cold – Lee Reich

Br-r-r-r-r-r

This post originally appeared November 7, 2009. Here’s an update with commentaries on how things have changed — and not changed — over the past 11 years.

Dateline: New Paltz, NY, October 19, 2009, 5:30 am. I bet my garden is colder than your garden. I was startled this morning to see the thermometer reading 23 degrees F. Not much I could do at that point about protecting “cold weather” vegetables still in the garden, some covered with floating row covers and some in “plein aire.” The thing to do under these circumstances was wait for the sun to slowly warm everything up and then assess the damage.

2009

I ventured out to the garden for a survey in the sunny midafternoon. Joy of joys. None of the cold-hardy vegetables was damaged by the cold. Romaine lettuces stood upright and crisp, arugula was dark green and tender, radishes were unfazed, and the bed of endive, escarole, and radicchio looked ready to face whatever cold the weeks ahead might offer.

That 23 degree temperature reading came from my digital thermometer, read indoors from a remote sensor out in the garden. Most surprising was the reading from the old-fashioned minimum/maximum registering mercury thermometer out in the garden. This thermometer remembered the night’s lowest temperature as 20 degrees F. Brrrrrrrr.

2020

Dateline: New Paltz, NY, November 11, 2020. This fall has likewise had a few frigid dips in the thermometer, down a couple of times to 24°F, and cold temperature vegetables have likewise fared well. Nowadays I check temperatures with a high-tech, but reasonably-priced, Sensorpush, a small sensor strategically hung in the garden. It beams current temperature and humidity back to my smartphone, and keeps a record of them throughout the day, week, month, and year. Its reporting jives with that of my “old-fashioned minimum/maximum registering mercury thermometer”.

What has changed is the weather over the past couple of weeks, with sunny days and temperatures hovering around 70°F. A fitting closing for a stellar year in the garden: best harvest, best fall color, congenial weather.

The effect of microclimate has been startling. I live about 4 miles out of town, on a road that follows the valley along the Wallkill River. On clear nights, radiation frosts spill cold air downhill to bring the temperature at the farmden about 5° colder than in town. A couple of evenings ago, temperature in town, as displayed on the local bank building and on my car thermometer as I drove through town, was 55°. Arriving at the farmden, the car thermometer, Sensorpush, and the “old-fashioned minimum/maximum registering mercury thermometer” registered 42° — quite a dramatic difference for a 40 foot elevation difference.

Mediterranean Fancies

(2009) Moving, figuratively, to warmer climes: the Mediterranean. I’m taking the Mediterranean diet one step further by trying to grow some of the delectable woody plants of that that region.

Figs are a big success, and not an unfamiliar sight well beyond their natural range. I’ve tried all the usual methods of growing them in cold climates. I’ve grown them in pots brought indoors for winter; I’ve bent over and covered or buried the stems to protect them from cold; I’ve swaddled the upright stems in leaves, straw, wood shavings, or other insulating materials. All yielded some fruit, but none of these methods beats having a small greenhouse with the trees planted right in the ground. Handfuls of soft figs, so ripe that each has a little tear in its “eye,” follow each sunny day and should do so for a few more weeks.

Bay (as in “bay leaf”) also does well, this one potted. After 20 years, my bay laurel is a

Bay laurel, 2009

handsome little tree, trained to a ball of leaves atop a single, four-foot trunk. The fresh leaves are much more flavorful, almost oily, than dried leaves, especially the old, dried leaves typically offered for sale.

(2020) Yes, figs have been abundant in the greenhouse over the past 11 years. But diminishing sunlight and cooler temperatures, even in the greenhouse (37° minimum temperature), have drained the flavor from the few ripe, remaining figs.

After 30 years, the bay is still thriving, valued as much for its beauty as for the flavor of its fresh leaves. It’s still trained as a small tree, smaller than in the past. I lopped the whole plant to the ground a few years ago to give it a fresh start, trained as round-headed tree only thirty inches tall.

Bay Laurel 2020

(2009) Three hopeful Mediterranean transplants are my olive, feijoa, and lemons. I purchased the olive tree in spring, whereupon it flowered and has actually set a single fruit! The feijoa, also known as pineapple guava, has two fruits on it, which might not seem like a big thing except that those two fruits represent the culmination of about 15 years of effort. (More on that some other time.) True, feijoa is native to South America, but it thrives and is often planted in Mediterranean climates. The same goes for lemon, except that it is native to Asia. My Meyer lemon hybrid, like the olive, was potted up this past spring and sports a single fruit.

The long shots among my Mediterreans are pomegranates. My two plants – the varieties Kazake and Salavastki – are cold-hardy, early ripening, sweet varieties from central Asia, so should do well here in a pot. (They are cold-hardy for pomegranates, down to a few degrees below zero degrees F.) They have yet to flower and fruit.

In a few weeks I’ll move all the potted fruits to the sunny window in my very cool basement, where winter weather is very Mediterranean-esque.

(2020) All three trees are still residents here, although the feijoa tenuously so. It’s a pretty plant but what I really want from it is fruit. Yields have been paltry. I’ve repeatedly threatened it with the compost pile, but repeatedly reneged. Besides its beauty, it often flowers, and the flower petals, fleshy, pinapple-y, and minty, are delicious.

One year, in an effort to downsize plant-wise, I was also going to walk the olive to the compost pile. And then someone reminded me that the olive is a symbol of peace, so I kept it. It’s a pretty plant, an easy to care for houseplant, and occasionally bears tasty olives.

The Meyer lemon offers so much everything: deliciously fragrant flowers, verdant leaves year ‘round, and tasty lemons. Just not enough of them. Meyer lemon is actually a hybrid of lemon and sweet orange. Meyer lemon tree in pot

Pomegranate is still a long shot. I’m down to one plant, Salavastki. It often flowers and sets a few fruits, but the fruits drop off. I’m still not sure why.

