Gardening at the Dragon’s Gate

I have a lot of gardening books — I’m one of those people who learns how to do things from books, so the first couple of years I had this garden, I bought a lot of different things (especially if they were in the bargain bin at Borders).

But there’s a very short list of books I go back to again and again: Second Nature by Michael Pollan  and This Organic Life by Joan Dye Grussow. Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstal’s River Cottage Cookbook is also probably in this category (except that every time I look at it I have such livestock-envy that I forget how close to being paid off my house is, and have to remind myself that if I bought enough land to have livestock, I’d have to start a new garden, and a new morgage).

And now there’s Gardening at the Dragon’s Gate. I love this book. I’m going to have to read this book a second time because I’m reading it so fast this first time through. I’m reading it like a novel — to find out what happens, and I know I’m going to want to go back to specific sections and pay closer attention to the content. But right now, I’m smitten. I’m like a little kid reading with a flashlight under the bedcovers. Wendy Johnson has been gardening at Green Gulch Farm Zen Center for over twenty years, and this book is a description not only of the physical act of gardening, but how the garden is a part of, and a challenge to, her Buddhist practice.

One thing I’ve been turning over in my head for the past couple of years is the way that my relationship with nature has shifted its focus. Throughout my teens, twenties and thirties my primary relationship with the natural world was with wild nature — whether that was through canoe camping in the BWCA/Quetico region of the Minnesota/Canada border, or through raft guiding in North Carolina or ski bumming in Colorado, or even through my graduate work in English which focused on wildness in American literature and the history of the novel. Since I moved to Montana my primary relationship with nature has been through my garden and my dogs — that my interest has become so domestic just as I moved to a region which encompasses so many of North America’s last intact chunks of wilderness has been something of a mystery to me. Why do I find an afternoon in my garden so fascinating that I’d rather stay home than take a long hike in the mountains?

In Gardening at the Dragon’s Gate Johnson describes twenty years of trying to negotiate a truce between what she wants from her garden as a human being from what is due to the  natural world of which the garden is a part. If one is deeply engaged in a spiritual practice which challenges one to live without discriminating between human and non-human needs, a practice which challenges one to honor all beings, then what does one do about pest control? selective breeding? the whole history of domestication throughout human history?
There are no answers, of course, but the depth of the discussion, accompanied as it is in this book with a wealth of practical information about actual hands-on gardening, has been my only solace for this weekend’s snow and cold temperatures (19 degrees! it’s the end of April! enough already!).

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Back to Boring Normal Life

Well, the dogs are on the mend — Ray’s stitches come out on Friday and I took Owen  off to have his dressings changed today. I wish I’d had my camera with me — that external fixature is quite something. My little FrankenPuppy. His Fenatyl patch is also off, which is making him a little less groggy — thank goodness we have the mysterious “anaglesic elixir” because he’s still intermittently uncomfortable.
In other news — the tomatoes are getting their true leaves down in the basement, although I didn’t have the germination rates with the pepper seedlings that I’d hoped for –there are still plenty of peppers, but somehow, when nothing pops up in a cell I just can’t help but feel a tiny disapointment. This weekend I’m going to start some cabbages and greens — chard, maybe some frissee, things I can pop in once (if ever) it stops snowing.

I’m finally seeing the bulbs start to poke up out of the mostly-frozen ground, and if it’s warm I might transplant those roses that currently live where the new fence is going to go. The birds are finally back at my feeder — chickadees and finches for the most part. And the past few days we’ve started hearing birdsong –oh! and I saw a migrating swan yesterday when we were walking the dogs. They’re so beautiful and so mean …

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Spring Cleanup

During my blogging hiatus, I did a lot of little projects — and one of them was cleaning out the vegetable beds in prep for planting. I still need to order compost but I’m waiting for my new fence to go in because I want to build a new raised bed. But I spent a glorious warm Saturday cleaning out the dead stuff. I’ve learned the last couple of years that although it looks messy all winter, it makes more sense to clean up in the spring instead.

First I pulled all the dead stuff out of the herb garden — there was green parsley at the bottom, and the chives are starting to come back in. As for the annual herbs, the cilantro and savory and chervil, we’ll just have to see what self-seeded and then I’ll throw a new batch of seed in when it warms up some. Savory was the big surprise last summer — I fell in love with savory. Sarriette as the French call it (or at least that’s the French name on the cover of that big seed packet from Seeds of Italy).

The next chore was dealing with the bean trellises — I built trellises out of copper plumbing pipe a few years ago (I’m still waiting for them to turn green — we have so little moisture here that it’s taking a while) and then I used zip ties to fasten nylon trellis material to them. Those actually lasted several years, partially due to the fact that I had such trouble getting beans to grow until I cut down all the hollyhocks near the veggie patch to control the flea beetles. But last year I had a bumper crop of beans and so this spring I bit the bullet and just cut the nylon trellis material and pulled it all out, dead bean vines and all. I’ll have to replace it this spring but they’re not expensive.

Finally I tackled the dead greens. The chard plants all came out entire, no overwintering for them, but the chicories and radiccios seem to have made it through the winter with some little nubby heads left. So I cleaned all the dead stuff off of them, and we’ll see if I get some spring greens out of it.

