In My Kitchen Garden

Garden Journal 11/16/09: Fall Radish Harvest (Such as It Is)

2009-11-16T11:19:00.004-06:00

Yep, That's Pretty Much It

Realization of the Day:
I always seem to get massive cravings for whatever isn't growing in the garden.

This bizarre double specimen is a volunteer that popped up just outside the raised bed where I grew a bumper crop of French Breakfast radishes last spring (see photo below). A patch of beautifully colored Easter Egg radishes at the other end of the bed did really well, too. I scattered the seeds over a couple of square feet, and this worked out better than when I planted them in rows to delineate that bed of gourmet lettuce varieties two years ago (scroll down in that post to see the photos)—though it didn't look nearly as pretty.

I let several of the French Breakfast plants go to seed (I love those big fat radish pods), but just before the seeds were dry my well-meaning-but-slightly-maniacal mowing man (and all around handy and hunky farmguy who knows he has zero chance of being fired) unknowingly (I assume) zoomed over them with the brush mower.

Around Here We Encourage Growing Outside the Box

The rest of the nutrient-rich, yet bulbless, radish greens you see here will go to the foodie chickens—along with the volunteer kale which has literally been feeding them all year. Want to grow your own nutritient-packed green chicken food for nearly free? Simply sow a packet of kale seeds.

Back in August, I posted a recipe on Farmgirl Fare for this scrumptious Radish Cream Cheese Dip/Spread with Parsley, Scallions and Feta that I became addicted to about three bites into the first batch. (There's a photo of some of my Easter Egg radishes included in that post, too.) I'd planned to mention the recipe here at the same time, along with some radish growing tips, but that still has yet to happen, along with so many other things—including my fall radish planting.

French Breakfast Radishes Harvested on May 25th

Radishes aren't hard to cultivate, so you'll probably do fine without any help from me. What I can tell you is that every garden should have at least a few radishes in it. These fast growing, zippy little vegetables are ready to pick in about a month (making them a great crop for kids, especially since you get to yank them out of the ground) and are actually quite versatile in the kitchen. I love their crisp crunch and have always thought even the plain old ones were beautiful. You just have to remember one very important thing: be sure to actually plant your seeds!

I'm thinking of sowing a small patch of radish seeds this week in the greenhouse, along with some arugula (growing tips here) and cold-loving mache/corn salad, to see if I can get them to grow this late in the year (they thrive in cool, moist soil after all)—that is if I can find any available space in what has become a veritable Swiss chard jungle. Slightly scary but very edible. Jungle photos coming soon, along with yet another not-so-subtle-plea that you put Swiss chard on the mental seed order you know you're already working on.

In the meantime, I just might have to break down and buy some radishes from the grocery store because I've been craving this dip for months. With its cheerful red and green colors it would be a perfect—and healthy!—offering to have on hand during the upcoming holiday season.

You might also enjoy these other dips and spreads:
White Bean and Artichoke Dip with Rosemary, Romano, & Kalamatas
Chives and Herbed Yogurt Cheese
Sour Cream and Onion Dip (and Foodie Travel)
Ridiculously Easy White Bean Pesto Spread
Quick Refried Black Bean Dip
Salsa-Like Green Tomato Relish
Hot Swiss Chard Artichoke Dip

Do you grow radishes? Any favorite varieties, amusing stories, or growing tips? How do you like to eat them?

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the fast growing, time flying foodie farm blog where our motto is, It's never to late to plant something!

Garden Journal 10/31/09: Happy Halloween!

2009-10-31T21:22:00.000-05:00

Wild Persimmons and Autumn Color (catch more of it here)

I've never grown pumpkins (have you?), but this time of year the persimmon trees are full of tiny fruits that are the perfect shape and color—just a whole lot tinier. Unfortunately I think they taste like soap, but the sheep and donkeys—and even some of the dogs—are crazy about them and will literally stand under the trees waiting for more to fall. Best of all, the persimmons flourish year in and year out without any help from me.

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the fallen fruit foodie farm blog where we may not get any trick-or-treaters since we're several miles from the nearest neighbor, but at least there are always plenty of spooky bats and spiders.

Garden Journal 10/17/09: Widespread Frost Warning

2009-10-17T20:47:00.000-05:00

And This Isn't Even the Half of It

Realization of the Day:
Looks like it's time to make some of my Super Simple, No Sugar, Salsa-Like Green Tomato Relish!

So what do you like to do with green tomatoes?

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the fluffing up for winter and enjoying the warmth of wood heat foodie farm blog where our 'official' frost date is October 15th, so while tonight's prediction of 30° (and as much as 10° colder down here in our little valley if the skies are clear) isn't a big surprise, the first frost forecast always causes a bit of a stir—especially out in the garden.

Garden Journal 10/8/09: Growing Short Day Onion Varieties in Spring and Free Green Onions in Fall

2009-10-08T15:04:00.001-05:00

Fresh Scallions in October? No Problem—and No Effort!

Realization of the Day:
This is perfect green onion growing weather!

I've mentioned before how I love it when my inefficiency in the garden ends up rewarding me with food—and it's happened again. Back in early March, I planted seven of the nine varieties of onion plants that I ordered from Dixondale Farms. You'll find my previous post about these onion plants here, in which I admitted that up until this year, I had no idea that the size of an onion bulb is dependent upon daylength and temperature, not the size or age of the plants.

Because southern Missouri is on the edge of Dixondale's 'which varieties are right for you' map, I went ahead and ordered all three types of onions that they offer—Long Day, Intermediate Day, and Short Day—just to see how they fared, and also because there were no open-pollinated varieties of Intermediate Day onions (which are perfect for Missouri) available and I didn't want to grow just hybrids (which are usually not allowed in my garden!).

I ordered three kinds of Short Day onions: 1015 Texas Super Sweet, White Bermuda, and Southern Belle Red. According to Dixondale's map, Missouri isn't technically in the Short Day growing area, but here's what their description says:

Short Day onions start the bulbing process when the day length reaches 10-12 hours. Since they are planted in the south during the winter or early spring months, they take approximately 110 days to mature. When planted in northern states in late spring, they mature in just 75 days, but produce smaller bulbs. The earlier you plant them, the larger they get.

My 1015Y Texas Super Sweets did well (I'll share photos and write more about them in a future post), and while the White Bermudas didn't get very big, the reason I tried them is because not only is this an heirloom variety that's been grown by Dixondale since 1898, but the description says it's 'great for green onions as it produces a nice, white, large scallion in just 30 days.'

Unfortunately the Southern Belle Reds (another open-pollinated variety) didn't make it into the ground until several weeks (maybe even more than a month—I apparently forgot to take notes) after the original planting (and the Candys never did get planted). They formed tiny bulbs which were soon obliterated by weeds and forgotten until the other day when I realized they were sprouting.

I now have a beautiful little patch of fresh green onions to enjoy as the rest of the garden winds down (the purple basil you can see in the photo above is still flourishing three and a half months after the first harvest). Thanks again to the dozens of you who responded to my request last year for your favorite ways to enjoy green onions.

I was telling a gardening friend the other day about my volunteer green onions, and he said that if you leave a mature onion bulb in the ground, it will eventually form a brand new onion. This makes sense and doesn't. I'm guessing the original onion (from which these fall green onions are sprouting) rots and then regrows a whole new bulb? I may just have to leave some of these Southern Belle Reds in the ground and find out.

This was my first year growing onions from purchased plants, and I'm very happy with the results—especially considering I grew my biggest onions ever despite our wacky, inhospitable-to-growing-onions (and leeks—but that's a whole other blog post) spring weather. A friend who lives nearby said she usually harvests big, beautiful onions and had a pitiful crop this year, so I'm hoping for even bigger bounty in 2010.

How did your onions do this year? Any favorite varieties, growing tips, amusing stories, or recipes to share?

Previous onion posts:
6/2/09: Harvesting Spring Onions Grown from Purchased Plants
6/7/08: What To Do with 125 Green Onions (Scallions)
6/7/08: Wanted: Your Recipes and Favorite Ways to Use Green Onions
6/12/05: Growing Onions In The Garden
3/16/06: It's Time to Plant Onions!
4/4/06: Operation Onion Complete!
4/26/06: Companion Planting Beets & Lettuce with Onions

More ways to enjoy scallions and spring onions:
Sour Cream & Onion Dip
Savory Cheese & Scallion Scones
Fiesta Cottage Cheese Veggie Dip
Mexican Jumping Bean Slaw
Summer in a Bowl
Colors of Summer Salad
Healthy Swiss Chard Tuna Salad with Kalamata Olives
Swiss Chard Cabbage Salad with Garbanzo Beans and Cottage Cheese
Sprinkled on top of Hot Swiss Chard Artichoke Dip
Three Onion & Three Cheese Pizza

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the rainy day foodie farm blog where the hillsides have started changing to yellows, reds, and browns, but the garden is coming up green.

Garden Journal 9/23/09:Tomatoes! Freshly Picked Heirlooms (Mine) and Favorite Varieties to Grow (Mine and Yours)

2009-09-23T11:32:00.002-05:00

My Favorite Kind of Tomatoes—Ripe!

Realization of the Day:
2009 is not my Year of the Tomato.

It was supposed to be. In late winter (on time!) I started something like 30 different kinds of heirloom tomato seeds, most of which I'd never grown before, and with fabulous names like Egg Yolk, Mule Team, and Chocolate Vintage.

Things pretty much went downhill after that, though I'm finally harvesting a few various ripe tomatoes—some of which I can even identify. (Why do the plants that I meticulously label and make notes about usually seem to die?) I'm also already planning for next year—and I'm not the only one.

