Eating...

...my words? Hard to say at this moment, because I am still in Florida (err, boots not on the ground). But still, nothing much will stick today. Tonight? Weeell, that depends. The marginally freezing air is being pushed down by a Canadian high and low, and is in place now -more typical for winter, not spring (although it's barely spring). So, maybe eating my words. Imagining it to be a wet snow, hopefully does not weigh down the broccoli tent at the beach farm. Perennials and bulbs will be fine. I'm flying this afternoon, hoping not to have delays.




From My Perspective...


..in 85 degree Florida, it will not snow in any significant quantity midweek. One reason is that I do not want my flight effed with, and the other reason is that the freezing temperatures the snowfall depends on are marginally so at best, with the colder air mass coming in after the precipitation, while dropping below freezing only at night. The likelihood of snow is quite low, and from my warm perspective, just amped up weather suggestion.

That said, the beach farm seedlings may be challenged a couple of evenings later this week. The daffodils? They'll be fine, in fact, better for the cold. Heat does those flowers in way faster than moderate cold.






Daffodils are blooming, I moved some perennials around the garden. Landlord told me not to get 'started' this spring for the windows and then the siding (how many years have I heard this). I told him it starts with or without me. Now I am off to Florida for a few days. Be back midweek.


Evening At The Beach Farm



I raced off to the beach farm after five to plant broccoli and leek starts, and further to protect the tender broccoli from the wind. I am glad that Larry had opened up the nursery this past weekend, so that I could pick up some seafood compost and cow manure (surf and turf) before leaving for the day. I'm a shopping thinker -this is where one finds solutions to problems on the store's shelf, and made short order of the wind problem at J&L.  Short bamboo stakes (gawdawfal green) save the day.

The winds we were expecting never materialized, yet there was a light breeze that wafted the agribon fabric, a spun polypropylene, like spider's silk. I purchased this fabric from Peaceful Valley Farm Supply, who also sells the fabric clips, but they were too expensive for small plastic disks (a widget if I ever saw one), so I searched further, and found these not so bad replacements at Memphis Net and Twine for less than a third of the price. Why not so bad? The PVFS clip doesn't poke through the fabric, and are probably of higher quality, but for my purposes, MN&T 'plastic grommets' work.

As you can see, the clips have two ports for connecting -the central circle if you wish to tear the fabric and the side hoop. I used the side hoop, slid over the bamboo stake, and supported rather lazily by a horizontal stake tied to the vertical. The fabric can then be lowered or raised along the vertical stake if needed. A better system of supporting the fabric is one or two thoughts away, although likely to be unnecessary. As soon as the broccoli toughens up, the plants will be able to support the fabric on their own. As the broccoli grows taller, the fabric will ascend the stakes.

The agribon fabric is intended to keep off Small Whites -moths that lay eggs which in turn become cabbage worms. In my case, it's doing double duty as a wind break, so I have attached extra clips at the base and used my metal plant tags to anchor the fabric to the soil. Who ever has what they need on hand, but then who stops because they don't?

The little guys under their tent.

The utility of this fabric far outweighs its major flaw -it's unattractive. With row covers, you can also add a couple of degrees to the coldest night, and of course, it allows water, air, and 85% of sunlight through. I really like the idea of row covers, but this is my first attempt at using them. Ideally you have hoops and the row cover lays over those hoops, pinned to the ground. However, I hope my system holds up and keeps the small whites out, because I really like the idea of the row cover lifting on the stakes as the plants grow taller. But then, I suppose I shouldn't get too attached to any one idea.

I also planted two thirds of the leek starts in two trenches. I have about 2/3rds of the broccoli left not planted as well. I will have to go back on Saturday morning before my flight to plant those in another bed. All the mental designing isn't worth very much when you have an hour of light to get it all done, and by dark you can barely see the leeks. Quick decisions must be made, function is king in the race against time. 

Lastly, I planted the spring greens seeds, which should have made way into their spring bed a couple of weeks ago. Only the basics -arugula, and heirloom mesclun mix, and an asian greens mix and very happy about those because I have been eating a lot more salads lately.



Warm Two Days



Yesterday evening I was at the beach farm. It was night by the time I left, but the moon, waxing gibbous, fared well enough to light the scene. The air balmy, demanding that I linger even after all that could be done was done. I could hear the waves crashing on the shore, and the scent was brined, which is pleasant, although in the past, more so.

