Time, Luck and Weather

It was a couple of days before Thanksgiving and I still had not planted the garlic. In New York City and region, this would be of little concern, but here, well I was pushing it well beyond ordinary pushing it. 

The week before it had rained, really rained, so much so that our excavation had completely filled with water (a story for another day, if ever). Then, not two days later, it froze for thirty six hours ensuring that the wet earth had become a solid block. Digging was out of the question. The swimming pool, above, became an ice rink.

A week later, the Monday before Thanksgiving, temperatures were climbing, yet again above forty. And the gravel came. It kept coming until there were two hundred tons of gravel, nearly one hundred a fifty cubic yards piled inside and outside the pit. 

Meanwhile, there was garlic to be planted, the Xian Turbans were sprouting, and the cloves would need at least a few weeks without frosted earth to settle in, but what could be anticipated after such a quick, deep freeze just a week prior? I wheeled out the seldom used, 30 year-old Troybilt tiller, filled the always flat right tire with compressed air, set the throttle, lifted the choke, removed the spark plug, poured a cap-full of gasoline into the chamber, replaced and hand-tightened the spark plug, yanked on the chord, bah the the the the, repeat, and then again. Throttle off, fully tightened the spark plug, dropped the choke, throttle on, yanked the chord, then bah buh, buh, buh, buh, buh, pop, and the old Kohler engine was humming.

It wasn't easy to break the semi-frozen, wet earth, nor the lawn which floats above it. The tiller is a beast, requiring strength to maneuver, patience on turns, and knee-jerk restraint as it rockets forward when hitting solid soil. I made several passes, bottoming out at six or seven inches on the lawn's compacted clay bed. I curved these new beds to match the Hydrangea transplanted from the south side of the house to edge the boundary of the lawn and driveway, leaving just enough room for the mower to pass between.

Although our garlic grew pretty well this year, experience told me I wanted compost tilled in, but I wouldn't have anything to do with buying the bagged stuff. The city of Minneapolis collects organic yard waste, which it sells to a composting company that happens to have a site in our area. I think I paid ten dollars for what would easily be well over one hundred dollars of bagged compost. These places are worth their weight in black gold.

I tilled in about two inches of compost and made the most of tight quarters by removing any chance for walking rows (I'll regret this later). In two beds, about five feet by twelve each, I planted roughly 350 cloves, or about 3 per square foot. 

I had more cloves, of course, and tilled a row from last season's planting bed for those.

Although it was the day before Thanksgiving with much to do, I chose to make another trip to the compost facility so I could place something over the indents made when the cloves are pushed in. The soil isn't very soft or deep; I felt this could help to keep the cloves from freezing too soon. 

A light snow had fallen, which can act as an insulating layer, but more was needed.

Out back I had been saving an old hay bale that Rex had stored under the playhouse we gave away last summer. It was just the thing I needed to insulate now that temperatures were plummeting (a week later I placed even more insulation -oak leaves from the woods, and just before the next snowfall).

This is the spot the straw had been laying. Even though the ground all around was frozen three inches deep, this spot was still unfrozen.

In fact, there was a lot of unexpected activity in the heat generated by decaying straw.

Pill bugs, Armadillidiida, also known as wood lice.

And this pale sprout.

Since the week of Thanksgiving we've had more days over thirty two, some well over, than those under it. Most nights have been relatively mild, staying well above twenty eight degrees.  In a year where I've often been behind on what needs to be done and with weather the spearhead of possible defeat, I think I may have gotten lucky getting the garlic in this late.

But I'm not having any luck keeping the turkeys off the mulch.

 It seems they're quite the lovers of gardens.

Snake In The Grass

Creeping Bellflower, Campanula rapunculoides, I have discovered via the Internet, not by my own untutored observation, is a terrible weed of gardens and elsewhere. Such a lovely blooming plant, apparently a devil in angel's garb. Yet another plant to eradicate. Phooey.

Brown Out

 I woke up to find it completely brown outside. From minus eleven to sixty two in five days. As the day wore on, into the late afternoon, it felt distinctly like late September in warmth, quality of light, and brown-ness.

Except for the squirrels, they're still gray, to match their favorite tree trunks.

