2021 – Page 6 – Lee Reich

HOW ABOUT THOSE OLD SEED PACKETS?

March 3, 2021/6 Comments/in Gardening/by Lee Reich

It’s wasted effort to sprinkle dead seeds into furrows either in the garden or seed flats. Seeds are living, albeit dormant, embryonic plants which do not live forever.
Sprouting bean seeds
When you buy a packet of seeds, you’re assured of their viability. Government standards set the minimum percentage of seeds that must germinate for each type of seed. The packing date and the germination percentage often are stamped on the packet. (The germination percentage must be indicated only if it is below standard.) I write the year on any seed packets on which the date is not stamped.

Your old, dog-eared seed packets may or may not be worth using this season. It depends on where the packets were kept and the types of seeds they contain. Last year I got tired of trying to decide how well my seeds were stored and which were still worth sowing; I took action.

Anti-Aging Treatments

Conditions that slow biological and chemical reactions also slow aging of seeds, i.e. low temperature, low humidity, and low oxygen. In years past, I’ve stored seeds in canning jars in my freezer, then moved the jars to the refrigerator as the freezer filled in fall. Powdered milk sprinkled into the bottom of the jars maintained low humidity. (Or so I assumed.) But all those jars took up lots of space, especially as my seed collections grew, and seed packets don’t pack well into canning jars.

As far as low oxygen storage, it’s not practical for most of us. I did try, one year, to create low oxygen seed storage by reversing gaskets and putting a one way valve on a bicycle pump. Bicycle vacuum pump This allowed me to draw some of the air out of the jars with a tube connecting the pump to a ‘FoodSaver Wide-Mouth Jar Sealer.’ It did (usually) create somewhat of a vacuum but it was too much trouble to get at the seeds and re-seal a jar each time. And, again, seed packets don’t pack well into canning jars.

So last year I came up with a figurative “better mousetrap.” After much searching for a plastic, freezer-safe, air-tight, leak-proof, reasonably-sized tub for the bulk of my seeds — a stout order, all this — I came upon the ‘Komax Biokips 35-Cup Large Food Storage Container.’ Perfect!

I measured, cut, and hot-glued a piece of 1/4-inch plywood to run up the center of the tub to allow for two rows of seed packet. A couple of 100 gram silica gel packets in the tub at the end of each row keeps humidity low. The packets are easily rejuvenated in a warm oven for 20 minutes. I just measured the humidity in the tub (I like to measure); it’s a dry 17%.
Seed storage, in tub
Moving the tub into the relative coolness of my basement in summer should maintain conditions in line with the guideline for seed storage that Fahrenheit temperature plus relative humidity should total less than 100. Come cooler weather in fall and then cold weather in winter, back the the tub goes to a shelf in my unheated workshop.

Worth Saving?

Seeds differ in how long they remain viable. Even with the best storage conditions, it’s not worth the risk to sow parsnip or salsify seeds after they are more than one year old. Two years of sowings can be expected from packets of carrot, onion, and sweet corn seed; three years from peas and beans, peppers, radishes, and beets; and four or five years from cabbage, broccoli, brussels sprouts, cucumbers, melons, and lettuce.

Among flower seeds, the shortest-lived are delphiniums, aster, candytuft, and phlox. Packets of alyssum, Shasta daisy, calendula, sweet peas, poppies, and marigold can be re-used for five or ten years before their seeds get too old.

In a frugal mood, I might do a germination test to definitively measure whether an old seed packet is worth saving. Counting out at least 20 seeds from each packet to be tested, I spread the seeds between two moist paper towels on a plate. Inverting another plate over the first plate seals in moisture and then the whole setup goes where the temperature is warm, around 75 degrees. After one to two weeks, I peel apart the paper towels and count the number of seeds with little white root “tails”.
Seed germination test
I figure the percentage, and if it’s low, the seed packet gets tossed into the compost pile (not given away!). Or, I might use the seed and adjust my sowing rate accordingly.

And the Record Is . . .

Among the shortest-lived seeds are those of alpine plants; their viability might plummet after only a couple of weeks.

As far as longest-lived seeds, there’s the story of the 10,000 year old lupine seed that germinated after being taken out of a lemming burrow in the Yukon permafrost. Alas, it’s only a story, one debunked by radiocarbon dating.

The true record for seed longevity was, until recently, 2,000 years, and was held by a date palm grown from seed recovered from an ancient fortress in Israel.

No one knows exactly what happens within a seed to make it lose its viability. Besides lack of germination, old seeds undergo a slight change of color, lose their lustre, and show decreased resistance to fungal infections. There’s more leakage of substances from dead seeds than from young, fresh seeds, so perhaps aging influences the integrity of the cell membranes. Or, since old seeds are less metabolically active than young seeds, the old seeds leak metabolites that they cannot use.

(The above was adapted from my book The Ever Curious Gardener: Using a Little Natural Science for a Much Better Garden available from the usual sources and, signed, from me.)

OUTDOOR MAPLES AND INDOOR KUMQUATS

February 24, 2021/23 Comments/in Fruit, Houseplants/by Lee Reich

Sap Season

Get your taps in. It’s syrup weather. Maple syrup. At least here in New York’s Hudson Valley, the sunny days in the 40s with nights in the 20s that are predicted should get the sap flowing.