The temperature was quite warm last night, indicating how warm it will be in the coming two days. If you have plants under a cold frame, lift the lid, they're not going to need it. Enjoy the coming two days and thank the gods of daylight savings for giving it to us earlier than it used to be so those of us stuck in a building can enjoy at least a half hour of evening before dark on days like these.


Risk



I've planted my tomato seeds in their bond paper tubes, each 4 inches tall. There is only room for one group of seedlings on the window shelf, and so this action requires the broccoli and leeks to toughen up, to take to the outside -permanently.

It is March 14th, and on March 14th our weather history shows that the temperature could rise to 85 degrees F or sink to 6 degrees F. It could snow as much as 15 inches or rain nearly three. But on average, our temperature should rise into the high forties, stay above freezing at night by just a few degrees, and rain should be no more than a quarter inch, daily. Our NYC days are now nearing 12 hours of sunlight, enough energy to warm the soil and power the plants.

So my judgement is that I'm to leave them outside, in the cold frame, with a jug of hot water, each night. This Wednesday I believe I will put them in the field, where they will need to be brave because I will not be available to tend to them for 8 plus days after the moment they settle into that cool, damp soil. It's the wind that will challenge them, broccoli mostly, and I have not yet devised a good system for breaking it. I do have row cover fabric and must give that some thought before planting day.

In the vegetable garden the risk lies between this and that -at boundaries, but averages tell us it's gonna be alright. And so we do not wait, we accept risk.


Beach Farm Beginnings



It was pretty cold because of the bluster coming in off the ocean, but me and Betsy headed out early last Wednesday, before the big rains, to prep some beds for seeding and planting. Swiss Chard 'Rhubarb' seeds were planted, as well as more snap peas. We cleared beds of prodigious weeds (they do so well so early) for the coming spinach seeds, broccoli and leek starts. Minor thinking, also, about irrigation lines and a layout for the warm season vegetables. The cold and other must-accomplish things drove us back long before I was willing to finish thinking out the season.


The greens from last fall had survived the cold under the snow.

Last fall's late planted garlic is up.

The bond paper tubes deformed quite easily, in fact more easily that tp or pt roll tubes.

And so the snap pea 'Sugar Ann' were placed in their holes. Good luck, it's quite windy out there.


Central Park Morning



I found myself walking through the southern tip of Central Park at 6 am. There were the aging mounds of grayed ice, even ice still on the little pond, but also water diving over the falls because of the rain. I saw the snowdrops dangling over periwinkle in dim light. The rain had begun to fall, but ever so lightly. I stopped to admire the belgian block curbs being installed, heard the schiff schiff schiff of foot dragging joggers and the roar and clang of  haulers. It was too early for breakfast, even though I had thoughts of a diner and a paper. I headed off to Columbus Circle, no bike peddlers, no tourists, not even commuters. The Starbucks had every seat available and only two people on line (as we NYers say). I picked up a banana and a coffee at the deli and a bran muffin at the cart, then moved on to work, where the building had just opened, lights still out.

I am not a morning person, making all the more powerful the experience of being out at an early hour. I would like to be a morning person, as that time, if out of the house, or even in it, can be a time of such great movement, things happen, early. Things just happen. But it takes discipline, to turn out the lights, remove ourselves from the glow of the monitor, at an hour conducive to rising early. But now that I am 41, just two days ago, I do begin to believe that it does make a man healthy and wise, if not wealthy. Imagine working 7 to 3, home by 4, dinner by 6 instead of home at 8, dinner by 9. That is the arc of our urban day, and I can't imagine it being easy to shed, but possible.


March On



Today, in an indecisive mood, I found myself driving by the new Gowanus Nursery. I was a bit taken aback to see such a small footprint for the nursery -apparently located in the lot for a brick building that is being rehabbed and appears to be long from finished. It seems the owner, tired from having to move, has bought a building. The lot, however, is much smaller than the former, at least to my prying eyes. There were staff moving potted perennials around and construction workers in the building. I wondered how well things are going, how well they will go.

I lightly fertilized my broccoli and leek seedlings with liquid fish fertilizer tonight after bringing them in from the cold frame. I left the pea shoots in the frame for the night. Young peas are said to be hardier than the old and tonight I will test that information. I perused my National Gardening Association vegetables book (a fat book, with much info, that I don't believe is published anymore) as brushing up is useful for anything I do only once a year.

