growing onions

May Garlic


Ahab's Maggot


I'm now visiting the farm at two week intervals, primarily for weeding -picky, on your knees weeding. I've been lucky, its been cool and dry so that major weeding has been unnecessary.  I bought three hoes in February so that I can work like a real farmer and Saturday I used them. But as I said before, these hoes are brutal. I decapitated a handful of garlic because of slightly mistaken gestures. The cuts are clean, off with their heads! clean, and what remains must be dug out. I'm not clear on the reason, but these hoes have three sides of the blade razor sharp so that even mere side swipes cause injury. Even though I was able to weed the entire plot in 3 hours (that is how long it took me to weed last year's plot at a quarter the size), it is time to retire these hoes from intra-row duty. Next visit it's all hands and knees. 


I was taken by this enormous (so large that it wouldn't fit in my camera) cherry right beside the farm gate.


And happy to see the pea greens I planted two weeks ago had all come up, each and every one. Let the FFSA (friends and family supported agriculture) begin. These are for salads and stir-fry.


The other reason for my visit of course is the health of my rows. Above is a good example of unhealthy garlic. The leaf curl is the primary indicator (yellowing leaves, secondary) of acute disease.


Digging up garlic now shows that last November's planted cloves are gone or nearly so. In my field, some were eaten by the maggots, but most were used up by the growing plant which by May are growing on their own. Notice how large the stem is -this would have been a nice sized bulb.


Look inside the red circle to see what I believe is a young maggot. Onion maggots have several generations a year and right now we are between generations. In looking for samples to send Cornell, I found some pupae and some very small maggots, but few flies or mature maggots like I found two weeks ago.


What concerns me is that the next generation will be ready just as the garlic begins forming its cloves -what we call the bulb, and a feast for that next generation. The thought is dispiriting.


Then I notice the light over the wheat field, the way it plays off the budding trees. I make my way to the field's edge. The sky is not the dirty blue of Brooklyn, not even the sharp blue of a winter's day. 


I look to the northeast where a new farmer, Frank, (two Franks? Long Island generates the most Franks) discs his field. He is not alone. Their voices carry on the wind -I hear them with perfect clarity, yet they sound diminutive, far away. That same wind carries the perfume of ocean-side convalescence.

 
How bad can things be, really, given the beauty all around? It is easy to take myself too seriously, to allow a fatalism to take root. Though the force of circumstance is insistent, I cannot allow it to take away all force from myself.


And I go about hoeing my rows, culling the culls, bagging the samples, spraying fish and kelp, and then planting the heirloom onions.





I quit at sundown to drive back to Brooklyn, passing through the Hamptons now filling with its seasonal inhabitants; the restaurant lots filled this Saturday evening. At Riverhead I detoured north toward the Sound, to drop a large brown paper bag filled with smaller bags of culled garlic at the doorstep of Cornell's Horticultural Research Laboratory. It was dark, nobody was around, and that felt rather comfortable. Although I had traveled the North Fork route time and again since the days I was free to drive a car, many times at night, I was struck by the darkness and the stars.


Tragedy of the (Maggot) Commons




The plan was to begin work trips with two week intervals, but the onion maggot infestation was weighing heavy on my mind. I went on Saturday, no time like the present. The goal was to remove as many obviously diseased plants as I could find.


This is a sad sight. It's not only the dying plant at center, but all the others that aren't even there anymore. One month ago each and every clove I had planted was up and growing, but now several are simply gone (below ground they rot).


This is the culprit.


A most disgusting sight.

The maggots eat away the planted clove, destroying the young plant's source of energy and inviting bacteria and fungal infection. Yet, the garlic has substantial roots now and the growing stems can survive the initial onslaught. In pulling dozens of plants I hope to stave off the more damaging second generation of maggots, already a glimmer in the bulbous eyes of flies, that will come near the time of bulb formation. You may recognize in this problem what can turn a farmer into a pesticide user. A wise farmer is a polyculturalist, and dare I say it -a prudent applicator of pesticides, organic or otherwise.


I wonder how well my garlic could survive the maggot attack had the field been better prepared. Currently low in organic matter, not abundantly fertile, and low in pH, the surviving plants all have the appearance of plants under stress. Of course, I was ready to prepare this field a year ago, but as you know I didn't get on the land until after Sandy.

I pulled roughly one percent of my garlic, disposing of them in black plastic bags, toting these back to Brooklyn. Of shallots I've lost nearly 30 percent, so far, and I am on course to lose the entire crop. I also believe, although the plants were bearing it on Saturday, that a magnitude of my garlic is under attack by the maggot. The increase in sick plants in just five days was rather disheartening, the infestation spread to each and every bed. It's not only my garlic, a neighboring farm is showing signs as well. With two months until harvest there is good reason to question whether there will be any harvest at all.


The Garlic Fields


It was cloudy at the farm, breezy, the air moist, still warranting a jacket. On my last trip, around the equinox of March, I saw growth in every row and was pleased. This trip there was still more growth, yet also signs of trouble.


Twenty two 40-foot rows of garlic and one row of saffron crocus.


