2022 – Page 5 – Lee Reich

THE JOY(S) OF COMPOSTING

April 27, 2022/10 Comments/in Uncategorized/by Lee Reich

Dinosaurs and Snake Eggs, and More

Most benefits of compost are well-known: it takes out your “garbage,” it fertilizes your plants, it’s teeming with beneficial microorganisms, yadda, yadda, yadda. One too often overlooked plus for compost is the thrill of discovery, discovery of things other than compost in the pile.

Discovery might range from the mundane to the sublime. Among the mundane discoveries is that glint of a lost kitchen fork as it emerges from within the chocolatey pile. Same for the favorite vegetable peeler or the lost stainless steel coffee strainer.

More towards the sublime end of the spectrum would be the dinosaur that surfaced as I was turning a pile a few years ago. A dinosaur! Yes, a small, plastic one that got there from who knows where.

More seriously sublime was the clutch of about three dozen soft, white eggs about the size of quail eggs that came into view as my pitchfork lifted a clump of compost for turning into the adjacent compost bin. Turns out they were snake eggs, those of a black rat snake. Adult black rat snake Some snakes give birth to live young, ready to crawl; black rat snakes lay eggs.

I put a few of those snake eggs into a terrarium along with some compost to see if they would hatch. For the uninitiated (me), it’s an eerie sight to see such a traditionally maligned creature emerge from such a welcome, traditional symbol of springtime rebirth. Baby black rat snakes are not black. Instead, bands of dark and light gray run across their backs.

Another time, while turning my compost pile, I accidentally disturbed a mating pair of black rat snakes in flagrante delicto.

Ducks and Grubs, and More

White grubs occasionally turn up in my pile, but a couple of days ago, one of my piles was home to at least two dozen of the C-shaped, creamy white grubs resting within. Grubs in compost On the chance that they were grubs of Japanese beetles, I started picking them out and yelling “Quack, quack.” No, I hadn’t lost my mind; I was calling the ducks over for a treat of beetle grubs. They dashed for each tossed grub as it hit the ground.

And then a mouse, disturbed in my compost turning, made a dash out of the bin and across the lawn. A mouse in a compost bin is not that surprising, although the construction of my bins and my two dogs are pretty good at keeping mice at bay. (I make efforts to limit mouse populations because they can spread diseases such as hantavirus, salmonella, and lymphocytic choriomeningitis.)

One of the ducks took a break from grub hunting to grab the mouse which, judging from the chase the other ducks gave the lucky duck, is more of a gourmet duck food than even the grubs. Soon only the mouse’s tail was hanging out the duck’s beak, and then the mouse was down the gullet. Here’s a video I took of the Duck eating mouse

But Does Compost Really Need Turning?

You might wonder: What’s with all this compost turning? Each of my compost bins holds a half to three-quarters of a ton of compost, each pile gets turned once, and I have a number of piles. Is it worth all that work?

Turning a compost pile lets me see how the process is chugging along. I keep a record of when a pile was built, and then months later, when it’s turned, how far along it is to being ready to use. After I turn a pile a make a guesstimate of percent decomposition, which is accurate enough for me to know about when it will be ready for spreading.

Turning a pile also lets me get a look at the compost-to-be and then to make any adjustments that might be necessary. I’ll lightly hose down every few inches of turned material, enough to make the ingredients glisten. Anything looking exceptionally dry gets extra water. Occasionally, part of the pile is too wet. I fluff it up as I flip it over into the adjacent bin. Parts of the pile might be compressed into a dense mat. Throwing it into the adjacent bin might be enough to loosen it up; if not, I pick at it with the tines of the pitchfork. Compost pile turned

Turning the pile also mixes up the ingredients more than when the pile was built. Each part of the pile, then, gets new neighbors in the form of new ingredients and new microorganisms.

Turning a compost pile is not absolutely necessary, although it’s probably best to leave a bin intact longer if the pile isn’t turned. On the other hand, I find turning a compost pile not only interesting, but also enjoyable and nice exercise.

PLANT STRAWBERRY PLANT(S)

April 20, 2022/6 Comments/in Fruit/by Lee Reich

Humble Appearing Beginnings

The UPS man’s face is a familiar one this time of year, as he brings me boxes and bags of plants from all around the country. I can’t count how many times I’ve met his brisk walk up the driveway to retrieve a box of strawberry plants. A strawberry bed languishes after a few years, typically five years, and when that happens, I just choose a new site and order new plants.

Epsey strawberry, painted in 1911

I begin again with new plants, because although strawberries are perennial plants, old plantings eventually pick up diseases from wild strawberries and related plants. By planting a new bed the year before the old one is due to expire, there’s no break in enjoying fresh strawberries every June.

Opening the box of strawberry plants just arrived provides a sorry sight to the eyes: twenty-five plants, leafless or nearly leafless, bound with a rubber band into a package small enough to hold in my fist. But I take heart; the plants are dormant and, given warmth and soil, will come to life. Immediately as I say good-bye to the UPS guy I open the plastic bag to make sure there’s some moisture within. If not, I add some and reseal the bag. In either case I put the bag in the refrigerator until I’m ready to plant.

Planting Location and Design

Let’s hold off planting a minute and see what type of site I choose for my strawberry beds. The plants thrive best with full sun (at least 6 hours per day with Ol’ Sol beaming directly on the plants) and in a soil that is both well-drained and rich in organic matter. Anything less than the above and fruit flavor suffers and plants are more prone to disease.