I realize I should have broken ground for spinach, chard, peas, cilantro, and greens already. What's up with inoculant for peas, never can find it locally, never have done it. I've no compost yet, and still want a truck load, not a bunch of overpriced bags. But it's looking like bags, patch at a time. Irrigation pipe sits on our floor, as well as netting and row cover fabric. Irrigation pipe should be laid before planting, yet the water is not turned on. Tomatoes need to be started, but at least the bond paper tubes are cut to size and waiting. All this and time soon to transplant perennials in the front yard. March named as such, on the march.


Start Dancing



The broccoli and leek starts are dancing in the warmer than expected weather.


The snap peas are up in the cut bond paper tubes. The roots come way out the bottoms.


Alright, just one, amongst the black mesh that keeps the cats from doing their business.


It's hard for me not to want to stop right here.


Dog Doo Afternoon



The other day began with picking up the trash, the trash that, as it's told, blows in, except for those cat tins and beer bottles. I believe they do not take to the wind so well. In fact, the amount of trash on the sidewalk, in the tree pits, and especially near the corner storm drain was more than I had ever seen. Too heavy for the street sweepers to pick up, now, the neighborhood will have to get out there to clean it up. I cleared the sidewalk cutaway and the drain, leaving the rest for another day or someone else with initiative, as I had my hands full with the garden and tree pits.

I am disheartened by the number of bagged dog turds thrown into the garden. This behavior seems otherworldly -someone has already bagged the doo, yet tosses it into the garden instead of one of the many pails. I keep telling myself that it only takes one to make such a mess, just to keep my heart open to all the dog owners I see. But then there are those who let their dog drop yellowcake on the fenceline, undiscovered until I am toe deep in it while raking the leaves or trash out of the garden. 

Most turds I find through olfaction, and recently this sense has been overloaded. Last fall one of my upstairs neighbors stopped to tell me that she smelled 'cocky.' Her english is not very good, and she was pointing to the garden. I wasn't sure what she was telling me. Does she not like the garden?

Today she stopped to tell me she was again smelling too much cocky. She said it was wafting up and in through her windows, ruining her quality of life (I can only presume). I too smelled the cocky and it is raunchy, adding a rank flavoring to our outdoor experience. I told her it was cat shit, but she heartily disagreed, saying for sure that cat's dung smells different, and this surely was people poo, aka cocky, and they're dropping it at night on the sidewalk and the place in front of the building where the landlord keeps his utility poles, which happens to be underneath her windows. 

It is hard for me to fathom that people are squatting to poop in front of our house. Besides, a walk with eyes through the utility pole zone reveals an alarming amount of fresh and old turds, and I am pretty sure they are dropped by cats. Cat's that eat whatever human food they can find are probably going to make a nasty stink, and the same goes for people's dogs, whose tree pit turds I can attest are just as rank. Cat's like loose soil and privacy, but this winter both were erased by mountains of snow.  Between the poles and our  south facing building, the snow melted early on, creating one of few 'good' spots for them, and they did it by night. Another neighbor tells me they (the cats, that is) started going in their basement door well -probably a good day spot if you're a cat.

My upstairs neighbor told me that two years ago one of our other neighbors, a nice elderly man, was discovered to have 75 cats, living and dead, in his house. A team was brought in to deal with the 'situation', although to this day cats still follow him around the block. 

Oh man, are you feeling sick after reading all this? If you've got problems with feral cats, check out the NYC Feral Cat Initiative.

*Minor Update: this Sunday someone shoveled up the winter's garbage around the storm drain. Thanks to whoever had the initiative.



Opening Day



It was opening day yesterday, as all the neighborhood stopped to chat while I was out cleaning the garden. I even got to crane my neck chatting it up, old style, with my neighbor upstairs (ack, apparently the window affair will be starting up again).  It was time to open up the garden to air and light, removing leaves and litter, and open up some new possibilities.

I raked leaves that never had a winter's chance to blow into corner catches, matted under the all-winter snow, creating a comfy, never did freeze environment for over-wintering perennials. I hesitated for just a second, thinking there's well enough time for a long, hard freeze for these newly exposed leaves. But then I wanted to rake, to clean, and did a cursory job, leaving some for later. I also pruned out all the lower branches of the climbing hydrangea, in hopes that they will not catch trash and to minimize the privacy so many neighborhood cats find under there.

