a great sense of accomplishment, obviously, since I am still bragging about it. Maybe even a sense of control. And Power. (YES! maybe he’s on to something.)
A sickle still works - if you're willing to, that is
It rained all day today and I look out and see that rye blanketing the plot. It’s beautiful. It makes sense to just leave it there, no-till style. Much kinder to the soil and everything that lives in it.
There are still 3 plots to go. I will take them slowly. No, our little farm operation isn’t perfect, but by keeping it relatively small, I can manage with a minimum of power equipment, and in the process, I have gained a new respect for old tools. They are worth taking care of and using again.
Also, I am finding that I find excuses not to drive to town. I purchased a bag setup for my bike that is big enough to carry groceries. It’s a hilly ride to the store, but only about 7 miles round trip. It’s doable, and the more I do it, the easier it gets.
It might be a mere drop of oil saved, but if we all saved a drop, together we could make a difference. 21 million barrels every day? Is that how we want to live? What happens when we suck it all out of the planet?
It is several hours later on the webcam and guess what – it’s still gushing. This stuff is not going to just go away any time soon. Our coastlines are blackened; so are our hands. Yours and mine.
It will take a major change in our culture to wean ourselves off this oil addiction, but it is a revolution I am willing to join. And in the process, I will be stronger for the effort. How about you?
German Extra Hardy is looking strong! (Ruler is 15" tall)
Garlic goes through four stages in its life: a dormant stage over winter when it conserves energy and growth is slow; a spring spurt when growth is rapid; a flowering stage in June when energy is directed at producing scapes, bulbils, and seeds; and the bulbing stage, when it sends the last of its reserves toward growing a bulb that can split into cloves and carry on in the next season.
If you’ve tucked your garlic in under mulch for the winter, now is the time to pull back the blanket and let the sun shine in. Early spring is a time of intense change for the garlic plants, and when they first come up, they are hungry! Have pity and don’t make them search for food!
Think of your garlic like other leafy green vegetables. It will visibly respond to a quick nitrogen fix. The bigger, stronger, and more lush it grows now, the more resources it will have to make bulbs (make that Big Luscious Bulbs bursting with flavor) later.
My strategy is a combination of blood meal, kelp, fish fertilizer, and worm tea. But you don’t want to overdo it. For the first application, I work a little blood meal into the soil. A couple of weeks later, I give them weekly applications of a foliar spray of diluted fish fertilizer and ground applications of worm tea and kelp. I cut all stimulants when I get close to harvest, cold turkey.
So I went out early this month to check the status of my bulbs, and they were already a foot and a half tall! (Living proof! See the picture at left!) I tentatively pulled back the hay mulch, which if you’ve been following this blog, you know I piled it on rather thickly this last winter. In some places, it was a little too thick. Although it helped filter all the heavy rain we’ve had and moderate the dips below freezing, it was also holding all that moisture in. I pulled it back from every other row. The ground was cold and wet. A few of the bulbs were really struggling to get through, and whew! I think I rescued them just in time. I could almost hear them say, “Ahhh – fresh air! Sunlight! I can breathe!” I could visibly watch them straighten out and reach for the sun.
Mulch is still offering some protection, but enough is pulled back to allow air and sunlight to plants. Blood meal is between the rows.
“Hang in there. I have what you need,” I told them. But before applying the blood meal, I had to do a little math. It always surprises me how much math is involved in gardening. I have four 3.5-foot beds 20-feet long with four rows of garlic down each bed. Ok, so how many square feet is that and how much blood meal should be applied per plant, square foot, acre, or hectare, based on recommendations on the box. In the end, I sprinkled a small amount down the rows, which amounted to 4 cups per bed, which miraculously used up the whole 5-lb box over the entire plot. I love it when things turn out even. As noted above, I lightly worked the meal into the top inch or so of the soil, which also broke up the upper crust and worked some air into the ground. I was careful not to dig around too deeply. The roots are long, spindly, and rather brittle. You have to use care not to break them. I pulled an occasional dandelion weed, which came out easily in the soft beds. I cut off some of the weeds growing along the sides of the beds and threw the cuttings on top of the mulch. I don’t want to disturb things too much at this point. The weeds aren’t so bad that they are suffocating my friends. They’re just helping to hold things together. When things dry out a bit, I will turn over the weeds growing in the pathways. For now, everyone was lookin’ good. I walked away.
The next day, we were hit with 60-mph winds. I thought of my poor plants out there, naked and exposed and getting whip lash. I didn’t want to go out there. It was obviously not a safe place for cats or, for that matter, even small children. I woke up the following day to thick frost and a hard ground. A few days later, we were getting slushy rain mixed with snow, blowing sideways. Will this never end? Sometimes we just can’t predict these things. My garlic are strong because they have to be. We get character-building weather in late March and early April.