Last season, at the upstate farm (below) growth was luxurious by mid April. Everything was grown in a bed of local compost. The season was also warm, all winter, and there wasn't much wind in this protected spot. Note how good the Griselle shallots look in the center row -lush, green, spidery foliage.





These are the Turban variety strain 'Thai Purple.' Like its sibling 'Tuscan,' these came up last December and continued to grow throughout the cold winter. Turban strains are earliest to harvest, and that explains their large size at this date. My experience suggests that the yellow discoloration of the leaves is due to winter damage.


At this point, most of the garlic looks healthy, despite the raw attitude of the bare soil, lack of compost and mulch. Above the Creole strain 'Burgundy.'

An Asiatic strain, 'Asian Tempest,' that I had some concern about was isolated from the rest. So far, so good.


The Purple Stripe variety strains, like 'Chesnok,' come up slow, with wider leaf angles than the other hardneck varieties. This strain did poorly last season, at the upstate farm, and I blame poor seed garlic. I hope this new supply from a better farm grows larger and healthier.


Now look at this. One of the advantages to planting in orderly rows is the ease with which you can account for your planting. Clearly this bed is in the red. Take another look at last season's bed of Griselle at the upstate farm in April. I didn't lose one of those -each and every one a perfectly healthy specimen. I lost none in storage, and had them tested for nematode, which came up negative. So this is a major disappointment. The soil is actually quite similar here to the soil at last season's farm (although that was amended with compost). The rain? No, shallots should be able to handle cold and rain over winter. Fertilizer? Maybe, although I did add slow-releasing organic fertilizers before planting and again in late March. Lime? Did that, too, in quite the same manner as last season's upstate farm (which had an even lower pH). Hmmm.


This strikes me as a generally healthy looking shallot, although less healthy than last season's specimens. Look at the one behind. Not so good. Unlikely that this is a fertilizer, pH, temperature, or water problem when one is good and its neighbor not good. That kind of irregularity tends to mean only one thing -pests.


An adjacent row of garlic, Porcelain variety strain 'German Hardy,' showed a few weak and stunted plants. Not good. I dug one up, careful to maintain an envelope of soil around the roots.


AACCKK! WTF? Oh, this could be very bad. I knew I shouldn't have planted anything from New York State farm sources, but I did. The seed was clean, in great shape, after last year's experience I knew what to look for, and the farmer looked me in the eye and said it was good. I thought I should have this strain and that desire could be the undoing of my entire crop.

First question -what is that black stuff? Fungus, yes? Also the white fluff? My first reaction was emphatically White Rot, Sclerotium cepivorum! It is the worst thing you can get in your garlic or onion field beside garlic bloat nematode, Ditylenchus dipsaci. White Rot favors cool and wet temperatures (check) but this black fungus seems a little large for the black sclerotia which is often described as poppy seed-sized. Have I grown a super White Rot? I pulled three stunted garlic plants, all from the same bed of German Hardy (and adjacent to the Griselle shallots) and inspected them, then disposed each in a trash bag brought back to Brooklyn.


I didn't want to leave the farm this way, but culling poor performers was my last task. 


Man v Maggot


The next morning I headed outside to more closely inspect the garlic I had tossed in the trash. I didn't want to do this on the farm for fear of spreading pestilence around. I shook the soil off of the plants, discovering that the roots were healthy and the black fungus was not a collection of orbs, but a sheet type, similar to lichen in form and almost rubbery. The black fungus was only attached to the old clove skins.


As I said before, the roots were healthy on all three specimens, but the clove was rotting from the inside. It's possible the black and white fungal matter were completely secondary and not indicating White Rot.


I scraped away some soil on the final specimen and found something. Movement.


Worms, or rather  maggots, Onion Maggots, Hylemya antiqua -a serious pest that is difficult if at all possible to get rid of. It was only then that I made a connection to my adjacent, poorly growing Griselle shallots. Where did they come from? Probably in the field already (they overwinter in the soil), or they migrated from a nearby field via tractor or even from wild onions or garlic in the grass alongside my field. So far the obvious damage is on the west side of my acre. Now I need to get back to pluck all the stunted shallots and garlic and dispose of them in trash bags. Once these maggots pupate and morph into flies they will be impossible to contain. There are no useful controls. Farming is hope in action. 



Migrations


I rose before 6 am so that I could pick up the eleven flats of onion seedlings languishing in the studio. I did not want to haul each down the 4 flights of stairs on Saturday; I wanted the elevator and its operator, Carlos, and that meant getting there early so I could still get to work on time. Carlos knows all about my ajo and cebollas, and his wife is a big fan.


The plan was to leave them in the van until tomorrow, sitting on top of 300 pounds of alfalfa meal, but I had a few spare moments to do today what needn't wait until tomorrow.


A couple went here, around the roses, the only spot new growth isn't seriously pushing up.


Most went in the side yard, a location that leaves me wary because it's the spot most often trashed by unknown (but sometimes known) feet. The weather is enough of a challenge, but the people, the wild cats, even a squirrel could do my trays in. Please, leave my cebollas alone!


