This is my most successful food plant experiment. The sprouting chickpeas I got at the co-op sprouted nicely. They took a while to get going once I transplanted them, but took off. Now they are two feet tall, with a pod every couple of inches. I think they are just about done for the year. I'm going to let them die and plant another batch, since it only took half a season for them to get this far. The fresh pods are very sweet, like very sweet peas (which, technically, chickpeas are). They only have one or two peas to a pod. The most interesting thing about the plant is a sticky substance extruded from the trichomes. I haven't yet figured out what it is for. Bug protection? Heat dissipation? They don't seem to particularly require a lot of water, which the second theory would suppose.
I'm excited to see how much my five or six plants yield.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
ginger
Tiny ginger sprouts! It doesn't look like much, but its grown hugely in the last couple of days. I got directions for growing ginger here. This batch of my Exotic Herbs Experiment is proceeding. I lost all my tiny cumin starts to water-neglect and cats crapping in the bed. Better babysitting next time. The sesame is alive but not doing too much.
riot
I haven't really been paying adequate attention to the garden, and really haven't since the end of June or so. Its at the phase where I can mostly leave it alone and let it grow. I've been watering the stuff that is least well-grown, mostly my peppers and the watermelon. It's been raining enough that I can mostly get away with it. Here's my corn patch. You can see the bean climbing in the foreground, and the squash blossom deep in the middle. The red corn in the foreground is the same early maturer I've posted pics of before. Now the squashes are as tall as it, and the tallest corn are a good seven or eight feet--higher than I can reach at the tip of the tassel.
Now, I have been told that you shouldn't start corn indoors, because it doesn't like being transplanted. Or maybe it's just traditional to plant them out because it's less labor. Anyway, it is epically bigger and more mature than any other corn in the neighborhood, which is mostly knee high right now. Either my yard is somehow magically condusive to corn like it seems to be to tomato volunteers, or starting it on April 1 indoors is truly the way to go. Makes me wish I had more of it.
Now, I have been told that you shouldn't start corn indoors, because it doesn't like being transplanted. Or maybe it's just traditional to plant them out because it's less labor. Anyway, it is epically bigger and more mature than any other corn in the neighborhood, which is mostly knee high right now. Either my yard is somehow magically condusive to corn like it seems to be to tomato volunteers, or starting it on April 1 indoors is truly the way to go. Makes me wish I had more of it.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
cucumber
The summer crops are really starting to get going! Since I don't have a lot of time at the moment, go look at my flickr account to see a few more pictures of my 3 sisters plantings. The corn is totally huge and gorgeous! I can't wait for the squash to get going, either.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Gather Light
I've been thinking about the ethics of being a consumer of energy, in the ecological sense. I feel like we are, or at least I was, taught that there is a hierarchy of life. Animals are the 'most evolved', whatever that means, and then there are plants, and fungus, and then there are all those microscopic swimmy things (many of which are actually animals and plants, or plants and fungus, or some combination of the two), but . Despite the best efforts of biology professors to quash this notion (as you can see if you take a look at wikipedia's history of the phylogenetic tree ) it still gets betrayed by phrases like "top carnivore" (referring to those animals that eat everything else). And obviously, we are the top top carnivore. Not only can we kill off lots of top carnivores, but we can even afford not to eat them.
The concept of trophic levels*", the way that ecologists look at energy dynamics in an ecosystem, is more helpful. Trophic levels describe the energy efficiency of an organism in relation to available energy (unless you are a deep-sea vent microbe, this is defined as the amount of solar energy hitting the earth). Every step in the food chain is about 10% efficient.
Now, most of us know that more or less all of the Earth's available energy is made available by plants. Ecologists talk about Foundation Species, usually some ecosystem-altering dominant tree, kelp, etc. It now seems astonishing to me that I've never really seen anyone, even the most edgy scifi writer, describe Earth as being essentially a plants' world. Le Guin edges towards it at times, especially in The Word for World is Forest, a novel about a forest culture who's consiousness is linked somehow to the forest?(which I now think I should go re-read) and "Vaster than Empires," a short story about a planet with a single plant-based consiousness, (and whose title is taken from an excellent line in an obnoxious poem, "To His Coy Mistress": "our vegetable love would grow / vaster than empires, and more slow." )
Of course, there are always the folks who came up with the World Tree. A bit more sensible.