I say “should” because I haven’t yet checked sap buckets that I hung out on the trees a few weeks ago when winter temperatures suddenly turned warm; it was sap weather back then. That day was hopeful: I drilled holes an inch and a half deep, lightly hammered in the spiles, hung buckets, and attached covers over the buckets. Frigid days and nights that descended soon after that kept sap flow in abeyance.

My “sugar bush” amounts to only three sugar maple trees. I used to have four, but a large tree that was a truly magnificent representative of its species began an irreversible path to its death. “Maple decline” is a disease complex brought on by some combination of drought, soil compaction, road salt, root damage, and air pollution. Upper branches are usually the first to go, and once decline begins, secondary fungi and insects speed the process along.

I’m not sure about my tree, though, because its lower branches were the first to go. Also, the tree grows along the back edge of my property, where it’s been shielded from those usual causes for decline.

One more contributor to decline is overtapping. I plead not guilty. My fading tree was larger than the 8 or10 inch minimum diameter for tapping, and I only tapped it once, when the tree, it turned out, was already going downhill. The lack of sap flow was what prompted me to see all this. And then I noticed many rows of sapsucker holes in the bark.

Long story short: The tree became firewood.

My three other, healthy maples might yield me only a quart of finished syrup. The reasons? One quart is enough for me, so I’m tapping only one of them. Also, they’re relatively young. I planted those three trees about 25 years ago, and they’re now only about 8 inches in diameter.

I highly recommend planting trees, for their beauty, for what food they might offer, and for the mere satisfaction of watching the plants grow. Especially if they are small when planted. Small trees also establish quickly to require less aftercare, often soon outgrowing their initially larger compatriots. Those three maple trees? From one perspective, it seems like a long time ago that I dug holes and set the saplings in the ground; from another perspective, it seems like I planted them, walked away, then turned right around to find that these young ‘uns have grown into bona fide trees!

Birch Sap

I may end up with more sap than planned, but not maple sap. Along with the three sugar maples I planted way back when, I also planted three river birches (Betula nigra). They grow, appropriate to their name, in a wet area just out of a swale through which water runs in spring, each a clump of a half dozen or so sturdy trunks reaching skyward to about 35 feet.

Maple might be the heaviest sap producing tree, but it’s not the only kid on the block. Many people tap their black walnut trees. Call me provincial, but black walnut syrup, much as I love the nuts themselves, has no appeal me even though I’ve never tasted it.

Birch syrup though . . . mmm. Never tasted that one either, but it sounds good. Three birch taps should offer an ample amount for tasting.

What a Funny Name

I don’t need to see the small, pebbly-skinned, orange orbs on grocers’ shelves to know that it’s kumquat season. My own Meiwa kumquat is looking very pretty, with a good crop of fruit staring out from their backdrop of glossy, forest-green leaves. I’ve trained the plant as a “standard,” that is, as a miniature tree with a crown of branches perched atop a four foot trunk.

The present crop is my best ever, and traces its success back to last spring. In previous years, I was too timid with pruning. And pruning is necessary, every year. Pruning keeps the plant from growing disproportionately large for its pot -– or my house — and coaxes growth of new, fruiting wood.

The roots also get pruned each year to make space for new potting soil for root growth and nutrients. I laid down the plant and pot to easily slide out the root ball. After slicing an inch or two of roots and potting soil from all around the outside of the root ball, back into the pot the plant went, with new potting soil packed in the space between the shaven root ball and the inside edge of the pot. The seemingly brutal treatment took place last year just as the garden awoke in yellow blossoms from daffodils.

As soon as weather warmed, new sprouts began to grow. By midsummer, the plant was fragrant with blossoms. By late summer, little, green fruits were forming which, with careful watering, survived the environment change as the plant moved indoors in October. The plant stood at attention in a sunny window in the cool bedroom for weeks, and a couple of months ago, the fruits started turning orange. They are now ripe and delicious!

WEED-LESSNESS FOR 2021

February 20, 2021/0 Comments/in Gardening/by Lee Reich

WEEDLESS GARDENING WORKSHOP/WEBINAR
with Lee Reich, PhD, writer, scientist, and farmdener*

Introducing a novel way of caring for the soil, a 4-part system that minimizes weed problems and maintains healthy plants and soil. Learn how to apply this system to establish new plantings as well as to maintain existing plantings. The principles and practices are rooted in the latest agricultural research and are also applicable to sustainable, small farm systems.

This system works because it emulates, rather than fights, Mother Nature who, as C. D. Warner wrote (My Summer in the Garden, 1887), “is at it early and late, and all night; never tiring, nor showing the least sign of exhaustion.”

Date: February 22, 2021
Time: 7-8:30 pm EST
Cost: $35

After registering, you will receive a confirmation email containing information about joining the webinar.

*A farmdener is more than a gardener and less than a farmer.

THANKS

February 17, 2021/11 Comments/in Fruit, Gardening/by Lee Reich

I’d like to highlight, today, what makes this blog possible.

