2025 costs

 I've  been mostly container-gardening the last few years (greens and strawberries) plus garlic in the ground, but I'd like to expand a bit. Still a container garden of a sort -- a 4' x 8' x 2' raised metal bed in the side yard (more sun).

Definitely higher costs than returns this year, but I'm doing it mostly for entertainment and getting a wee bit of exercise and the quality of the harvest, rather than cost-saving. The plan is a few peppers, tomatoes (grape, maybe a couple of a sauce variety) a row of swiss chard, and maybe some onions (a friend offered a few plants). Oh, and a zuke and yellow squash. One each. That will more than fill the bed. Maybe a few basil plants? Oh, and thyme. Gotta get thyme plants. 

I'm curious about the costs, so I'll edit this as they accrue. 

• Metal 4x8x2 bed from Amazon: $100
• Sand & garden soil (Home Depot): $125
• Bottom layer of fill (decaying logs, sticks, cardboard, etc): free
• Top layer, composted manure (Ventura Grain): $64
• Mulch (cardboard & clippings): free
• Seeds & starting supplies (ocean state) $26
• Tomato & pepper plants (Garden Patch): $15

                                    TOTAL: $330

Seeds include: 2 lettuces, basil, thyme, catnip, swiss chard, 2 squashes, nasturtium, marigold

Separate from the raised garden, I'm planning to move the one surviving rhubarb plant (possibly divided into three or more) from a too-shady spot to a sunnier spot. Might get a couple more plants to fill in the sunny bed. (Done, from GrowJoy, 2 Crimson Red rhubarb plants, $29). I checked on the rhubarb plant today, and it's thriving. Maybe I'll throw some garlic volunteers in that bed too. I bought a spade to do the transplanting, which cost $32, but hardly seems fair to include in this year's costs, since it's something I've needed  for a while.

I also have garlic plants everywhere! A half-whiskey barrel planted with seed cloves I'd saved. Volunteers out in the old garden bed AND in the strawberry planter containers on the deck and in assorted spots near the deck and the old garden. There's a catnip plant growing in a container in the old garden (need to grow more catnip; adding to list of seeds). 

Late, but not really

Memorial Day weekend is the traditional planting time for warm-weather crops like tomatoes and peppers, so the nursery was almost out of plants when I went today. Except it's not really late; it's just that Memorial Day was early. It's probably better to say that these plants can safely go into the ground the last weekend of May, which is the next two days. So I'm right on schedule.

Or I would be if I'd done any bed prep before now. The weeds have pretty much taken over.

I'm not planning a big garden this year. Just half a dozen each of grape tomatoes and banana peppers, some lettuce and swiss chard and herbs (in containers), plus some yellow squash if the critters don't get to them, and maybe some butternuts (ditto on being subject to critters). I've also got, for the first year since planting 3 years ago, lush rhubarb plants. (Forgot to get a pic; will try to remember and edit tomorrow.) I'm also experimenting with some potatoes that sprouted in the kitchen. I remember reading that they're treated to prevent growing, so I'm about to find out if it's true. They're planted in a bucket, so I can keep topping it off as (if) they grow, and, in theory, have a whole bucket full of potatoes in the fall.

So, yesterday I got some dill seeds, since it's been a while since they self-seeded, and planted them in a bucket with some pre-existing thyme. Today I bought six-packs of grape tomatoes, banana peppers, and yellow squash, for a total of a little less than ten bucks.

I'm expecting rain over the next 24 hours (ridiculously humid weather since yesterday), so no watering yet. I'm hoping to plant the banana peppers (the only seedlings left) tomorrow in between showers.

It should be a cheap growing year, since I already had two bags of compost. I bought some potting soil for the outdoor containers, so that's another five bucks or so. I've already got copper fungicide for the tomatoes. Oh, but I bought a new lopper and a new rake, so that's another fifty bucks or so, but they need to be amortized for the next ten years or so. I may also decide to get some mulch, but I'm not sure I'll need it. There's a pile of grass clippings I can grab, and that may be enough for the small beds I've planted this year.

