In keeping with the time of year, I’ve planted my first bed of fall crops. In my top bed I’ve planted 21 beets, 12 “Russian Red” Kale (the ragged sort you might find in a store), and have started Broccoli and another Cucumber in pots. Depending on what goes on with my tomato bed I may wind up with a whole other bed to use.

My oddball roma/cherry tomato plant has produced, seemingly by a miracle, some two pounds of fruit over the last week and a half. Yes, virtually all the tomatoes on the plant ripened at the exact same time. Err, I take that back (since I just weighed them to see)… the basket I gathered yesterday was 1lb 5oz in weight, and we had over 10oz already indoors. I think there are several pounds of ripening tomatoes still on the plant!

It’s getting late enough that I’m hoping that my lone pepper plant will fruit; it is almost the size for flowers. Out of nearly six attempts to start the plants from seeds, only one bore a tiny sprout and that was almost by accident. So, it’s been a very slow two months while I await peppers; it would seem that most other gardeners, and farmers here, have had trouble with peppers this year.

What have you planted in your garden for your autumn planting?

And yet things are still going well.

The three bush beans that I planted have furnished nearly a full serving for six adults over a week’s time. The carrots that have been ever so doubtful are growing decently, and even my beets have thrived.

The last month or so feels like it has flown. All of a sudden my well maintained garden looks like a nightmare, and the weeds on the border have crept in nearly three or more inches. What doesn’t help is that the last cucumber that I planted has grown to massive proportions, with some four vines almost five feet long. (And they claim you can put a cucumber plant in a three-foot by three-foot space, hah!)

Of course, while I do have to work I also have to start things like broccoli indoors while I prepare my garden for the next plantings. I feel almost like Damocles, except that it feels like a big sack of flour is dangling over my head. It would help if I didn’t have to amend my soil and add more compost thanks to the hefty rains this year (by the account of one long-time gardener, this wasn’t a good year for a new gardener) but such is life.

At least I’ve seen the worst water can do in my region!

All things considered, I’ve done a good job with the tomatoes this year.

The plant that was supposed to produce cherry tomatoes has absolutely thrived, and has maybe fifty or so plum (or Roma) shaped tomatoes currently on the vine. I haven’t counted them, but that was a conservative estimate! According to my refractometer these tomatoes measure eight brix, an approximate measure of taste and nutrition (based off sugars present in the liquid of the fruit); the tomatoes from Costco are quite good for industrial-grade, which measure at about five point five brix. The tomatoes from the farmer’s market have been poor this year, in comparison, and rate the same as Costco did, but their taste was poor. Wish I knew what I’m doing right, but I’m picking enough great tomatoes for the three tomato lovers in our family.

The German Striped is another story. Out of all the fruit that I’ve thrown away I was only able to save three, all of which were split and unattacked by insects. The rain we had recently was tremendous, perhaps as much as a whole foot in the last two weeks. If I were to estimate, then I would say that we’ve had roughly eleven out of fourteen days with wetness.

But the real clincher was Sunday.

On Sunday we had several storms whip through in the wee hours of the morning. I awoke to howling winds and shearing rains at maybe 3am; by 7:30am another storm had come in with even more ferociousness. In less than an hour our yard had six inches of standing water from that one storm.

In spite of everything I’d figured would protect it, the clay soils and fifteen degree tilt to the area, my garden was waterlogged. In the night hours the hydraulic action of the tomato plants kicks in, absorbing all the water its roots can contact—and the storms had provided that in surplus. The net result is that all semi-ripe fruit on both the German Striped and the Beefsteak split.

Yet, I’m still doing something right. Last year’s tomatoes wouldn’t have survived a storm that size, being bent fully to the ground, or being stood back up. But I’ve got stems a full inch in diameter this year, and none of the tomatoes came lose during the storm. Understand that these were 60mph winds that uprooted trees half a mile away. All my tomatoes have survived that wind flattening them and are standing tall, if somewhat askew; the oddball cherry-plum tomato has gulped all the water it could with no ill effects.

If only I knew what I was doing right!

Review

The film begins at the bottom and works its way up. The start is the hardest part: you see the cruelty of the system to the animals, the cruelty of the system to the farmers, and the cruelty of the system to the environment. This early illustration shows how the players in this lethal game are the big industrial food distributors, and the pawns are the consumers and the farmers. If one of the big players decides not to renew their contract with a farmer, then that farmer is left with tens of thousands of dollars in high maintenance infrastructure to pay for—with money they did not earn from the stock they sold.