First of all, it’s you, readers. The positive feedback I get is very rewarding. I’ve had great opportunities — academically and “in the field” — to learn about growing plants and caring for the soil, and have put all this into practice for decades. My hope is that in entertaining you with all this, your tomatoes, apples, zinnias, and all the rest grow healthier and tastier or prettier. I appreciate the positive (even the sometimes negative) comments from you all.

Second, if you’ll look at the bottom right corner of my blog posts (or scroll way down near the end on a mobile device), you’ll see some banner ads. Nothing flashy or moving or obnoxious in any other way. Just simple links to a few advertisers.

These seven advertisers are special; these are companies whose products I stand behind. I’ve used them and can attest to their quality.

Fruit Plants Galore

Uncommon Fruits of Fall

Uncommon fruits of summer

Take, for instance, Raintree Nursery and Cummins Nursery. I’m a “fruit nut” (and a “nut nut”) and, except when I propagate my own plants, these two nurseries are my go-to nurseries for fruiting trees and shrubs.

Raintree Nursery stands out for the wide variety of common and uncommon fruits they offer, everything from apples to jujubes to musk strawberries to wintergreen to hardy passionfruits. All top quality plants.

Heirloom apples

Cummins Nursery also offers top quality plants, trees in this case. Steve Cummins, the present owner, started the nursery with his dad, Jim, and other family members. Back in the 20th century, when I worked in research for Cornell University, Dr. Jim Cummins also worked there. For many years, he was the rootstock breeder. (A rootstock, on which a Honeycrisp, Mutsu, or other variety of fruit is grafted in order to propagate it, can impart special qualities to the resultant tree, such as early production, eventual tree size, pest resistance, and tolerance to poor soil conditions.)

So I turn to Cummins Nursery if I’m interested in a common (vs. uncommon) fruit tree on a special rootstock, with many, many varieties of fruit to pick from. Or if I want to purchase a rootstock to graft myself. Or if I want a scion of any one of the many, many different varieties of fruits grown at Indian Creek Farm, the pick-your-own farm they run adjacent to the nursery.

You’ll note that Raintree Nursery is in Washington state and Cummins Nursery is in New York state. No matter. These nurseries are selling named varieties of fruit plants. A McIntosh apple grown in Washington state is genetically identical to that variety grown in New York state, so will have the same cold-hardiness, pest resistance, and other characteristics. Of course, a particular season’s weather, wherever the tree is planted, could influence flavor and texture.

Essential, Quality Tools

If you grow fruit plants — or vegetables or ornamentals or houseplants — you’re going to need certain tools. Glance down, then, to my next three advertisers: OESCO (“Oesco” is the acronym for “orchard equipment supply company)”, ARS (the exclusive agent for ARS pruning tools), and Scythe Supply Co.

Whether it’s pole pruners, pruning saws, or most other pruning tools, ARS are among my favorites, and especially for hand shears. The ARS website shows the complete line of ARS tools, as well as where you can purchase them.
ARS web page
One place for many of those pruning tools, ARS or otherwise, is OESCO. And much more. Trowels, all sorts of shovels, hedgers, sharpeners, grafting knives and sealants, stuff for making trellises, and, of course, many kinds of hand pruning shears.
OESCO web page
Scythe Supply Co is where I purchase all my scythe blades, sharpening stones, peening tools, and, originally, my snath and grips (I’ve since made these last two parts myself, when needed). You might think a scythe to be an archaic tools. Not so; it works even early mornings without waking the neighbors and in ground too wet or grass too high for a mower. Swinging a scythe is a meditative, first-class exercise.
Scythe Supply Co, webpage
My property was originally a mere 3/4 of an acre. Besides my home, vegetable garden, and fruit trees, I was able to dedicate a portion of that property to a mini-hay field, where I let the grass grow high and then periodically scythed it as food for my compost pile. It was decorative and functional. (Okay I did encroach on the actual hayfield bordering my 3/4 of an acre; I eventually bought it and now have a bona fide hayfield, portions of which I scythe.)

Two More Essentials

You might wonder, “What’s with Bobbex and Sensorpush?”, the last two ads on these blog pages?”

Bobbex webpage

In the past couple of winters as Daisy and, especially Sammy, matured beyond their super energetic puppy stages,

deer have taken note and become bolder. My initial testing of Bobbex, a deer repellent, seemed promising. I’ve since become amazed at its effectiveness. Deer are here, but not feeding on any of my sprayed plants. And spraying is only needed once a month.

I’ve waxed enthusiastic about Sensorpush many times here on this blog. Basically, it’s a one inch square by 1/2 inch device that you place wherever you want to know the current and historical temperature, relative humidity, barometric pressure, dewpoint, and vapor pressure deficit. There’s one in my greenhouse, and it can alert me if the temperature goes above or below whatever temperature specified. The one on my garden gate is especially useful in spring and fall, when frosts threaten. As soon as the snow melts, my third Sensorpush will go beneath the pile of leaves protecting a fig tree I planted outdoors to monitor winter temperatures there. (Much more about this at a later date.)

So there you have it: seven companies whose products, in my opinion, make for better gardening or farming.

Get Ready for Spring

Are you interested in having a weedless garden this season? Learn how, at my upcoming WEEDLESS GARDENING webinar. The system I’ll talk about also makes more efficient use of water, conserves valuable soil organic matter, allows earlier planting in spring, and doesn’t disrupt beneficial fungi and other friendly soil organisms. Starting a new garden? Here’s the fastest way to get the soil prepared and plants growing.