A different kind of recovery

Lots of people are thinking about starting vegetable gardens this year, and it seems like a good time to get back to my own garden. This recovery won't be a financial one (despite the economic crash and hardships) but more like a recovery of our footing, after such a massive upheaval in our normal lives from the novel coronavirus.

The last couple of growing seasons weren't great, mostly because ever since contracting Lyme disease from ticks in my own back yard, I hadn't been particularly enthusiastic about spending time out there. I think I'm ready to venture out again.

I was out puttering around in the garden today, the first nice day in what feel likes six months. Two (of three) rhubarb plants are looking better than ever, so I weeded around them and added a bunch of composted manure, and will toss some mulch around them the next time I'm out there. I also transplanted the third plant (which broke into two, so now there are four plants, albeit small ones), which wasn't doing well in another location. It too got a bunch of manure to be followed by mulch.

I expected the asparagus to be up, because I keep hearing of other gardeners in the state starting to harvest the spears in the last two weeks. I must have a different microclimate (maybe they have raised beds, and I don't), because they usually sprout in early May for me. It is early May, but apparently still too early. Or else my neglect has finally killed them, but I tend to think that every year, and it's just me being anxious for fresh asparagus. When eaten directly in the garden, or within a few hours of harvest (as opposed to days) it's excellent uncooked. Sweet and just a little crunchy.

Ironically, last fall was the first time in probably 20 years that I didn't get around to planting the garlic for this year's harvest. We won't be deprived though, because I have millions of volunteer plants. The heads will be small, because they're too crowded to grow to full potential, but perfectly edible. At some point, I'll transplant them somewhere with better spacing, to be next year's main crop.

Early planting 2015

After the coldest winter (and latest cold) in decades, we're now having a week of 80 degree temperatures in early May. I'm half tempted to go ahead and plant the tomatoes and peppers a good three weeks ahead of schedule, but it's probably not a good idea. I did throw some bean and zucchini seeds into the garden, figuring it would be ideal germination weather.

Also planted the shallot seeds (Conservor, 110 days to harvest, then sun cure for a week before removing tops; 250 seeds!) and Sugar Ann snap peas (less than 60 days to harvest). Weeded the strawberry bed (no idea what variety; they were a gift from my tenants), and noticed the first bloom.

The Crimson Red rhubarb is doing nicely. (Shhhhh, pretend I didn't say that. I'm afraid of jinxing them, given the bad luck I usually have with rhubarb.) And the asparagus is getting out of control. Must harvest it tomorrow when my co-gardeners will be home to eat it for dinner.

I need to make a list of the plants to get at the local nursery, and look up what I spent on stuff from Johnny's. Will be getting manure and straw later this week. What a glamorous life I lead!

Crimson Red Rhubarb

I've had the worst time growing rhubarb. I have two different varieties: one plant that I think is Victoria, and two plants that are Chipman's Canada Red.

The Victoria produces nothing but seed stalks and a very few really puny edible stalks. The Chipman's Canada Red was only planted a couple years ago, and so far, it's been pretty puny, but at least it survived some challenging growing seasons.

Last fall, I did some research to see what other varieties were out there. There's a repository in Palmer, Alaska that has well over a hundred varieties, but less than a dozen are available commercially, and really the number is probably about half that, in terms of varieties that are reasonably available. Locally, all I can get is Victoria, which as noted, hasn't done well for me.

A few suppliers offer Crimson Red, including Territorial Seed, where I've bought other products, and had a good experience. I ordered two plants, and was a little miffed, because the shipping was supposed to be mid-to-late-March, and I received them a little bit before March 15th, which would be fair, except that the whole country has had an extremely tough winter, so I would have thought they'd wait a little bit, closer to the end of March. At the time I received the plants (which were supposed to be planted ASAP), the garden was covered with six inches of snow, and the ground was frozen solid.

It wasn't until March 29th that I could dig more than an inch below the surface, and plant the rhubarb. Given all my bad luck with rhubarb plants, I worried the whole time that the plants would die before the ground thawed. But finally, I could dig holes (three, as it turned out, since one of the plants had a chunk of root that had separated from the rest, and seemed to be viable), just in time for some rain in the forecast, so they'd get well watered in. Of course, the rain turned out to be torrential, so then I fretted that my new plants would drown (since rhubarb doesn't do well without good drainage).