Supposedly the EPA protects us, but how do you safeguard against the manure-lagoons that result from industrial-grade systems? If you observe animals in their wild state you will quickly see that large herds, that are unsustainable in a given area, move frequently so as to have fresh food. This leaves their waste behind to nourish the avians that feed off the insects and the maggots, and replenishes the ground that was just grazed. In the CAFO, concentrated animal feeding operation, paradigm all the animals are crowded together so closely they’ve little moving room. Worse yet, the animals are never moved from the given area and these toxic manure lagoons form; these are lakes of dung and urine that never occur in natural environments. Seventy percent of all the grain produced by the United States to, supposedly, “feed the world” goes to these organizations to cheaply feed their animals. Herbivores such as cattle cannot handle grain because they are meant to digest grass, and grain is too concentrated in energy. And, no matter what they say, it is never safe to feed corpses of animals to an herbivore!

The middle of the film shows the difference between the CAFOs, such as Tyson or Con-Agra, and the local, unconventional farmer is that one cares about the animals, plants, and their local environment. I’ll leave you to guess which of these actually cares.

This part of the film even addresses the myth that all farms are dirty, stinky, and need to be kept away from where people live. As I watch the various scenes showing the unconventional farmers, I am constantly impressed by the greenery that I see compared to the dead and predominantly man-made landscape of the CAFO. Even the fields recently grazed by a herd of cattle aren’t messy, because they were moved recently and the poultry were let in. I’d rather eat happy animals that were able to express their nature, than the denatured, adulterated, bloated, pre-treated (with antibiotics) “meat” the CAFO produces.

The last part of the film concludes by showing examples of farmers who have either made the change, or have come from strange backgrounds. Strangest of all, to me, is a man named Will who came from a corporate background to go back to farming; in a mere three acres he produces so much food that it astounds people. One man nearly died because a boar stabbed him with a tusk, because the subsequent infection was already antibiotic resistant. That man exterminated his whole herd of pigs and started fresh, and within that first year saved $14,000 just by not needing veterinary visits.

By and large, FRESH is encouraging. It outlines the problems of today and shows the solutions of yesterday, that which came before the industrial method, and explains very well why you cannot industrialize everything.

Conclusion

If you get the opportunity to see a screening, please do so. FRESH is a wake-up-call that needs to be sounded to a world already wounded by industrialism. The local farmer is safe and trustworthy, and if you do get sick you simply have to go back and complain. Since when have you talked to the CEO of Tyson over getting sick on their products?

If FRESH isn’t available in your area, think about hosting a screening of it; for small gatherings it is only $20, and is very much a good tool to show that what is in the grocery store isn’t necessarily better for you.

Here are a few tips and tricks I’ve learned with them during this season.

Trick: Rub Ends, No Soapy Flavor

Sometimes cucumbers taste soapy near its ends; it can be a bad enough taste to slow even the most cucumber-loving vegan. But the trick to get rid of this problem is simplest of all: cut the ends off, one by one, and rub them in a circular pattern. You know you’ve got it right when the cut seam begins to look soapy—so lather up, rinse, discard, then enjoy.  Thanks to my mom for this one.

Tip: “Careful with the water, pal.”

Cucumbers are 95% water. That’s a lot! But, how much water should you give during the bearing cycle of the plant?

I’ve found that the plant will take almost as much water as you will give it. But, depending upon your variety you may not want to drench it with a half-gallon daily. Instead, try giving about a quarter gallon daily and observe the results. If your cucumber is no longer mostly round, and is like a triangle with bulging sides, you’re giving a little too much water; if it is very skinny or oddly shaped, try adding a little more water. I’ve found it to be quite hit-and-miss in getting the optimum growing size, but still gives decent “cukes” in the meantime.

Tip: Pick Early, Pick Often

The objective of a fruiting plant is to produce a mature fruit, once that is done the seeds can propagate the plant. In other words, its job is done when it produces a mature fruit. This is pretty common, but well exemplified in the cucumber. Find the size that tastes best to you and pick it; when in doubt, pick it; when near maturity, pick it. The production of fruits will accelerate as the plant tries to reach its goal.

It didn’t work.

Cucumbers and zucchini are large plants that take 3′ x 3′ worth of space each—neither of which I like. Because I wasn’t sure how this bed’s soil conditions were, it caused severe blossom-end rot that prevented any harvest of big beef tomatoes, I figured it could serve as a backup bed. So, I planted two rows of carrots, none of which sprouted, and two zucchini plants; I started some cucumbers in planters and then moved them out to the same bed.

The result was a dismal failure of slow death from pH imbalance. The plants paled, wouldn’t grow, and produced nary a blossom.

Or so I thought.