Taking Out The Trash

Our pails, a silent sentry, as instructed -three feet apart, at the intersection of the woods, road and drive. A hawk, circling high overhead, issues its gritty reeeeeeeahh. The road, here, is quiet and I am noise.

Downslope, down road, toward the late autumn sun, down low.

Removing the trash and recyclables is a journey by any New York City standard. I, for one, was fond of dropping my trash right out the window into the pails below, but not here. No, trash removal has several steps, one of which is rolling the bin down slope, toward the culverted passage between one wetland and the other, then upslope to the road.

To my mind, it is cold out, for November, maybe six degrees F, yet the empty-handed return along the tenth-of-a-mile drive frees my senses for seeing, and I found myself trailing farther down slope, into the wetland, along a deer trail.

The wet lowlands contain the most attractive sites on this land, but the green season mosquitoes chase me out too quickly. In the white (or brown) season, I take time.

The drainage opens up, like a park, onto the wetland, the edge of which is favored by deer, coyote, turkey, and me.

Although the ground has yet to freeze, the wetland is firm enough for walking. I've explored its perimeter, before this moment, in December or January.

The wetland is, by its nature an amphitheater, a concavity, surrounded almost completely by upland elevated fifty to a hundred feet above the occasional water line. On its western flank is the headland of an esker that carries southward to frame lakes that were at one time deeper and larger. Our (Rex's) house sits on land that was likely a small island or peninsula, long ago, near this lake's northern boundary.

Recent heavy rains have been quickly eroding the steeply sloped land to the northwest and northeast, washing out sediment that fills the small wetland due north of house island. Soil and organic matter have been filling this basin for thousands of years. Trees have taken root in drier spells, then were soaked out in wetter ones. Water enters the large wetland at three points -east, north, and west, converging, then heads south toward a pinched outlet that funnels the water to a small, nameless pond, then farther on to Dutch Lake, and finally into Harrison Bay.

The cattails (I haven't yet identified the predominant species) have exploded into their fat and furry season, regal and rough. Finally, my camera and fingers are beat back by the cold and I head back into the woods.

The bones of the land are most clear in winter. 

Taking Out The Trash

Our pails, a silent sentry, as instructed -three feet apart, at the intersection of the woods, road and drive. A hawk, circling high overhead, issues its gritty reeeeeeeahh. The road, here, is quiet and I am noise.

Downslope, down road, toward the late autumn sun, down low.

Removing the trash and recyclables is a journey by any New York City standard. I, for one, was fond of dropping my trash right out the window into the pails below, but not here. No, trash removal has several steps, one of which is rolling the bin down slope, toward the culverted passage between one wetland and the other, then upslope to the road.

To my mind, it is cold out, for November, maybe six degrees F, yet the empty-handed return along the tenth-of-a-mile drive frees my senses for seeing, and I found myself trailing farther down slope, into the wetland, along a deer trail.

The wet lowlands contain the most attractive sites on this land, but the green season mosquitoes chase me out too quickly. In the white (or brown) season, I take time.

The drainage opens up, like a park, onto the wetland, the edge of which is favored by deer, coyote, turkey, and me.

Although the ground has yet to freeze, the wetland is firm enough for walking. I've explored its perimeter, before this moment, in December or January.

The wetland is, by its nature an amphitheater, a concavity, surrounded almost completely by upland elevated fifty to a hundred feet above the occasional water line. On its western flank is the headland of an esker that carries southward to frame lakes that were at one time deeper and larger. Our (Rex's) house sits on land that was likely a small island or peninsula, long ago, near this lake's northern boundary.

Recent heavy rains have been quickly eroding the steeply sloped land to the northwest and northeast, washing out sediment that fills the small wetland due north of house island. Soil and organic matter have been filling this basin for thousands of years. Trees have taken root in drier spells, then were soaked out in wetter ones. Water enters the large wetland at three points -east, north, and west, converging, then heads south toward a pinched outlet that funnels the water to a small, nameless pond, then farther on to Dutch Lake, and finally into Harrison Bay.

