Reflections on Gardening and Politics

And he gave it for his opinion, that whoever could make two ears of corn, or two blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and do more essential service to his country, than the whole race of politicians put together.

- Jonathan Swift, Gulliver's Travels

"No occupation is so delightful to me as the culture of the earth,no culture comparable to that of the garden ... But though an old man, I am but a young gardener."

- Thomas Jefferson

"The greatest service which can be rendered any country is to add a useful plant to its culture."

- Thomas Jefferson

Gardening Best Practices (aka my shallots appear as though they will bolt soon)

I think my shallots are going to seed. There are big bulbs at the tips that look suspiciously like they will become flowers. There is also a healthy contingent of British gardeners that are suffering from the same woes. My hobby compatriots actually suffered from this in early March in the midlands region, but their desperate listserv posts still showed up on the top of my Google searches last night. I tried to refine my web searching results to limit all hits to zone 7 and fall planted shallots. The latter search attempt tended to drive me to "seed saver" pages. Given my current state of frustration at my shallots bolting a bit too soon, I am less than enthused about learning about how to save the bitter seeds. I could at least find some comfort in the common struggles shared between myself and the English gardeners of another time and space.

I am still not sure where I should go to learn about my shallots. I have a very specific question, but the specific answer remains elusive. I have consulted a few vegetable gardening books from the library, but my bolting shallots don't appear to make their list of common problems. I need to know whether I should pull out my shallots right now to avoid them becoming bitter, or if I might be able to wait another week. I know this knowledge exists out there because others have certainly faced this problem. Yet in this world in which every piece of information feels as though it would simply be a click away, I can't seem to click to the correct answer. This is not a condemnation of the web as I can't find the answer that I need from library reference books either. I am the only one with shallots in my community garden, or I would have asked the wiser gardeners for their advice. Perhaps this just means that I have been in DC too long. Maybe there is not always a "best practice" or "model" that one can reference before making a decision. I will most likely have to experiment with this harvest and pull up half of the crop now and wait to see what happens with the rest in a week or two. I will be more seasoned when I plant again. And there will always be another fall.

How fine are your garden rows?

"There is a quality even meaner than outright ugliness or disorder, and this meaner quality is the dishonest mask of pretended order, achieved by ignoring or suppressing the real order that is struggling to exist and to be served." - Jane Jacobs

Many of my community garden neighbors have praised the look of my garden this spring. They say that it is a "fine looking garden" and that I am "tending to it well." Most of the elderly gentlemen gardeners simply walk over and nod approvingly without any unnecessary comments. We both know that my garden looks neat.

I have a nice square of onions with towering green stems and smart, short rows of root vegetables and greens. My rows are labeled with markers, and I have moved systematically each weekend toward my manifest destiny of sowing seeds to the western boundary of the garden plot. I have order in my garden, and there is wide recognition that this is a good quality. As long as I continue the long war against the weeds, my garden would look smart for the rest of the summer. I would always leave my garden with dirt-stained knees and sweat and soil mixed across my brow, but my garden would be neat.

The quality of messiness spread from the gardener to the garden last Saturday after a successful trip to the farmer's market. I found the healthy looking zucchini plants that I had heretofore not found. I also saw a sweet potato plant and wondered what it might be like to eat a homemade sweet potato pie from home grown sweet potatoes. Knowing that the answer would most likely be "heavenly," I purchased the zucchini and sweet potato plants and tried my best to find them new homes in my well-packed garden. After surveying the grounds, I plopped a zucchini plant in my onion patch and snuggled a sweet potato plant amidst my beans. Another zucchini plant found its home amongst the radishes. My rows still look neat, but the vines of the new plants will soon sketch new angles and disrupt the sharp parallel lines that had defined my garden. The green leaves of differing plants will become tangled, and the row markers will not point directly to the crop they once announced proudly.

My experiment in polyculture may fail, and I am willing to entertain complaints that some of these roots crops probably would do better without the competition of another plant in such close vicinity. Yet, the rebel in me who suffered through boring and tragic tomes of failed monoculture extension efforts in developing countries, decided that a little bit of polyculture may be just what my garden needed. And thus, the beans and onions will make room. The radishes will soon be gone, but their former home will not lay vacant. I will loose a bit of crawling space, but my knees will undoubtedly remain covered in dirt after gardening. And maybe, just maybe, new growth will flourish in a less tidy space with a less tidy look. If my young sweet potato plant lead to pies and budding zucchinis lead to chocolate quick bread, I will not grieve the praise I would have received if I had stuck to a more cartesian layout. Messiness will bring other rewards.

State of the garden 5/26 (also known as the end of bloomsdale spinach

Does gardening make cents?

I stopped by my local Whole Foods last night to pick up some mussels and white wine for dinner when I happened to pass the radishes. One could purchase an entire bunch of gorgeous organic radishes (10-12) for $1.64. Finding fresh, healthy, vegetables at a reasonable cost is usually a red letter day for me, but the low price tag made me glum. I was disappointed to price out my radish crop as being worth $10 at Whole Foods... Let's just ignore Walmart's radish prices to protect my fragile ego for the time being.

