Botoxato




What is it about these greenhouse heirloom tomatoes? I began seeing them last year at Fairway, although these were at Amagansett Farm Stand, which is hardly a farm stand, but an overpriced food trend outlet for summer residents and weekend trippers.


There they were, on the first day of open season summering, looking enough like the real thing from a distance to draw you in, but up close have a disturbing mix of right shape, wrong skin. Is it just me or do you feel somewhat (but not completely) repulsed by hothouse heirlooms? Is it more of a purist's stance than anything to do with the qualities of such a tomato?



Rain Date



Today I am heading out east with dual
purpose. I am handing my mom, who has been sharing our small apartment for the last month, to my brother, where she will stay for the next week before returning to Florida. We will sit in memorial day traffic, we will pick up my brother, we will stop for lunch, and then we will visit the Amagansett farm where I expect to be growing next year's garlic.

I want a soil sample for testing nitrogen (the only significant nutrient for growing garlic in generally good soil), organic content, and pH. I would also like my mother to have an image of where I am when I am not answering calls.

I used to be a better tourist. I used to go to the country to see the country, or to look for it. In recent years I've begun to need a purpose in the country, some kind of work. Something to do gives me vision, helps me see. In the sun, between two waters, fingers in the earth.

Rain Heavy




New Dawn, or any rose I suppose, doesn't like the heavy rains. It droops and sags, petals wither and drop.

 But it bounces back when the sun returns, albeit a little further from the wall than before.




May Rain



You may be wondering about all this rain we've been having. Most of it is the usual stuff, but the last couple of days it has been a tropical, warm rain. This is because this system is partly the remnants of the Atlantic's first tropical storm, Alberto. There's also a high to the northeast pushing and a low to our northwest pulling moisture onshore from the southeast. You've noticed the damp -that's the high dew point. As the moist air has come ashore, it has blossomed into thunderstorms since this morning.

Rain is normally welcome, and I've lettuce to pick, tomatoes just planted, but I've garlic that is near harvest at the beach farm and that requires some days of dry. I see it's getting darker now, another popup storm is nearing.

Measured In Distance And Time



It's hard to believe it was over a month since I last visited the garlic farm upstate. Is it because it has been so warm, the changes all around are less visible without the physical reminder of cool giving way to warm?

Upon seeing your work, only once in a month, you approach the field with a sense of apprehension and excitement. At first, taking it all in, quick judgement is made. Looks weedy, but not too weedy, Rocambole cultivars are too small, Porcelains strong, this is a small field, yet it's too big.

It's only when you get down into it, begin weeding, do I really know what's going on. The tallest garlic, by far the Porcelain cultivars, are just short enough to be straddled during weeding. I must weed rows in opposite directions or weeds are missed. Straw works well to inhibit weeds, but those that do make it force you to rout around looking for the hidden. Crab grass in the unmulched beds is sprouting strong now and is difficult to dispatch at such small size. I will need to be smarter about row widths and plant spacing for cultivation at the new farm.

On the right is Allium sativum ophioscorodon var. Porcelain 'Breezy Point.' I named this formerly nameless garlic after the neighborhood just west of the Beach Farm. The variety name Porcelain indicates beauty and fragility, but these are some of the strongest growing garlic available -it's no wonder Porcelain cultivars are the choice of northeastern farmers.

 The French Grey shallots, Allium oschaninii, are doing quite well, having gone from one shallot to several in 7 months. I like this math.

 If I could find one bug on the garlic, this is certainly one that I would choose.

Weeding a plot this size by hand always takes about three hours and I am pretty thorough. I ran out of straw and so chose not to mulch the three Silverskin rows. Of course, this is where the crab grass sprouts are making headway. I ran the hoe along the outer edges, making sure not to nick the stems or sink deep enough to cut into the bulbs. In between I ran the hoe on its corner.

At the end of the day it's hard not to want to sit and stare at the field, even one this small. I typed into the phone my notes about each variety and cultivar and then it was time to head back to Brooklyn. I have to remind myself that this is an experiment in work, distance and time. The longer it takes, the less likely it is to succeed.