Strawberry plants spread by runners, which are stems that creep along the ground forming new plants at intervals along their length. Strawberry runner Eventually, plants in a strawberry bed should be 6 to 12 inches apart. The “matted row” system of strawberry planting makes full use of these runners. Plants are set far apart (4 feet between rows and 2 feet between plants) and the spaces between the plants fill in with runner plants which fruit the following season. Strawberry matted row The matted row is allowed to fill in to a width of 2 feet, and all plants attempting to spread beyond that width are kept in bounds with a rototiller or by hand. With age, that 2 foot ribbon rapidly becomes overcrowded unless old plants are weeded out. Basket of strawberries

I prefer the opposite extreme in strawberry planting systems, the “hill” system, whereby plants are set in a double row with 12 inches between the rows and between plants in the row. (If there’s more than one double row, the next double row is 3 feet away.) Strawberry hill planting The hill system demands the somewhat tedious job of pinching off all runners through the summer, but the planting stays neater and yields the most berries the first bearing season.

The “spaced plant” system splits the difference between the hill system and the matted row system. Plants are set moderately far apart, and only 4 or 5 daughter plants are allowed to take root, carefully spaced around each mother plant.

And Into the Ground They Go

Actual planting of strawberries in the ground takes little time if the soil is in good condition — weed-free, rich in humus, and not too dry and not too moist. Gently squeeze a handful; it should crumble.

I prepare the plants by retrieving them from the refrigerator, undoing the bundle, and trimming the roots back to three or four inches. Then I drop the plants into a shallow pan of water to keep them moist while I plant. Trimming strawberry roots

To plant, I thrust a trowel straight down into the soil, then pull the handle towards me enough to open up a slit for a plant. Setting a strawberry plant in soil With the roots fanned out by my other hand, the trimmed plant’s roots fit easily into the waiting slit. Planting is completed as I remove the trowel and firm soil against the roots with the heel of my hand. Firming soil after planting

Planting depth is important. Set too shallow and the plants dry out, set too deeply and they suffocate. The ground line should go right through the middle of the crown, which is actually a stem that’s been telescoped down so that each leaf grows off it right next to the next leaf along the stem, rather than a few inches apart, as in most stems. Strawberry planting depth illustration

A number of years back I was helping my friend Helene plant her first strawberry bed. Sorry Helene, gotta write about it. My job was to open up the holes; your job was to plant. After a dozen holes, I glanced back over my shoulder to check your progress. You had listened carefully: each plant was set with the ground line through the middle of the crown, against which the soil was firmed, even lovingly smoothed. And, as I had instructed, you had neatly fanned out each plant’s roots. How did I know? Because the plants were upside down, with their roots splayed upward in the air!

First blueberries on heels of last strawberries

TEASING APART HYDRANGEAS

April 14, 2022/3 Comments/in Flowers, Pruning/by Lee Reich

Good Answer

When someone asks me how they should prune their hydrangea, I give them the answer that most people don’t like to any question “It depends.” What else can I say? It DOES depend. One or more of a few species of hydrangeas commonly make their home in our yards, and you have to approach each, pruning shears or loppers in hand, differently.

Let me tease apart the answer by, first, taking a look a what hydrangea or hydrangeas we may be growing, and then how they grow and flower, which, in turn, speaks to when and where to start snipping away. Climbing hydrangea at Mohonk Mountain House

Mopheads and Lacecaps, and Oakleafs

If the hydrangea plant in question is a shrub bearing blue or pink flowers, it’s a so-called Bigleaf Hydrangea (Hydrangea macrophylla). Mopheads types, also called hortensias, bear softball to volleyball size clusters of florets. Lacecap types bear flat-topped cluster of small, hardly conspicuous florets surrounded by rims of showy, larger, 4-petalled florets. Mophead hydrangea

Whether mophead or lacecap, Bigleaf Hydrangeas flowers open from buds they set up the previous year. Those buds are big and fat, in contrast to the skinny buds that grow out to become shoots.

Prune Bigleaf Hydrangea stems as far as the fat buds while the plants are leafless (now, for instance). Right after bloom, cut the stems further back to near ground level.

Problem is that while the plants can stand up to bitter cold, the flower buds can’t, expiring at temperatures below about minus 5° Fahrenheit. Some varieties set their flower buds lower on the stem than do others. Their buds might more reliably stand up to winter cold if plants are mulched in late fall with some loose organic material like straw or arborists’ wood chips.

Pushing Bigleaf Hydrangea growing further north are some recently developed varieties that bloom on new, growing shoots. These new varieties — the first one of which was named Endless Summer — will bloom anywhere. Blossoms on new shoots unfurl later in the season than those on older wood, too late in some gardens (like mine, some years). Cutting back older shoots after they flower fuels a better show from the young, growing shoots.

Oakleaf Hydrangea (H. quercifolia) is another hydrangea that is very cold hardy, except for it flower buds. Flowers sit on the ends of stems in elongated clusters, like cotton candy. Oakleaf Hydrangea can be pruned just like Bigleaf Hydrangea, except that it grows as a large shrub so need not be cut back so much.

Lack of a flowery show from Oakleaf Hydrangea is no loss because a billowing mound or mounds of the oak-like leaves are attractive in their own right through summer, and also in fall, when the leaves turn rich, burgundy red. Even where winter cold would test the reliability of flowering, Oak Leaf Hydrangea is often planted solely for its form and its leaves.

A Beautiful Climber

Years ago, I planted a Climbing Hydrangea (H. animal petiolaris) at the base of the north wall of my home. It took a couple of years or more to get in gear, but now completely clothes that wall. Though leafless through winter, the peeling, light mahogany bark stands prettily against the brick red backdrop. Hydrangea animala bark Soon the stems will be draped in glossy, green leaves and, a little after that, white flowers that stand proud of the wall on short stalks and glow against their dark backdrop like a starry night.

This time of year my pruning consists of shortening shorten flower stalks that reach too far out from the wall and vigorous stems that keep trying to sneak around the wall to clothe the rest of the house. Twice in summer I prune stems again to restrain the plant to only the north wall.