I know on some level that my dismay is somewhat silly. I wasn't planning to sell my radishes anywhere and was thus not expecting to actually receive any cash regardless of the price point. Given that I only paid about $2.50 for the seeds, I am not loosing money on the deal. Gardening is still a more affordable hobby than knitting, golfing, or anything beyond reading books in libraries and running in parks. Furthermore, I will still most likely conduct clandestine radish drops on the front steps of my friends' houses to get rid of my excess harvest.

Yet, I have to admit that it bothers me that vegetables that I can grow with some success are actually really cheap to buy when they are in season. I avoided the zucchini and jalapeno aisle last August to remain in blissfully ignorant that these items are essentially given away during the late summer. Although I still cling to the idea that I am getting a deal on tomatoes and peppers, William Alexander wrote a book entitled, The $64 Tomato, which would seem to dispute my ill-founded hope.

American Public Media's MarketPlace Money did a story on whether victory gardens actually saved one money and came up with conflicting results. Check it out, and make up your own mind.

Market Place's "Grow your own Garden"

In light of the cheap prices for some of the veggies that I grow, I am coming to terms with the fact that I am probably more like what David Brooks would call a Bobo (without that great paycheck) than a penny-pinching hippie. Gardening also brings numerous perks such as:
1) I have a nice tan
2) I have lovely community gardening neighbors hailing from all over the world
3) I can eat spinach from my garden without worrying about E coli
4) My radishes tasted better than Whole Foods (Yes, I did try it out for comparison.)
5) I get to play in the dirt
6) I like watching things grow. I am not sure why watching grass grow got such a bad rap. Watching my bush beans inch up ever so slowly is indeed infinitely pleasing.

Green garlic for the impatient gourmet

I planted my garlic in late October of last year and have been eagerly awaiting its harvest ever since. Some gardening websites indicate that fall planted garlic can be harvested in mid-May. It may be due to the lack of nutrients in my plot, but I think my garlic needs another month. However, I did pull one plant last night to taste a bit of "green garlic." A gourmet will tell you that green garlic has a more subtle flavor than regular garlic and that it lends itself to many dishes. The eager harvester, me, enjoys the gratification of pulling out a few plants now for flavoring dishes. I plan to make a green garlic spread on crisp bread and top with fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, fresh basil and olive oil. I am anxious to taste the green garlic subtleties, but I also think that this confirms my theory that the explosion of baby veggies has as much to do with taste and looks as it does with gardeners wanting to dig up their plants.

You can learn more about green garlic at Gourmet Sleuth

The radishes are coming

I stopped by my garden after work last night and noticed blooms on my spinach and cilantro. I must say that these veggies have a graceful way of closing the curtain on their life as a veggie. My poor eggplants are being eating alive by beetles, and I am thinking of replacing them this weekend.

I picked a few radishes as well, and they are almost at full size. I neglected the advice of the "sow a small bit at a time" school of thought and am thus expecting a large supply of radishes in the very near future. With a little help from Google, I learned of some more unique way to showcase the radishes. The most delicious sounding options are listed below. I sauteed some radishes in butter last night as directed by the good folks at the Splendid Table, and it is indeed as good as the rave reviews say.

Radish Cabbage Coleslaw via Epicurious

Sauteed Radishes via Splendid Table

Radish Spread via Beyond Salmon

My sister gave me one piece of advice when I started to garden, "Keep a journal." She said that it had been an effective way for her to evaluate different varieties, techniques and planting layouts. After a year and a half of trying to keep straight in my head whether I liked the Greek oregano and when I should plant my carrots to avoid splitting, I decided to keep a blog of my little urban garden. You can follow along to see the joys and moments of frustration associated with my 20 by 20 ft community garden pot. This is my second year of gardening in DC, and I am definitely still a novice. It has been a great way to get a little sun, snag some tasty okra for fritters, and relax on Sunday afternoons.

I went to my garden yesterday around noon to plant the remaining open space in my garden. When I arrived, I was saddened to see that my beautiful swiss chard plants had been dug up by a little creature and left to dry out in the sun. I had been so proud of my little plants that were grown directly from seed, and the swiss chard thinnings had led to some very tasty salads. Gardening can be stark reminder that although you can nurture your little plants to the best of your abilities, there will always be things outside your control. The choice is either to accept that plants will fail, disease may come, and the rain, oh the rain, will not necessarily fall on cue, or give up gardening. I decided to plant a couple more short rows of a heirloom swiss chard and hope for the best. I'll need to look up some ways to protect my new plants when they begin to mature in a couple of weeks.

After addressing the swiss chard, I got busy mixing in some organic top soil and planting some beets, carrots and lima beans. I bought some heirloom varieties from the Southern Exposure Seed Exchange this year for the frist time http://www.southernexposure.com/index.html I think it may be a little late to plant carrots in this area because the soil temperature is pretty warm, but I still wanted to try. I used last year's harvest of carrots to make the tastiest spaghetti sauce I had ever cooked. I am hoping to learn more about "putting aside" carrots to make batches of spaghetti sauce throughout the year. To learn more about preserving my harvest, I am going to read the new Barbara Kingsolver book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle just as soon as it arrive in the DC public Library.

Enough for now. Happy gardening :)