Roughly a month ago I noticed that one cucumber plant had not only grown and produced leaves, but had blossomed. This was strange: a weak and sickly plant had recovered in sub-optimal soil. Skip forward a month to the present, and that first cucumber plant is now 4′ long, furnished three good cucumbers, and has several more fruits growing. My other cucumber has recovered as well and has two inch-long cucumbers already. In addition, one of my zucchini plants recovered and has already blossomed twice (I think I even see a tiny squash growing).

Go figure!

Because I was pretty sure the bed wasn’t going to thrive, I let it go fallow; if I were to weed now, my semi-artificial soil would crumble to pieces. That first year I followed the Square Foot Gardening method in making a raised bed, including making my own soil. The pH problem stems from what the soil came from (equal parts each): vermiculite, peat moss, compost. The compost we got was bagged (fully dead, I’m afraid) and was probably on the acidic side. When I mixed the already acidic peat moss with the compost, I inadvertently made it more acidic.

Instead of letting this bed continue to go to waste, I have a plan for it at the end of this season.  And, hopefully, I’ll figure out a good way to mix it in and improve the soil in my new beds.

Anyone can grow lettuce. Throw out some seeds, lightly water at dawn and dusk, wait two or three weeks, and presto! you have baby lettuce. But, now what? Like many, I harvested individual leaves early, before the lettuce qualified as a “head”. This leaf lettuce only amounted to a single serving at first picking, but that picking stimulated rapid growth. For the past month I’ve had nice heads of lettuce in my garden that provide biweekly salads.

Yet, last week I noticed that my lettuce aged almost over night. I looked a little closer and found the signs that I’d missed, so that I will harvest my heads in time from now on.

Maybe one day I won’t commit these mistakes as frequently.

Several signs of mature lettuce:

• Leaf Shape
  Mature lettuce has a broad, curly leaf; immature lettuce is spoon-like with a long, narrow stalk.
• Leaf Waviness
  Lettuce, when mature, has a wave to the leaves—the deeper the folds, the older the plant.
• Leaf Color (Romaine Lettuces, etc)
  Romaine lettuce begins its life as a normal green plant that slowly, or quickly depending on the variety, changes to a brown color in its leaves. The De Morges Braun leaves gain a uniform brown hue when mature, and the end of the leaf turns a pink-rust color when old.
• Texture
  I discovered that young lettuce feels particularly soft. This softness only departs when the lettuce becomes old and firm, when its leaves will tear apart with more easily.

I pick my De Morges Braun lettuce by the head when it reaches equilibrium in color. When the leaves are uniformly brown in color I sever the stem and refrigerate it that day, even when I have used that head as leaf lettuce. I find it unique that this variety grows old from the center out, and adorns its leaf tips with a rust-pink color.

I pick my “normal” lettuce, the Black-seeded Simpson, when its leaves curl and develop small spines on their back, but before their shade of green changes. When old, Black-seeded Simpson will change hue in one of two ways: its leaves may become pale yellow at the tips; or its leaves may become a darker green.

Now I have a mixture of just-right and too-old lettuces to eat—all at once.  At least we enjoy salads!

Wide shot of my garden.

I’ve got two kinds of lettuce, romaine (the variety is rare, called De Morges Braun) with a very round head, and leaf lettuce (Black Seeded Simpson).  The romaine, as I said, is quite rare and produces a round head that has brown speckling on the upper halves of its leaves; I’ve found it to be a hardy variety.  The Black Seeded Simpson is a bright colored lettuce with extremely wavy leaves.  What you cannot see in the pictures is the salad I harvested for the 4th of July, for 9 people.

In addition, I’ve got wax beans growing in my garden. I’ve already had one small harvest, enough for a serving for one, of these delicious beans. I love that they are bush beans, because I don’t have to worry about providing a structure to climb.

This morning while watering the garden I saw something on my cucumber plant that I’d missed: a huge fruit!  Technically, since it’s a pickling cucumber, the fruit is supposed to be picked before it becomes fat, but when I picked it this morning it weighed half a pound.  Yes! a half-pound pickling cucumber!

To till, or not to till—that is the question.

1. Sowing Weeds

Did you know that there are 140 weed seeds, if not more, in a pound of dirt? Some even call this amount a “conservative estimate.” Farmers often till their fields at night to combat germination of these seeds, but grasses and large-seeded broadleaf seeds sprout well at any time of day. It only takes a breath of air to awaken these seeds! If you till at night be sure that you don’t have any light at all: small-seeded annual plants can germinate in moonlight or even the light from a flashlight.