At least so far, all is well. A couple of the leaves that had sprouted and were most advanced at the time of planting did die, probably from dehydration during the two weeks of sitting on the kitchen counter until I could plant them. But the rest of the emerging stalks look promising.

ETA: As of May 10th, only the plant above survived, of the three Crimson Red roots I started with.

Rhubarb!

I was driving past a nursery on the way home from an event in Vermont, and it's a place I'd always wanted to check out, but I'd always been on a deadline. This past weekend, though, I actually had some time to use up, so I didn't arrive at my destination too early.

I'm so glad I stopped in. I found Chipman's Canada Red rhubarb, which I can't get locally, and thought I'd have to wait until next year to order. Now we'll get it going this year, and perhaps be able to harvest some next year, instead of losing a whole growing season.

Plus, they had a patio-sized container with a Purple Passion pepper plant in it, complete with the passionately purple (sort of eggplant colored) fruits, nearing maturity. Sure, I had 30 sweet pepper plants already growing in the garden, but I needed this variety. So now we've got 34 sweet pepper plents growing. (Except one of the Aces was beheaded by some critter -- snapped the plant in half, presumably to eat the top half, and then apparently spit it out, because pepper plants are yukky. I'm hoping he's learned his lesson and won't check the others, in case they taste better. I'm not sure if that plant will recover, but I've seen peppers come back from worse damage.)

So, we've got $15 to add to this year's expenses.

Onions by the hundreds

We received and planted somewhere between 250 and 300 onions. Two-thirds of them red and a third of them yellow storage onions. I think the grower sent us extras, though, because we should have had 180 red and 60 yellow, and I'm pretty sure we have more than that. The birds are unplanting them in their search for breakfast, so we may end up with fewer than what we have now.

Asparagus is doing well. Ate several stalks with my neighbor a week ago, brought some to a friend at work a few days ago, and picked a whole bunch of them yesterday. At least some of the newly planted roots survived their first-year neglect and are coming back, albeit as scraggly little shoots, only visible if you know where to look.

Lettuces (green simpson and a red variety) and tatsoi are thriving on both my deck and my neighbor's. Hers are a bit further along, and I did some weeding and thinning yesterday. In the process, I got to eat the first lettuce of the season. Not exactly a whole salad. More like three one-inch-square leaves. But, hey, the first bites of the season are always the best.

I may be making rhubarb crisp tonight. I'd like to see if harvesting some branches now will, in fact, spur the plant into producing more branches than it would otherwise. I've already removed the flower stalks. I really want to make blueberry-rhubarb jam again this year, as soon as blueberries come into season.

Meanhile, I'm craving broccoli. I love broccoli, but mostly I love it raw. And I can't eat it raw any longer, because I have thyroiditis, and raw broccoli makes that problem worse. So I swore off broccoli. Until recently, when I decided that lightly cooked broccoli (which is okay for my thyroid) is better than no broccoli at all. I'm hoping to pick up the plants today and stick them in the ground today or tomorrow.

Basil seedlings have sprouted in duplicate. I thought I'd killed the first batch of seeds, and put the pots outdoors to be composted, but a week later (I tend to be slow about getting stuff out to the compost bin), there were sprouts in the pots. Both the outdoor pots and the follow-up pots indoors. So, lots of basil this year. Except I have no idea where to put it. I'm aiming to set new records for overly intensive planting this year.

Bluebarb jam

During the recent rhubarb taste-testing, the consensus was that the best treat of all was the "bluebarb" jam. (Much easier to say than "blueberry rhubarb.")

The recipe is from a wonderful little book by Madelaine Bullwinkel, called Gourmet Preserves Chez Madelaine. I particularly like the way she relies on natural pectin, rather than the commercial variety.