I’ll cover all this, and more, in the webinar, and allow plenty of time for questions. The webinar costs $35 and runs from 7-8:30 pm on Monday, February 22, 2021.

Space is limited so registration is necess ary.Register at https://us02web.zoom.us/webinar/register/WN_WqSCBtOGTqqjGgbOHOuxfg.
Garden view

TELLING SNOW

February 10, 2021/20 Comments/in Gardening, Pests, Pruning/by Lee Reich

I Grow Taller

“Make hay while the sun shines” is fine advice in its season. For winter, how about? “Prune while the snow is high and firm.”

My apple and pear trees are semi-dwarf, presently ranging from seven to eleven feet tall. Even though I have a pole pruner and various long-reach pruning tools, I still carry my three-legged orchard ladder out to the trees with me to work on their upper branches. Sometimes you have to get your eyes and arms and hands right up near where you’re actually cutting.
Pruning on snow
A few years ago, as I was looking out the window and admiring the foot or of snow on the ground, I realized that all that snow could give me a literal leg up on pruning. If I stayed on top of the snow, that is. While the snow was still soft, I was able to do this by strapping on a pair of snowshoes, which I bought, used, just for this purpose. (For travel through snow, I prefer to glide, on skis.) When the snow melted a little and then froze, the icy crust that formed was able to support my weight sans snowshoes.

In any case, when there’s a good depth on the ground, such as today, I gather my tools – minus the stepladder – and walk tall out to the trees.

Top Down Pruning

Plants, like other creatures, have hormones, and a hormone (called auxin) in every plant generally coaxes uppermost portions to grow most vigorously. Which is why old apple trees become topheavy, with most shoot growth high up. The upshot of this habit is that most fruit is borne high in the branches, out of reach, and lower branches are shaded to become unproductive and prone to disease.

Ideally, then, the best place to start pruning is with the most vigorous branches, highest in the tree. That’s also the last place you want to start if you’re standing at ground level. Perched atop a good depth of snow next to my smaller trees, starting near the top was much easier.

If I get high enough (in the tree), I can imagine that I’m hovering above the branches, looking at them from the perspective of ol’ Sol, which is a good perspective for a grower of fruit trees. This allows a more objective perspective on which branches are going to be blocking light or otherwise cramping others for space.
Pruning in snow
Letting more light and air in among the branches and, at the same time removing potential fruits with pruned branches, channels more of each tree’s energy into perfecting those fruits that remain. Remaining fruits are then healthier, larger, and more flavorful, especially for naturally larger fruits such as apples, pears, and peaches

Snow Tales

The snow is a blank canvas that records some winter activities. My dogs’ footprints are obvious and telling. They are provincial in their travels, having beaten paths from their doghouses, where they sleep, to the driveway, where they greet humanity, and to the deck, where they lie in the sun.

Daisy and Sammy at work

Less frequent are their forays out into the hay field to do their business and to see if anything interesting is creeping around out there.

The small, padded footprints of my cat hasn’t beaten out paths. The cat more randomly explores out-of-the-way nooks and crannies. She also likes to steer clear of the dogs, who consider her just another small animal worth chasing.

Gracie at work

The distinctive footprints that I’m keeping the closest eye out for are those of rabbits and deer. Now, about when I typically delude myself that all danger has past, periods of warmer weather start coaxing rabbits to wander about and eye my trees and shrubs as food. Now is also when cottontail rabbits start reproducing, the first of up to five litters for this year, with a half dozen or so bunnies per litter! Very cute, but deadly to my plants.

This winter, a couple of deep snows either brought deer here or displayed their abundance with tracks in the snow. For the rabbits, who feed on young trees and low branches, I sometimes make up a spray of white latex paint, water, eggs, cinnamon, and hot pepper. That needs to be re-applied about now. Traps I set out for them are thoroughly and safely (for the rabbits) buried in snow. Perhaps I’ll dig them out and re-set them.

The uncluttered expanse of snow makes it easy to see where I put my pruning tools as I prune the apples and pears. The snow also makes it easy to see where I drop the prunings.

Deer tracks in the snow

And why do I care where I drop my prunings? Because I can then quickly look at them to see if any bark has been gnawed off those freshly cut branches. And what would gnaw bark off those freshly cut branches. Rabbits!

No sign of rabbits – yet, at least – on those prunings as well as on tracks in the snow. Thank you Gracie (my cat).

The dogs’ are supposed to be keeping deer at bay, but do so only if they are out and about when deer are around. This year I’ve been relying on Bobbex repellent, which I spray monthly on branches that would be within reach of the deer. So far, the sprays have been 100% effective even on trees with deer tracks right beside them in the snow.

Get Ready for Spring

I will be hosting a WEEDLESS GARDENING webinar on Monday, February 22nd for $35. It will run from 7-8:30 pm EST and there will be plenty of opportunity to ask questions. For details, go to www.leereich.com/workshops. Or trust me, and go right to registration (required) at https://us02web.zoom.us/webinar/register/WN_WqSCBtOGTqqjGgbOHOuxfg

A NAME FOR A NAME, AND A WEBINAR

February 4, 2021/14 Comments/in Uncategorized/by Lee Reich

(The following is adapted from my book, A Northeast Gardener’s Year.)

