Spring Thaw

Well, this site has lain dormant for far too long. No bike picture happened. No updates on the indoor tomatoes or the outdoor collards or basil or anything else have sprung forth fully pixelated from their electronic beds. No overstated, under-qualified, and highly-idealized ruminations on the joys of growing our own food -- paltry yield that it was -- have emerged to sate the curiosity of our massive readership. But spring is almost here, and sprouts are sprouting. Our minds have begun to turn to container kitchen gardens once again. So, let's give it another go.

First, an update. Indoor tomato survived the winter, not producing much but never quite ceasing production either. Most of its fruits haven't really appeared edible, though I did munch a particularly good-looking one yesterday and found it tasty. Now that the days are lengthening, the plant is putting out many more flowers than it did in January (pictured above). These flowers seem to imply that it will also be providing more fruit. So, we may well try to keep it going -- the new question will be whether to sow something new around its base.

Second, something a bit more on the "review" side of things: Summer and I have been reading up for the upcoming growing season. Specifically, we've turned to Novella Carpenter's Farm City for inspiration, and McGee and Stuckey's Bountiful Container for information. Some words on each.

Farm City is a lighthearted account of the author's garden and animal menagerie in a somewhat blemished section of Oakland. Though the hipsterdom is a bit much at times (see, e.g., Carpenter's neighbor's underground speakeasy), overall the book is well-written and engaging -- a quick, fun read. On a personal level, I wound up jealous of Carpenter for the vacant lot she was able to squat on in order to put up her raised garden beds (and the ensuing bounty), and impressed in a more arm's-length way at her animal-raising, -slaughtering, and -eating (including learning to butcher the pigs she raised in urban Oakland). Also, I realized how little I know about not only particular foods but also gardens, botany, the whole shebang. Further reading is required.

Bountiful Container I'm only halfway through, though I've been over all the general gardening info and am now well into the compendium of information on growing particular edible plants. The general info seems like it will be very helpful (see below), and the compendium doubly so: for now, it's serving as inspiration for what we ought to grow this year (I had to put the book down and pick up another last night because it was making me hungry), and once our container gardens are actually in the works I'm sure its specific information will prove invaluable. The book's subtitle, Create Container Gardens of Vegetables, Herbs, Fruits, and Edible Flowers, appears apt. Perhaps most importantly, though, the authors strike the perfect tone: conversational but extremely knowledgeable, not just in a how-to sense, but also in a historical sense. Bountiful Container is really a surprisingly fun read.

Moving on.

Third, here's some of what we've learned, largely from McGee and Stuckey:

1. We needn't plant so scantly; maximum use of limited space appears best accomplished by using varied root lengths and plant heights in one container.
2. We ought to water daily. Perhaps I failed to mention last year that our cucumbers were on the bitter side? Well, apparently low water levels not only slow plant growth, but also lead to a bitter flavor. So: more water.
3. We ought to harvest the vegetables more quickly. Perhaps I also failed to mention last year that we only ended up with, I think, two cucumbers? It turns out that when you leave some vegetables on the vine long enough to go to seed, they'll stop producing. Seems that's what happened here. This year, when in doubt, we'll harvest.
4. We ought to provide some plant food. Last year, our potting soil was likely insufficient. We did get plant food, but weren't sure how or why to apply it after the initial planting. Given that we have yet to implement a composting regime (and starting one seems over-ambitious given the other sprout we're tending to), some supplement is probably necessary this year. So we'll try a basic rule: regular phosphorus-rich food (liquid seaweed comes recommended) for vegetables, and regular nitrogen-rich food (fish-based, like what we already have) for leafy greens.
5. Disaster: it might already be too late to start snap peas!

So, that ought to provide plenty to chew on for now. We'll try to keep you posted.

Vegetables and Bicycles, Part 2

This installment continues my two-pronged urban enviro-hipster attack. First on the agenda: vegetables.

We returned from Minnesota to find plenty of heat and humidity, but nothing close to the lobster-in-a-pot sensation July had so amply supplied. The relatively cooperative weather has resulted in a significant resurgence of our plants. The collards, both indoor and out, are getting broad-leafed; the tomatoes, again both indoor and out, have sprouted flowers and fruits; and the basil has reverted from bolting to leaf production in earnest. In fact, the latter adorned last night's tasty caprese salad.

Given my earlier fawning, it will surprise no one that the plants' resurgence has accompanied a very robust feeling of happiness and fullness, but their role in producing this feeling is difficult to extricate from certain other potential factors--

--of which the other one relevant here is my beloved bicycle, the second item on the agenda.

Wednesday morning, I took a three mile ride past parks and a community garden. Today I reprised my route with slight modifications. In addition to providing the thrill that inheres in exercising a newly-learned skill (such as it is), particularly one that involves some degree of speed and a resulting onrush of breeze, biking also allows an opportunity for impressionistic observation. Walking still seems best for picking up details, like gargoyles and busts of George Washington; driving is efficient but leaves little lasting impression; but biking's medium pace suggests a very significant amount of green on Providence's east side, the trees and gardens prevailing even over the bumps and divets in the road as the neighborhood's standout element. Without the distraction of details, a broad appreciation for the neighborhood's beauty is easier to cultivate.

That's it for now; today you get only gushing. Next time I hope to dig up some new food for thought and riff again on something beyond Summer's and my continued encroachment on urban crunchiness. Also, hopefully there'll be a picture involving the bike!