The beds are all nice and tidy now — waiting for a new load of compost and some early spring planting. I’m going to do some spinach and broccoli rabe in the next couple of weeks, and onion sets are starting to show up at the local grocery store. But we’re having a real winter this year, we’re still having snow flurries on a regular basis, and my bulbs have barely broken the surface. So I’m going to take my clues from what’s out there, and not get ahead of myself. I hope. Really. I’m going to try.

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Seed Starting Once Again

 Seed Starting Once Again It’s that time of year again! Time to start the seeds. This is the fourth year I’m set up to start seeds in my oh-so-fancy basement seed starting lair — I have two germination mats — they’re the 2-flat size. Because it’s chilly in my basement, without them, I don’t think I’d get much action. You can’t see it here, because I hiked it up so I could work on the bench, but there’s a cheap shop light with full-spectrum tubes hanging from a ceiling beam. Once the little guys sprout, I’ll lower it — they do best when the light is right on them. I also have a standard set of steel shelves that I’ve rigged with more shop lights using short lengths of chain and s-hooks. Considering that the lighted shelving sets you can buy out there cost several hundred dollars, I can put up with the unloveliness of my homemade setup. (I’d post a picture but right now the shelves are full of the bins in which I store seeds, last year’s pots, etc … when I’ve got seedlings in them I’ll take a photo.)

 Seed Starting Once Again So this weekend I started tomatoes, eggplant, tomatillos, and peppers. I have about seven kinds of tomatoes I’m starting this year, which is pretty amusing considering last year I told myself I wasn’t doing so many tomatoes. I think I did cut it down. I think last year I started 12 varieties and planted 2 plants each. I generally plant a 4-cell pack of each variety, then winnow down to the 2 strongest plants. This year I’ve started the following varieties: From Seeds of Italy: Principe Borghese (I’m planning on 4 of these plants, they’re great keepers) and Marglobe, from Seeds Trust/High Altitude Gardens: Sasha’s Altai, Prairie Fire, and Galina (a very viny, highly-productive yellow cherry tomato). From John Scheepers Kitchen Garden Seeds (I like their varieties but I’m going to have to save seed for next year, they pack very small quantities per packet): Black Cherry, Milano-Plum, and then because I wanted an even number of 4-packs, I pulled out an older packet of Jaune Flammee from Shepherd’s Garden Seeds. I planted it my first year I had a garden, and I think it did pretty well, but I can’t remember. Which brings me to my achilles heel as a gardener. I have very good records (including this blog) for what I plant every year, but I’m not very good at making notes at the other end of the season. I know Galina and Principe Borghese do well every year, and I remember that the Whippersnapper Cherry was a disappointment last year, but other than that, I’m kind of stumped. So, note to self — take some notes this year.

I might have reined in the tomatoes this year, but I seem to have gotten completely carried away with the peppers. I planted a lot of different peppers. I like peppers because they’re so easy to put up, and I can grow varieties that are difficult to find around here. The king of all my peppers, the one I love the most is called Aci Sivri. It’s an old Turkish pepper, a cayenne type but not excessively hot. I got the original seeds from Nichols Garden Nursery although because I dry them in ristras, I’ve been using saved seed for the past couple of years. My other favorite pepper, although I usually have to finish it in pots indoors, is called Grandpa’s Siberian Home Pepper from Seeds Trust/High Altitude Gardens. It’s a tiny little pepper, with nice heat. I have a few new ones I’ve never grown before that I got from John Scheepers Kitchen Garden Seeds: Cherezo Cherry Hot, Dulce Rojo Paprika, Pequillo Pimento, and Corno Di Toro-Rosso. From Seeds of Italy I’m growing Topepo Rosso and Cielegia again — they’re both nice round pickling peppers, and I added a couple of new ones, Piccante Calabrese and Piccante di Cayenna.

So, now that time of year when my days start in the basement, checking the seed trays, has come around again. I don’t know why people think seed starting is hard — I’m always astonished at how easy it is. The miracle of seeds. Those tiny little dots, sprout, send up leaves, grow stems … it astonishes me every time. It never gets old.

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Winter Winter Winter Winter …..

We’re having a real winter this year — four inches of new snow yesterday, 25 degrees and grey skies today (but at least the wind isn’t blowing). This is the first winter since I’ve lived in Montana that I’ve really wanted to jet off someplace warm for a shot of sunshine (or is it the first winter since I’ve been here that I haven’t gone to California for work?).

My bulbs are just barely starting to peek up out of the ground — the last couple of winters have been so warm that they all bloomed early. The silver lining might be, as Janet points out over at Ethicurean, that cold winters are better for fruit set in the spring.  Now that I  know I have those greengage plums in my backyard I’m getting a little greedy — they were so yummy. (Of course, considering the serious pruning job I did on that plum tree, I probably won’t get much fruit this year).

At any rate, there isn’t much news on the local food or garden front here in still-frozen Montana. The snow is good. We need the water. And at least we’re past the real dark of the winter. But I’m ready for the sun to come back. Ready for a little warmth again. Ready for winter to recede.

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