Although my departure was stymied by this little guy. As my generous host and I chatted on our way out of the driveway, I noticed a stone still baby rabbit at the edge of the garage. It took us an hour to get him out of the clutter (the more space you have, the more stuff you keep), so we could close the garage door without trapping him inside. We let him go near some stuff and tall plants for protection and I was on my way.


It's All Happening



The snap peas are a little slow this year.

And the chard? It keeps on giving -this is last year's chard!

When the chives are flowering, there should be some lettuce ready.

Not quite on this row of bib and romaine.

But this bed, yes, much to harvest.

And not a moment too soon.

Because the stinkhorns are up and when the stinkhorns are up -it's time to plant tomaduz.

And they are more than ready, they're past due (giving many away).

Look at that -cereal, bananas, and tomato roots. I will use boxes again -they work.

Twelve tomatoes into the cima di rapa bed...

and into the bib lettuce bed.


Including this most attractive plant -the velvet tomato.

All in all, quite a harvest -15 heads of lettuce, bunches of cilantro, a bag of mustard greens, a bag of chard and rabe, and the early scapes of Turban and Asiatic garlic.

This is our second snail. Why? Wood. A neighbor has framed out his beds, and I left a pile of wood over winter. Snails and slugs need cool, dark hiding places, and wood provides.

Bulbing fennel is up and making bulbs.

And Marie's strawberries -delicious.

A few notes on cima di rapa, broccoli rabe: Our rabe was flowering almost as soon as we put it in. I don't think it should, and I think I planted it out too late. Stems were tender at first, but, much like pea shoots and tendrils, if they are hard to snap between the fingers, they won't get any better cooked. A tough stem stays a tough stem. An early harvest is best, and repeats may not produce the tender stems.

On tomato beds: This year I placed fish bone meal on all the beds. I also limed the garden this winter after I had the soil tested. The pH was low. I'm hoping these two efforts keep in check the blossom end rot that my plum tomatoes suffered last year.



A Tale Of Two Garlics



Two weeks back I bought garlic at a Cortelyou farmers' market stand. I talk about that here. I went back to the market to buy Rhubarb today and saw that the two prime farmers were selling green porcelain garlic, out of the field maybe a month or so ahead of schedule. One of the farmers was selling the very same garlic you see on the right. At the food co-op, I bought the "USA" grown garlic you see on the left. It was refrigerated, which means it will sprout shortly, but I wanted a more garlicky flavor than I was getting out of the white bulbs I bought two weeks ago. 

I know that refrigerated garlic stores long, as long as it never comes out of that 35 degrees, but I can't say from experience how long it will last before sprouting. So I now have a test specimen. 

There are three significant differences in the look of these two garlic bulbs. The roughness, the roots, and the longer cut of the stem of the reddish garlic on the left, and the smooth, root-scooped, short and clean stem of the white garlic on the right. Today at the farm market I confronted the man at the register about the source of his white garlic. You would expect him to say that it was theirs, and he did. Do you want it, he asked. I said no, but also that the scooped roots are a common practice of Chinese processors. He again stated that they were theirs, stored from last year. 

Nearby in his stand were the porcelains you expect to see at this time -green leaves attached and bright white bulb. As I said in my former post, there are garlic varieties that will store this long in good conditions -Silverskin and Creole (neither look like the one on the right). Now that the season is running again, I hope to see these cheap whites disappear. 

I turned over and over whether or not I should go to the market manager. I didn't. I like that farmer and maybe I am completely off-base. Any market manager should know whether or not this produce is in season, and should be able to spot an imposter. So, for now, I leave it to them and the customer.


What's New and Blue


Dicentra eximia, one of my favorite plants, spontaneously regenerated elsewhere in the garden this year. Last year's healthy bleeding heart was danced on while we were in Minnesota, and died. I'm glad its offspring are here (like the end of Charlotte's Web).

The planting around the stump is full indeed.

Geranium 'Johnson's Blue'? Barely.

But these bachelor buttons? Now that is blue.



Thievery



Given that I garden with such an active colony of carpenter bees, I've become an amateur witness to their behavior. They're fun to photograph, or try, because of their lumbering and hovering (and no stinging).

Carpenter bees are known to some as nectar robbers. When the flower has a deep corolla, they break the sides to "steal" the nectar, technically without trading their pollinating services. That's what makes them thieves, but then there's argument on this point.