It’s Not All in a Name

With only a name to go on, which tomato would you choose to grow: Supersonic or Oxheart? If the name Oxheart seems a bit too gruesome, make the choice between Supersonic and Ponderosa. My guess is that most gardeners would choose Oxheart or Ponderosa for a tomato, Supersonic for an airline. What compels a contemporary plant breeder to give a tomato a name like Supersonic?
Heirloom tomatoes
Many old-time names of vegetables – Oxheart and Ponderosa tomatoes are examples — were a lot more appealing than some of the newer names. It could even be that a good name is part of the reason a vegetable of yore still appears in today’s catalogues amongst all the new hybrids.

What’s the Difference?

These names I am talking about are “cultivar” names, or what were once called “variety” names. Problem is that the word “variety” can have two meanings with respect to plants, referring either to a horticultural variety or a botanical variety. To avoid confusion between the two meanings, the word “cultivar” was written into the International Code of Nomenclature of Cultivated Plants in 1958.

A botanical variety is a naturally occurring population of plants one subdivision below the species level. A cultivar is a cultivated variety of plant. All cabbages are Brassica oleraceae var. capitata; all broccolis are Brassica oleraceae var. italica. Early Jersey Wakefield is one cultivated variety, or cultivar, of cabbage, designated, in full, as Brassica oleraceae var. capitata cv. Early Jersey Wakefield. No need to rattle off this whole name when you’re looking for a pack of this seed. Just ask for “Early Jersey Wakefield cabbage.”

Why That Name?

Many old-time cultivars have interesting names, interesting sometimes for no other reason than because the rationale behind the name is not immediately obvious. As I thumb through a catalogue of vegetable cultivars, I can’t help but wonder why anyone would name a parsnip cultivar The Student. The same goes for Old Bloody Butcher corn and the Missing Link apple. Such names surely were not chosen as marketing ploys. In the case of the string bean cultivar Lazy Wife, the rationale behind the (sexist) name is not at all obscure (old-fashioned string beans had to be de-stringed). Compare such clever names with those of some of today’s cultivars — Superhybrid eggplant, Green Duke broccoli, or Bounty green bean.

Some of the old cultivar names have a nice ring to them. Who can resist growing a corn called Country Gentleman, or a bean called Red Valentine? Such names are more appealing than cutesy names like Kandy Korn corn or Tasty Hybrid pepper. Well, at least the pepper is Tasty Hybrid, rather than Tastee Hybrid.

Popcorn: Old Dutch Buttered and Pink Pearl

Which cultivar name sounds more appealing to you: Red-Cored Chantenay carrot or Six-Pack carrot? Calabrese broccoli or Packman (or is it Pac-Man?) broccoli?

Some of the old names might have had appeal in their day, but just would not fly today. With metropolitan New York City looming closer than ever, Hackensack melon can’t evoke the bucolic tang it did back in 1929. And I doubt that any plant breeder today would name a beet cultivar Detroit Dark Red. Nothing against Detroit, but it is a name better applied to an automobile or a kind of music than to a beet cultivar.

Calm Down

Before you lovers of Supersonic, Jetstar, and Ultra-Boy tomatoes get your hackles up, remember that I’m not knocking the quality of these varieties — whoops, cultivars — but only their names.

In fact, appealing names often were assigned to cultivars of dubious merit in the past. The name Sops of Wine makes my mouth water more than did the actual apple. The same goes for Maiden Blush apple – beautiful name (and beautiful fruit), but mediocre eating quality. On the other hand, how about the luscious, relatively modern apple with the vapid name of Jonagold. The appellation was derived simply by combining the names of its parents, Jonathan and Golden Delicious.

As you peruse seed racks, garden catalogues, and websites in the coming weeks, think about what makes you choose one cultivar over another. By the way, for flavor, I highly recommend Early Jersey Wakefield cabbage.

Get Ready For Spring, With a Webinar

GET YOUR DUCKS IN ORDER FOR SPRING

February 2, 2021/2 Comments/in Gardening/by Lee Reich

WEEDLESS GARDENING WORKSHOP/WEBINAR
Presentation by Lee Reich (MS, PhD, researcher in soil and plants for the USDA and Cornell University, decade-long composter, and farmdener*)

Introducing a novel way of caring for the soil, a 4-part system that minimizes weed problems and maintains healthy plants and soil. Learn how to apply this system to establish new plantings as well as to maintain existing plantings. The principles and practices are rooted in the latest agricultural research and are also applicable to sustainable, small farm systems.

Success comes from emulating rather than fighting Mother Nature who, as C. D. Warner wrote (My Summer in the Garden, 1887), “is at it early and late, and all night; never tiring, nor showing the least sign of exhaustion.”

Space for this workshop/webinar is limited so registration is necessary. Sign up soon to assure yourself a space.

Date: February 22, 2021
Time: 7-8:30 pm EST
Cost: $35

After registering, you will receive a confirmation email containing information about joining the webinar.

*A farmdener is more than a gardener and less than a farmer.