Back on September 3rd (where has this month gone?) a message arrived in my inbox from 'mother.' Since messages from my mother have her name on them, I figured it was spam—like all the ones that say they're from 'me.' But then I looked at the subject line: Help Us with the Top Tomato Varieties Survey. This wasn't spam, it was from Mother Earth News, specifically Cheryl Long, the Editor in Chief herself:

As a tomato grower and a blogger, we hope you will help us spread the word to gardeners who love great tomatoes. Mother Earth News invites you (and others!) to take our new Top Tomato Varieties online survey.

Our goal is to connect with lots of folks who are passionate about homegrown tomatoes, then combine everyone's tomato-growing experience and advice into an article for Mother Earth News, with emphasis on the best varieties for regional growing conditions.

I guess I'm not the only one who spaced the survey out, because fortunately it's still going on. It only takes about 10 minutes, and you can take it here. The findings will be presented in the February/March 2010 issue of Mother Earth News.

I'm really looking forward to reading the results, especially since regional growing conditions seem to make an especially huge difference with tomatoes—which so many of you confirmed in all the interesting and helpful 2009 tomato comments you left on this recent post (thanks so much!).

Ironically, the same day Cheryl's message arrived, I picked the cherry tomatoes in the photo above, which were volunteers growing in our grey water runoff ditch (where the water that drains out of our kitchen sink, bathroom sink, washing machine, and shower runs off into a ditch outside The Shack). They're sweet and tasty, and the plants don't mind being completely ignored, but they're no help to the survey because I don't have a clue what kind they are.

Below are some of my tried and true favorite heirloom tomato varieties I can name, all of which are not only full of flavor but also do well in our hot and humid summers and generally crazy Missouri climate. Varieties marked PT came from Pinetree Garden Seeds in Maine; BC are varieties ordered from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds here in Missouri (which also has a new retail store in Petaluma, California—my old stomping grounds!).

—San Marzano (my favorite red plum/paste tomato I've been growing for 14 years - PT)
—Orange Banana (a wonderful orange plum/paste tomato - BC)

—Gold Nugget (produces lots of 1-inch flavorful fruits that aren't prone to cracking - PT)
—Yellow Pear & Red Pear (I love these tiny pear shaped fruits with great yields; the red ones date back to the 1700s - PT)
—Yellow Currant & Red Currant (really tiny tomatoes - so cute! - that mature early and taste great - PT)

—Tappy's Heritage (large, globe shaped red tomatoes with good disease resistance and great yields - a bestseller at BC)
—Arkansas Traveler (beautiful pink tomato from Arkansas, tolerant to heat and humidity, crack and disease resistant - I wrote about them here - BC)
—Kellogg's Breakfast (extremely large, sunny orange beefsteak I wrote about here - PT)
—Thai Pink Egg (darling pink, 2-ounce, grape shaped tomatoes from Thailand did fabulous for me the first year, died of some strange disease the next while loaded with unripe fruit, but are definitely worth trying again)

So what are your favorite tomato varieties to grow? I hope you'll take a minute to share them here—after you've taken the survey of course!

Previous tomato posts:
—Links to all of my tomato recipes (at the bottom of the post)
—7/31/06: Growing Arkansas Traveler Tomatoes & How To Save Your Own Tomato Seeds
—8/9/06: Growing Kellogg's Breakfast Tomatoes and a Colors of Summer Salad with Tomatoes, Zucchini, Sweet Red Pepper, Beet Greens, Basil, & Garbanzos
—9/16/07: Kissing Summer Goodbye with the Easiest Greek Salad Ever
—6/2/08: Planting Tomatoes Later is Better than Never (I Think)
—9/4/08: How To Freeze Tomatoes the Really Easy Way (and Why I Don't Do Much Canning Anymore) (lots of great comments from other gardeners here)
—10/12/08: Growing Tomatoes: How Many Plants Do You Need and What To Do If You End Up with Too Many Tomatoes—Make Easy & Delicious Homemade Tomato Juice! (lots of great comments here, too)

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the small, round, and juicy foodie farm blog where it's nice to have tried and true tomato favorites, but it's even nicer knowing that despite all the past years of experimenting, there are still hundreds of varieties of heirloom tomatoes just waiting to be grown in my garden.

Quick and Easy Gardening Tip:How To Grow Bigger Strawberries Next Year

2009-09-07T21:16:00.003-05:00

A Berry Sweet Breakfast Harvested Back on May 19th

Realization of the Day:
It's somehow September!

If you're a seasonal eater in the northern hemisphere, apples and pears are probably the fruits in the forefront of your mind right now, but if you're also a gardener, it's time for you to be thinking about strawberries. Next year's harvest may be many months away, but berry size is actually determined now.

Strawberry Blossoms full of Juicy Promise on April 21st (and a cute little inchworm)

When I moved to Missouri and started gardening on a much larger scale than I had been in my itty bitty Northern California backyard, one of the books I turned to time and time again (this was back in the archaic pre-google days) was Rodale's Illustrated Encyclopedia of Chemical-Free Gardening and Landscaping Techniques. Since I was pretty much clueless, this book was a tremendous help.

While The Vegetable Gardener's Bible has long been the first book I now grab when I have veggie growing questions (I highly recommend this wonderful publication for gardeners of all levels—you can read my review of it here), I still often find myself flipping through the pages of Rodale's Encyclopedia because it's full of the kinds of helpful tips I just don't find anywhere else. I mean, discovering this simple secret to growing bigger strawberries was in itself worth the price of the book (which, as of right now, is as low as $1.50 at amazon.)

Growing Green on May 13th

Here's what a little sidebar I found in Rodale's Encyclopedia called 'Strawberry Futures' says:
If the growing conditions are favorable in August and September, you should have large berries the next season. But if conditions are less than favorable, your fruit will probably turn out to be small.

Now they don't actually explain what those 'favorable' growing conditions are, and it isn't as if could change the weather even if we knew what we wanted it to do, but the next paragraph says:

Researchers have also discovered that a few days of rain in the fall can mean the difference between a bountiful crop and a mediocre harvest several months later. So if it looks like a dry fall, make time to water your strawberry bed thoroughly at least twice before the end of September.

My Bed of Cavendish Strawberries on August 23rd (read more about them here)

Between the couple of good waterings I miraculously remembered to give my 4'x8' raised strawberry bed back in August and the 2½ unexpected—and much appreciated—inches of rain we got last Friday, I should be set, even if I space out the strawberries for the rest of the month (which is quite likely to happen).

So if you haven't had a good rain lately and you're anywhere near as scatterbrained as I am, stop reading this and go give your strawberry plants a nice long soak right now. You can thank me for those big beautiful berries come spring—if you remember, that is.

Here are links to my previous posts about growing strawberries, including one that explains how to prepare your strawberry bed for winter (because after watering now, we're not yet done for the year):
6/5/05: Strawberries from Garden to Kitchen
5/21/06: A Beautiful Breakfast!
5/27/06: Me, Cary, & Bear vs. The Turtles
10/28/07: Growing Strawberries & Preparing Your Bed for Winter
5/28/08: Successfully Growing Strawberries
7/20/08: Strawberries in the Garden & an Orange Yogurt Cake Recipe in the Kitchen

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the fruity foodie farm blog where those gigantic commercial strawberries may be bred for size with no regard whatsoever to taste, but that doesn't mean we home gardeners can't strive for slightly larger yet still incredibly flavorful berries. With a little timely watering, our strawberry harvests can have it all.

Garden Journal 8/23/09:The First Tomato of the Year Is Finally Ripe!

2009-08-23T14:26:00.007-05:00

Swaddled in a Bed of Fresh Basil (the biggest success in the garden this year)

Realization of the Day:
It's always a good idea to download your photo and check to see if it's in focus before gobbling up the subject in a fit of uncontrollable excitement.

When I was growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area suburbs, our neighbor across the street always planted a big backyard vegetable garden, which we were sometimes called upon to water while he and his family took their summer vacation. A few years ago my foodie mom (aka Queen of the 100% Whole Grain Bran Muffins) and I were talking about ripening tomatoes in the garden, and she said, "Well you know what Mr. C. always used to say, don't you? That his first tomatoes were always ripe on August 1st. 'It doesn't matter when I plant them, it's always August 1st,' he'd tell me. 'I can plant my tomatoes on the last day of July, and I'll still have ripe tomatoes on August 1st.'" This cracked me up.

The 20th of August is definitely a ripe tomato record for me—I've never had to wait this long, and for just one tomato at that. And I thought last year's handful of ripe cherry tomatoes picked on August 17th was pathetic. But considering that my sorry little seedlings didn't go into the ground until June 17th, it's really not that bad.

I can't remember what variety this is (why does it seem like I make the most detailed notes about the plants that end up dying?), but I do know it's my favorite kind—ready to eat. Of course it was delicious.

For various reasons, most of my tomato plants have not been doing all that well, but I do have quite a few green tomatoes in various shapes and sizes out on the vines. Despite it being the end of August (and a blissfully invigorating 50 degrees this morning!), I'm hopeful; last summer I was harvesting ripe tomatoes into October.

Strange spring and summer weather has meant a bad year for both commercial and backyard tomato crops across the country, and then there are all the plants decimated by blight. My friend Jen at FarmAid (a fabulous organization whose annual fundraising concert is being held in St. Louis this year!) told me last month that her CSA farm was getting ready to pull up 4,000 tomato plants because of blight. Closer to home, my Amish neighbor said his first early tomato planting basically flooded from all our spring rain (which was very nice in some ways but terrible in others). Fortunately his later plantings did better (though not nearly as well as last year), and I've been getting my ripe tomato fix from his front yard produce stand.