Perhaps I’ll plant another Climbing Hydrangea at the base of my 90 foot tall Norway spruce that with age is thinning out. The hydrangea tolerates sun or shade, and can climb a tree without causing harm.

And, Easiest of All

Rounding out this romp through pruning hydrangeas are two of the easiest to prune plants of the species. The first, Smooth Hydrangea (H. arborescens), grows long shoots from ground level, each capped in early summer with half-foot-wide clusters of of white or pastel flowers. To prune, just lop all stems right to the ground in late winter or early spring.

And finally, we come to PeeGee, sometimes called Panicle, Hydrangea (H. paniculata grandiflora), growing like a small tree or large shrub. This one blossoms in late summer on new growth, so if it is going to be pruned, that needs to be done before growth begins. Hydrangea paniculata With that said, Panicle Hydrangea develops a permanent trunk or trunks, making it difficult to reach high into its dense head for pruning. No matter, because the plant flowers quite well with little or no pruning.

Hydrangea is only one group of closely related plants where species differ in how they are pruned. Roses would be another example; climbing roses are pruned very differently from rambling roses, which are pruned very differently from . . . you get the picture. Clematis also. For more details about the individual pruning needs of these as well as lots of other trees, shrubs, vines, flowers, fruits, and houseplants, and special pruning techniques like pollarding, mowing and scything (yes, that’s pruning!), and espalier, take a look at my book The Pruning Book. It’s available through the usual sources or, signed, directly from me here.

GOURMET FERTILIZER

April 6, 2022/14 Comments/in Gardening/by Lee Reich

Vegetarian Plants

The other day in the hardware store I overheard someone ask the clerk for some rose food. My eyebrows went up as I thought to m’self, “Are they kidding, thinking that roses need their own special food? Next, I’ll hear about plants that prefer vegetarian or kosher food, perhaps fish emulsion on Fridays?” Mulching young tree

All this food science when it comes to plants may boost fertilizer sales, but it hardly bothers plants either way. Plants take up the bulk of their nutrients as ions (charged atoms or groups of atoms) that are dissolved in water in the soil. Rock particles, as well as humus and organic fertilizers, decompose to release nutrient ions slowly into the soil solution. Chemical fertilizers are already in ionic form, so when you sprinkle a handful on the soil, they dissolve as soon as they contact water.

A Well-Rounded, Wholesome Diet

What’s so special about rose food for roses? Nothing. All plants need healthy doses of nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium, and lesser amounts of other nutrient elements. But unless a soil is an infertile sand where neither crop rotation nor some weed growth is allowed to balance soil nutrients, specific foods don’t usually have to be tailored for specific plants.

My garden grows pretty well, and I feed all my plants the same diet: An annually replenished mulch of wood chips, leaves, or compost, and, if extra nitrogen is needed, an annual sprinkling of soybean meal. Theoretically and in practice, an inch depth of compost alone provides sufficient nourishment for the plants. composted garden beds That inch depth of compost is the only thing my vegetable beds get each year, and it nourishes closely planted cabbages, tomatoes, lettuces, and other plants from the first breath of spring until cold weather barrels in to shut down production.

Garden plants that are pressed into sustained production (nonstop flowering of those rose bushes, for example) or vegetables best plumped up with extra-succulence, like some leafy vegetables, might need an extra push with additional nitrogen. Or not. Fertilizer application

Soybean meal, available in garden centers as well as anywhere selling animal feeds, is insurance in the form of a high nitrogen, organic fertilizer. Cottonseed meal, hoof and horn meal, alfalfa meal, or blood meal would serve as well. Soil microorganisms decompose the proteins in any of these fertilizers in a series of steps to produce amino acids, then ammonium ions, then nitrate ions. The latter two ions are the forms of nitrogen most utilized by plants.

I grew Brussels sprouts unsuccessfully for many years, with sprouts hardly bigger than marbles lining up along the spindly stalks. So last year, I sprinkled some soybean meal (2 pounds per hundred square feet) on the ground before laying down the compost. Success! The plants grew into sturdy, five-foot-high stalks along which were lined up almost golfball-sized sprouts. Brussels sprouts success

Flowers and mature trees and bushes get nothing more than arborists’ wood chips, leaves, hay, straw, or wood shavings here. Even these low nitrogen mulches eventually release nitrogen as their lower layers break down in the soil. Hay mulched apples

But Still . . .

You might point out that, still, there are some plants that need a specialty plant food: “acid plant food” for azaleas and rhododendrons, for example. You’ve got a point; these plants do have special needs. But my universal pabulum of mulch and soybean meal also suffices for them.

The special requirement of these plants is an acid soil. If a soil is not naturally acidic, the soil doesn’t need an “acid plant food,” it needs to be made acidic. The way to make a soil acidic is with sulfur, a naturally mined mineral. The amount needed depends on the existing soil acidity (determined with a quick soil test), the desired soil acidity (a pH of about 5 for acid-loving plants), and whether the soil is sandy or clayey. A sandy soil needs about 3⁄4# per 100 sq. ft. for each pH unit change; clay soils need about two-and-a-half times that amount. The sulfur to use is “pelletized” because it’s less dusty to work with. And, obviously, any compost for these plants should have had no added limestone.

What about the special nitrogen requirement of these plants? Commercial “acid plant food” supplies acid-loving plants with their preferred form of nitrogen, which is ammonium ion. Let’s see what happens to my soybean meal in an acid soil. A few paragraphs earlier, I wrote that though an orchestrated series of steps, various soil microorganisms gobble up proteins in soybean meal or other organic fertilizers, breaking them down to amino acids, ammonium ions, and then nitrate ions. In acidic soils, microorganisms that do that last job are absent. Breakdown stops at ammonium ion — just what those plants like best.