FROM GROCERS’ SHELVES TO MY FLOWER POTS

January 27, 2021/6 Comments/in Fruit, Houseplants/by Lee Reich

Exotic, tropical fruits are turning up more and more frequently on grocers’ shelves these days: dates, papayas, guavas, and others. I look upon these fruits opportunistically, because within each lies dormant seeds that can be coaxed to become exotic, if not beautiful, indoor plants that might even provide a delicious fruit harvest. Such plants provide a break from the humdrum of spider plants, philodendrons, and Swedish ivies.

Seeds of tropical fruits usually germinate best if planted as soon as the fruits are eaten. Cold-climate fruits, in contrast, have innate inhibitors that prevent seed germination until they feel that winter is over.

So all that’s necessary to grow most tropical fruits is to wash their seeds and sow them in potting soil, using the old rule of thumb of burying a seed to twice its depth. And then wait.

DELICIOUS, BUT HARD TO SAY

I have harvested fruit grown from the seed of a grocery store bought pineapple guava, also known as the feijoa (pronounced FAY-HO’-A, from the generic part of its unwieldy Latin name, Feijoa sellowiana, recently change to Aca sellowiana). The fresh seeds, scooped from the fruit, germinated and grew.
Feijoa fruit
Feijoa seems to me an ideal plant to grow. Even outdoors where it’s native, the tree is small, so does not mind being kept five foot high in a pot which can be carried indoors during our frigid winters. The plant is subtropical rather than tropical, so can stand a bit of cold, down to about 10 degrees Fahrenheit.

Feijoa has leaves which are shiny and dark green on their upper surfaces, and felt-like and silvery on their lower surfaces. My plant spends winter decorating a sunny, south-facing window in a cool room in my house. The flowers’ stamens are arranged in a tuft like a red bottlebrush, and the petals are thick, purple and white. Those petals are very edible and very delicious, with a sweet, pineapple-minty flavor.
Feijoa flower
But best of all is the fruit itself. Beneath the thin skin is a gelatinous center with a spicy pineapple flavor. My feijoa plant hasn’t provided sufficient harvest to satisfy my feijoa-ish needs.

A LONG TIME TO WAIT FOR A DATE

The waiting period for a date fruit can be a long time, even a long time for the seed to germinate. But stop for a moment and think about deserts, where dates are native. Should a date seed send up a leafy shoot with the first hint of moisture? Of course not. The dry desert air would dehydrate the sprout in short order. When a date seed germinates, first its thick taproot grows straight downwards, seeking permanent moisture, long before even a small sprout appears aboveground.

I once planted some date seeds (first making sure they came from unpasteurized dates). Knowing that I would have a long wait before the first sprouts emerged, I planned to watch the roots grow to keep myself from becoming too impatient. I put an inch of water in the bottom of a peanut butter jar, slid a tube of rolled-up blotting paper (watercolor paining paper would probably also work well) into the jar, and then “planted” the date seeds halfway up the jar, pressed between the glass and the paper.

As predicted, the roots appeared and thrust downwards before there was any sign of a shoot. When I eventually became bored watching the progress of the roots, I planted the seedlings in potting soil.

Leaves finally did poke up through the soil, an event that was far from dramatic. Each emerging seedling looked like a green toothpick stuck into the soil. In time, the “toothpicks” did unfurl into a succession of fan-like leaves which would match any ordinary houseplant for beauty and tolerance of neglect.

Fruit production from a homegrown date palm is well-nigh impossible. The plant grows slowly. Climate here in northeastern U.S. is suboptimal, to say the least. And only female plants produce fruit, so enough plants would have to be grown to flowering size to ensure at least one male (for pollination) and one female (for fruit).
Date fruit on plant

Date palm orchard, Israel

PA-PA-PAPAYA

One winter day a number of years ago, I planted seeds from a papaya fruit I had just eaten. Having seen papayas growing wild throughout the tropics, I assumed they would not be hard to grow. I scooped the seeds from the fruit, washed them to remove their gelatinous coating, and sowed them immediately.

Growing papayas proved as challenging as growing dates. In this case, not only were the seeds slow to germinate, but the young seedlings were extremely fragile and subject to damping-off. I nursed a single survivor beyond this wimpy initial stage, and, in time, it began to grow robustly.

Potted papaya at Chanticleer

In the tropics, papayas are short-lived trees that often bear their first fruits as early as eleven months after seed is sown. My papaya tree was outgrowing its one-foot-diameter pot when warm weather arrived, so I decided to plant it outside and hope for fruit. Imagine the astonishment of my neighbor, who grew up in Florida, when he saw a tropical papaya tree in my garden!

Unfortunately, my plant succumbed to the first fall frost before it had a chance to fruit. Fruiting would have been chancy anyway, because papaya plants come in various combinations of sexes. Some plants have only male flowers; others only female flowers; and still others have bisexual flowers. Papaya have been known to switch their sex under certain conditions. To fruit, my single plant would have needed bisexual flowers, which remained so.

The feijoa, date palm, and the papaya take their place in the long line of avocados, prickly pears, tree tomatoes, kumquats, lemons, tangerines and other forgotten grocery store plants that once were and, in some cases, still are part of my indoor jungle.

Lemon, Kumquat, Opuntia, Tree tomato

MYCO-WHAT?