Fast Farm Summer Food—Perfect for Breakfast, Lunch, or Dinner

One of my favorite ways to celebrate summer's tomato bounty is by making BLTs. We had the first ones of the season for dinner last week (on freshly baked Farmhouse White of course), and they were so good we had them again for dinner the next night. I've always loved cream cheese and tomato sandwiches, which I ate on toasted English muffins when I was a kid and on homemade crusty baguettes now. The best cream cheese and tomato sandwiches I've ever eaten were the little ones I made with Italian Olive Cheek Rolls from Daniel Leader's wonderful book, Local Breads, but the open-faced sandwich pictured above on toasted slices of Honey Bran Whole Wheat was pretty darn wonderful, too.

So how are your tomatoes doing this year? Any new favorites? What about failures? And don't forget to tell us where you're located!

Do you have an abundance of ripe tomatoes in your garden? (Oh, I remember those years well!) Here are some of my most popular tomato recipes you might enjoy:
Homemade Tomato Vegetable Juice
Quick & Easy Gazpacho
Fresh Tomato Pizza Sauce
Fiesta Cottage Cheese Veggie Dip (and Factory Tours)
Savory Tomato Pesto Pie with an Easy Biscuit Crust
Fresh Tomato & Basil Whole Wheat Sourdough Bread
Tomato Pesto Pizza, My Basil Pesto Recipe, & A Simple Tomato Salad
Three No-Cook Summer Recipes: Mexican Jumping Bean Slaw, Easy Vegetarian Tacos, & High Kickin' Tomato Dressing
Cream Cheese & Tomato Sandwiches On Italian Black Olive Cheeks
The Easiest Greek Salad Ever
My Seven Second Tomato Glut Solution
Saving the Harvest with No Sugar Green Tomato Relish
How to Freeze Tomatoes the Really Easy Way

© 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the slowly ripening foodie farm blog where anticipation doesn't just apply to ketchup.

Garden Journal 8/14/09: Relaxing Retro Style in the Garden and Cooking It Up in the Kitchen

2009-08-14T17:51:00.002-05:00

At Least Farm Boss Patchy Cat Hasn't Taken Over My New Chair Yet

Realization of the Day:
It's the weekend! Time to sit back and ignore the work and the weeds.

In between hanging out in my fun new chair this weekend (even though we technically don't have weekends on the farm, since Saturday and Sunday are just the same as any other day to the animals), I'm planning to start some brussels sprouts seeds in containers (I've never grown them before—it might be too late for a fall crop, might not, we'll see) and finally put some poor neglected thyme plants I bought last spring into pots. And there's a ton of weeding to do of course. Oh how the weeds have thrived with the (otherwise) wonderful rain we've had this year.

There's not a whole lot to be harvested in the garden right now, but I need to get out there and pick lots and lots of green and purple basil (leaving the snipped plants in the ground so they'll reward me with another harvest or two, like I demonstrated in this post) for my favorite lowfat but still delicious basil pesto which I'll freeze so we can enjoy it all winter long.

Tomorrow night we'll be celebrating summer with the first BLTs of the season—thanks to the juicy heirloom tomatoes I bought from our Amish neighbors, since I don't have a single ripe tomato yet!—on toasted slices of freshly baked Farmhouse White Bread. I see a pesto pizza with fresh tomatoes in our near future, too.

There's some beautiful Swiss chard still growing in the greenhouse (along with several tiny volunteer seedlings—it's so easy to grow Swiss chard from seed) and a couple small heads of cabbage from my Amish vegetable connection in the fridge, so hopefully there will be time to mix up some Swiss Chard Tuna Salad, Swiss Chard Cabbage Salad with Garbanzo Beans, Broccoli Stems & Cottage Cheese, and/or a platter of Mexican Jumping Bean Slaw Tacos with High Kickin' Creamy Tomato Dressing.

And for dessert? If I don't get around to baking the Just Peachy version (Missouri peaches are here!) of my Easier than They Look Blueberry Breakfast Bars I've been craving (both fresh and frozen blueberries work great for these), there's always that hunk of Orange Yogurt Loaf Cake I found hiding in the freezer the other day.

I think I'd better move my retro relaxing chair into the kitchen!

What are you eating—or preserving—from the garden, farmers' market, or your CSA box this weekend?

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the the surrounded by vintage treasures indoors and out foodie farm blog where I've always adored these classic motel chairs and was thrilled to score this new version—in one of my favorite colors—for the beat up and battered display model price of just ten bucks.

Garden Photo Journal: Wordless Wednesday

2009-08-05T20:39:00.003-05:00

Garden Journal 7/28/09:Growing and Loving Surprise Lilies (aka Naked Ladies, Magic Lilies, Spider Lilies, and at Least Nine Other Names)

2009-07-29T09:00:00.006-05:00

This Old Time Favorite Requires Virtually No Care (more photos here)

Realization of the Day:
It's hard to imagine a more beautiful flower that is so easy to grow.

That is actually what the informative site Floridata says about surprise lilies, which pretty much sums them up for me. But if you'd like to know a little more about these robust and vigorous (and so pretty!) plants, here's some information.

Surprise Lilies go by many other names, including Naked Lady (because the trumpet shaped flowers bloom atop 2-foot tall naked stems), Nekkid Lady, Magic Lily (because the flowers seem to pop out of the ground like magic), Spider Lily, Mystery Lily, Resurrection Lily, Hardy Amaryllis, Guernsey Lily, Autumn Lycoris, Hurricane Lady, Pink Lady, and Pink Flamingo Flowers.

Since this is my tenth summer on the farm and I'm still surprised each year when our one clump of them pops up next to the front yard fence, I always think of them surprise lilies. And what a nice surprise they are.

A member of the amaryllis family, surprise lilies have been cultivated for centuries in their native Japan. They were first introduced to American gardeners around 1880, and the most well known variety here—which is what I have—is the pink surprise lily, Lycoris squamigera.

The daffodil-like leaves emerge in late winter or early spring and then wither and die away. The plants go dormant (and need no water) until the flowers emerge in mid-summer (hence the 'surprise'), which allows them to survive prolonged periods of summer drought.

These Leaves Are Actually Other Plants Which Conveniently Cover the Nakedness

I've always been partial to plants that will 'persist for years once established.' Surprise lilies are hardy to USDA Zones 5-10 and require virtually no care. I remember the first time I saw them blooming in long rows along an old highway in Sonoma County, California. They do well in full sun, part shade, and even heavy shade and will thrive in both sandy and heavy clay soils.

The blooms are long lasting and make good cut flowers. The plants are mildly toxic, which may be part of the reason they're touted as deer resistant, though when Cary was a baby she made a beeline straight for the blooms and survived just fine. Other than her, I've never noticed any pests or insects bothering my plants.

Surprise lilies produce large bulbs (about 2 inches across) that multiply quickly and can be divided every 3 to 5 years. Buy bulbs in spring and fall or beg some from a friend's garden. I've never divided mine, but I probably should try it, especially since I wouldn't mind expanding my little patch.

Dig up the bulbs in spring—when it's easy to see the yellowing leaves—or after the blooms fade in August or September. Plant your bulbs in clusters as soon as possible after digging them up, 1 to 7 inches deep (the colder your climate, the deeper you'll want to plant) anywhere you'd like a showy summer display. If you don't mind a few wilting leaves, you can even plant them under the sod in your lawn, mowing around the stalks when they bloom.

Your surprise lilies may not flower for the first two years, and depending on weather conditions, they may not flower every subsequent year (which means a 'surprise' for you when they do). One source I found said the closer you plant the bulbs, the sooner they'll bloom, which may be why they make good potted plants.

Do you have surprise lilies in your garden? Any growing tips, info to add, or other nicknames to share?

Previously posted surprise lily photos:
8/4/05: Surprise Lilies Are Also Known as Naked Ladies
7/31/06: Surprise Lilies Attacked!
8/2/06: Surprise! Cary Didn't Eat All the Lilies
7/28/09: There Are Naked Ladies in My Front Yard!

Information sources: Floridata, University of Arkansas Cooperative Extension Service, Wisconsin Master Gardener Program.

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the flowering foodie farm blog where we're thankful for the previous gardener here whose meager plantings of various hardy bulbs decades ago (like the irises and those beloved daffodils that just keep spreading) are still providing so much beauty and joy.

Garden Journal 7/24/09: How To Beat the Summer Heat

2009-07-24T23:12:00.001-05:00

You Simply Sleep Through It

Realization of the Day:
At least somebody's getting some use out of my potting bench this time of year.

I hope you have a very relaxing weekend!

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the siesta taking foodie farm blog where the one advantage to living in an area that's constantly being deforested is that you can often buy rough cut lumber from local sawmills for a ridiculously low price—but after several years it starts to reach warp factor six. I don't consider this a problem—more like an excuse to build a whole new potting shed where I'll be able to not only do my dirty work but display some of my vintage garden treasures (photos of them hopefully up soon) as well. If nothing else, it's something to dream about during those siestas.

Garden Journal 7/21/09: Mixed Emotions(and Growing Lemon Cucumbers from Seed)

2009-07-21T15:35:00.003-05:00

Happy Dog and Sad Lemon Cucumber Plants

Realization of the Day:
The August mindset I've had since mid-June is going to have me very disappointed—and very hungry—once August actually arrives.

I don't know about you, but usually by the time August rolls around, my main concern in the garden is to simply keep whatever is still out there alive. It's too late to plant any of the poor spring seedlings that might be still hanging around, too hot to start fall crops yet, and pulling weeds in the ridiculous heat and humidity borders on insane. Watering is the main priority.

But if your August weather arrives a month and a half early, things can get really screwed up. Just before our heat wave struck, I put 15 heirloom tomato seedlings into a dandy new, sheep manure-filled plot I'd created especially for them. And after eight of them fried and died within days, transplanting any more of the several dozen other seedlings that still needed to go into the ground seemed like a waste of time and sweat.