But what about existing weeds, you ask? The trouble with existing weeds is that they’ve got roots, and all plant energy is stored in the roots—that is why you can hack a bush or tree to pieces and watch it regrow within months. These roots are chopped up when you till; being chopped sends what is left of a plant into a sprouting tizzy. This is why you cannot get rid of dandy-lions without getting that cursed taproot. I admit that you may kill a lot of weeds this way and add to your organic matter a little, but it is still counter intuitive.

But this is hardly the worst.

2. Soil Structure

Tilling destroys the natural structure of the soil. I understood this beforehand, but my books fortified this. Abandon the industrial farming paradigm and think about the natural process for a few minutes.

I’m imagining a tall pine tree, join me. What do you see at the base of the tree? I find pine needles in a mat as thick as three inches; these needles decompose slowly to nourish the tree in the future. This is a pristine picture of recycling: anything unused by the tree for reproduction is reused. Nevertheless, only the topsoil is enriched, and no wonder. This is precisely why plants spread their roots through the topsoil for nourishment; deep roots merely add support to the plant.

Tilling destroys the value of the topsoil by mixing it with the layers below. The sudden influx of oxygen causes a huge increase in the aerobic bacteria’s population, but without access to the surface oxygen they will slowly smother. Without the aerobic bacteria organic matter is digested only by the anaerobic bacteria, because their population is smaller within the topsoil it takes much longer to take over the process.

What Happens Over Time?

I am sad to say that tilling does have a short term benefit, otherwise no one would ever till their field. After tilling, when the aerobic bacteria go wild, there is a burst of incredible nitrogen production. This production is so much faster that the organic matter is reduced faster than normal. Over time the organic matter in the topsoil, and the topsoil itself, is reduced by this process. The prairies in the USA were some of the richest soils in the country, but after seventy years of tillage the organic matter has fallen to 1/5^th of its former level. One day this may worsen to the point that the southern deserts grow northwards.

How to Aerate Your Garden Correctly

The hand-made Gulland Forge Broadfork; click the image to visit their website. (Photo © by Gulland Forge.)

I use a broadfork to aerate my garden without disturbing the composition of the soil. A broadfork is an interesting tool with a few uses: aeration; harvesting of root vegetables; and some stress relief. To use it, just set it in your garden and step on the crossbar; in clay soils, like mine, you may have to jump on the crossbar (but thankfully this broadfork can take it). Once the heavy tines are in the soil you pull back and rock it forward. Done! Move down the bed without stepping in the soil, if possible, to avoid compaction. You may have to work perpendicular to the edge of one side of your garden and make two passes to avoid compacting the soil (which wastes your effort), but it is easy to do even for beginners like me.

I am not affiliated with Gulland Forge, and make nothing if you choose to buy their product. Harvey Ussery suggests the use of a broadfork, and has a very good article on the Soil Food Web, and it was there that I found this product. I know the price is somewhat steep on the broadfork from Gulland Forge, but it has taken all the punishment I’ve given it without showing a sign of stress. In addition, it can help with harvesting of carrots, potatoes, and beets.

Save your topsoil by using broadfork instead of that old rototiller.

Usually the problems I faced were related to neglect.  Such as, but hardly limited to:

• Forgetting to open the shades.
• Forgetting to water the plant.
• Watering the plant too much.
• Putting a tropical plant beneath an air-conditioning vent, in summer.

So, the only logical thing to do was to plant a garden!

Hah, I kid, I kid.

In these times, even before the major financial trouble, it helps to keep a garden.  The price of food is insane today, when you can easily grow the very same vegetable in your garden.  Now, I’m no vegetarian, but I’m not going to raise my own animals.  But plants?  Bring it on!

That, and when talking with my parents, we all agreed that it would be nice to have some level of self-sufficiency.  And fresh produce is always nice; it is fresher to pick it, than to go to the store and buy it.

Being a programmer and designer–yes, I am one of those folks who wear both hats–the first thing I did was look for references.  I looked around for books that explain gardening, how to do it better, and so on and so forth.  In the end I bought several books: Square-foot Gardening, Weedless Gardening, and Carrots Love Tomatoes.  From the library I got a book on harvesting vegetables all year.  And so I read and learned from them.

Later I bought heirloom seeds, I’ll talk about GMO and hybrid problems another time, for a small garden.  Given how much time I can give this, plus how much experience I’ve got, I didn’t want to get overwhelmed.  There won’t be huge, plentiful yields or anything–but next year I should have the knowledge I need to double my garden’s size at least.

I’ll get around to posting pictures and articles about what I’m doing (and more importantly, why I’m doing this) weekly.

So there you have it, the green-thumb-less geek has gone to wreak havoc by starting a garden.