Plants don’t need haut cuisine, just plain, wholesome food. (More details about this in Weedless Gardening and The Ever Curious Gardener.) Wholesome food for soil

EVOLUTION AT WORK

March 30, 2022/6 Comments/in Gardening/by Lee Reich

Green Thumb Not Needed

Anybody out there now sprinkling seeds into mini-furrows in seed flats, flowerpots, or repurposed yogurt cups? How many of us are then disappointed when, a few days later, there’s no sign of green sprouts poking up through the brown soil? Or not enough of them.

A green thumb isn’t a prerequisite for growing seedlings indoors to give plants a head start for earlier ripening of tomatoes and peppers or earlier blooms of zinnias or marigolds. Backing up every seed is 350 million years of trial and error; seeds have evolved to sprout. So why, sometimes, don’t they, and how do to right any wrongs? Healthy tomato transplant

Good Seeds and Good (Potting) Soil a Must

Seeds are living, breathing creatures, and don’t live forever. How long a seed remains viable depends on the kind of seed. Longevity of vegetable seeds under good storage conditions goes from just a year for onion, parsnip, and parsley seed to more than four years for seeds of cucumber, lettuce, and cabbage and its kin. Most annual flower seeds are good for one to three years, most perennials two to four years.

But don’t take any reports of seed longevities too much at face value. Storage conditions play an important role, with the best conditions being cold and dry. I store my seeds in an airtight tub along with packets of silica gel that I weigh and refresh, if needed, in a microwave oven. The tub winters in my unheated garage and summers in my cool basement, or freezer. Seed storage, in tub

Next, turn to the soil or, more correctly, the potting mix or potting soil. Don’t sow seeds in garden soil, even good garden soil. Garden soil becomes too sodden in the confines of a container. Purchase or make your own mix (both of which I wrote about my March 15, 2022 blog post).

Gather up some bona fide or makeshift containers, and you’re ready to plant. Any container that’s a couple of inches deep with drainage hole in its bottom is suitable. Fill it with the potting mix and gently firm it.

What Next?

A guideline that I don’t follow rigorously is to plant seeds at a depth approximately four times their thickness. A lighter, airier mix warrants deeper planting or seeds will dry out too quickly. Still, bigger seeds do warrant deeper planting than smaller seeds. With really tiny seeds, like foxglove or portulaca, I just sprinkle them on the surface, perhaps with a smidgen of potting mix for a very light cover. Tiny seeds have tiny energy reserves, and if planted too deep, they burn up all their energy before peering aboveground to drink in energy-giving light. No matter the depth, right after sowing I firm the seedbed for good contact between seeds and mix. Sowing lettuce seeds in flats

And then I water. I could water from above with a gentle “rain” from the fine rose of my watering can or hose wand, but prefer to minimize washing around the potting mix and seeds, especially small seeds, by watering from below. I set the seed flat or container in a pan with an inch or so of water and let it sit for a few hours. By then the potting mix is saturated with water; lifting the container out of the water and then tipping it at an angle drains excess (gravitational water) from the mix. A pane of glass over the top of the container prevents evaporation to lock in moisture.

All the seeds now need to coax them out of the slumber is warmth. Each kind of seed has a minimum, a maximum, and an optimum temperature for germination. Unfortunately, it’s not the same for all seeds. Between 70 and 80 degrees Fahrenheit (21-27° C.) strikes a nice balance for all of them.

Armed with a thermometer, check out warm spots around your home: perhaps it’s a warm room, the top of a refrigerator, an insulated container along with a periodically refreshed hot water bottle, or near a furnace. Electric seed heating mats are available, some raising the temperature 10° F above ambient, more expensive ones raising the temperature to whatever amount you dial in.

I made my own germination chamber from a styrofoam cooler along the bottom of which I wired two sockets each with a 15 watt lightbulb. Above the bulbs sits a rack for the seed flats. The bulbs are wired into a thermostat on which I can dial the desired temperature set, always, in my case, set to 80° F. Seed incubator

One Final Ingredient and You’re Good to Grow

That’s it, except for one final ingredient: patience. Even with ideal conditions, seeds vary in how long they take to germinate.

I check the containers every day and as soon as sprouts appear, I uncover and whisk the container to bright light. From then on, cooler temperatures — about 10° F. less than germination temperatures — and bright light are ideal. Tomato seeds sprouted 2

SHRUBS, I’M SHARPENING MY SHEARS AND LOPPERS

March 23, 2022/12 Comments/in Pruning/by Lee Reich

Shrubs are Shrubby

A shrub is a shrubby, woody plant. (Now, that’s profound.) Numerous stems originating at or near ground level are what make a plant shrubby. Usually, no one stem ever gets the upper hand over other stems. For most shrubs, you need to get out there with your pruners to snip and lop every year.

How to prune a shrub depends on when it flowers and on what age stems provide the most ornamental effect. Does the shrub flower early in the spring, or later in the summer? Does it flower on old stems, on those that grew last year, or on new shoots?

Tree peony

And one more thing before we dive in: Here, I’m writing about pruning shrubs growing informally. Let’s shelve pruning hedges and, because they vary so much in their pruning needs, roses for another time.

Deciduous shrubs can be put into one of four categories according to the age of stems that flower or otherwise look their best. Here are some bare-bone guidelines for each of these categories. In my book, The Pruning Book, from which this is excerpted, I offer more detailed guidance with extensive lists of plants in each category (and, of course, details on pruning hedges, roses, and just about any other plant or pruning technique you can think of. Really.)

Old Looks Best

Deciduous shrubs whose old wood flowers or looks best. Included within this category are shrubs — witch hazel, rose-of-sharon, tee peony are examples — that naturally build up a permanent framework of branches. Rarely do they send up new suckers at or near ground level. These shrubs flower directly on older wood, or from shoots that grow from older wood. Grouping plants always entails a certain degree of arbitrariness, and because of their disinclination to sucker, a few plants in this category could also be considered “trees,” especially if deliberately trained to one or a few trunks..