The cattails (I haven't yet identified the predominant species) have exploded into their fat and furry season, regal and rough. Finally, my camera and fingers are beat back by the cold and I head back into the woods.

The bones of the land are most clear in winter. 

The Animals

In the absolute dark of early morning, along the tree line, coyotes were illuminated by headlights. Two hours later, as the light began to swell, deer browsed the leaf litter where Rex's bird feeder had been strung, and squirrels scamper about playfully all day, while various birds make appearances (although less so since the feeder has come down). 

Turkeys are plentiful, crossing the yard dutifully every day, but are hard to approach on the squeaky, newly fallen snow. 

The Animals

In the absolute dark of early morning, along the tree line, coyotes were illuminated by headlights. Two hours later, as the light began to swell, deer browsed the leaf litter where Rex's bird feeder had been strung, and squirrels scamper about playfully all day, while various birds make appearances (although less so since the feeder has come down). 

Turkeys are plentiful, crossing the yard dutifully every day, but are hard to approach on the squeaky, newly fallen snow. 

Cat Shit And Beer Bottles

Must make the best fertilizer. Things grow here in the side yard like mad. I can hardly control them. 

We're leaving for ocean camping soon and it looks like we'll miss only some of the lilies (unless the pickers come round). Meanwhile we'll be tending to the garlic farm while we camp. I've harvested the first of the Beach Farm's garlic, a Turban, on the small side because I didn't fertilize the Beach Farm this spring. They do have great color this year. Their harvest means that the Amagansett farm's early variety will be ready soon. I'll be blogging mobile for the next week -so please excuse the left-justified, fuzzy images.

Gathers No Moss

A couple of weeks ago I was courted by a couple I know from my years at Skowhegan. We see each other from time to time at events revolving around the folks from the program and we would get to talking about gardening. At a party for a couple leaving for the west coast, they told me about a large tree that had come down. More recently a neighbor had built an extension with roof deck that overlooks their fingerling yard. This inspired them to ask me to come by for an appraisal. 

I am particularly busy right now, but they contacted me during a particularly difficult week at work (a story for another day, March was too full of lousy things). The opportunity to stretch some old muscles and envision an escape route from my day job was all I needed to sign on. 

The layout had been seventy percent garden, thirty paving. The site will have expanded paving in one area, but less in another, while all paving becomes more usable. Two years ago there was a large tree towards the back, south side, shading the whole yard. It has since come down and the yard is now very sunny by the after noon. You can see the small roof deck on the left. 

The job amounts to utilizing on site flagstone and boulders for a retaining wall and patio near the house, while expanding a garden bed in back. There may be a pergola/arbor built in autumn for shade and screening depending on the neighbor's use of the roof deck. The owners removed garden plants to a nursery towards the back, clearing the path for our excavation.

All these stones were removed for use in the new patio, a term the owner rejects. Excavated soil was placed here for the new garden bed.

At the end of the first day we had all paving stones removed, the patio bed excavated (mostly), and 2/3 of the bedding material on site.

The next morning we brought in the bedding sand and remaining gravel, now 65 bags in total, or put another way, over 3200 pounds. Mixing my own bedding material was Larry's (of J&L Landscaping) idea given the problems around getting 1.5 ton of bulk crusher run into Brooklyn on a Saturday. It was a lot more labor, made all the worse because the DeKalb Home Depot had zero gravel, stone, or sand in stock. What? Not only was that location just 10 minutes away, but their website said they had it all. Silly me, I had physically checked stock at the Hamilton Avenue store, and that is where I ended up going, at the cost of time and money.

My helper had to take off before noon on Sunday, so the rest was up to me. First task was to use a laser to perfect the soil level that had been generally excavated the day before. This extra soil was dumped on the path.



Boulders rise up out of the soil like whales surfacing the ocean. The owner did not commit to having them removed or hammered, so I worked around them and planned on a thinner bed where they rise up. Is it better to have them removed? Yes, but everyone makes choices, and this one they can live with.

After laying out landscape fabric (its need always in question; there's no harm in using it), I mixed and spread the different size, angular stones and construction sand (not mason or play sand) over the 9 by 10 foot area, raking for general level.

