Almost Halloween Garden

Sweet potatoes must be picked this weekend. Frost is coming. The leaves have already been nipped by cool weather. (Click on pictures to enlarge.)

I rescued our oranges this morning, hardy trifoliate. So tart, they flavor water nicely, might make marmalade.

Lettuces, spinach and beets are coming along.

This cosmos entertains an alianthus webworm moth.

The last 2 years I planted English peas in August and they failed to mature before winter. This year I got smarter and planted sugar snap peas, figuring we could eat them at any stage. That's the answer, from now on, sugar snap peas in fall. Also broccoli, beats and our late, late green beans. Wheat is waiting to sprout in between.

Here's another garden bed where the wheat has risen.

Hyacinth beans accompany orange trees (in the greenhouse).

"Didn't I smell tomato sauce yesterday?" asks Virginia.

Yes, for our pizza dinner last night with a couple of couples. Heritage tomatoes are almost perfect this time of year (also in the greenhouse).

Hemlock Tea Anyone?

Karen and I have returned from about 29 hours in the DC area, where we celebrated our 24th anniversary with old friends, not so old really, I've only known them about 34 years, Karen about 19. Back in July I bought tickets to Red Hot Patriot: The Kick-Ass Wit of Molly Ivins, thinking it would be fun to watch Kathleen Turner bring Molly Ivins into real time. I came away thinking maybe I should, uh, buy some poster board and plant myself in front of someone who doesn't want to see me, say maybe a CAFO (concentrated animal feeding operation) or Monsanto headquarters. Hey, then I'd get to see my St. Louis friends again.

"Why don't you march during a Presidential debate or knock on doors during the next 3 weeks?" says Virginia.

Well, I might have some fairly strong feelings about those matters, believe it or not, but I seem to feel even more strongly about the food we put in our mouths, which not many people care about. A sneaky suspicion suggests that food is one reason many of our loved ones die prematurely. A healthy fear warns that even though Karen and I are trying to achieve a good level of self-sufficiency on Elk Cliff Farm, it's too late. Twenty-two years of regular exercise and less than a decade of garden-fresh produce, put-by food, and grass-fed meats and bar soaps aren't likely to counter a lifetime of pesticide exposure, thirty-five years of corn fructose, and a continuing addiction to mass-produced chocolates and peppermints.

Heck, you should taste some of the heritage tomatoes we've been finding on the greenhouse vines. I doubt you'll be able to buy their robust taste in a grocery store, even a Whole Foods. Hey, let's stop griping about the prices at farmers' markets, I mean markets where folks who live near us sell food they have grown for our unpoisoned enjoyment. Is it worth paying less for "vegetables" and "fruits" bred to be hardy enough to travel 1500 miles to our tables, tasteless until we spice them up a bit? Something tells me dark lighting and lots of hot sauce are not macho or cool, and the hidden ingredients are not something our great-grandparents nibbled.

Nah. I don't think I'll be driving to Monsanto, but we might go near there to see friends. Watch out!

Tomato Trellis

A few months ago, a large branch broke off one of our ancient oak trees, landing on our compost heap, my first gardening project after we bought the farm. Today I finally began turning it into firewood...and a tomato trellis. The trellis project got me started and I'm glad it did. It's easy to forget work waiting behind our hundred year old boxwoods, since I abandoned that heap for another.

"It's going to blow over in the first strong wind," says Virginia.

What would I do without her? Back to the drawing board.

Maybe braces in the middle and giant pegs in the ground for each leg will make a difference.

Greenhouse Happenings

Last night, Susan asked what's happening in our greenhouse.

You may remember my tomato grower's post, filed after a friend from Mississippi visited while interning at Polyface Farms, home of Joel Salatin. I've been following his instructions.

"Those aren't tomatoes," Virginia croaks from her sickbed.

Did I say they were? He suggested applying the same rules to cucumbers, so I have. Check out these little guys. Maybe they'll flavor our salads in a couple weeks. Oh, I should mention, their vines have been growing about 2 inches each day.

Here's a tomato plant.

Yes, over to the left, that's basil.

Tomato Man

We've been known to invite complete strangers into our home, actually, not complete strangers, I mean, how complete a stranger could an Appalachian through-hiker be? To some people they might seem strange or irresponsible, but to us, they seem, maybe, adventurous, energetic, thoughtful, perhaps even wild or romantic.

What's the worst that could happen? They're not going to steal much. After all, they've chosen to hike 2100 miles with a backpack and by the time they get to Virginia they've learned to keep that pack as light as possible.

"Stink up your washing machine for a month?" Virginia offers. Yes, Karen would probably agree with that.

What's the best that could happen? They might become friends. Several have returned after summiting Mt. Kathadin. One fellow came back yet another time to house-sit while we spent a month in Italy, and again after that. Our current guest is a through-hiker friend of a through-hiker friend of our house-sitter, who stayed here 2 years ago during his own walk in the woods. He's helping Karen move pigs as I write this. I'll be the cameraman shortly.

Before the pigs, he gave me a lesson in tomatoes. He knows tomatoes because he and his dad grow tomatoes for production in Mississippi. Never put tomatoes in a refrigerator, he says. That will kill their nutritional value.  Don't put them on a sunny windowsill either. They'll last longer in an open paper bag. Spreading them apart is a good idea because the more they're exposed to the ethylene gas they put off, the sooner they ripen. If you want a red one, put it in a paper bag with a banana. The gas from the banana will ripen it fast. (My sister will love this news, as much as she loves bananas.)

Don't they taste best when they've ripened red on the vine? Probably not, he says. Pick them when they first begin to "break red," that is, begin to turn red. Supposedly, the vine shuts down on a tomato at that stage, so there's no point leaving it on any longer. Besides, leaving it on longer might take energy from the other unripened tomatoes.

"Hmm, if the vine shuts down on it, why would that take energy from the other fruit?" asks Virginia.

Search me. Anyway, I was more interested in how to prune my tomatoes for best production. Start early, after the plant's grown a foot or so and has put out a sucker. Limit growth to two vines per plant by breaking off all but the main stem and the first sucker. As those two vines grow, continually pick off suckers. Each vine will grow three leaves, fruit, three leaves, fruit, etc. Tie the vines up a wire or stake and train them along for as long as they'll go, sometimes 60 feet.  Chickens may get the first fruit to ripen, down low, but they won't be able to reach the higher tomatoes. The fruits will ripen in order from the bottom of the vine up.  As you pick them, remove the leaves below, so you basically have a bare vine up to the bottom fruits still ripening. You want the vine's energy going into the necessary leaves and fruit, not to needless leaves. The number of leaves required per vine depends on the variety of tomato; generally, 20-30 leaves is sufficient.  (A "leaf" consists of a frond with all of what I previously might have called "leaves.")  By the way, these instructions assume your variety is "indeterminate," which means the fruit ripens gradually from bottom up. The seed packet should say whether the seed is indeterminate or determinate.  Determinate varieties, for which all the fruit ripens at the same time, are used by many commercial growers that use automated pickers.

Our friend worked on a farm in Colorado last summer.  Before he came, the farmers found themselves stuck with picking green tomatoes because they couldn't get their plants to produce fast enough in their climate. With his help, they had red tomatoes for 2 months.

My work's cut out for me this Fall. Gotta get some more tomato plants in the greenhouse and see what we can do by Christmas. Maybe try the same with cucumbers. Next year, do this outdoors with tomatoes, cucumbers, vining squashes, and more.