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Peaches This Year

Peaches This Year, August 2022 (Source: Geo Davis)

Glorious indeed it is to report that our peaches this year are the tastiest I’ve ever grown. Also the biggest, juiciest, sweetest, and IMHO the prettiest.

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! — Lewis Carroll

I’m chortling in my joy. Imagine, if you dare, the decadence of lifting a sun warmed peach, freshly plucked from the branch, up to your mouth, lips parting against the fuzzy flesh, teeth sinking effortlessly into the sweet meat, juice dribbling down your chin,…

It’s truly sensational! Peach perfection. Almost.

Sadly our perfect peaches this year belie a bittersweet backstory. But let’s micropoetry-pause a moment before sharing the slightly sadder side of this decadent moment.

Peaches This Year, August 2022 (Source: Geo Davis)

Peaches This Year: A Haiku

Few peaches this year
but plump, nectar swollen with
best flavor ever.
— Geo Davis

Bittersweet Backstory

That haiku actually tells the whole story, backstory and all. Our peaches this year are startlingly few after the bumper crops we’ve enjoyed over the last few years. It’s fair to say that 2020 and 2021 provided enough peaches to satisfy our most gluttonous appetites and to share with all who desired, from friends to wildlife. But 2022 has been a been a poignant recalibration.

We lost our two Reliance Peach trees this season. All of four peach trees budded on time this spring, and all four began to push out tiny little leaves. But then the two Reliance trees stalled. No apparent weather shock or fungus or predation. Just withering. And then suddenly the Reliance trees were dead. The other two trees, both Contender Peach variety, struggled as well. But they gradually overcame whatever was afflicting them (despite never really recovering 100%). Both Contender Peach trees experienced some die-back, and both set an unusually light load of fruit.

We will be replacing the dead Reliance trees and likely adding in a third new peach tree as well. Any suggestions? (Reliance vs. Contender Peach) I’m definitely open to recommendations for hardy, tasty peach tree recommendations that respond well to holistic orcharding (i.e. don’t rely on pesticide.) I’ll enjoy researching replacements, so that’s a silver lining, I suppose. But the best upside to the paucity of peaches this year has been is that the few we’ve enjoyed are quite miraculously the tastiest we’ve ever grown!

August 26, 2022
Amish Assistance

Amish Assistance Departs (Source: Rosslyn Redux)

We’re grateful to our Amish community for assistance nurturing Rosslyn’s organic vegetable, fruit, and flower gardens; our holistic orchard and vineyard; and sixty acres of landscape. While there’s much to admire about the dedicated women who have planted and weeded, pruned and suckered, nurtured and harvested for us, I’m especially grateful for their petroleum-free, exhaust free locomotion!

You suspect I jest? I do. Often. But not in this case. I’m actually quite fascinated with their efficiency of 21st century horse-and-buggy travelers.

And not only when our dedicated Amish gardeners arrive and depart, but on most every morning’s bike ride between the Adirondack foothills and Lake Champlain. I often share quiet, winding backroads with these courteous drivers. And last night, returning from Westport at an advanced hour, we witnessed three buggies moving along at a startlingly quick clip despite having no headlights. Only a single, diminutive lantern bounced within each buggy scarcely illuminating the driver, so certainly offering no navigational assistance.

Amish Assistance Arrives (Source: Rosslyn Redux)

As muscly pickup trucks and stealthy EVs wind through our rural communities, the Amish manage admirably to accomplish whatever locomotion they need without combustion engines or power grid tethers. There’s plenty to be learned from them, and not only for their dedicated industry.

This is a new opportunity for us. One nearby Amish family has been trafficking between our properties, learning quickly what each garden, each plant, each property needs. Since early spring the two to three sisters will arrive in the morning via ultra quiet conveyance. Although it took Carley a little while to become accustomed to the horse-drawn buggy, she’s no longer startled when the staccato sound of horse hooves and the curious crunching noise of carriage wheels on crushed stone awaken her from her postprandial snooze. She perks up, saunters into the screen porch, and observes. The bonneted young women wave, and I return their greeting. Carley watches until the horse and buggy disappear from view.

I’ll close with a short video I shot early in the morning last summer as another Amish buggy for a moment rolled in front of the rising sun.

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August 15, 2022
Poppies Aplenty

Poppies aplenty summer through early autumn (Source: Geo Davis)

Poppies aplenty! A gardener can never grow too many poppies in my estimation. Biased? Yes, unabashedly biased when it comes to Papavers, I’m afraid. (The oriental poppies that we plant at Rosslyn are in the genus Papaver in the subfamily Papaveroideae of the family Papaveraceae. No worries, you won’t be quizzed later.)