I also neglected to direct seed all the warm weather veggies I never got around to starting in containers, like summer squash, winter squash, cantaloupe, and cucumbers. Just totally spaced them out. Obviously I was suffering from heat-induced brain damage, although, in my defense, we were also in the middle of putting up hay, a grueling task that takes priority over everything. (It also happened to be our worst haying season ever, as far as things going wrong were concerned, but with 744 bales of hay now neatly stacked in the barn for next winter, we've almost forgotten all the frustration and pain.)

I'm going to have to do without homegrown squash and melons this year (thank goodness for Amish garden overflow), but things are looking up in the cucumber department. I discovered these volunteer lemon cucumber vines while ruthlessly tearing out a depressing raised bed of disappointing broccoli, insect-ravaged beets, and amazingly healthy weeds.

I've been doing really well implementing my new gardening rule, and at first I was tempted to yank these sad little plants—complete with sad looking little stunted cucumbers—out. Then I remembered my otherwise cucumberless state and decided that with some sunlight and sheep manure, they might begin to flourish. If not, out they'll go.

I first came across lemon cucumbers at the Santa Rosa, California farmers' market almost 20 years ago, and I've been in love with them ever since. I asked the same question about them that everybody asks, Do they taste like lemons? No, they look like lemons. They taste like cucumbers, mild yet wonderfully flavorful. They also do really well for me here in Missouri and love to volunteer.

The Pinetree Garden Seeds catalog (from whom I've purchased lemon cucumber seeds) says this of lemon cucumbers:

Originated in 1894. The 3-inch fruits are round, pale yellow in color, with a white flesh that is easily digested and never bitter. Yields are most abundant [this is an understatement]. Also called crystal apple, the plant is drought resistant.

And the Johnny's Selected Seeds catalog says:

Small, rounded, pale yellow cucumbers. Pick at 1½—2½" diameter. This versatile cucumber is sweet and flavorful, and doesn't have much of the chemical that makes other cucumbers bitter and hard to digest. Though it's often served raw, it's also a good pickling cucumber. Specialty market salad item. NOTE: Very late to begin bearing.

Baby lemon cucumbers start out nearly white and turn progressively yellower. Pick them when they're still light yellow, like these. To save seeds from your best specimens, leave them on the vine until the fruits mature—they'll be big with dark orange skin.

I usually eat my lemon cucumbers raw (you can use them in place of regular cucumbers in nearly any recipe), but I'm thinking they would make really good refrigerator pickles. Hopefully I'll harvest enough this year to make some.

And since lemon cucumbers only take 65 days to mature, I figure I'll go ahead and sow some seeds next to these plants. The August harvest is going to be pretty sparse, but we just might make up for it in September.

Ways I like to eat lemon cucumbers:
—Sliced and dipped into Herbed Yogurt Cheese
—In the Easiest Greek Salad Ever
—Tucked into Homemade Pitas with onions, tomatoes, & ground lamb
—With Grilled Lamb Burgers with Garlic and Feta on Rosemary Focaccia
—Alongside Greek Style Slow Roasted Leg of Lamb with Oregano & Lemon
—Blended up in a refreshing batch of Gazpacho (cold vegetable soup)

Are you a lemon cucumber lover? Got any growing tips, stories, or favorite ways to enjoy them?

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the self-seeding foodie farm blog where thankfully the temperatures have finally dropped (to below normal even!) and a big, beautiful storm has spent the day showering us with a couple inches of very much appreciated rain. Everything (and everybody) is perking up—and I've actually been getting stuff planted!

Garden Journal 7/11/09:Clearing Out & Giving Up (In a Good Way)

2009-07-11T17:02:00.007-05:00

It's into the Compost Bin for these Tomato Plants (minus the containers of course)

Realization of the Day:
I've been on a cleaning and decluttering rampage lately, and my latest target is the garden.

The depths of the chest freezers (buried homemade basil pesto from 2002, vacuum sealed green beans from 2003), the refrigerator crisper drawers (what is that in there?), the musty tubs of forgotten clothes (shirts that have always been uncomfortable, sailing shorts Joe hasn't worn since he left Florida 20 years ago), the dusty piles of three-year-old yet still unread magazines, the dozens of saved jam jars I'm never going to use—nothing is safe from my much needed wrath. I'm even working on organizing my cramped and collectible-filled little studio office.

As for the garden—in all of its unplanted, heat stroked, and insect-ravaged weediness—I have a new rule I've started implementing with a gloved iron fist:

If looking at it only depresses/frustrates/irritates you, then it's time to rip it up or toss it out.

The pathetic tomato plants in the photo above are in the compost pile, along with some other seedlings that I know will never grow well even if I do get them into the ground soon. The decision was made easier once something (I think an elusive tomato hornworm) ate them down to practically nothing.

In this 4'x8' raised bed are my second (very late) broccoli planting (seeds started in containers), four rows of Maxibel and Masai haricots verts bush beans, a few dozen kohlrabi plants, a volunteer dill plant, and weeds. The first harvest of beans is over (I picked about 2 pounds), and I've finally come to realize that whatever matures after that initial crop is usually disappointing, especially in July and August. So out they go. It feels so liberating!

The Di Cicco broccoli plants—a new to me Italian variety that's supposed to produce an abundance of small to medium heads—offered up a few florets but already seem to have petered out. Joe suggested I leave them in the ground in case they took off and started producing again once it cooled down. Sorry, new rule in effect. I am leaving the first planting—which did slightly better—in the ground for now (except for the scrawniest plants I already gave to the chickens), but I have a feeling they won't be there long.

I couldn't get myself to yank out the kohlrabi just yet, even though only three of the plants have put on bulbs (which might be enough for a small batch of my beloved kohlrabi purée), and the others aren't likely to in this heat. Same story, different season, though this time I started my seeds in containers and transplanted them into the garden rather than direct seeding, making sure to plant them a little deeper in the ground than they were in the pot, as per instructions from my gardening guru girlfriend (and kick-ass kohlrabi grower) Cynthia at Love Apple Farm.

Unfortunately I think it may have simply been too hot for the bulbs to form. I still haven't given up on kohlrabi completely (I love that purée too much). I'm thinking I might try starting seeds for a fall crop, but not until it cools down for good.

I'm not sure why I decided to tackle this bed clearing project in the middle of a 90 something degree day, especially since I'd already spent a good half hour out there weeding other beds (and cleaning out the fridge is a much cooler job), but it really only took about 20 minutes, provided me with a huge green lunch for our foodie chickens (you can read more about what else they eat in the comments section of this post), and looks so much better.

For a lifelong packrat who lives on a farm that's miles away from everything, doesn't have garbage pickup, and always seems to need something two days after finally tossing it out, this is definite progress—and it feels great.

Are you good at giving up and weeding out all the useless and/or depressing stuff from your garden?

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the still pretty cluttered foodie farm blog where it would be a lot easier to keep all the flat surfaces clear and everything neat and orderly if we didn't have so many interests and hobbies (not to mention a passion for books)—but where would be the joy in that?

Garden Journal 7/10/09: Designer Pollinators

2009-07-10T17:30:00.002-05:00

Is This a Best Dressed Bug or What?

Realization of the Day:
It's Fashion Week in the garden.

I'll admit it. I'm a sucker for cool looking insects, especially if they aren't decimating any of my plants—and sometimes even when they are. Since these little beauties so far appear content to spend their time pollinating the showy display of leek blossoms (which is a whole other very disappointing story I'll hopefully get around to writing about one of these days), I'm content to simply gaze at them in open admiration.

I remember seeing some of these winged insects last year for the first time (lots of new and bizarre—and sometimes very unwelcome—things have been happening during our past two wetter-than-usual springs), and I don't recall them doing any noticeable damage.

That pattern reminds me of vintage fabric or wallpaper. And check out those subtly coordinated legs.

Then there's that underbelly! It's like a suit and matching jacket. So chic. The star of Fashion Week is definitely Mother Nature.

Anybody else into cute bugs—or know what kind this one is?

I'm slightly obsessed with pollinators in general (adorable or not):
4/10/06: Look What Landed At My Feet
5/11/06: Butterfly Conference
5/11/06: My Good Deed For The Day
6/22/06: Farms Depend On Pollinators
6/23/06: You Can't Have Too Many Pollinators Around
6/24/06: Butterflies & Sheep & I Love Spiderwort
6/28/06: Butterfly Paradise
6/29/06: Obsessed With Bunnies & Butterflies
7/08/06: The Stuff Of Life
7/16/06: Butterfly Bonanza
8/26/06: Butterfly Photos Are Better Than Nothing
8/14/07: Joint Pollination Task Force
9/11/07: Welcoming Autumn with Open Arms
9/27/07: The Squash Blossom Butterfly
1/1/08: Fortunately All Flowers Look Perfect to Pollinators
5/8/08: Luna Moth Love (and an amazing butterfly book)
7/6/08: Abuzz with Activity
7/8/08: Winged Spectacular
3/31/09: Flash of Butterfly Brilliance
6/10/09: A Lovely Luna Moth

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the unfashionista foodie farm blog where my usual outfit of choice is overalls, a ratty shirt, and workboots. Thankfully the other creatures around here make up for my serious lack of style.

Garden Journal 7/4/09: Fireworks in the Front Yard

2009-07-04T21:26:00.003-05:00

Or Maybe It's Just a Fiery Burst of Beautiful Color—But Definitely a Celebration Nonetheless

Here's hoping you had a glorious Fourth of July!

Did you do anything in the garden over the holiday weekend? Or, more importantly, did you eat anything from the garden? I harvested the garlic (and about 40 pounds of weeds) earlier today, tried to make it rain by continuing to water the garden as a few drops started to fall (didn't work), and then enjoyed a fabulous dinner of grilled pork ribs smothered in homemade bbq sauce (from the locally raised hog we had butchered last year) with a side of freshly dug new red potatoes that were simply boiled up and tossed with lots of salt and butter. Insanely good.