Then wielded the tamper, which is a bit of exercise, but really you should let gravity do the work. I brought the landscape fabric up the sides of the excavation so that it would rest behind the large stones that will be placed to retain the soil. In front of the tamper is the fabric covering the largest boulder, just below the four-inch bedding mix ceiling. A one-inch layer of bedding sand will be placed over this bedding mix.

The patio bed has a slight pitch toward a drain just beyond the corner, but the remaining flagstone and concrete against the house slopes quite aggressively toward the neighbor's house. In order to avoid a tripping transition between the old and the new, I will have to creatively transition the newly laid stone with the old. Removing all the stones and concrete would have made for a level patio, from house to retaining wall, but the owner wasn't interested in tearing up the old concrete.

It was requested that this stone become a seat in the center of that very sloping transition. It was the largest stone of the day, taking all my effort to get it in place from across the yard. My hope is that it not only works as a seat, but somehow aids the transition between the old and the newly placed paving stones.

Using the stones on site, I pieced together a retaining wall. It may seem counter intuitive, but when setting the stones in gravel it is often advantageous to set the stone onto its smallest point. This allows the greatest height and girth to be at the top so that more soil is retained. Just make sure the stone is well-seated in the gravel and locked in by neighboring stones.

Fitting stones isn't art or science.

Just look at all the available stones with an eye for lines that merge well with the last stone set.

This is how I left it, Sunday. I will return next weekend to place the bedding sand and lay patio stones.

A Yard Grows In Brooklyn

It may not look like much right now, but the side yard is about to find itself this year. Thanks to my landlord's decision to move his utility poles, we decided to revamp the messy and overgrown plot. I curved our pathway around the building, sending us to where the poles used to rest. Now we can plant in the area we used to use to step over the fence. Farther down is a gate, a broken gate, but a gate. We plan on planting the strip nearer the fence, leaving the side near the building (always under threat from landlordian ideas) as a walking path.

I moved all the iris (the reblooming iris) to the back side of the poor man's patio, intending them to keep the sleeping cats at bay and support the leaning monkshood and phlox that dwell so well under the remaining yew tree. A stump is all that remains of the other yew tree cut after heavy snows two winters back. It is the fulcrum of the planting against the wall, where most plants were divisions from the front yard garden. The dirt patch, where the iris used to reside, will be filled with low to medium height, drought tolerant perennials like the coneflower, lily, yarrow, thrift, tickseed, solidago and ironweed that are already growing here. I removed the 10-foot-tall-growing maximillian sunflower, banishing it to the beach farm fence line. This move I call a 'happy neighbor.'

There are many volunteers, including asters, bachelor button, cosmos, borage, and allyssum that self-seed every year. In between the stones are a variety of sedum -we just bought three quart-sized varieties at Gowanus the last rainy Sunday morning. We're thinking of blue flax for the new strip, a plant admired by both Betsy and I, a western plant, not well known or understood here in the northeast. We asked the nursery if they would carry it so we don't have to mail order ridiculous little pots for the price of a gallon from High Country Gardens or some such place.

We concentrate on drought tolerant because we both know prairie and desert plants well, but also because we don't have easy access to watering and like to leave town on occasion, never having to worry about finding a watering neighbor with a 100 foot hose. The creatures seem to dig them too. The asters become a bit weedy, but they are so easy to dispose. Roses are incredibly drought tolerant and the same for our irises, dicentra, and monkshood. But that doesn't mean if it shouldn't rain for weeks on end, I am not out there with my water can, hoofing the distance forty times. Very little (that anyone actually likes) can withstand all-out drought. This season we are short about 8 inches of rain, but then, that could change in a moment. I wouldn't feel uncomfortable predicting a cooler, wetter summer than usual, but either way, the garden should be up to it.

Work On The Side Yard Continues

Pots I haven't used since my greenhouse project.

The pathway, not quite what I had in mind now that it is framed by wooden planters. The stones to the left keep the cats from scatting and squirrels from scratching. Seeded alyssum between.

Dicentra eximia and fern doing quite well in its new spot.

The basil.

The greens, soon to be bush beans.

The tomatoes. One brandywine, two I don't knows, and to the right, unseen, a cherry tomato. I said I wouldn't, but I did. But three instead of eight.