These shrubs are the easiest shrubs to prune: mostly, just don’t!

Some Annual Pruning Helps

Deciduous shrubs that flower best on one-year-old wood. Because they all flower only on wood that grew the previous season, annual pruning is needed to stimulate new growth, each year, for the following year’s flowers.

Renewal prune each year, removing the very oldest stems to make way for younger, floriferous stems to step in and replace older stems. Cutting a few stems low in the shrubs is also less work than shearing, and creates a more graceful, fountain-like growth habit, and keeps the plant low, neat, and abundantly flowering.
Renewal pruning
Prune those shrubs that flower early in the season right after their blossoms fade. But now, or just before growth begins, is the time to prune those shrubs that flower from summer onward. Pruning early-flowering shrubs right after they bloom allows you to enjoy their blossoms, but still leaves enough time for shoots to grow and ripen wood sufficiently for next season’s blooms.

The one-year-old shoots on which flowers are borne may grow mainly from older stems up in the shrub, or else mostly from ground level. The location of these flowering shoots determines pruning technique, so I have subdivided this category into two groups, grouped plants accordingly, and follow with instructions for each.

Shrubs such as lilac, forsythia, and mock orange flower best on one-year-old wood originating from older wood up in the plant.

Lilac flowering habit

Lilac flower buds Peer in at the base of the mature plant and you’ll notice wood of various ages growing up from ground level. Begin pruning by cutting away near ground level, some of the very oldest stems. Those oldest stems are also the tallest ones, so these first cuts quickly lower the plant. Plants blooming on 1-year old stems up in plant

Each year also remove at ground level a portion of the youngest stems so they don’t crowd with age.

Abelia and kerria are among those shrubs that flower best on one-year-old wood originating at ground level; they need more drastic pruning. Every year cut away all wood more than one-year-old, either right to ground level or else to a vigorous branch originating low on the plant. You can tell the age of a stem by its thickness and, with many plants, by the color or texture of the bark. Kerria blossoms

Blossoms on New, Growing Stems

Deciduous shrubs whose current growth flowers or looks best: Here we have shrubs valued only for their new growth. And yes, in some cases we value the plant for the young stems themselves.

Red-osier dogwood stems in winter

This group of shrubs, which includes red-osier dogwood (whose young, red stems “ignite” with winter cold), butterfly bush, New Jersey tea, and Hills-of-Snow hydrangea, is very easy to prune: simply lop the whole plant down to the ground just as buds are swelling.

Time for Renovation?

You perhaps have inherited, with your property, a neglected, old shrub offering you a tangled mass of stems, an awkward posture, and few flowers. Can this shrub be brought back to its former glory? Probably.

You have two options in renovating this shrub. The first is the drastic one: you merely lop the whole plant to within one foot of the ground just before growth begins for the season. The plant won’t be pretty for a few years but after that you’re on your way to a “new,” shrub, full of blossoms and with a graceful growth habit, a whole new plant from the ground up.

A second option is gradual renovation, removing a couple of the oldest stems each year over a period of four or five years. Although this takes more time, the plant will look decent throughout the recovery period.

Rather than renovation, you might instead consider capitalizing on your overgrown shrub’s age and venerability by transforming the plant into a picturesque small tree. Not all shrubs make this transition gracefully; devil’s walkingstick, hawthorn, and hazelnut are among those that do.

Select as trunks two or three of the oldest stems having pleasant form and growing from ground level to as high as the proposed crown of your tree-to-be. Remove all other growth from ground level to the proposed crown.

Even easier is to let the deer prune for you, in which case the bottom of the crown will be as high as the deer care to reach.

Deer pruned yew

BREWING UP BATCH OF POTTING SOIL

March 16, 2022/16 Comments/in Gardening, Soil/by Lee Reich

Prime Ingredients for Any Potting Mix

Many years, my gardening season begins on my garage floor. That’s where I mix the potting soil that will nourish seedlings for the upcoming season’s garden and replace worn out soil around the roots of houseplants. Why do I make potting soil? Why does one bake bread?

There is no magic to making potting soil. When I first began gardening, I combed through book after book for direction, and ended up with a mind-boggling number of recipes. The air cleared when I realized what was needed in a potting soil, and what ingredients could fulfill these needs. A good potting soil needs to be able to hold plants up, to drain well but also be able to hold water, and to be able to feed plants. The key ingredients in my potting mix are: garden soil for fertility and bulk; perlite for drainage; and a mix of peat moss and compost for water retention.
Components of potting soil
Why not just dig up some good garden soil? Because a flower pot or whatever container a plant is growing in unavoidably creates “perched water table” at its bottom. Garden soil, even good garden soil, is so dense that it will wick too much water up from that perched water table. Waterlogging is apt to result, and waterlogged soil lacks air, which roots need in order to function. (More about perched water tables and lots of other stuff about soil, propagation, plant stresses, and more can be found in my book The Ever Curious Gardener: Using a Little Natural Science for a Much Better Garden.)

Coarse mineral aggregates — perlite, in my mix — make potting soils less dense, so water percolates more readily into the mix, through it, and out the bottom of the container. Other aggregates include vermiculite, sand, and calcined montmorillonite clay (aka kitty litter). I chose perlite because vermiculite breaks down with time and can contain asbestos. Sand is heavy, although this can be an effective counterbalance for top heavy cactii.

The peat moss and compost in my mix are organic materials that slurp up water like a sponge; plants can draw on this “water bank” between waterings. One peat to avoid is “peat humus,” a peat that is so decomposed that it has little water-holding capacity. Organic materials also buffers soil against drastic pH changes and cling to nutrients which are slowly re-released to plant roots. Otherwise these nutrients run out through the bottom of seedling flats and flower pots.