Was it too early to feed them? I don’t think so. And if you haven’t fed yours, never fear, it isn’t too late.
Not surprisingly, everyone survived just fine. When in doubt, keep in mind that some of these grow in Siberia. Garlics are by nature hardy souls.
But with regard to fertilizer, there can also be too much of a good thing. The blood meal is relatively slow release, but it is still strong. I probably won’t add any more this season. This next week I will start routine applications of diluted worm tea and fish fertilizer. The garlics really perk up after each of these feedings.
So. Listen to your plants. Be sensitive to their needs. Feed them. Water them. Give them air. When the weather fools you, encourage them to hang in there. A little TLC now will be greatly repaid later. Some people might think me a little fanatic, but what do you expect when the majority of your friends are garlic plants? I am ok with that. I have no trouble consuming them. Not even a twinge of remorse. My philosophy: Feed the garlic and they will feed you. Rather well, actually.
I know, that is a long title that probably won’t do anything for me in the Google ratings. But that’s ok.
I was just thinking about how garlic (and the Internet) has helped me get back in touch with old friends and also begin friendships with others who are as passionate as I am about gardening, family farms, and sustainable living.
For example, I recently had the chance to reconnect with people I haven’t seen for 30 years or more. I caught back up with a friend who mushes dogs and continues to explore the deeper workings of the world in obscure places. Thirty years ago, she taught me how to spin yarn. We share a love for Samoyeds and old hiking shoes. This last weekend I met up with someone I used to know in kindergarten (we were both the shortest in the class and were immediately friends for life!), and lo & behold, we’re still both vertically challenged, and we also love to read, do crafts, and have a passion for dye plants (she greeted me with a bag of osage orange! I was ecstatic!).
And then there is the guy with whom I went to the high-school prom, who could have been lost in a South American jungle and swallowed by a giant Python for all I knew – and turns out we still have common interests (as in early Beatles music and peace necklaces? um, no…). We share a love for the thing that unites so many of us: GARLIC!!
This was great news to me (as in – OMG – who is this? the guy I went to the prom with? Like – 40 years ago?) No – as in he bought a LOT of my garlic, and he effused over the individual characteristics of each one as if they were his own progeny (which, I assure you, they were not). And what is even more amazing (the passage of time only being amazing in retrospect) is that he has managed to get some of my very best garlic bulbs (keep in mind these have adapted to Pacific Northwest conditions over nearly 25 years now) to grow – get this – in the Mojave Desert.
Whoaa.
That is one dedicated garlic grower. That is his garlic at the top of this post – living proof.
So without further ado, we interrupt this broadcast to give you . . . .
The Mojave Desert Experimental Garlic Station Progress Report
“The winter rains were timed just right and I didn’t need to set up automatic irrigation until right about any time now. A bit of mulch would go nicely to restore the surface. And a few zinnias would be fun to look at back there.
The garlic out front is ahead of the back, thanks to more sun and thanks to the anti-cat trellises covering the soil. (The cats don’t bother the back yard beds—too far from their food dish, probably.) When the heat hits we’ll see if the extra sun is a good thing.
In general things are growing and leafing but the real charge hasn’t happened yet.
Thanks again for selling garlic to me. I have eggs–just waiting for scapes.”
(Thank YOU, Mark!)
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Yes, thanks to the Internet, I sold garlic all across the country last year, and it is really fun to hear how these bulbs are taking off – but even more important, are the friends I have made in the process.
This is in from a some great folks in Pennsylvania who trusted me enough to buy a lot of my seedstock for their comparatively very large garlic-growing operation. It is seriously amazing what they are able to accomplish by just working hard and adhering to their values. We live on opposite sides of the country, but have so much in common. They think it is great fun to give me a hard time about my garlic:
Hey Blythe, it appears some of your garlic really likes Pennsylvania. In fact I heard them talking amongst themselves how happy they were to be out of Washington State. The standouts so far appear to be Juan de Fuca, Carpathian, and the Siberian. They’re the ones that seem to have the quickest start. The Persian Star seems to start out like the Chesnok Red, but a little behind. I think the Choparsky will be standout [purchased from my neighbor, Teri Crockett]…. It’s kinda neat growing all these different strains and comparing them with the German Extra Hardy, which we’ve been growing for 11 years now [and which I am giving a try this year]…. I truly believe we are just seeing a surge in gourmet garlic interest. Had a fellow call the other day that will buy all our scapes for making vinegar. Sooooo, yea, we are optimistic about the future of quality garlic. How bout you? [comments in brackets are mine]
Two things: one, my garlic bulbs are hardy souls – and they are just expressing immense relief to be out from all that snow they’ve had back East! And second, YES! I am SUPER optimistic about garlic! The timing is right – people are appreciating more the high quality of gourmet garlic and all the things you can do with it. Vinegar from the scapes? Love it! Can’t wait for the scapes to come on!