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the happy we're done with haying this year foodie farm blog where the difference between regular old tuna salad and the best tuna you've ever eaten can be nothing more than a handful of homegrown chopped purple onion and fresh chives—and if you're eating at 10pm after having spent all day bringing in and stacking 300 bales of hay, it tastes all that much better. Hooray for edible gardens—and being done with haying!

Garden Journal 6/27/09:Digging Up an Early Red Potato Harvest

2009-06-27T19:22:00.003-05:00

Volunteer New Potatoes and a Few 'Test' Heads of Garlic

Realization of the Day:
Gardening must be one of the few things where your ineffeciency will sometimes end up rewarding you.

Of course that's not always the case—like when you never get around to mulching something and get a bumper crop of weeds that's twice as tall as what you're trying to grow (been there, still doing that).

But today some of my carelessness out there paid off in the form of the beautiful little red bounty you see above. Apparently I missed a few potatoes when I was digging the last of them in the fall, and when they started sprouting up come spring I decided to leave them—even though they were growing in the middle of what was now my garlic bed. I figured they would be growing deeper than the shallow rooted garlic and probably wouldn't bother it.

My 'real' potato planting (which I'll be writing about in a future post) didn't happen until May 12th (I always plant my potatoes much later than anybody else around here), so this early harvest—which I'll simply scrub clean, cut into chunks, boil until tender, and toss with organic butter and a sprinkling of salt—is especially welcome.

There are only enough potatoes for a small serving each, but for the amount of effort involved—which was zero, unless you count the three minutes it took to dig them up—I'll gladly take it. I bet they'll taste wonderful alongside a couple of homegrown grilled lamb leg steaks, some of the green beans I picked yesterday (more about these in an upcoming post, too), and maybe a warmed up hunk of Four Hour Parisian Baguette from the freezer.

The garlic, on the other hand, is a different story. It should have been planted back in the fall, but for some now unfathomable reason I didn't get it into the ground until February—and have the disappointingly small bulbs to prove it. I went ahead and planted it so late because I figured whatever I ended up with would be better than nothing. This is when your inefficiency becomes experimenting.

Has your lack of attention (or downright laziness) ever paid off in the garden?

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the spud loving foodie farm blog where sometimes it seems like the volunteer plants (like this beautiful basil and these sprawling lemon cucumber vines, which are only two of many) provide nearly as much bounty as the cultivated ones—thank goodness.

Garden Journal 6/24/09: My Favorite Easy To Grow, No Maintenance, Heat Loving, Drought Tolerant, Long Blooming Flowering Perennial? Echinacea!

2009-06-24T16:41:00.004-05:00

Echinacea Purpurea, Also Known as Purple Coneflower (despite its pink flowers)

Realization of the Day:
If basil declares that summer has arrived in the vegetable garden, then cheerful echinacea shouts it out from the flower bed.

Summer is here—in a hot, humid, stripped down, and extremely sweat-drenched way. It's already been in the 90s for over a week, and there's no end (and no rain) in sight. It just keeps getting hotter. The heat index is supposed to get up to 108 on Saturday, but our thermometer in the backyard (yes, I stupidly looked) says it's already there. It feels as if we went from the middle of June to the middle of August overnight.

We really need to be putting up the hay (which will feed the sheep and donkeys next winter), but it's simply way too hot to do that kind of strenuous work—we'd never survive. It's too hot to do pretty much anything outdoors, though you wouldn't know it from looking at the echinacea.

There are several species of echinacea, but echinacea purpurea—purple coneflower—is the most common and probably the easiest to establish in the garden. I originally started some from seed years ago at Windridge, and then dug up and brought a few of those plants with me when I moved to this farm nine years ago. I also started some echinacea angustifolia—narrow leaf coneflower—plants, but they didn't make the move.

The seeds were pretty easy to start, but you can also find echinacea seedlings for sale at nurseries and garden centers. If you have a friend or neighbor who has some growing, ask them if they'll share.

Echinacea is everything I claimed in the title of this post and then some. It was supposed to say Self Seeding, Pollinator Attracting, Poor Soil Loving, Insect Resistant, Cold Tolerant, Pretty Much Impossible to Kill as well, but blogger said the title was too long.

I've found that the less I pay attention to my echinacea, the more it flourishes, though I'm sure it would probably go crazy if I fertilized it with a little sheep manure. You'll find sweeping roadside displays of wild echinacea blooming along Missouri highways, often growing out of what looks like solid rock.

My echinacea—which conveniently starts to flower just as my beloved spiderwort is petering out—blooms all summer long and doesn't require deadheading. And if you never get around to cutting off the seedheads in fall, they'll simply drop to the ground and start sprouting up on their own come spring, while the dead flower stalks fall over or are buried in the lush new growth of old and new plants.

Echinacea also happens to be one of the most popular medicinal herbs in America. Here's an excerpt from an article by the University of Maryland Medical Center:

Results of archeological digs indicate that Native Americans may have used echinacea for more than 400 years to treat infections and wounds and as a general "cure-all." Throughout history people have used echinacea to treat scarlet fever, syphilis, malaria, blood poisoning, and diphtheria.

Today, people use echinacea to shorten the duration of the common cold and flu and reduce symptoms, such as sore throat (pharyngitis), cough, and fever. Many herbalists also recommend echinacea to help boost the immune system and help the body fight infections.

Several laboratory and animal studies suggest that echinacea contains active substances that enhance the activity of the immune system, relieve pain, reduce inflammation, and have hormonal, antiviral, and antioxidant effects. For this reason, professional herbalists may recommend echinacea to treat urinary tract infections, vaginal yeast (candida) infections, ear infections (also known as otitis media), athlete's foot, sinusitis, hay fever (also called allergic rhinitis), as well as slow-healing wounds.

On top of all that, it's beautiful, especially since the flowers look different at every stage. If you're looking for a winning perennial in the garden, I highly recommend echinacea.

Is there echinacea growing in your garden?

Previous purple coneflower posts (Did I mention it's a joy to photograph?):
8/23/05: Hardy Echinacea Blooms All Summer Long
6/20/06: Preparing to Burst into Color
7/16/06: Butterfly Bonanza
8/26/06: Butterfly Photos are Better than Nothing
6/28/06: Butterfly Paradise
7/8/06: The Stuff of Life
11/25/06: The Easiest Way to Store Seeds
6/25/07: Echinacea by the Cat Cabin
8/14/07: Echinacea Visitors
7/6/08: Been Busy
7/8/08: Winged Spectacular (one of my favorite photos)

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the hot stuff foodie farm blog where the donkeys (and the rest of us) may be wilting, but the first green beans are ready!

Garden Journal 6/20/09:Harvesting the First Green & Purple Basil of the Season (And the Best Ways to Store Your Fresh Basil)

2009-06-20T17:05:00.006-05:00

It's Almost Too Pretty to Eat

Realization of the Day:
Freshly picked basil always feels like summer.

It's the longest day of the year today, and it's also the hottest—90 degrees in the shade (which is why I'm hiding in my little office with a fan blasting on me, writing about gardening instead of actually doing it). But even without the calendar and thermometer, I'd know that summer is about to begin because the fresh basil is ready.

I ordered all sorts of different kinds of basil seeds this year, and then I ended up buying some plants instead. This purple variety is Red Rubin, which the Johnny's Select Seeds catalog says is a "vigorous Italian large leaf type with high yields and great flavor. Flat, 3" long leaves stand out horizontally, and are a copper-tinged purple color. Height 18"—24" and 76 days to harvest."

I'm pretty sure this is the mystery purple variety I grew last year that made such incredible pesto. The plants look similar, and many of the leaves have the same pretty green outline along the edges.

The green basil was grown and sold by a local gardener at the natural foods store in town. It was simply labeled 'sweet basil,' but at $2.00 for six healthy little plants I wasn't about to pass it up just because I have no idea what kind it is.

While Genovese basil is a favorite and dependable Italian variety for pestos, I prefer the Italian Large Leaf, which has a sweeter and less clove-like flavor. The tiny leaves of lemon and lime basil smell wonderful, and are a nice change from the norm, though I admit to never using them to their full potential.

One year I grew bush basil, and I ended up with about 20 adorable and perfectly shaped little mounds that made me think of hedgehogs. They do well in pots and a closely planted row of them would make a beautiful edging along a pathway or herb bed.

Since it's going to be a long, long time before I have any tomatoes in the garden (especially since five of my most recently transplanted seedlings fried up and died yesterday), I'll probably just turn this basil into my favorite pesto. Tonight we're grilling homegrown beef burgers that we'll serve on hunks of Four Hour Parisian Daily Baguettes (I love this easy bread!), and I'm thinking a pesto burger—smothered with a thick slice of fresh mozzarella perhaps—would be very nice. Or maybe I should wait for the tomatoes.

I actually picked this basil back on Wednesday, but after 72 hours in the refrigerator it still looks perfectly fresh. I rinsed the leaves under water and put them in a plastic bag with a paper towel. The paper towel will soak up extra moisture and keep the leaves from rotting while maintaining a high level of humidity in the bag. I gently pressed most of the air out of the bag and sealed it with a clothespin.

Some people claim that fresh basil will quickly rot in the refrigerator if the leaves aren't perfectly dry, but I find they do better when left a little damp. And as with lettuce and other greens, wilted basil leaves won't perk up in the refrigerator—you need to refresh them in a quick cold water bath first.

The best way to store fresh basil is of course to leave it on the plant until just before you're ready to use it. Harvesting often can actually benefit the plant since, as my gardening girlfriend Cynthia Sandberg at Love Apple Farm explains in this informative post, pinching your basil plants is the key to success.