Peat is relatively devoid of nutrients but the compost provides a rich smorgasbord of nutrients. And I can brew it myself. Just letting piles of autumn leaves decompose for a couple of years produces “leaf mold,” which has roughly the same properties as compost.

Potting soils made with garden soil and compost might need to be pasteurized to eliminate pests especially weeds. Too much heat should be avoided, however, because toxins which injure plants will form and beneficial organisms will be eliminated. When I am going to pasteurize, I do so only to the garden soil in the mix; my composts get to above 150°F all on their own.

To pasteurize potting soil, put it in a baking pan, bury a potato in it, and bake it in a medium oven. When the potato is baked, the soil is ready. Pasteurization is not absolutely necessary; I pasteurize to kill weed seeds. Begonia, Mandarin & cats

What You Buy Isn’t . . .

Go out and buy a potting mix and, in all likelihood, that mix will be devoid of any real garden soil. You can mix up a so-called “soil-less” potting mix by sieving together equal volumes of peat moss and perlite. Since the mix has no garden soil or compost to supply nutrients, add 1/2 cup of dolomitic limestone, 2 tablespoons of bone meal, and 1/2 cup of soybean meal to each bushel of final mix. This mix has enough fertility for about a month and a half of growth without additional fertilizer.

I favor traditional potting mixes, which contain real garden soil. Real soil adds a certain amount of bulk to the mix, as well as a slew of nutrients and microorganisms. Real soil provides buffering capacity, which allows for some wiggle room in soil acidity.

The Magic Happens

I wrote early on, “There is no magic to making potting soil.” I could toy with ratios and make a potting mix from perlite plus compost, perlite plus compost plus garden soil, even straight compost, depending on the texture of the compost.

Going forward, I’m going to experiment with coir and/or PitMoss, both possible substitutes for peat moss, the harvest of which is environmentally questionable.

For my first batch of potting mix for this season, I’ll stick with my usual recipe. Step one is to give the garage floor a clean sweep. potting soil, piling ingredients Then I pile up on the floor two gallons each of garden soil, peat moss, perlite, and compost. On top of the mound I sprinkle a cup of lime (except if I’ve sprinkled limestone on the compost piles as I build them), a half cup soybean, perhaps some kelp flakes.

This is a mixed bag of ingredients, but I reason that plants, just as humans, benefit from a varied diet. I slide my garden shovel underneath the pile and turn it over, working around the perimeter, until the whole mass is thoroughly mixed. potting soil, mixing I moisten it slightly if it seems dry. When all mixed, the potting soil gets rubbed through a 1/2″ sieve, 1/4” if it’s going to be home for seedlings. potting soil, sifting

I end by clicking click my heels together three times and reciting a few incantations to complete this brew that has worked its magic on my seedlings, houseplants, and potted fruits each season.

TO PRUNE OR NOT TO PRUNE, THAT IS THE QUESTION

March 9, 2022/3 Comments/in Pruning/by Lee Reich

A Sharp Knife is not Enough

“Prune when the knife is sharp” goes the old saying. Wrong! (But don’t ever prune if the knife—or shears—is not sharp.) There are best times for pruning, and they depend more on the type of plant and the mode of training than on the sharpness of the knife.

Cat is ready to prune

As each growing season draws to a close in temperate climates, trees, shrubs, and vines lay away a certain amount of food in their above- and below-ground parts. This food keeps the plants alive through winter, when they can’t use sunlight to make food because of lack of leaves (on deciduous plants) or cold temperatures. This stored food also fuels the growth of the following season’s new shoots and leaves, which, as they mature, start manufacturing their own food and pumping the excess back into the plant for use in the coming winter.

A similar situation exists in some tropical and subtropical climates having alternating wet and dry, or cool and warm, seasons. Plants must wait out those quiet times drawing on their reserves.

Old apple tree, unpruned & pruned.jpg

When you prune a dormant plant, you remove buds that would have grown into shoots or flowers. Because pruning reapportions a plant’s food reserves amongst fewer buds, the fewer remaining shoots that grow each get more “to eat” than they otherwise would have and thus grow with increased vigor.

(For more details on above and what follows, see my book, The Pruning Book, available from the usual sources or directly from me, signed, at www.leereich.com.)

Summer or Winter, Growing or Dormant?

As the growing season progresses, response to pruning changes, because shoots of woody plants cease to draw on reserves and stems stop growing longer well before leaves fall in autumn. In fact, growth commonly screeches to a halt by midsummer. So the later in the growing season that you prune, the less inclined a woody plant is to regrow — the year of pruning, at least.

Traditional theory holds that summer pruning is more dwarfing than dormant pruning, but contemporary research puts this theory on shaky footing. True, if you shorten a stem while it is dormant — in February, for example — buds that remain will begin to grow into shoots by March and April, while if you cut back a shoot in midsummer, the plant might just sit tight, unresponsive. Ah, but what about the following spring? That’s when the summer-pruned shoot, according to this recent research, waits to respond. (Plants have an amazing capacity to act however they please no matter what we do to them.)

What are the practical implications of all this? First of all, if you want to coax buds along a stem to telescope out into shoots, prune that stem when it’s dormant.

Pollarded catalpa

On the other hand, summer is the time to remove a stem to let light in among the branches (to color up ripening apples or peaches, for example), or to remove a stem that is vigorous and in the wrong place. Watersprouts, which are vigorous, vertical shoots, are less likely to regrow if snapped off before they become woody at their bases.

Under certain conditions, summer pruning can be more dwarfing than dormant pruning, because regrowth following summer pruning can be pruned again. And again. Under certain conditions, summer pruning can also prompt the formation of flower buds rather than new shoots — just what you want for solidly clothing the limbs of a pear espalier with fruits or the branches of a wisteria vine with flowers.