But where does that leave us, as far as organizing idea systems go? I could talk about entropy, which is probably pointless and which I will probably get wrong anyway, and about deforestation and civilization, fossil fuels and global warming, and all the other ideas about ethics and energy and loss which are spinning in my head. Its not that I want to idealize plants, either. Every plant out there is pretty much constantly engaged in all out chemical warfare with all of its neighbors.
I wish I could photosynthesize. Maybe some day I'll be able to approximate it with solar panels. But there is still a lot we can learn from plants. Persistence. Dormancy. Exuberant growth. I like to think of us as being like invasive species like ivy and blackberry, doing our best to make the world uniform and predictable, and maybe we can learn from that in a different way, as we try to eradicate it. Endless variety--every flower more absurd and beautiful than the last.
The thing I keep coming back to, though, is that if there is a good way to model your life, it is to try to be like a tree. To subtly alter your environment, to create shade, sugar, shelter. To transform the energy that comes your way not just for your own use, but in a way that can benefit the rest of the world.
*Wikipedia totally failed me on the trophic level thing. Their entry was AWFUL. One of these days I need to get a wikipedia account...
The concept of trophic levels*", the way that ecologists look at energy dynamics in an ecosystem, is more helpful. Trophic levels describe the energy efficiency of an organism in relation to available energy (unless you are a deep-sea vent microbe, this is defined as the amount of solar energy hitting the earth). Every step in the food chain is about 10% efficient.
Now, most of us know that more or less all of the Earth's available energy is made available by plants. Ecologists talk about Foundation Species, usually some ecosystem-altering dominant tree, kelp, etc. It now seems astonishing to me that I've never really seen anyone, even the most edgy scifi writer, describe Earth as being essentially a plants' world. Le Guin edges towards it at times, especially in The Word for World is Forest, a novel about a forest culture who's consiousness is linked somehow to the forest?(which I now think I should go re-read) and "Vaster than Empires," a short story about a planet with a single plant-based consiousness, (and whose title is taken from an excellent line in an obnoxious poem, "To His Coy Mistress": "our vegetable love would grow / vaster than empires, and more slow." )
Of course, there are always the folks who came up with the World Tree. A bit more sensible.
But where does that leave us, as far as organizing idea systems go? I could talk about entropy, which is probably pointless and which I will probably get wrong anyway, and about deforestation and civilization, fossil fuels and global warming, and all the other ideas about ethics and energy and loss which are spinning in my head. Its not that I want to idealize plants, either. Every plant out there is pretty much constantly engaged in all out chemical warfare with all of its neighbors.
I wish I could photosynthesize. Maybe some day I'll be able to approximate it with solar panels. But there is still a lot we can learn from plants. Persistence. Dormancy. Exuberant growth. I like to think of us as being like invasive species like ivy and blackberry, doing our best to make the world uniform and predictable, and maybe we can learn from that in a different way, as we try to eradicate it. Endless variety--every flower more absurd and beautiful than the last.
The thing I keep coming back to, though, is that if there is a good way to model your life, it is to try to be like a tree. To subtly alter your environment, to create shade, sugar, shelter. To transform the energy that comes your way not just for your own use, but in a way that can benefit the rest of the world.
*Wikipedia totally failed me on the trophic level thing. Their entry was AWFUL. One of these days I need to get a wikipedia account...
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Solstice
Another rainy/sunny, hot and cold day, and another dark photograph. It is just only getting to be really dark now, at 9:30. I like this photo because there are five edible plants in it, more or less harmoniously cohabitating. Can you find them? The feature plant is a purple bush bean, which I eat fresh or steamed. Some time I'll try to figure out what makes it purple--something deliciously healthy for you, I'm sure.
I like to take a little time on the solar holidays to think about the turning of the seasons, time's passage and various other organizing metaphors of life. I have felt somewhat less need to go out of my way to celebrate these holidays, giving how much of my life I've been spending outside for the last few years, and I didn't manage to do much today either.