Sun To Shade




The three Zelkovas planted two years ago (or was it one?) are growing rapidly. The front yard garden used to get sun until 2 or so in the afternoon during May. Now, the shade sweeps across the garden from morning on; only a band of sunlight remaining during the early hours. The Zelkovas are not yet tall enough to block out the noon day sun of June, but they will be by next year, I think. This whole garden will change from yarrow, sedum, and roses to dicentra and monkshood in a few years.

The city planted these three trees, which form a wide V-shape, less than 8 feet from the building. Not well considered. One is directly in front of our stoop. When you stand at the top step you can tickle your face with the Zelkova's lanceolate leaves. The branches of the Zelkovas are low, and we are ducking under them to walk the sidewalk, yet unwilling to prune after neighborhood stories of fines for doing so. No, I do not want to become a certified pruner or whatever the title is. I understand the city's rationale, it's understandable, but I'm busy. Maybe this summer I will concoct a post on the "dumbness" of the Million Trees Program, maybe.

But it's not all complaints. This stretch used to be awfully hot in summertime, and now there is a light shade, a real comfort. Eventually our apartment will be less hot, reducing ac use, which we will like. The trees decorate this stretch of our small block, overall it makes the neighborhood softer, somehow more generous.

The New Dawn rose is becoming a monster with a twelve-foot span and ten foot height despite being increasingly shaded by the Zelkovas. This rose is incredibly healthy, even though it was ripped from another garden 4 or 5 years ago. The main stem is massively thick, and I can hardly keep the leaders under control. All three roses in this garden are exceptionally healthy and I regard the 8 hours of early sun and the heat reflected from wall and concrete to be the reason. Too much humidity, dampness, high dew points, and shade will take a rose down. Given the growth of the Zelkovas, I'll need to move mine before it comes to that.

Tidying



It's a comfort to spend 20 minutes tying up the rain-heavy perennials, tidying, putting things back in their place. Things have grown a little unruly in recent weeks, and I'm busy, but I plan to be more present than I have been in the coming weeks.

What I Like About Ramps


Wahhhhhh!

Tell me all the things I wanna hear, 'cause that's true, that's what I like about ramps, yeah.

Ok, enough riffing with the Romantics. Ramps. What I truly like about them is their earthy flavor, bordering on the taste of woodland humus, their mild sting, and the delicate fruit undertones in the stem and leaves. That's what I like about ramps. Hey! Uh huhuh.

*everyones got them now, and at $3 a bundle, they're even cheaper than previous years. I often wonder from where these are being pulled and if there is much habitat damage in the process.


Local Genius



It could only have been genius that struck when someone, probably the landlord's swift and conscientious workers,  realized they could eliminate the weeds with an herbicide spray. The only negatives could be the fact that a) it drifted onto my perennials and curled their leaves and b) didn't fully work because it rained afterward. 

Their greatest stroke of genius was spraying the tree pits with herbicide, because what they intuited isn't well understood -that trees are things, not herbs. Is it so hard for the landlord to have the weeds hoed or pulled? Besides the fact that I usually do it, but have been busy with the beach/upstate farm, school finals, the studio, and my mother's visit. I'd get to it soon enough. Given all the planting that I have accomplished, you'd think the landlady could let go of the weeds for a minute, maybe put a little effort into our dilapidated building, and leave the garden work to me.


Sixty Five MPH Spring


I've been relishing spring green and salmon, some of the best I can recall, at highway speeds for a couple of weeks now. First on my trip to the upstate garlic farm, and this week on my trip out to Amagansett to check out a possible location for next year's crop. 

I cannot recall ever winding my way through the Long Island Pine Barrens in early spring, since my trips to the farthest reaches of the southern prong have always been reserved for summer days at Montauk. 

The colors this year rival or best autumn's, in my view. The russet and salmon reds are the most brilliant I've seen, contrasting with long-holding chartreuse.



Add to this the dark greens of pitch pine, and...


the whitened-green of blooming, roadside russian olives, and...

sheep sorrel and old grasses...


and you have something I could hardly take photographs of, with my phone, while speeding down the highway at 65 mph. It all made me wish, much like two weeks prior, that I didn't have purpose other than finding and photography.