Pear, before and after summer pruning detail

Red currant espalier before & after summer pruning

Unfortunately, the response to summer pruning depends on the condition of the plant as well as the weather. A weak plant may be killed by summer pruning. A late summer wet spell, especially if it follows weeks of dry weather, might awaken buds that without pruning would have stayed dormant until the following spring. Also factor just how much growth you lop off a stem as well as temperatures in the days or weeks following pruning.

Whose Health?

Regrowth and flowering are the dramatic responses to pruning; you also must consider plant health when deciding when to prune. Although immediate regrowth rarely occurs after late summer or autumn pruning, cells right at the cut are stirred into activity to close off the wound. Active cells are liable to be injured by cold weather, which is a reason to avoid pruning in late summer or autumn except in climates with mild winters or with plants that are very hardy to cold.

Dormant pruning just before growth begins leaves a wound exposed for the minimum amount of time before healing begins. Some plants — peach and its relatives, for example — are so susceptible to infections at wounds that they are best pruned while in blossom. On the other hand, the correct time to prune a diseased or damaged branch is whenever you notice it.

Also consider your own health (your equanimity and your energy) when timing your pruning. Depending on the number of plants you have to prune, as well as other commitments, you may not be able to prune all your plants at each one’s optimum moment. I prune my gooseberries in autumn (they never suffer winter damage), my apples just after the most bitter winter cold has reliably move on, and my plums (a peach relative) while they are blossoming.

Sap oozes profusely from cut surfaces of maples, birches, grapes, and kiwis if they are pruned just as their buds are plumping up in spring. The way to avoid this loss of sap is to prune either in winter, when the plants are fully dormant, or in spring, after growth is underway. The sap loss actually does no harm to the plants, so rushing or delaying pruning on this account is not for your plant’s health, but so that you can rest easy.

GETTING TO THE ROOT OF GARDENING

March 1, 2022/2 Comments/in Design, Flowers, Fruit, Gardening/by Lee Reich

Etymological Wanderings

Sure, I’ve been dropping seeds into mini-furrows in some seed flats, and prunings are starting to litter the ground outdoors. But there’s a lot of nongardening activity going on here. What better time to ponder etymology? (Etymology, not entomology, the latter of which is the study of insects; aphids, mealybugs and whiteflies, all of which will be crawling around soon enough.) What exactly do we mean when we talk about a “garden” or “gardening?”

Garden(?) in Italy

The word “gardening” is pretty much synonymous with “horticulture,” which comes from the Latin hortus meaning a garden, and cultura, to culture. According to Webster, horticulture is the “art or science of cultivating fruits, flowers, and vegetables.” The word “horticulture” was given official recognition in The New World of English Words in 1678 by E. Phillips, although though the Latin form, horticultura, first appeared as the title of a treatise of 1631.

Horticulture, then, is about growing fruits, flowers, and vegetables; nothing is said about cultivating a field of cotton or wheat. These latter crops are in the ken of agronomy, from the Latin root ager meaning field. Once again quoting Webster, agronomy is the “science or art of crop production; the management of farm land.” Horticultural crops are more intensively cultivated than farm crops — and more apt to be threatened by neglect.

In fact, “gardening” and “horticulture” are not exactly synonymous. Horticulture is usually associated with growing plants for a livelihood, and is broken down into pomology (fruits), olericulture (vegetables), floriculture (flowers) and landscaping. Gardening usually implies something more homey and intimate.

Gardyne Styles

Over the centuries, the word “garden” has been penned in many spellings. A chronicler of the 13th century wrote “gardynes,” in the next century Chaucer wrote the word a bit differently: “Yif me a plante of thilke blessed tre And in my gardyn planted it shall be.” We see yet another spelling early in the sixteenth century: “My lord you have very good strawberries at your gardayne in Holberne.” Finally, by the time of Shakespeare, we have: “Ile fetch a turne about the Garden.” Here, “garden” at least, is spelt [sic] the moderne [sic] way.

The root of the word “garden” comes from the Old English geard, meaning fence, enclosure, or courtyard, and the Old Saxon gyrdan, meaning to enclose or gird.

Walled garden

These words are closely related to our modern words “yard,” “girth,” and “guard.” Medieval gardens were physically enclosed. My vegetable garden is too, but mostly as protection against rabbits that love my peas and beans, not against knights practicing their jousting or wild pigs roaming the fields. The medieval garden was against the house and protected by a high wall, or, perhaps a wattle fence. Fenced garden

Over the centuries, “garden” and “gardening” have come to mean more than the fenced medieval garden. The archetypal Persian garden is dominated by refreshing pools or fountains of water. In the Italian garden, we find trees and shrubs, and stone stairways, balustrades, and porticos.

Classic Italian garden

Grand parterres characterize the French style of gardening.

Parterres in French garden

About a hundred years ago, the increasingly grand style of gardening fell from favor as an Englishwoman, Gertrude Jekyll, came forward to laud and design gardens that emulated intimate, colorful, and informal cottage gardens. She wrote that the ” . . . first purpose of a garden is to give happiness and repose of mind, which is more often enjoyed in the contemplation of the homely border . . . than in any of the great gardens where the flowers lose their identity, and with it their hold on the human heart.” Cottage garden

And Today . . . ?

What does “garden” and “gardening” mean today? A few tomato and marigold plants, separated from the dwelling by an expanse of lawn? A woodland glen of ferns and bleeding hearts? More recently, “forest gardens” have incorporated edible plants in forest-ish settings.

A forest garden?

How about a knot garden of herbs within a white picket fence — in the medieval style, one might say?