So smitten am I with this almost impossibly perfect pairing of sensuous and carefree, delicate and robust, that I’ve gathered a passel of poppy poems as a rainy day elixir. Feel free to avail yourself of this sure cure if you’re stuck in the doldrums and need a boost. I can’t guarantee that the poems pack the euphoric punch of actual poppies, but they just might remind your heart and soul how to conjure these beguiling beauties out of your own memory.

If I could grow poppies year round, I would! (Source: Geo Davis)

Bloom Where You’re Planted

The advice, “bloom where you are planted,” apparently owes it’s pithy endurance to the Bishop of Geneva, Saint Francis de Sales (1567-1622), but my first point of reference was different. It was 1999, and I had just relocated from Santa Fe, New Mexico to Paris, France. I received a book in my workplace welcome packet that had been compiled by the FACCP Franco-American Community Center of Paris. The title was Bloom Where You’re Planted: Tips for Living and Thriving in Paris.

Although I grew up admiring poppies that my mother grew in the Adirondack’s Champlain Valley, there’s no doubt that visits to Normandy where poppies still dot green fields, and teaching John McCrae’s “In Flanders Fields” to my students at the American School of Paris deepened my connection to Papavers. Somehow the helpful manual provided to me in my late twenties became connected with the poppies in my memory and in my gardens.

This morning’s poppies and the lovely reminder from Saint Francis de Sales and the good folks at the FACCP Franco-American Community Center of Paris coalesced for a fleeting moment, and the first semblance of a new poppy poem unfurled its still wrinkled petals. Not sure where it’s headed, if anywhere, but here’s where it stands today.

Bloom where you’re planted,
where the wind blows you,
where you are needed.
Bloom when conditions are perfect
and when they are not. Bloom.

Might need to let it rest a bit, and possibly, hopefully resurface anon. After all, I surround myself with poppies aplenty, so perhaps this poetry seed will germinate some day in the future, a reminder that preservation by neglect applies not just to orphaned buildings and blog posts, but also poems.

September 17, 2022
The Impudent Carrot
The Camouflaged Carrot (Source: Hroth Ottosen)

Fair warning, gentle hearted readers. I’m about to share an image of an anthropomorphic carrot alongside a human hand returning the misanthropic gesture.

Still reading?

And accompanying this potentially offensive image is a potentially offensive poem. So if you’re super sensitive and/or if you’re indisposed to gardeners’ laugh therapy, no judgment (but best stop reading now.)

Still reading?

If so, “The Impudent Carrot” (below) may well tickle your funny bone. I certainly hope so.

The Impudent Carrot

The Impudent Carrot (Source: Hroth Ottosen)
```
If carrots unearthed
are caught coupling,
surmise that it might
augur auspicious. 

If carrots unearthed
are gnarled in a fist
(except one flipped bird),
return the gesture.
```
Garden humor to lighten the mood of your shortening days and lengthening nights. Levity is my go-to analgesic, and maybe, just maybe, I’m not the only to get amused when pulling funny looking carrots out of the dirt.

In this case, thank you, Hroth Ottosen, for documenting your Rosslyn harvest with a visual poke in the ribs.
October 8, 2022
Germinating & Thinning
Sowing seeds, witnessing unassuming flecks burst with life, observing brave tendrils wobbling-then-rising out of the moist soil, phantom white threads greening as they ascend, precocious seed leaves opening toward the sun,… Germinating seeds that will find their way into Rosslyn’s vegetable garden (and eventually onto our table, into our mouths and the mouths of family, friends, and plenty of opportunistic wild neighbors) fills me to brimming with exuberant optimism. Life out of specks. Beautiful, delicious food conjured out of miniature promises pushed into moist earth.

Organic Calabrese Broccoli Seedlings (Photo: Geo Davis)

Culling Spring Start: Haiku
```
Thinning leggy sprouts —
anemic shoots, green seed leaves —
culling vigor… life.
```
Such possibility, such awakening in the germination of seeds. Each one miraculous. Each a gift. But after almost 5 decades of gardening, I still struggle with thinning these sprouts, favoring the strong, the dominant. With these Organic Calabrese Broccoli seedlings I’ve decided to spare the earnest sprouts s little longer. Perhaps, once they’ve matured just a little bit more, into micro greens that can be eaten maybe, then I will find it easier to uproot the weaker, the wobblier, the more vertically challenged?
March 22, 2023
Hoop House Scissor Doors

Hoop House Scissor Doors

Time for a late season look at our still-semi-new hoop house’s new upgrade: scissor doors. We made it through our first season with ropes to gather and tether the “caterpillar tunnel’s” east/west ends with the assistance of ballast (rocks and bales of sod) to secure the often wind-loosened plastic. We made it, but by season’s end we knew there was plenty of room for improvement.