January 21, 2021/21 Comments/in Gardening, Soil/by Lee Reich

It’s Greek To Me (and You)

This far north, there’s only a little to do garden-wise this time of year, so let’s sit back and ponder the wonders of plant life. Mycorrhiza, to be specific. Wait! Don’t stop reading! Sure, the word “mycorrhiza” appears intimidating. But mycorrhiza are important in your garden, in the forest, to your trees and shrubs, maybe even to your houseplants.

First, the pronunciation. Say: my-ko-RY-za. It sounds nicer than it looks.

Now let’s take the word apart to see what it means. “Myco” comes from the Greek word meaning “fungus” and “rhiza” from the word meaning “root.” Mycorrhiza, then, is a “fungus-root,” an association between a plant root and a fungus so intimate that the pair has been given a name as if it was a single organism.

Mycorrhizal blueberry root

Win-Win

The association is symbiotic, beneficial to both parties. One end of the fungus infects a plant root, while the rest of the long, threadlike body of the fungus ramifies through the soil. Nutrients are absorbed from the soil by those fine fungal threads and pumped back to the plant. The result: mycorrhizal plants can draw nutrients and water from a greater volume of soil than can non-mycorrhizal plants, and plant nutrition is improved. To cite one practical demonstration of this benefit, agricultural scientists in California found that the presence of mycorrhiza was equivalent to the addition of more than one hundred pounds of phosphorus fertilizer per acre on citrus trees.

Another kind of mycorrhiza, in apple root

The mycorrhizal association might be termed a balanced parasitism; the fungus does exact payment for its services. Carbohydrates are, literally, the fuel of life, and though mycorrhizal fungi are adept at drawing minerals from the soil, they can’t make their own carbohydrates. So these fungi draw carbohydrates from their host plants, who can make it. Sunlight fuels the photosynthetic reaction of carbon dioxide and water into carbohydrates and oxygen.

Not all fungi are mycorrhizal. Non-mycorrhizal fungi get their carbohydrates either by eating living things without returning the favor, in which case they are called parasites. Others eat once-living organisms such as wood, leaves, and dead animals, in which case the fungi are called saprophytes. Some fungi feed on either or both the living and the dead.

Myco-where?

Mycorrhiza are almost ubiquitous on the earth. Walk through the woods in spring or fall and most of the mushrooms you see on the forest floor are the reproductive structures of mycorrhizal fungi, periodically popping up through the ground to spread spores. Below ground, these mushrooms are connected to nearby tree roots by fine fungal threads.

The plant known as Indian Pipes (Monotropa uniflora) offers an eerie signal of the presence of mycorrhizae below ground. This plant, with one nodding flower, is thoroughly white, lacking any chlorophyll with which it could use sunlight to fuel its growth. Instead, its roots tap into a specific mycorrhizal fungus whose underground threads are also tapped into the roots of a nearby tree. Indian pipes is a parasite; it takes from the fungus and the tree, offering nothing in return.

Indian pipes

Mushrooms are formed only by certain types of mycorrhizal fungi. Most mycorrhizal fungi are not so obvious, working unobtrusively in association with the roots of the vegetables and flowers in your garden, your lawn, shrubs, and trees. The gourmet’s truffle is the underground reproductive structure of one type of mycorrhizal fungus.

Most plants on our planet are infected with mycorrhizal fungi. Mycorrhiza are absent only in special situations such as in the acidic, nutrient-poor spoils left from mining operations, in agricultural soils that have been sterilized to kill pests, and in sterilized potting soil in flower pots. Certain plants never become infected; cabbage, spinach, buckwheat, and their relatives, for example.

The Practical Side

The importance of mycorrhiza is not diminished by their ubiquity. Mycorrhiza is a general term, and not all mycorrhiza are equal. A plant may be mycorrhizal, but perhaps not with the most effective species of mycorrhizal fungus or, perhaps, not enough of them. Mulching, fertilization, irrigation, chemical use and other gardening and agricultural practices alter the types and amounts of mycorrhizal fungi in the soil. Rototilling or turning over the ground, as you might imagine, disrupts those fungal threads. Except for high fertility, what’s good for plants — plenty of soil organic matter, growing plants, good aeration, adequate moisture — is also generally good for mycorrhizae.

Old-time gardeners would throw a handful of soil from an old apple tree into the planting hole for a new apple tree. A crude form of mycorrhizal inoculation? Agricultural researchers have tried to quantify why plants respond to inoculation with mycorrhizal fungi at one site, and not another. Which are the best fungi? What affects them? Recent research has shown that improved nutrition is only the most obvious effect of mycorrhiza. The mycorrhizal association also influences plant response to stresses such as drought, insects, and diseases.

As you might imagine, mycorrhizal fungi have been commercialized, available as inoculants or premixed into packaged potting soils. Under certain conditions, this might be beneficial. In many situations, it’s like “taking coals to Newcastle.” Usually, create conditions conducive to mycorrhizal formation, and a beneficial symbiosis will develop.

For my research as a graduate student, I studied the effect of, among other things, mycorrhizae in blueberry soils. Even my plants grown in sterilized soils in a greenhouse became mycorrhizal, which, while messing up that aspect of my experiment, did highlight how ubiquitous the association can be without the human hand.