The World Was My Garden, the title of the book by early 20th century plant explorer and botanist David Fairchild offers another perspective on “garden.” (I’ll change the “was” to “is,” though.) I’m not sure where my garden ends and whatever else grows within my property boundaries begins.

What’s the boundary of this garden?

I pick strawberries in my vegetable garden and grow Caucasian mountain spinach among my gooseberries. Grapevines clamber on the arbor over my terrace, and a stewartia tree, mountain laurels, and lowbush blueberries snuggle near the east side of my home.

And why stop at property boundaries?

Mountains “in” this garden

Buildings as part of this garden, NYC HIghline

A row of eighty foot tall pine trees peer over the tops of my pear trees from the far end of my neighbor’s property two houses away to the north. Pines at neighbor's house To the south my meadow ends at a sweep of another neighbor’s field, the more frequently mown grass of which undulate like waves in summer sunshine in contrast to the more upright asters, fleabanes, goldenrods, and monardas that stand upright among the grasses in my meadow. View of meadow, October

Further extending the boundary are gardens revisited in my memory and those I have yet to see.

My boundless garden

FIGS: WAIT, DON’T GROW!

February 24, 2022/13 Comments/in Gardening/by Lee Reich

Stay Asleep Please

If you garden in a cold winter climate, as do I, I hope you’re growing figs. Despite being tropical plants, figs are relatively easy for us to grow, as attested to by other gardeners, from Moscow to Montreal, Minneapolis and beyond.

San Piero fig, ripe

If you garden in a cold winter climate, I also hope that your fig plant is NOT growing now (unless you’re in the Southern Hemisphere). The way we cold-climate fig growers help our plants face winter cold is by protecting them from it. A usual method is to grow a plant in a pot that gets moved to a sheltered location to wait out winter. (Growing in pots plus four other methods of overwintering figs are described in my recent book Growing Figs in Cold Climates.)

Sometimes — too often — a fig jumps the gun on spring and starts growing in its sheltered location. Figs shed their leaves when they feel cold is just around the corner, so don’t need bright light in winter. But once buds awaken, they need all the light it can get.

Fig starting to wake up

Don’t fool yourself that a sunny window is sufficient light. The light there typically ranges from 2,000 to 5,000 foot-candles, while full sunlight outdoors is over 10,000 foot-candles. With insufficient light, growth becomes etiolated, that is, stretched out and pale as if reaching for light. And when the time comes for the plant to move outdoors, strong sunlight and drying winds will burn those etiolated stems.

Sleep Recipes

So the goal is to retard growth until outdoor conditions are more fig-friendly. If fully dormant, the plant can tolerate temperatures down into the low 20s Fahrenheit, even colder in a large enough pot. (Cold penetrates more deeply into smaller pots, and fig roots, like those of all temperate-zone plants, can’t tolerate as much cold as stems.)

Fig stems, dormant

The ideal situation is to be able to move a fully dormant fig plant outdoors while temperatures are still cold, but not cold enough to injure the stems or roots. Then buds gradually unfurl in synch with warming temperatures and increasingly intense sunlight.

My potted plants are fully dormant, the result, all winter, of keeping the pots in a cold room with minimal watering. Ideal winter temperatures for a fig are between the high 20s and low 40s. A barely or unheated garage, a cold basement, an unheated mudroom or attic, perhaps even a shed can all keep a fig asleep long enough.

Most of my plants get watered just once in winter. I lift the pots and can tell by experience from their weight whether water is needed. A soil moisture meter probe also works. They are in humid locations, either in my basement or in a walk-in cooler. Sealing each pot and soil, not the stems, in a plastic bag could cut down or eliminate any need for water.

Only one of my potted figs has already started growing. (I let it do so for this photograph.) My one growing fig is actually doing quite well, with new growth expanding slowly and robustly. Fig stem beginning growth Besides having its thirst quenched just enough to prevent wilting, it sits in front of a large, unobstructed window facing due south in a room whose temperatures range from the 50s and 60s. (That’s why I’m writing while sitting here in a down jacket!)

Shock Treatment

Okay, so you can’t provide ideal enough conditions, and your plant is overenthusiastic about winter’s end. Give it a little shock. Potted figs do need repotting every year or two to refresh soil nutrients and give roots new room to grow. If the plant is in as large a pot as you wish, the root ball needs to be slid out of the pots and sliced back to afford space for fresh potting soil. The larger the plant, the more roots can be removed. I go around the edge of the root ball with a kitchen knife slicing an inch or two off around the edge of the root ball. That should tell Ms. Fig to chillax!

Stem pruning is another way to put the brakes on growth. And figs anyway benefit from annual pruning. How much to prune depends on the bearing habit of the fig, some varieties bearing best on new growth, some on one-year-old growth, and still others on both types of growth. (I refer you to my book for details about pruning figs.)

Fig fruits developing on new growth

Not to Worry

Perhaps you haven’t provided ideal winter conditions, you have no sun drenched windows, your home is warm, and you already repotted and pruned last fall. Don’t give up. Worst case scenario is that sappy, etiolated stems have emerged on your fig plant. Once outdoor temperatures moderate, you have three choices.

Gradually acclimate the plant to the great outdoors in much the same way as is done with tomato seedlings. Start the plant with a week or so in an outdoor location protected from full sunlight, wind, and freezing temperatures, moving it periodically indoors if conditions make it necessary. Gradually move it to the more exposed location of its summer home.

Second choice. Move the plant immediately to its summer home, but prune back growing stems, which, anyway, will likely burn.

Third, and easiest, choice, is to move the plant immediately to its summer home. Period. You’ll see some dieback and burning, but the plant should survive unless it’s very young or very weak.

The nice thing about growing figs, and one of the thinks that makes it possible to grow them in cold climates, is that they are very forgiving plants. More so than you might imagine. Bowl of ripe figs