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Good things – gardens, garlic, friendships – and no matter how hard times get, if you have these three, you will be wealthy indeed!
hey blythe, it appears some of your garlic really likes pa.in fact i heard them talking amongst themselves how happy they were to be out of washington state.the standouts so far appear to be jaun de fuca,carpathian,and the siberian.they’re the ones that seem to have the quickest start . the persian star seems to start out like the ches. red, but a little behind. i think the choparsky will be standout .we plan on getting more from terri this year.it’s kinda neet growing all these different strains and compare them with the german ex. which we’ve been growing for 11 years now. another one that appears to have fit in is the krasnodar red we got from minn.so at least when the country goes down the toilet,wait…………i think i just heard it flushed,we’ll be able to eat garlic!i truly believe we are just seeing a surge in gourmet garlic interest.had a fellow call the other day that will buy all our scapes for making vinegar.sooooo,yea, we are optimistic about the future of quality garlic. how bout you?
We haven’t done recipes on here in awhile, but truly, I get more hits on my recipe posts than on anything else. Which just goes to show, a lot of us are trying to figure out what’s for dinner (again).
As mentioned in my previous post, NOW is the time to use those spring greens, because later on they get strong and bitter. Personally, I had easy access to lovage, sorrel, parsley, pea shoots, kale, and collards, so those are things I wanted to use. Lovage & sorrel, especially, need to be used in small quantities, but can really add that little “zing” that makes everyone wonder, “Jeez! What IS that!”
I got the idea for this recipe from the latest (March 2010) issue of Vegetarian Times. Although I’m not a strict vegetarian, I’ve been a subscriber for years because they inspire me & help me keep on track. But, of course, I rarely follow recipes. Likewise, if you wanted to add dead animals to your soon-to-be famous Quinoa Composite (or whatever you want to call it), that would be entirely up to you.(BTW – the VT website is a great site, with a searchable recipe database and a lot of resource links, so I highly recommend it.)
My first question, though, is, “Can it be a quiche without a crust?” Maybe this should be called Grains & Greens in a Pie Dish (note: not in a PIE; in a pie DISH).
Seriously, this is one of those dishes that makes you suspicious because it is just so freakin good for you, it’s easy to fix, and it tastes great, too.
For those not familiar with quinoa (pronounced keen-wa), it was a staple of the early Incas. Anything that has been around for 6000 years has stood the test of time, in my book. It is the mother grain of grains (although some would argue it’s a fruit; others say it’s a seed; maybe it’s all of these), having more protein than any other “grain;” plus, it’s a complete protein, meaning the amino acids are in balance so you can absorb it better. It’s gluten free, easy to digest, and what’s more, cooks up in 15 minutes or less, making it right up there with cous cous for camp food. You can now find it in big warehouse stores; so it has definitely gone mainstream.
I’ve never grown quinoa; here at sea level, I question how well it would do when it is normally grown in more mountainous regions. However, I have grown red amaranth, a dye plant relative to quinoa, so it might be interesting to try.
Obviously, this is another one of my freestyle recipes, which is more about attitude than measurement. When you start throwing in wild things and people think you’re getting a little crazy, it can be really liberating, you know? Bring on the wine, toss a little of that in, too! Why not.
Quinoa Crustless Quiche with Spring Greens (whatever)
1/2 cup quinoa
1 cup water or stock
a little olive oil
1 onion, chopped
some greens – whatever you have
feta cheese – a small handful, crumbled
1 T of butter
3 eggs, lightly beaten
Here’s what you do:
Collect your greens. As I mentioned above, I had collards, kale, lovage, sorrel, parsley, and new pea shoots (they re-seeded themselves – looks like I missed a bunch!). Obviously, I could have added dandelion, mustards, chickweeds, & etc., but I had several bunches at this point and it was beginning to look like a lot. Vegetarian Times suggested chicory and romaine lettuce plus extra green onions and dill. It’s too early for dill here and I don’t have easy access to chicory. I imagine my version is stronger flavored in a different way.
Toast your quinoa. Just brown it over medium heat in a dry pan (use a pan with a lid – but leave the lid off for now). It will start popping like popcorn and gets this wonderful nutty aroma. Be careful, because once it gets hot, it browns quickly, and you don’t want to burn it. Take it off the heat, stand back, and add 1 cup of water or stock. Quickly put on the lid to capture the steam, put in back on low heat, and let it cook about 15 minutes.
Now would be a good time to get your oven heating up to 350 degrees.