The sage.

Mint thinned and re-potted.

The chives, oregano, and thyme, iris and greens, primrose and fence.

Cram Is My Middle Name

Overflowing front yard.

Where the work is. The side yard has a lot still going on. On the bottom left and right we have seedlings from seeds we sowed about two weeks ago. I've been weeding that area weekly. Above are two rectangular boxes that will be for bush beans -our most productive crop. Right now, one is filled with mixed greens. Above that are the irises, moved a month and a half ago, all flowers rotted before bloom. To the right of those, the evening primrose I pulled from a field in Maine 5 years ago. They will bloom on time, this weekend. Climbing hydrangea on the fence line.

On the far left are one of three boxes for tomatoes where the yew tree had been. Pots of herbs, including sage, mint, chives, oregano, thyme, and eventually parsley and basil. Birdhouse given to us by my brother in law two years ago, painted yesterday by my wife, will go on the old telephone pole you see dead center top. Two small-leafed blue hostas upper right, along with some phlox from the front yard, two lilies, aconitum, st. john's wort slowly reviving itself, a seedling sedum, coneflower, gaura, lily turf, and Johnson's blue geranium. Whew!

To the left of the birdhouse: one aster, three ferns, dicentra eximia, daylilies, tickseed, another johnson's blue geranium, and some phlox from the front yard. The two pink flowering plants are the dames rocket I don't mention (deadheading, deadheading). Alyssum seeds were strewn between the path stones. Of course, patio in center. Cram is my middle name.

Gardens Are Not Absolute, Neither Is Liberty To Do So

Yesterday I was watering the plants -you know, the heat. My landlord comes ambling by and wonders aloud about my "activity" in the side yard. He rounds the corner, complains heartily about the "third" tree the city has cut the sidewalk for, after all two are enough he says. (Read, my telephone poles go here and that third tree is in the way).

He then says he wants to pull the stump out from the side yard. I say, just leave it because it will pull up my whole patio. He says it won't, I say it will. Now it's never a good idea to get argumentative with one's landlord. I took the liberty of planning the space without going to him first, but then I already had a garden on the side. But then he says this: I want to plant a tree right there, about where your path meets the patio. It's YOUR YARD I say.

Thanks. Thanks for mentioning this three weeks ago, before I did the work, before I got excited, before the neighbors complimented the gardening, before we planted the annual seeds, before I transplanted the perennials, before anything.

He lives 6 houses away. In his yard he parks a car and more telephone poles, the rest concrete. So why on earth does he want to plant a tree in this small side yard? Especially since three is too many in front of the building. To show me who's the owner? To mask, rather poorly, his deteriorating building? Why plant a tree 4 feet from a building? There's no good reason.

Honestly, this has always been my experience with landlords. They really don't want you personalizing their spaces because they see it as added work or cost for themselves.

• Landlord in Williamsburg Brooklyn, circa 1994: "get those tomato plants off my roof!"
• Landlord in Portland, Oregon, circa 1995: "You must rip out this garden before you vacate"
• Landlord in San Miguel, NM: actually my neighbor always complained to him about the garden, and I had to hear about it.
• Current landlord, "You can do it as long as I don't have to take care of it."

So I asked him, testily, what kind of tree he was thinking about. He doesn't know, whatever Larry at the nursery thinks. I'm thinking of seeing Larry first.

Poor Man's Patio Part 1

The task.

This was it: the big weekend. The weekend that I would straighten out the side yard. First thing to do: find paving for the patio. I went to my corner nursery (so lucky!) J&L ('L' is for Larry, 'J' is ?), because I saw Larry, the owner, there when I was picking up my laundry: I didn't want to miss my only opportunity. I asked him for paving -anything he had, a mismatched motley pile of whatever, and he said he happened to have some leftover slate across the street.