Still Great After All Those Years

Szukis persimmons ripening on leafless stems

2009

(2009) Persimmon is another tree grown in Mediterranean countries, although it’s not native there. Up here, I grow American persimmon, an outdoor tree that is cold hardy to below minus 20 degrees F.. Besides yielding delectable fruits, it’s a tree that requires almost no care, not even pruning. Some of the tree’s branches are deciduous, naturally dropping in autumn.

Heavy winds of a few weeks ago took the persimmon’s self-pruning theme too far and blew the top off my 20 year old tree. Fortunately, my three other persimmon trees remained unscathed. I’ll just trim the break from the decapitated tree and it will be fine.

2020

(2020) Persimmon is still thriving, still care-free, and still delectable, the ripe fruits tasting like dried apricots that have been soaked in water, dipped in honey, and given a dash of spice. My persimmon “herd” has been thinned to my two best-tasting, most reliable varieties: Szukis and Mohler. Both are well-adapted to ripening in the the relatively short season (for a persimmon) this far north. Right now, the leafless tree is leafless and still loaded with fruit for the picking, much more than I can eat.

Beds Ready for Spring Planting, Figs and Lettuces Readied for Cold

Much colder weather has been sneaking in and out of the garden but leaving traces of its presence with some blackened leaves on frost-sensitive plants and threatening to brazenly show itself in full force sometime soon. This fall I vow to put all in order before that event rather than, on some very cold night, running around, flashlight in hand, gathering and protecting plants.

Before even getting to the plants, drip irrigation must be readied for winter. Main lines and drip lines can remain outdoors but right near the spigot, the timer, the filter, and pressure reducer must be brought indoors where they won’t freeze. I plug the inlet for the drip’s main line to keep out curious insects. At the far end of the line is a cap that I loosen enough to let water drain out. Opening all other valves along the line leaves no dead ends in which freezing water could expand to break lines.

Begonia, amaryllis, Maid of Orleans jasmine (Jasminium sambac), and other topical plants are next in importance. Being near the radiating warmth of the house has spared them recent slightly frosty nights. Colder temperatures would not be so kind. I snap the stems off the begonias right at ground level and put the pots in the basement where cool temperatures will keep the tubers dormant to wait out winter. Amaryllis plants also go into the basement. Cool temperatures and lack of water for a couple of months give these plants the rest period they need so that, brought upstairs to a warm, sunny window, their blossoms can show off their bright, red color against the achromatic winter landscape beyond.

Maid of Orleans jasmine right away gets a prominent place in a sunny window to share its nonstop, sweet fragrant blossoms.

Figs, Pomegranates, & Subtropicals Readied for Cold, But Not Too Much

Fig, pineapple guava, Chilean guava, and pomegranate are subtropical plants that tolerate temperatures down into the ‘teens so can remain outdoors for weeks to come. Still, many of these plants are in large pots, not something I want to be lugging around following at last minute threat of frigid temperatures. So I’ll gather them together in a convenient location for quick dispatch indoors when needed.

Potted subtropical plants are getting ready for colder — but not too cold — weather

The guavas, as well as kumquat and common jasmine (Jasminium officinale), are evergreen subtropical plants. The leaves are important to these plants both for beauty and for function so they’ll make the move indoors before the other subtropicals to make sure their leaves go into winter undamaged.

Common jasmine stays out longest because some exposure to cold is needed to get blossoms in winter.

Cold Weather Vegetables for Weeks to Come

The vegetable garden is still green with endive, kale, lettuce, turnips, Brussels sprouts, arugula, and other cold-hardy vegetables. Soon, though, their cold tolerances will be tested. I’ll pre-empt that testing by covering some of the beds with tunnels of fabric (“fleece” to the Brits, “floating row covers” to us colonists) or clear plastic. No need yet to cover the plants but better to have the metal hoops which support the fleece or plastic in place and ready for the covering before that frigid night to come.

Metal hoops readied to support covers for lettuce.

Not all hardy vegetables get covered; just the leafy ones — lettuce, mustard, arugula, and endive — for fresh salads in the weeks to come. Brussels sprouts and kale are so cold hardy that they can go for weeks without protection, and, anyway, they’re too tall to cover. Leeks also can stay outdoors unprotected until December, or later, then get dug up and packed together in a box or large pot to store in the basement and use as needed.

Carrots, beets, turnips, and winter radishes enjoy the protection of the earth. With a deep mulch of leaves or straw, they could remain tender and unfrozen all winter. More convenient for eating is to dig them up just before really frigid weather descends on the garden and pack them in boxes with dry leaves to store in the cool temperatures of the basement. I’m putting off deciding which option to choose.

Fresh Lettuce ‘Til When?

Someone recently told me that they gardened maniacally all summer and now they are finished for the season . . . which reminds me of some more things that I still have to do. Plant garlic. I planted cloves back in early September; a second planting, now, will give some indication if early or late planting is better. Mulch blueberries as soon as their leaves all drop. Sift compost and garden soil into buckets to store for making potting soil in late winter. Cut down asparagus plants after the tops yellow, and mulch the bed. Clean up spent vegetable beds of tomatoes, peppers, and eggplants and spread them with an inch depth of compost. Mow hayfield and lawn to expose rodents to predators and, in the hayfield, to keep blackberry, sumac, and autumn olive from taking over. Plant bulbs (a large, naturalized planting of alliums; more on that some other time).

Beds readied for spring, and lettuce readied for winter

I’d also like to divide older plants in a flower bed and dig out weeds that are starting to think they’re home. And build a rustic fence to hid the propane tank for the greenhouse.

I’m not yet ready to throw in the trowel for this season.

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