I like to take a little time on the solar holidays to think about the turning of the seasons, time's passage and various other organizing metaphors of life. I have felt somewhat less need to go out of my way to celebrate these holidays, giving how much of my life I've been spending outside for the last few years, and I didn't manage to do much today either.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
I seem to think about writing in this thing primarily on gross rainy days. Therefore I won't foist another set of gray pictures on you. Instead, I will talk about something I don't have a good enough camera to capture anyway; pests.
Slugs: The slug rings seem to work okay on the things I've put them on, which is a very small portion. They love strawberries. Heat spells seem to be the best thing for keeping slug populations down. Its turned rainy here again, of course, and they are a problem again. To my disappointment, the chickens don't seem to find them delicious. Every time I try to feed them one, they peck at them and then go around wiping their beaks on things in a grossed-out way.
Aphids: Not a huge problem yet. There was a pretty bad case on one of my kales, which I cut back and gave to the chickens. This was a hit. I was given the advice last year that aphids are a good sign that a plant is getting past its prime and its time to pull it out. I have changed this tactic slightly with kale and have started cutting it back severely. Kale is pretty tough and will come back from the stem several times in a year. I gave the buggy leaves to the chickens, which was a hit once they figured it out.
Ants: This one is kind of weird. It is normal to get aphids 'ranched' by ants, who move them around and feed on their sugary poop. However this year they have cut the middleman and have been attacking my potatoes and one of my sunflowers, sucking the sap out like little six-legged vampires. I haven't been able to find a reference for this happening online. I think it is the same species of ant that farms aphids and gets into houses. And holy crap, are there a lot of them this year. There is at least one nest in almost every garden bed, though only the potatoes in the one bed are getting hit. I'm not trying to do anything about it on the theory that a) these particular potatoes are volunteers from ones I planted two or three years ago, and b)I would much rather let them eat things I don't care for much than get into my other food, or, gods forfend, into the house.
Caterpillars: I think these are kind of cute, and there aren't enough of them to be a serious problem. Anyway, the chickens like them. I gave Medulla one yesterday, and they all played a prolonged game of Chicken Tag, over under and through every obstacle in the coop. It was hilarious.
In other entomological news, our compost bins are supporting several sparrow families this year. There are always at least three sparrows hanging out in or off the sides of the compost cage, mining grubs.
Slugs: The slug rings seem to work okay on the things I've put them on, which is a very small portion. They love strawberries. Heat spells seem to be the best thing for keeping slug populations down. Its turned rainy here again, of course, and they are a problem again. To my disappointment, the chickens don't seem to find them delicious. Every time I try to feed them one, they peck at them and then go around wiping their beaks on things in a grossed-out way.
Aphids: Not a huge problem yet. There was a pretty bad case on one of my kales, which I cut back and gave to the chickens. This was a hit. I was given the advice last year that aphids are a good sign that a plant is getting past its prime and its time to pull it out. I have changed this tactic slightly with kale and have started cutting it back severely. Kale is pretty tough and will come back from the stem several times in a year. I gave the buggy leaves to the chickens, which was a hit once they figured it out.
Ants: This one is kind of weird. It is normal to get aphids 'ranched' by ants, who move them around and feed on their sugary poop. However this year they have cut the middleman and have been attacking my potatoes and one of my sunflowers, sucking the sap out like little six-legged vampires. I haven't been able to find a reference for this happening online. I think it is the same species of ant that farms aphids and gets into houses. And holy crap, are there a lot of them this year. There is at least one nest in almost every garden bed, though only the potatoes in the one bed are getting hit. I'm not trying to do anything about it on the theory that a) these particular potatoes are volunteers from ones I planted two or three years ago, and b)I would much rather let them eat things I don't care for much than get into my other food, or, gods forfend, into the house.
Caterpillars: I think these are kind of cute, and there aren't enough of them to be a serious problem. Anyway, the chickens like them. I gave Medulla one yesterday, and they all played a prolonged game of Chicken Tag, over under and through every obstacle in the coop. It was hilarious.
In other entomological news, our compost bins are supporting several sparrow families this year. There are always at least three sparrows hanging out in or off the sides of the compost cage, mining grubs.
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