There was some confusion as to whether it was really there, so we went looking and lo and behold -there it was. He lent me a wheelbarrow and I hauled about 10 large pieces to my garden. I also took about 5 smalls for extra stepping stones. He charged me an unbelievably excellent price, which he let me know was for me only, so I can't mention it here. While I picked out the right stones, Larry's son, Colin, talked to me about his father's business troubles. This has been a growing problem over, I would say, the last 2 or three years. His hardscaping work is down to almost zero and the nursery has a major competitor with a parking lot about a mile down the road. Larry's prices are the best in town and I can't imagine the block without the nursery -well, I could and it's not as good. Of course, Lowe's and the Home Depot are kicking his ass price wise -and they also have parking and paint and wood and air conditioners.

But Larry, my local nursery gave me a great deal and lent me his wheelbarrow, telling me to take my time. That's worth a dollar more on bags of soil. Of course, knowing he might close the nursery fueled mighty fantasies of taking over his nursery business. I've long had this fantasy -starting my own nursery, and I nursed it all weekend while working on the side yard. Of course, I have no money, and his business is no car wash -where the money seems to flow like suds over fender.

The slate pile. Mostly gray-blue with a greenish tinge, but one or two brownish ones.

The first thing to do was remove the plants that were in the way of the patio and new path.

I dug up all the Crocus tommasinianus.

I knew I would hit some lily bulbs that I had planted last fall and were still beneath the surface.

The bucket of transplants including dicentra and aconitum.

I re-used the landscape fabric that I had placed under the vegetable boxes last year, laying it out just so after I had done my simple best to level the underlying soil, which is fairly clayey.

Then I went to the hardware store, one block away on CIA, and bought some sand. I should point out that if I had a choice, I would have bought crusher fines as the under course and gap fill. If you can find it, do that, because it is a superior material for dry laying stones. Unfortunately neither my nursery or hardware store has this material, but I think you can get it in the landscape section of the big box home centers or at any masonry or hardscape material business.

The sand placed over the fabric.

Back to the sand, which is a coarse builder's sand, often found in those plastic weave bags with a metal twist tie. I was able to buy this sand at $1.50 for a 40 or 50 lb bag -a remarkable price, and found right on my block. The owner graciously offered a hand truck to cart my 6 bags to the garden. Things were shaping up nicely and I had only spent about 60 bucks.

I laid out the stones as best as I could, trying for maximum gaps of about 1 inch, although there are always irregularities. Leveling the stones is the fun part, working them into the sand to have as little height difference between each adjacent edge. It's okay to have some difference, maybe an 1/8th-inch or so. It's also important that they do not rock or tip when I stand on them, so I checked for this as well. After leveling, I filled the gaps with sand -making sure to push the sand down into the unseen voids. I did not have any edging for the patio, so I used the clay soil, bringing it up to the stones' edge.

The not quite finished patio.

Part 2 later...

The Nearness of Spring

Hard to miss over the last few days, despite the remains of past snowfalls lurking in shadowy places, is the return of spring. Its in the air and the garden calls. I have not, as anticipated, planted any vegetable seeds for this years garden. We're going herbs and flowers in the side yard.

The side yard is a mess as always and now it has a pile of yew branches. A quick clean up of this winter's city garbage, a swift shoveling of the cat scat, and we're on our way. Some wooden planters will be disposed of, one or two will be kept. The compost pile might be transferred to a large nursery tub. Herbs will stay in pots. I do hate the tainted soil.

Phooey

My landlord recently told my wife that the plants needed to be pulled back into the yard. But first she asked if they were weeds. Apparently, some neighbor is "getting wet" when they turn the corner.

This is how it looked, maximilian sunflowers not quite in bloom. At their feet, dayflower (a weed).

This is how it looks now, yanked back by twine. Every neighbor down this stretch has a concrete yard.

A Block In Bay Ridge

Minimal with slope.


Minimal.

Maximal next door to minimal.


Beyond maximal.

Trash in the Garden

I've gotten complacent, I just let it sit like fallen leaves. Unless its a telephone book or newspaper circular flattening some bulb shoots or something of that nature. I used to clean it up regularly, but now only so often. It keeps coming, never ceases no matter the season. But its in winter that I let it be the longest. It mostly blows in (infernal wind!), but I can tell a tossed bottle of beer or drug baggy from the blown trash. Bottles are more common in warm weather.