Here's the gist of how to make your own bluebarb jam (but do check out the Bullwinkel book for more information):
Simmer, uncovered, on medium-low heat for about twenty minutes: 1/4 cup of water, a pound of blueberries (about a pint) and a pound of rhubarb chopped into 1/2" pieces.
Add 2 1/2 cups sugar, half a cup at a time, stirring well, and bringing the mixture to a simmer between each addition. Add 1/2 tablespoon of lemon juice and the zest of the lemon.
Simmer for another fifteen minutes, raising the heat to medium. Toward the end, it will splatter, and may be covered between stirrings. Makes 4 1/2 cups. After it's cool, keep it refrigerated unless you process it according to standard canning procedures.

I'm not particularly finicky about the gelling -- if the result is thick, I call it jam; if it's runny, I call it ice cream topping -- but for those who are so inclined, the jam should gel when it reaches 212 degrees Fahrenheit. You can also test more informally by putting a little bit on a plate and putting the plate in the freezer for a minute or two, and seeing if it gelled, which also gives you an excuse to taste-test it.

Tasting rhubarb

When I was a kid, with the robust rhubarb, we frequently made it into a crisp. The main thing I remember is the shocking contrast between the crunchy/sweet topping and the mushy/sour rhubarb. I was fairly sure the sweetener was white sugar, and most crisp recipes call for brown sugar.

The recipe was lost, though, and I've been trying to recreate it for years. I'd tried a few white-sugar toppings, and they never came out the way I remembered, but were more like soft sugar cookies, rather than crunchy bits.

Apparently, I forgot to check my standard resource: The Joy of Cooking. That recipe calls for brown sugar too, but substituting white sugar produced exactly the result I remembered from childhood.

I made the recipe both ways (shown in the August 2 picture), and held a tasting. The majority opinion (okay, so I was the only hold-out among the five of us, so it was probably more about nostalgia than tastiness) concluded the brown sugar was better.

Take 4 cups of rhubarb, cut into pieces and slightly sweetened with a tablespoon of honey, and spread in a pie pan. Sprinkle with a few bits of lemon zest and a tablespoon or two of lemon juice.
For the topping, cream 1/4 cup of butter with 1/4 cup of sugar (brown or white), and then mix in 1/2 cup of flour. Stop mixing when it's crumbly, and then toss on top of the fruit. Bake at 350 to 375 degrees for about half an hour.

Now THAT's rhubarb

We visited my mom's cousins yesterday, and after showing us their amazing garden (including the rhubarb patch that does, indeed, make ours look sad in comparison), they gave us a bunch of rhubarb to take home.

Today, I made rhubarb pancakes for breakfast, then two rhubarb crisps and 4+ cups of jam. And there's still a stalk or two left over to be frozen for later.

For rhubarb pancakes, cut the fruit into 1/4" dices, and toss into a basic pancake batter. Make sure the batter is fairly thick, not crepe-thin, so the rhubarb will cook long enough to soften. I topped them with maple syrup, but fruit topping would have been good too.

Rhubarb

Rhubarb was a constant in my childhood gardens, first in Connecticut and later in Ohio. The plants were robust, the stems thick and red, and the flavor sourly perfect.

I've been trying to recreate that memory for the past fifteen or twenty years, to no avail. Above is this year's rhubarb "patch" (consisting of one pitiful plant).

I'm not sure what the variety is, just something I acquired on a whim at a big box store. It starts out early and substantial, but quickly goes to seed, gets eaten by bugs and produces anemic, green stems. I'd need forty-two plants to make a single rhubarb crisp.

There used to be another variety in the recovery garden, something I bought through a mail-order catalog. It was smaller and slower to emerge in the spring, but the stems were intensely red and flavorful. They weren't particularly winter-hearty, and disappeared within a few years.

I'd been blaming the failures on myself: I should have mulched the cold-susceptible variety better, I should have weeded and de-bugged the hearty variety better, I should have done something. I've come around to believing that it wasn't entirely about me.

The rhubarb in my childhood gardens was pretty neglected. Plunked into unimproved ground haphazardly, weeded occasionally, and harvested ruthlessly. No fertilizer, no babying, no angst. It still thrived.

I'm hoping to get a new variety for the recovery garden for next year's crop. Not just any variety, either, but a division from the original source of the plants grown in my childhood gardens!