One of our butcher lamb customers is an avid gardener, and she likes to keep a big bunch of basil in a pitcher of water on her kitchen counter. She says it lasts for quite a while that way, and sometimes the stems will even send out roots, creating new plants that can go back in the garden. I really need to try this.

Are you harvesting any basil yet? What are your favorite varieties—and what do you like to do with them?

Related posts:
9/21/06: How To Keep Your Basil Growing Into Fall
6/25/06: Beautiful Basil Seedlings in the Greenhouse
7/25/06: Volunteer Basil in the Kitchen Garden
8/10/06: Basil Gone Wild - and Happy Pollinators

Other Farmgirl Fare basil recipes and appetizers you might enjoy:
—Purple Basil Pesto and the Easiest White Bean Dip/Spread Recipe Ever
—Savory Tomato Pesto Pie with a No-Fail Biscuit Crust
—Fresh Tomato Pesto Pizza & A Simple Tomato Salad
—Fresh Tomato & Basil Whole Wheat Sourdough Bread
—Simple Fresh Tomato Pizza Sauce (no blanching required)
—The Easiest Greek Salad Ever
—Colors of Summer Salad with Fresh Basil
—Summer in a Bowl with Fresh Basil
—Fiesta Cottage Cheese Veggie Dip
—Hot Swiss Chard Artichoke Dip
—How To Make Arugula Pesto & What To Do with It
—All About Chives & How To Make Herbed Yogurt Cheese

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the herb infused foodie farm blog where—oh gosh, look at the time—it's happy hour! Time to water the thirsty garden and pour myself a drink. Happy summer solstice!

Garden Journal 6/13/09: Bigger Red and Orange Baby Carrots

2009-06-13T12:44:00.004-05:00

More Carrot Thinning—St. Valery and Atomic Reds

Realization of the Day:
The Atomic Red carrots are orange inside!

I'm a little disappointed, but maybe that's just when they're young, since the Pinetree Garden Seeds catalog describes both the surface and flesh as brilliant red. Red is good because not only is it beautiful, but it also means the carrots are full of the antioxidant lycopene—the one you always hear about in connection with tomatoes.

I'm also growing an heirloom variety of carrots from 1929 called Red Cored Chantenay which, according to my seed catalogs, are supposed to be short and fat (about 5½ inches long) with a very appealing shiny orange color, smooth skin and a deep red-orange center. I'd really like to see that gorgeous red both inside and out!

Slowly but surely I'm getting my carrot bed thinned. I'm also keeping it covered with floating row cover 24/7 (because if I take it off during the day I'll probably forget to put it back on at night) as protection against the deer since they munched down all the Swiss chard in the bed (thanks so much for sharing your deer deterring suggestions!). I know I'd said the other day that they didn't eat any of the carrots, but a closer inspection that afternoon revealed that they had indeed nibbled on some of the tops. I'm not taking any chances.

After purposely keeping my hand out of this photo I realized that I should have kept it in, since it's a little hard to tell just what size the carrots are. These are the biggest ones I picked, and most are 2 to 3 inches long. There were also plenty of itty bitty ones in the Atomic Red row since it hadn't been thinned at all yet and was really crowded.

If you can't stand the thought of simply tossing your tiny carrot thinnings into the compost pile or feeding them to the chickens (most of mine snubbed their beaks at the tops, though the rapidly growing chicks will eat anything) and are willing to invest a few extra minutes, I think it's worth doing a 'light' thinning just to make sure they have at least a little growing room, and then going back through again when the babies have had a chance to get bigger. You can see what a size difference two weeks made.

Coming up, though, I'll be sharing a reader's tip for how to sow your carrot seeds so that no thinning is required. Cute babies or not, I'm definitely going to try it.

Have you ever grown (or eaten) red carrots? Were they red all the way through?

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the crazy about carrots foodie farm blog where these little babies were almost too cute to eat. Almost.

Dealing with Deer in the Garden:Which Vegetable Plants They Love (and Don't Love) to Eat

2009-06-11T12:09:00.006-05:00

Everything Looks Fine at First Glance

Realization of the Day:
Just when you think your plants are safe from the bugs, the dogs, the cold, the heat, the [fill in the blank with your latest garden problem here], the deer show up.

We have literally thousands of acres of forest and greenery surrounding us, and yet the deer want to eat in my little cultivated spot. What I want is an 8-foot high stone wall around my entire garden. It's the only thing that will keep out the deer (and the digging dogs), and I've always loved how they look. Of course it's probably never going to happen—who builds 8-foot high stone walls anymore?—but a girl can dream, can't she?

A few years ago my mother was staying with a cousin in Pennsylvania who told her that all he grows anymore is asparagus because it's the only thing the deer won't eat. I feel his pain—and I'm sure many of you do, too.

At Least They Left Me a Few Baby Leaves

At first glance I didn't even notice that anything was wrong—the carrot tops were nice and frilly, the Nero di Toscana cabbage was looking good, the Swiss chard was still being choked out by the tall grass weeds. But then I realized the Swiss chard was gone. All of it. Those obnoxious deer had eaten around the weeds.

These Strawberry Plants Are Looking a Little Stemmy

Then I turned around and realized the strawberry bed had been decimated, though, surprisingly, they didn't eat the ripe fruit—but probably only because most of the berries had turtle slobber on them.

This was two mornings ago, and since I forgot to cover the beds with floating row cover that night (my memory is an amazingly elusive thing), naturally the deer returned the next night for a second serving.

There are all sorts of deer repelling tricks and methods out there, and I've tried a bunch of them: dog hair, human hair, bars of Irish Spring soap hanging from old nylon stockings, peeing in the garden. Yes, I used to go out and pee in the garden. I was desperate. Nothing has worked.

A few years ago I read somewhere that whenever deer leap over a fence, for some reason they seek out the highest spot—so if you make your 4-foot high fence several feet higher than that in just a few places, they deer won't jump over it at all. How cool is that? I thought. All of my deer problems are over! I stuck 7-foot bamboo stakes every few feet along the back fence, and all summer long I swear I could hear the deer laughing at me as they sailed over the shorter spots right in front of my eyes.

What's really embarrassing is that I have four dogs. Granted, the two big white ones—who will take off at top speed after a deer that is on the other side of a 15-acre field—spend nights down at the barn protecting their sheep. And twelve-year-old Robin is retired so she usually sleeps in the house. Lucky Buddy Bear will chase after a deer if I order him to, but after years of having them totally ignore him, his heart just isn't in it.

Other than building the stone walls, I don't have any solutions to offer, but I can say this: there are a lot of things growing either adjacent to or just a few steps away from the strawberries and Swiss chard that the deer didn't eat. That's not to say they won't move on to them after they've finished off their first choices (especially since I don't have that much floating row cover), but I figured it's worth making note of their preferences.

What the deer did eat:
—All the Swiss chard (both green and red varieties)
—Some bush bean plants
—Most of the strawberry bed (but not the fruit)

What the deer didn't eat:
—Carrots
—Nero di toscana cabbage (aka lacinato, tuscan, or dinosaur kale)
—Collards
—Garlic
—Potato plants
—Beets
—Broccoli
—Collards
—Radishes
—Cilantro
—Kohlrabi
—Spinach (mostly bolted)

Besides not eating everything in my garden, there are a few other bright spots to all of this. Swiss chard is a cut-and-come again vegetable, so the plants may actually grow back. And the green chard leaves were full of bug holes (more about this in a future post), so I wasn't all that excited about eating them. The strawberry bed will need to be cut back and 'refreshed' soon (more about this in a future post), and most of the work has already been done.

But I still want my 8-foot high wall.

How do you deal with deer? Any tips or tricks you've tried that actually work? Is there really such a thing as a deer-proof vegetable?

Related posts:
—How to Grow Swiss Chard from Seed and Why You Should
—Growing and Thinning (and Weeding!) Heirloom Carrots
—How to Grow Nero di Toscana Cabbage (aka Tuscan Kale, Cavalo Nero, Lacinato Kale, Dinosaur Kale) from Seed and What To Do with It
—How To Grow Beets from Seed and Why You Should
—Let's Trade: Your Purple Kohlrabi Growing Tips for My Best Kohlrabi Recipe Ever
—Successfully Growing Strawberries
—I Can't Live Without My Inexpensive Bamboo Stakes*

*A.M. Leonard's bamboo stake prices have gone up quite a bit since I wrote this post three years ago, but compared to the prices I've seen at garden centers, they're still a really good deal.

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the decidedly desperate foodie farm blog where I may just have to dig out the rolls of mesh deer netting leftover from my deer battles years ago at Windridge Farm that I know are still kicking around here somewhere.

Gardening How To:Growing and Thinning (and Weeding!) Heirloom Carrots

2009-06-06T21:46:00.005-05:00

Extreme Baby Vegetables (Harvested on 5/28)

The first year I gardened in Missouri I tried growing carrots, didn't get very good results, and gave up—despite the fact that I usually consume at least one raw carrot a day. I continued to order one or two varieties of carrot seeds every couple of years, but except for a really old packet of seeds that I scattered during an ambitious and hopeful fall planting campaign in August 2006 (which were, not suprisingly, all no-shows) they never seemed to make it into the ground.

With good organic, U.S. grown carrots available year round for under a dollar a pound at the supermarket, homegrown carrots simply weren't a big priority. But deep down, I knew I was missing out. So this year to compensate I went a little overboard.

Back on April 11th, I sowed six varieties of heirloom carrot seeds (saving some of each kind for fall planting) in one of my 4'x8' raised garden beds: St. Valery (from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds), Parisienne (Baker Creek), Little Finger (Baker Creek), Atomic Red (Baker Creek), Scarlet Nantes (Botanical Interests), and Red Cored Chantenay (Pinetree Garden Seeds). I chose a wide variety of colors, shapes, and sizes. I'm especially excited about the red ones.