I live on a short, little-respected block. Two buildings on it, mine and the neighbor's. The neighbor's fronts the intersecting block so that the side of their house becomes a no-man's land of mostly dog-shit, no fault of their own. The opposite corner, mine, stands without entry or sentry and becomes a good place to toss bottles. But the whole garden fills up. I am reminded of Jonathan Letham's Fortress of Solitude:

"A fair question, actually. Did the renovators think this was Park Slope? Or what? Why should Dose have to carry them? Abraham and Dylan was one thing, but some of those brownstoners, David Upfeld, Isabel Vendle, the Roths, wouldn't look him or Junior in the eye, seemed to begrudge their place on the street. Upfield, out there each day in his Red Sox cap and handlebar mustache, picking litter from his yard. Glaring at PRs on crates in front of Ramirez's store, like they were ever going to quit tossing bottle caps and empty packets of plaintain chips in his forsythia."

pg. 461

Something else entirely? I dunno. I've gotten accustomed to the winter flower, the bleached colors of clinging trash. In the front yard, you gotta be cool. Or lazy.

My Farm

Have you heard of this business -MyFarmSF.

It operates like this: You pay a one time fee ($600-1000), they come in and install a vegetable garden in your yard. You pay them a weekly maintenance fee ($35+/-), they come by once a week to maintain it. They harvest vegetables and give you some or all of the produce. This is a for profit venture. For people who want home-grown vegetables but are so busy they cannot do it themselves, yet can pay for it.

Anyone willing to do this here in NYC? Call it PSA, Personally Supported Agriculture.

What have been people's experiences with the soil in their backyards? I've been doing research on companies that do soil testing for hydrocarbons (like gasoline, benzene, toluene) or heavy metals (like lead or cadmium). Accurate Building Inspectors, also known as the Ubells of The Guru's of How-To on the Leanoard Lopate Show offer these services. They offer many tests, but the charges are real high.

I had some of these tests done 6 years ago for a landscape job I was doing on 15th Street around Park Slope, yet I don't remember the company name, but I do remember that the results told me little of what the compounds meant to a gardener. I ended up excavating much of the fill that was present and replacing it a hundred cubic yards of compost/soil mix from Nature's Choice in Jersey. We didn't grow any vegetables either.

Apparently, a major metal to be on the look out for is lead. Natural accumulations in soil average 10 parts per million. The EPA considers 300 parts per million to be the upper limit of allowable. With lead, its the children we most worry about as it is absorbed more by their guts than those of adults. Fruit (tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, etc.) do not tend to store lead. But the non-fruiting parts of vegetables, and leafy greens do uptake and store lead. The upper level of soil holds the most lead. Therefore, any soil-contacting vegetable (like carrots, turnips, radishes) will have lead on it's surface should there be a problem with lead in your soil.

Where does lead most likely come from in your yard. Two places: Old house paint (old renovation debris stored on site or chipping exterior paint) and car exhaust. Of course, lead has since been removed from these sources, but the problem with lead is that it doesn't migrate through the soil. It stays put, no matter how many years are between your soil and the lead contamination.

The University of Minnesota Extension has a page dedicated to soil lead with some suggestions for remediation. A similar page at Cornell.

But I have friends who simply vegetable garden their urban plots. Best we do is see that the lot was always used for a residence. You can do this via old fire insurance maps of NYC. There can be rather obvious signs of potential problems like dirty fill or construction debris, buried rusty auto parts, or that no plants or weeds are growing there, or even that the soil smells "chemically."

I'd love to hear stories of people's back yards. What are they like? What's your soil like? Do you grow vegetables? Would you pay someone else to do it for you in your own yard?

Gas Cans & Gas Don'ts

A tip from the Yardener/Gardener blog, I thought I may bring this to your attention. We all know about the millions and millions of gallons of gasoline spilled at service stations every year. How about the gas spilled from filling lawnmowers? Right, sure you've done it. Now its been a long time for me -not having mowed a lawn since, I dunno, I was 20. But I remember the headache of blind filling. Apparently we spill 17 million gallons a year this way. So Consumer Reports tested a few no-spill gas tanks. If your mowing, maybe you could get one. They may be regulation soon.