I could have photographed all the bulbs coming up, but after three years blogging, who needs more of that? I was impressed with the greenery of the Aconitum, or Monkshood, that was just a few days ago covered in a pile of snow.

You may or may not remember that I had some late, late irises in December. While cleaning the iris bed out, I found some stalks that had budded, but ceased to grow, remaining under snow for most of winter. This one I had cut and peeled open, revealing no sign of rot. In fact, the bud seemed perfectly healthy and ready to shoot up this spring. Unbelievable. I left another intact, just to see what happens.

I've started some snap peas in bond paper tubes and every quick glance makes me think I'm seeing chocolate cake.


Halal Meat


I braved Fairway in the middle of a Saturday, yet couldn't convince myself to pay 12 dollars for a Murray's whole chicken, nor spare the cash for the lamb I was thinking of. I did pick up some baby octopus, all the way from the Philippines, for $3.99 a pound, after being inspired by it at Babbo a month ago. When I am at Fairway, I am looking for deals, not getting caught up in the smorgasbord. 

Afterward, I stopped in one of my local halal butchers for a whole chicken, keep the head, and maybe some lamb or beef. The whole chicken was $4.50, sold, but the lamb the tough kind, and the filet mignon would only be let go whole. What they did have, which I haven't seen since last year when the butcher offered some for me to try, was the cured/smoked beef steak you see below. I do not know the reason that it is sold at this time -for a festival, or holiday, or just because now is a good time to start up the smoker. It's made in house, is only $7.99 a pound (and it's light weight), is very lean, and fairly tender. Flavor is smokey, of course, but the texture is closer to a salt cured meat than a dried jerky. Sliced thin, it almost melts in your mouth. If you can find it, try some. 



Playing Outside


I've been playing outside these past few days. Digging out the cold frame, moving pots, tossing frozen cat poop, and beginning to think about picking up all that litter. Bulbs are shooting up greens, expecting crocus any day now. The cold frame has seen better days ever since it became the cat frame, and then snow shed, but it's hanging on enough to do its job.

And its job is to house the seedlings on sunny days, lid propped.

These complicated, bent beginnings are leeks, my first attempt at the onion.

These are the leggy, but graceful Broccoli 'Piracicaba' seedlings. I did not try hard enough to drop one seed per dib, but I do find that broccoli disentangles fairly easily when it's time to plant.

These seedlings are only a few days up, and the window sun and excessive kitchen heat push them to grow too fast. So they get to play outside whenever it's sunny and above 35 degrees F. They come in at night, unless it isn't expected to drop below freezing. I do want to balance the quick growth of inside with the hardening of outside, so that they are ahead of the game when I go to plant in the middle of March. 

Presidential Snow



I presided over the holiday by going to the park to photograph. On the way...


Snow that clings, reanimating, the rose kinetic, a hydra, but then Hiroshige's ukiyo-e.


 Financial crisis construction.


You can imagine the earthy pitch scent emanating from these trimmed yew.


Crabapple circle.


Seed Box




This is the seed box I built about two weeks ago from scraps (pine, acrylic, cedar) found at school, and all a bit cockamamie because my instincts for functional design were overrun by the limits of materials on hand. It is now, finally, and at least a week late by my count, filled with soil, and broccoli, parsley and leek seeds.

A box of simple construction -pine boards glued with waterproof wood glue, handles glued on, cedar legs to keep it out of the water. The floor is 3/16 thick acrylic, with holes drilled for drainage. Slots are cut into the box sides for acrylic sleeves -the weird part. I could have simply filled the entire box with soil and seeds, so why partition at all? Honestly, I was thinking I could make it more like a traditional seed starter tray, but it probably has more to do with my sensibility for order than any practical consideration.

If I insert all the sleeves, each 'cell' is 2.5 inches by 10 inches by 4 inches deep. I imagine pulling sleeves to make larger bins for certain plants. I also imagine, with great sense for practical fantasy, that the removable sleeve will make it easier to extract the seedlings for planting, but it will probably require a knife. 

I am glad to not purchase a plastic cell-tray, and also glad to have 4 inches of depth so I don't have to pot up. I think that was what this was all about. In the off-season, I'll wash it, then store my seed packs in its orderly rows. The size was built around my cold-frame, but I gave no thought to the drip pan. It's too big for anything but our old aluminum bake sheet, so bake sheet it is.

Three weeks till beach farm.