If you want to lend your hand to the mycorrhizal association, you could actually extract and grow your own mycorrhizal inoculum. Read how, and learn all about mycorrhizae in Jeff Lowenfels’ excellent book Teaming with Fungi: The Organic Grower’s Guide to Mycorrhizae.

At any rate, mycorrhiza is a fascinating demonstration of ecology, the interrelationship of organisms on the earth.
Teaming with Fungi, cover

MY VINES GET IN ORDER

January 13, 2021/13 Comments/in Gardening/by Lee Reich

Pruning vs. Training?

A long time ago, when I first started growing fruit trees and vines, I read a lot about the all-important pruning and training they require. But I couldn’t get clear on my head what exactly the difference was between “pruning” and “training.” I went on to learn that and a whole lot more about pruning (through books, as an ag researcher for Cornell University, and with practical experience), and eventually wrote my own book about pruning, hoping to present the techniques with more clarity and completeness than all the books I had read. Perhaps my book, The Pruning Book, does that.
Grape vine in spring
Okay, to answer my question of yore. “Training” is developing the young plant to a permanent framework that is sturdy and will always have its limbs bathed in light and air, and whose fruits hang within easy reach.

Kiwifruit within easy reach

Training involves some pruning as well as coaxing stems to grow in certain directions. Once a fruit tree or vine’s training period ends, it generally only needs annual pruning.

Vine-y Training

I thought of all this today as I pruned hardy kiwifruit and grape vines. Both fruiting vines have been trained and are pruned similarly, with one slight variation that I’ll soon mention.

The kiwi and grape vines are trained as “double cordons” which are permanent arms sitting atop a trunk. They run in opposite directions along the middle wire of a 5-wire trellis, the wires parallel and supported about 6 feet of the ground on the cross-arms of T-posts. Each young vine was planted next to a metal or wooden stake to which the plant’s most vigorous stem was tied.

Once that trunk-to-be reached up to the middle wire, I tied it there and cut off all other stems. That trunk-to-be does, of course, keep growing; that new growth gets bent over and tied along the middle wire. Bending coaxes new buds to burst just beneath the bend, one of which is also bent over and trained along the middle wire in opposite direction to the first stem. Both these horizontal stems became the cordons, permanent arms of the plant. Growing off at right angles to the cordons are the fruiting shoots which, weighed down with their weight of fruit, drape onto the other wires.

Vine Maintenance

Today I’m maintenance pruning vines whose training period ended years ago. Maintenance pruning a mature fruiting vine keeps it bearing high quality fruit within easy reach year after year, all accomplished with a renewal method. That is, except for the trunk and the cordon, the vine is completely renewed with each year’s pruning.

I’ll admit it: A vine looks like a tangled mess before being pruned. But step by step, it begins to take shape and make sense. Kiwi before pruning

Knowing how a plant bears fruit is important in maintenance pruning. Kiwi and grape vines bear on new shoots growing off one-year-old stems. Kiwis bear best if those one-year-old stems are about 18 inches long. Grape one-year-old stems can be left long or short, but for my method of training, I want each one about two buds long, which is just a few inches.

Fruiting grape shoots emerge from 1-yr-old stem

Step one is a no-brainer. The outermost wires are 4 feet apart so I lop all growth back to just beyond those wires. My tool of choice for this is a battery-powered hedge trimmer although pruning shears would also do the trick, except at a snail’s pace. First step in pruning

Step two is to remove excess growth, which does two things. It removes potential fruits so that more of the plant’s flavor-rich goodness gets funneled into those that remain, and it decongests the plant. For this step, I cut back all stems 2 years or older.

But wait! Two-year-old stems have one-year-old stems, the stems needed for bearing shoots, growing off of them. So rather than cut a two-year-old stem all the way back to its cordon, I cut it back to a one-year-old stem originating near the cordon. Some one-year-old stems also grow right from the cordon. The best one-year-old stems are those that are moderately vigorous and, of course, look healthy. Moderately vigorous stems, for grape or kiwi, are about pencil thick (if you can remember what a pencil looks like; if not, about 1/4” thick).

Kiwi stem and pruning detail

There will always be too many one-year-old stems for the plant to make tasty fruit. So I reduce the number of potential fruits by removing some of the one-year-old stems, enough to leave six to ten inches between them on each side of a cordon.

Pruned grape vine

Pruned kiwi

Not finished yet. The final step is to shorten the fruiting shoots. For hardy kiwis, I cut them back to 18 to 24 inches long. For grapes, to about 2 buds or a few inches long.

Oh, one more thing to do: I prune off any new growth rising up from ground level or along the trunk lower than the cordons.

And one more thing: I step back to admire my handiwork. (Here is a video of me pruning a kiwi vine.)

But What About Bushes?

You might have noticed, early on, that I wrote about pruning and training “fruit trees and vines.” What about blueberries, currants, gooseberries, elderberries, and other FRUITING BUSHES. Yes, they need annual pruning also. No, they do not need training. Although the plants are perennial, their stems are evanescent, all with a limited life. They are pruned by a renewal method — at ground level. All this and much, much more (pruning ornamental plants, houseplants; creating and caring for an espalier; how to scythe; etc) in The Pruning Book, of course.