So far they're all doing great—and so are the weeds (that would be the big pile on the left).

In The Vegetable Gardener's Bible (my favorite garden book, which I highly recommend for kitchen gardeners of all levels), author Ed Smith says that "thinning carrots, like sowing them, is best accomplished on days when patience can rule your actions." He's got that right. Talk about a teeth gnashing job, especially when you're also trying to pull out weeds that are twice the size of the carrot seedlings. Ed recommends using floral shears to thin your carrots, but I just pulled them out by hand—one small section at a time.

It's too bad I didn't check the carrot growing section of The All-New Illustrated Guide to Gardening from Reader's Digest (a humongous book packed with over 2,500 color photos & illustrations that I'm finding very informative—and love that the completely updated and revised version is all organic!) until just now, because I really like this idea:

They say to mix a few radish or leaf-lettuce seeds with the carrot seeds "since carrot seeds germinate slowly, and the row may be well defined by weeds long before the carrot tops appear. The radishes and lettuce will sprout quickly and will mark the row. Because they wil be ready long before the carrots are, they will not interfere with the growth of the carrots, and you will also be making more efficient use of your garden space."

These Happy Carrots Have Been Weeded, Thinned, and Mulched

Carrots prefer to have cool roots and warm tops, so mulch them with grass clippings (or freshly pulled weeds or, as seen above, rotting old hay that you pulled off the strawberry bed in March and still have laying around) during the late spring and summer. This will also keep new weeds from sprouting and help retain moisture in the soil—which is why I love mulching so much.

Digging Dogs in the Garden: That Big Empty Spot is Courtesy of Marta (aka Marta Beast)

The Vegetable Gardener's Bible suggests growing a leafy companion crop such as Swiss chard to help shade and cool the soil (Yes! Another reason to help convince you to grow Swiss chard!), so starting at the southern end of the bed, I sowed my seeds in 8-foot long rows like this: one of Swiss chard (two varieties), then three rows of carrots, one of Swiss Chard and Nero di Toscana cabbage (also called dinosaur kale, lacinato kale, and several other things—I love the stuff and refer to it as cat cabbage because I swear it has nine lives). As of right now, it looks like the edible shading scheme is going to work perfectly.

Carrots will grow well close together, but if they're too close they'll end up stunted, too thin, or deformed. You can see that some of the baby carrots in that top photo are already looking a little crooked. I usually like to wait to thin my vegetables (such as lettuce, arugula, beets, and Swiss chard) until the thinnings are large enough to eat, so I'm giving the rest of the carrots a bit more growing more time before I finish thinning them (though I admit I couldn't resist nibbling on these itty bittys—and they were tasty!). Besides, my teeth need a rest from all that gnashing.

Joe used to grow a big patch of carrots each year but said he stopped because they didn't keep well in the root cellar. "Sure, you can store them in sawdust like the books tell you to, and they won't rot," he told me, "but what they don't tell you is that they get all rubbery." I asked him if the sawdust had been damp, which is a detail that nearly all carrot-storing directions I've seen leave out. "It's supposed to be damp?" he said.

Since there used to be a large sawmill on our property back in the 1930s, we have a lifetime supply of free aged sawdust at our disposal—and plenty of sawmills still around if the sawdust needs to be fresh. I'm curious to see how carrots—which I usually buy four or five pounds at a time and store in the refrigerator for weeks—that are kept in damp sawdust in the cool root cellar would keep, but I have a feeling that all of this year's harvest is going to go straight from garden to kitchen to mouth.

Are you growing carrots this year? Do you have any growing tips, favorite varieties, or amusing carrot stories to share?

Related posts:
How To Grow Swiss Chard from Seed and Why You Should
Direct Seeding Lettuce in the Garden and How To Thin Lettuce Seedlings
How to Grow Nero di Toscana Cabbage (aka Tuscan Kale, Cavalo Nero, Lacinato Kale, Dinosaur Kale) from Seed and What To Do with It
Carrot Herb Rolls (and a Beautiful Bargain Bread Book for Beginners)

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the crunch and munch foodie farm blog where getting our daily dose of beta-carotene has never been a problem.

Garden Journal 6/2/09:Harvesting Spring Onions Grown from Purchased Plants

2009-06-02T12:32:00.004-05:00

Just Picked Red Candy Apple Onions (and Topaz)

Realization of the Day:
These just might be the prettiest onions I've ever picked.

Back in February, on the recommendation of my friend and gardening hero, Cynthia Sandberg of Love Apple Farm, I ordered 400 leek plants and way too many onion plants (the more you buy, the better the price) from Dixondale Farms in Texas, the oldest and largest onion farm in the U.S.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit that up until this year, I had no idea that the size of an onion bulb is dependent upon daylength and temperature, not the size or age of the plants—which probably at least partly explains why over the years I've often ended up with disappointing (albeit tasty) little bulbs.

Because we're sitting right on the borders of Dixondale's 'which varieties are right for you' map, I went ahead and ordered all three types of onions that they offer—Long Day, Intermediate Day, and Short Day—just to see how they fared.

I figured if worst came to worst, some of the varieties wouldn't form bulbs, and we'd have a lot of green onions. Fortunately last year, dozens of you pitched in and offered up your favorite ways to enjoy green onions, so I wasn't worried about what to do with the excess.

As a rule, I don't grow any hybrids in my kitchen garden, but I made an exception with these onion plants—mostly because there were no heirloom Intermediate Day varieties available, which looked to be the most suitable variety for our southern Missouri location. Besides, I reminded myself, the onion sets I usually buy at the feed store are probably hybrid varieties, too. I ordered a total of nine different onion varieties, including some heirlooms.

Red Candy Apple is a new variety that is exclusive to Dixondale Farms, where they've been growing onions since 1913. Here's what they have to say about it:

We have been working on a red intermediate day hybrid that is as sweet as candy—so sweet that you can eat it like an apple. Compared to the Stockton Red, the Red Candy Apple offers improved sizing, better interior color and an intense dark red skin with very mild taste. This red onion's color moves inside as the bulb matures and the interior produces beautiful red rings after curing. Remarkably uniform, this new development also features a high percentage of single centers in its solid, firm bulbs.

In order to have enough onions so that I could harvest some of them during the growing season as green onions, when I planted them in early March I spaced them 2" inches apart instead of the usual 4" apart. But since I put in hundreds of plants, the green onions quickly got away from me. They're now what you'd call large spring onions, which I think are even better—at this size you can enjoy the green tops as well as the young bulbs.

One of My New Favorite Easy Salad Recipes

If you want to store your onions, pull them out of the ground and let them dry in the sun for two days—with the tops of one row of bulbs laid over the bulbs of another to prevent sunscald.

There was no need to dry this beautiful bunch of Red Candy Apples, though, as they went straight from the garden into a batch of this simple and refreshing Garbanzo Bean & Feta Salad (along with some fabulous cilantro—the first I've grown in years!). I haven't tried eating one of these onions like an apple, but they are definitely nice and sweet.

Are there onions in your garden this year? Any favorite varieties, growing tips, or recipes to share? Do tell!

Previous onion posts:
6/7/08: What To Do with 125 Green Onions (Scallions)
6/7/08: Wanted: Your Recipes and Favorite Ways to Use Green Onions
6/12/05: Growing Onions In The Garden
3/16/06: It's Time to Plant Onions!
4/4/06: Operation Onion Complete!
4/26/06: Companion Planting Beets & Lettuce with Onions

More ways to enjoy scallions and spring onions:
Sour Cream & Onion Dip
Savory Cheese & Scallion Scones
Fiesta Cottage Cheese Veggie Dip
Mexican Jumping Bean Slaw
Summer in a Bowl
Colors of Summer Salad
Healthy Swiss Chard Tuna Salad with Kalamata Olives
Swiss Chard Cabbage Salad with Garbanzo Beans and Cottage Cheese
Sprinkled on top of Hot Swiss Chard Artichoke Dip
Three Onion & Three Cheese Pizza

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the heatwave foodie farm blog where they don't always make it into the final photo, but if I'm taking pictures outdoors—or working in the garden—you can usually bet there's a cute four-footed critter somewhere underfoot.

A Question for Gardeners: Can You Identify this Easy to Grow Purple Flowering Perennial Plant?

2009-05-29T12:34:00.000-05:00

Sedum Autumn Joy in Back, Volunteer Spiderwort to the Right, Mystery Perennial up Front

In my last post, It's the End of Bloomin' May Already, I mentioned a several-year-old mystery potted perennial in my garden that is not only pretty, but requires no maintenance and will also put up with anything—so who cares if I don't know what it is.

Katherine at Windchimes (who makes elegant fashion jewelry from glass and metal beads—look at these cute little dragonflies!) was curious about it and asked if I would post a picture, which is exactly what I'd been thinking of doing. I realized it might actually be nice to know what this plant is, because then you'd be able to seek out one or two for your own garden. (I wouldn't mind adding a few more, too.) I also figured at least one of you out there would be able to identify it for us.

I have no idea where or when I got this plant, but it was at least a few years ago. It's growing in a round ceramic pot that's about 12 inches across and maybe 10 inches high, and right now is sitting against the front of the greenhouse where it receives several hours of sun a day. I think during previous years I've had it out in full sun. During the winter it lives in the unheated (except for a couple of nights a year) greenhouse with my other potted perennials. When temps dip down into the single digits, I cover it with floating row cover and/or an old bedsheet.

The plant itself is about 14 inches tall right now and is covered with these delicate pale purple blooms which last for quite a while, though I've never paid attention to exactly how long. The leaves always make me think of catnip, which is in the mint family, and—I just went out and checked—they do smell faintly minty.