Although my heart was in the right place, I ended up using some peat-based potting mix when I ran out of vermiculite. I will do better next year. Now, sun must do its part to make these guys stand up. I will feed with kelp and fish soon enough and plan to transplant by the end of March.

Other Migrations:

Three weeks ago, Betsy and I received notice that all artist tenants in our studio building will be, effectively, kicked out. Our leases are up in August, but they are forcing out those on the fifth floor by this April one. We were given until June, to which I replied that wasn't going to happen because of the harvest. Apparently the landlords are feeling pretty confident about our dismissal, despite the fact that most of us have new leases. They have offered to move us to another building, but at that building's new rate which is nearly double what we are now paying. Funny, I didn't see this coming because I thought they were satisfied with the 45 percent rate increase they demanded last year. If you want to know how this feels, read last year's complaint. I can't even give it any emotional energy. Simply put, it's over.

I do not know what we will do, or where we will go, or how this will change our art practices. I would like to mention an absurdity: I can rent an acre in The Hamptons, near the ocean, for 350 dollars a year or I can rent 140 square feet (1/300th of an acre) in Gowanus, near the canal, for 6300 dollars a year.

Update: less than 24 hours something already messed with my onion flats. Either cats were laying on them or a squirrel was digging in them, or more likely both. Bollocks.




The Onion Seedling



From a distance an onion seedling comes up looking like a dicotyledon. But an onion is a monocotyledon; a single embryonic leaf emerging from its seed.

A day or two later, the illusion of a dicot gives way to the monocot as the tip emerges from the soil, a pronounced fold in its embryonic leaf. Other features of a monocot: roots are adventitious, flower parts come in threes, and veins are parallel. Lilies, bananas, ginger and grasses are monocots. 


Vermiculite Sandwich with Extra Onions



I have extra, unused rows in my garlic field. At first I thought I would fill them with tomatoes, potatoes, green beans and the like. Now I'm thinking that's just too much effort at this time. So, what to fill those empty rows with then? Onions. From seed.

I purchased these 5-inch deep, 2 by 2-inch wide cell trays, eschewing positive cost to cell-count ratios for longer roots, longer tray times, or what is often referred to as leeway. 

Large holes at the bottoms and ribbing on the side which purports to fight off root binding.

The team. After last summer's trip to Maine where I saw peat bogs first hand, I decided to try a different approach to a peat-based starter mix. After some hand wringing, I made an on the fly decision at the Agway to go with a decent compost (no sludge) and a generous dose of vermiculite.

The resulting mix was light, held moisture, yet appeared to drain well enough. It wasn't spongy the way peat-based mixes are, but in fact was somewhat grainy so that it was tough to poke holes for seeds to drop into.

Three onion types. Three trays. Each tray of 10 x 20 inches holds fifty cells, but to spare soil, space and effort, I planted two seeds in each, on the bias, roughly one inch apart so that each tray holds one hundred.

I ran out of my soil mix by the 550th cell, and had to short my goal of 1200 onion starts. Each 1/16th ounce seed packet held about 500 seeds, so that I could have planted more, but then I thought this is enough. Of course, I'm planting onions because they fit the overall business of my little acre. Garlic, shallots, and why not onions? They're on the same schedule, roughly, and require a similar care. Now sprout you little boogers!


The Forgotten Season


No matter if you are a home gardener or small time farmer, at this time of year we all begin to feel as if we have forgotten something. Maybe you have forgotten that today is the day of valentine? Uh-uh, no, it's not that, it's a nagging that builds and fades until the last tomato is planted in May. Or is it June?

Have you gotten all your seeds? What will you plant them in? Have you waited too long to start? Is it too late? Maybe too early, so relax. But is it? When should these be planted out? Two weeks before frost, two weeks after? Ack, when will the last frost be in this crazy zone anyway? Maybe I should just start outside. Maybe there'll be just the right moisture, the ideal germination temps. Or not. I better order those cell trays. 

This morning that's exactly what I did, choosing expense and glory over affordable and chancy. Five-inch deep 2x2-inch cells, fifty per, and reusable with cleaning. I ordered fifteen of those along with trays known to the trade as the '1020,' and as it's name suggests -roughly ten by twenty inches. Skip the domes, use cling wrap, and heed the seed.

My Fedco order arrived three days ago: three sixteenths of an ounce of onion seed, or put another way, 750 to 1200 onions to be (or not to be?). I bought seed not because they are tiny, fussy, or difficult, but because they do not harbor disease the way sets and starts do. Seed, then, was the only way to keep with the allium program in my unsown rows, even though seed must be started early, maybe now, or possibly later, soil temperature of 60 degrees, consistent moisture, but not soggy, watched and waited on, until perfect transplanting sometime in March or April, but who can be sure. 

I'm excited for onions, more so than for the cilantro and parsley, carrots and Sungold that came with this shipment. Onions are the second most consumed vegetable beside the tomato; roughly 17 pounds per person in these United States. Each year American farmers plant a crop worth four billion dollars, although my crop will be worth less than five hundred. Borrettana Cipollini, Rossa Lunga di Tropea, Rossa di Milano. Storage yellow, seasonal red, storage red.