Cook your veggies. Put a little olive oil in a pan and saute the chopped onion until translucent. Then start adding your collected greens (also chopped), according to how long they need to be cooked. For example, first I added the collards; while that was cooking, I rinsed & chopped kale; while that was cooking, I chopped the lovage (not too much! this stuff is powerful!); then came the sorrel, which needs very little cooking; and lastly I added parsely and pea shoots, which tend to be rather delicate. You don’t really need to cook these latter greens – and there’s no point in cooking collards to death, either. This all goes rather quickly. Take it all off the heat. If there’s some liquid in the pan, that’s ok. If you time this right, your veggies & quinoa will be done at the same time.
Alternatively, you could get the quinoa going while you pick the greens. Whatever works for you. I tend to get sidetracked in the garden, so I don’t start cooking until I’m back inside and on a mission.
Add cooked quinoa and crumbled cheese to veggies and stir it all up. (VT also added goat cheese; I really found the feta to be quite enough, and the stuff is so salty, you don’t need very much or other seasoning).
Prepare baking pan. Melt a tablespoon of butter in your baking dish – just enough to lightly coat the bottom. Just put it in the oven for a minute while you do the next step.
Add beaten eggs. Do this part quickly in case your veggie-quinoa mix is rather hot. You don’t want it to scramble at this point.
Spread veggie-quinoa mix in pan, pack it down a bit, and bake for about 20 minutes – just long enough to solidify everything and maybe slightly brown the top.
So easy. So quick. Nutritious fast food, Inca style. Enjoy!
I used to be a huge fan of Euell Gibbons. Actually, I still am. Not sure how many remember him (he lived 1911 – 1975), but back in the early 70s when I was living in a one-room log cabin in the Alaskan wilderness (I kid you not), I took great pride in identifying wild edible plants. Mr. Gibbons was a great inspiration to me. In my time, I have been known to consume vast quantities of fuzzy fiddleheads, brazenly pick stinging nettles with my bare hands, and fearlessly stalk the wild asparagus in remote abandoned orchards haunted by ghosts from eras past. I also found that a lot of things are edible, but it doesn’t mean you necessarily want to eat them, unless you’re on the verge of a scurvy attack or something.
In any event, it’s good to review that knowledge every now and then, because you just never know when it might come in handy. The best time to have “wild parties” is right now – and if you are reading this 6 months from now, that statement still holds true.
But face it – it’s early March, and as much as we love all those earthy roots that filled us with a feeling of abundance throughout the winter (you’re probably thinking I must have fallen off the turnip truck with that statement), what we’re craving right now is a fresh green salad and maybe a little chocolate (now we’re being honest).
Course, had I planned ahead, I would have lettuce, spinach, and radishes ready by now. I confess, I’m not the most efficient gardener. BUT a quick inventory revealed several things growing in my back yard in spite of myself:
First, the intentional plants: those things I purposefully planted and counted on to provide something fresh in late February/early March:
The chard, admittedly, took a beating by the cold and rain, the rhubarb is not quite there yet, but the kale and collards are growing strong, along with a few volunteer purple mustards. Leeks could be pulled now, as could some of the elephant garlic scallions that seeded themselves (oops – not intentional – still good). Course, to many out there, these are no-brainers. The beets, though, I worried about, because I did not cover them with any kind of cloche, which I knew would just be eaten by the wind. The wind loves plastic about like I love chocolate, in case you didn’t know.
Herbs are looking good – particularly the Simon & Garfunkel quad: parsley, sage, rosemary, & thyme – as well as the big bay tree and the mints. Chives are sprouting, which excites me greatly, since we still have leftover potatoes. And my cat, Guy Noir, has found new batches of catnip. Useless kitty.
Then there are those things that add that element of surprise to the pre-spring table, which is everything listed so far PLUS lovage, cardoon, and French sorrel.
Not everyone grows these, but they should, if for no other reason than because they are so bold. Lovage smells strongly of celery and, I am told, was used by early European royalty in the bath as a natural deodorant; cardoon resembles its artichoke cousins (only you eat the stems, not the bulbs – and most certainly not the bitter leaves – although they won’t kill you, as I am currently testifying); and I imagine that sorrel, with its lemony tang, has undoubtedly saved many a wanton sailor from scurvy. Yes, I have quite the imagination, and I’m kind of unreasonably paranoid about this whole scurvy thing, obviously.
And then there are those things that grow of their own free will – no, no, not my entire garden – WILD things! Wild Greens. That’s what this post was supposed to be about until we got sidetracked by other things that are showing up through sheer tenacity and perseverance, qualities we should all embrace and consume!
A walk on the wild side à la Gibbons provides a plethora of savage plants that are not only true survivors, but also nutritional powerhouses: dandelions, mustards, purslane, chickweed, and nettles. I am sure there are more out there – but a little backyard grazing and my basket is already full! These add a lot of zing to soups & salads before the rest of the garden gets going. Embrace! Consume! Yes! Wild parties are the best! Now – ANY time! Eat Wild Greens!