I have a feeling the plant might get a whole lot bigger if I put it in the ground, as this has been my experience with other potted perennials, despite the fact that I periodically put a layer of compost on top of the soil and fertilize with sheep manure (simple instructions on how to make your own manure tea coming soon!). The only exceptions to this have been my big pots of lemon balm and Sedum Autumn Joy (seen behind the mystery plant), but that's because I've kept them in the same place for so long they simply sent roots out the drain holes of their pots into the soil below, and so technically are growing in the ground.

So do you know what my mystery plant is? Do tell! And if you'd like to solve other garden mysteries—or have one of your own you need help with—check out Fine Gardening's Mystery Plant gallery, a fun and informative place where you can post a photo and have your questions answered.

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the mysterious foodie farm blog where solving plant puzzles is a lot more interesting than weeding, though it doesn't help feed the compost pile like weeding does—unless of course everything you identify turns out to be a noxious weed, which is what happened the other day when I did a little mystery plant identification in a beginning gardening friend's flower bed.

Garden Journal 5/21/09:It's the End of Bloomin' May Already!

2009-05-21T15:06:00.005-05:00

Busy, Busy

How did that happen? Of course I'm always asking myself that question. But where does the time go? Weren't we just snowed in a couple of weeks ago?

Last week during an emergency trip to the vet for my 12-1/2 year old beagle, Robin (who is thankfully doing well), one of the women who works there asked how my garden was doing. "Everything that's actually been planted is doing great!" I said cheerfully, and then admitted that I still had at least 150 tomato, tomatillo, pepper, eggplant (many thanks to the 46 of you who shared your experiences and tips growing and eating eggplant!), herb, and other miscellaneous seedlings—not to mention the sweet potatoes sporting 2-foot-long sprouts—still sitting in the greenhouse and desperately wishing they'd been put in the ground several weeks ago. I did feel a little better about my slacking off when it dipped down to 40 degrees a couple of times last week since it would have been a pain to cover them all up from the cold. Or at least that's how I rationalized things.

Of course all these as yet homeless seedlings didn't stop me from picking up two six-packs of locally grown basil plants at the local natural foods store yesterday. At $2.00 each I couldn't resist, especially since I (once again) haven't started any basil seeds myself yet, and I've been dreaming about big batches of pesto lately, probably because my supply in the freezer has been depleted. I bought a dozen purple basil plants a couple of weeks ago, too, since I've discovered it makes even better pesto than the green kind. Now I can't wait to make the first Savory Tomato Pesto Pie of the summer.

You'd think I would have had lots of time to catch up in the garden during our recent eight day power outage, and though I did manage to get some long overdue tasks finally completed (like clearing out the small mountain of sheets and blankets used for winter protection in the greenhouse, turning two compost piles and starting a new one, weeding another raised bed in preparation for planting), at this time of year there's simply too much to be done.

Meanwhile, once again I'm surprised by how many things are already blooming (or finished blooming!) by mid May. The irises are out, and the wonderfully low maintenance Kerria japonica Pleniflora (also called bachelor's buttons—but not to be confused with the popular pink, white, and purple easy-to-grow annual flowers called bachelor's buttons) pictured above has already been flowering for weeks and will continue to do so into autumn. That's my kind of perennial.

Comfrey is Useful, Beautiful, and Will Withstand Being Munched by Sheep

The comfrey (a fabulous, easy to grow medicinal herb I really need to write more about one of these days) is sporting its trademark purple flowers, as is my several-year-old mystery potted perennial that is not only pretty, but will put up with anything so who cares if I don't know what it is.

The lawn is dappled with those little white flowers that always make me think of fairies, and one section of the greenhouse has been taken over by three-foot-tall blooming arugula. Some of the nine varieties of onions I'm growing this year are sending up flower shoots, but I keep pinching them off so they'll be forced to spend their energy on bulb production.

The very first spiderwort flower popped out this morning, and dozens more will continue to do so for weeks. As I've mentioned before, I love spiderwort and think that every garden should have at least a clump or two growing in it. The butterflies go crazy for it.

And maybe best of all, there are various pockets around the farm that are heavy with the deliriously rich scent of wild multiflora roses.

Joe's sister, who is a professional gardener and landscaper in Ohio, told us the other day that she calls this time of year May Madness because all of her clients want their yards planted right now. I immediately glommed onto the phrase. There's so much to do and too much to do—but what's in the ground is doing well, we always eat well, and nearly everywhere you look there are flowers!

So what's blooming in your May Madness garden?

© Copyright 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the flower infested foodie farm blog where when it comes to gardening, we're constantly behind but always optimistic—and have already started making big plans for not only this fall garden but next spring's as well. Enjoy the present but definitely plan for the future!

Every Day is Earth Day in the Kitchen Garden:How Do You Make Yours Even Greener?

2009-04-26T16:36:00.004-05:00

I Make Free Plant Markers from Sour Cream & Cottage Cheese Containers

This Earth Day post is a little late (although I did miraculously get one up on time on Farmgirl Fare called Every Day is Earth Day-and I'm Eco-Chic Who Knew?), but every day really is Earth Day if you're a vegetable gardener. Is there any better way to connect yourself to this amazing planet than by getting down on your knees and wallowing around in the dirt and then gobbling up your efforts? Not while you're still down in the dirt, of course—though I do admit to enjoying a nibble here and there when I'm working, especially if there are any cherry tomatoes to be had.

Growing your own food is a great way to 'go green,' but during all of the recent Earth Day hubbub, I started thinking about the many simple ways you can make your garden even greener. Using organic methods to deal with pests, fertilize, and care for the soil is the obvious big one, and that's really important to me.

I think the sometimes extra effort and loss of bounty is worth it, and I'm thrilled that the White House now has an organic vegetable garden and even a honeybee hive on the lawn (thank you, Roger Doiron of Kitchen Gardeners International for your tireless efforts toward making that dream a reality!). Of course the pesticide industry has already complained to Michelle Obama that they're offended by the Organic Garden at the White House. I'm still shaking my head in disbelief.

Not having any garbage pick-up on the farm (you can read more about what that's like here) means that we go out of our way to reduce, reuse, repurpose (don't you just love that word?) and recycle—which often has the added benefit saving money as well. Here's a short list off the top of my head of some of the other simple ways—beyond putting food on the table—that my kitchen garden is extra eco-friendly:

—Fertilize with manure from the sheep, donkeys, and chickens.

—Keep five compost bins full of kitchen and yard waste, though when you have ravenous chickens, the food scraps are usually just eggshells, coffee grounds, and orange peels. Tried composting before with no luck? Don't give up! Amuse and inspire yourself by reading about my early composting trials and tribulations.

—Grow open-pollinated heirloom varieties so I can save seeds for planting the next year. If you save seeds from hybrids, you won't always end up with exactly the same variety, plus I love the idea of growing vegetables that have been around for 150 or more years.

—Mulch, mulch, mulch! This is probably the most important thing I do in the garden. Mulching vegetable beds with something as simple and handy as grass clippings—or even the weeds you just yanked out—keeps more weeds from growing (which saves tons of future weeding time), helps the soil stay cooler during summer, helps keep roots moist after watering, and eventually breaks down into an all natural soil amendment.

—Repurpose unused indoor stuff for outdoor use. Forgotten metal strainers become compost sifters (more on this in a future post), while old bedsheets and blankets are perfect for throwing over plants in cold weather.

—Shop yard sales, flea markets, junk and thrift stores, and even antique malls for garden goodies. The vintage shovels and pitchforks I've amassed over the years not only appeal to my sense of design, but they also work great, were mostly real bargains, and didn't require the outlay of natural resources that manufacturing new ones would have. These are also good places to stock up on old bedsheets and blankets, as well as pretty garden pots.

—Think creatively when it comes to unrecyclable household trash. Cracked plastic buckets that no longer hold water can still carry weeds, rocks, and compost. Rusted (hello, humidity!) baking sheets make handy trays for seedlings and other things, and old metal pots not nice enough to be donated to the thrift store can be used as planters or for carrying soil amendments, compost, etc. Yogurt, sour cream, and cottage cheese #5 plastic containers become weatherproof seedling markers when cut into strips.

Those annoying blue styrofoam containers that fresh mushrooms are sold in make great seed starting containers. (It's almost impossible to find containerless, bulk mushrooms for sale in Missouri, which unfortunately means I probably have about 100 of these stupid things by now.)

—Use things beyond their expected life span. Just because something isn't still 100% perfect doesn't mean you have to toss it out and replace it. Floating row covers are advertised as lasting only a season or two, yet some of mine, which I don't treat all that well, lasted over 10 years (though I have to admit the new stuff I bought last year doesn't seem to be nearly as tough and tear-resistant).

The covering on my homemade greenhouse (which I first used on my greenhouse at Windridge Farm) has lived a dozen years beyond its supposed life expectancy, thanks in part to throwing an inexpensive poly tarp over it during the summers (which also keeps it much cooler inside) and because I don't mind a few rips and tears here and there.

I'm also still using the same black plastic seed starting plugs and trays (some are pictured above) that I bought in bulk in 1995 (including these cheap little containers from a restaurant supply store that each have their own mini-greenhouse snap on lid); when they tear or crack, I simply double them up.

With its broken buckets, peek-a-boo greenhouse covering, and weed-mulched beds, my garden may not be picture perfect, but you can't tell come harvest time. I know there are more things that I'm not remembering because they're so second nature to me by now, but I'll add to this list as I think of them.

In the meantime, how do you make (or hope to make) your garden greener? Please share your eco-friendly thoughts, tips, and ideas with the rest of us!

© 2009 FarmgirlFare.com, the frugal foodie farm blog where we've discovered over the years that using less and doing without means you actually end up with more.