Hoop House Scissor Doors

So we decided to gather a few simple parts, mostly from Johnny’s Selected Seeds. Pam and Hroth spent a Saturday morning experimenting and tweaking, eventually accomplishing a relatively convenient, weather proof closure for both ends of the tunnel.

Hoop House Scissor Doors

It took some patience, but it all came together.

Hoop House Scissor Doors

A little trimming here and an adjustment there. And voila!

Hoop House Scissor Doors

There remain a few questions such as how well the doors will hold up to harsh winter windows.

Hoop House Scissor Doors

And how best to secure the doors when they’re closed to minimize air leakage and secure against wind flapping.

Hoop House Scissor Doors

I’m sure we’ll adjust further in the months ahead, and we’ll post updates if/when any useful learning is acquired. Until then, here’s what the high tunnel / hoop house scissor doors look like now.

Hoop House Scissor Doors

Hroth’s video proves proof of concept!

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October 17, 2022
Crocus & Dwarf Iris
It must be spring! Sometimes affectionately cooed (by nobody ever) and sometimes disparagingly grumbled (almost always), “mud season” has rounded the proverbial corner. Dun and drab are giving way to brilliant white and violet and — as soon as the daffodils and dandelions bloom — vibrant yellow.

¡Hasta la vista, winter! Spring has sprung.

Crocus (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

Crocus & Dwarf Iris, Haiku
```
Crocus, dwarf iris
dabbed from pigmented palette,
early blooms unearthed.
```
Nature is the original artist, liberating all manner of magical blooms from the earth where only weeks ago it seemed unlikely that this theatre would open on time. But it does, year after year. And this is and a small part why I consider gardening to be the very fountain of optimism.

Dwarf Iris (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

Bulbs Now, Buds Soon?

Once bulbs begin to push their green shoots up out of the damp earth, it’s easy to let optimism run away with us. The daffodils and the daylilies are pushing up as well, although we’ll need to wait for a while longer before the day lilies bloom.

This exciting succession of blooms inevitably primes my Pollyanna pump for other blooms, especially bud burst in Rosslyn’s orchard. Talk about theatre!
April 7, 2023
Time to Harden Off Veggie Plants

Gardening is a bit of a balancing act. And a gambling act! So many variable: spring climate conditions, high tunnel preparation, readiness of transplants,… And the exuberance of gardening after months of winter. And so, year after year, we arrive at this point. And so, year after year, we arrive at this point. Is it time to harden off veggie plants?

Time to Harden Off Tomato Plants (Photo: Aimee Baker)

A few weeks back, my optimism got the best of me.

With temperatures improving, there’s a fairly good chance. We will begin to get things seated in the next week or two. And possibly transplants in mid/late May… Stay tuned! (Source: Transplant Soon?)

That’s what I wrote and shared here. But what I really meant, what I would’ve said if I hadn’t been hyperventilating with excitement, was that it *might* be possible to transplant in mid/late April. Actually mid/late May is our normal planting time. I was hoping to jumpstart by about a month.

Time to Harden Off Tomatillo Plants (Photo: Aimee Baker)

So where do things stand? It’s fair to say that mid April has become late April, and we’re close but not quite ready to transplant vegetable seedlings yet. But the process by which we begin to prepare plants for transplanting, bringing plants outside to begin acclimating and developing the fortitude and resilience that will improve their odds when they assume their places in the garden, this indoor/outdoor volleying, has begun.

Pam, Aimee Baker, and the Amish family are readying tender seedlings got the tougher co sitio s of outdoor living. Is it necessary to harden off veggies that will be transplanted into a high tunnel? We’re still learning the ins and outs of high tunneling, but I’m still leaning toward acclimating plants outside by day and safeguarding them inside at night.

Time to Harden Off Tomato Plants (Photo: Aimee Baker)

And it’s looking like most of our plants are just about ready to learn what it’s like to be outside. Here’s a recent update from Aimee.

The only thing I’m concerned about is the peppers. They need more time to soak up sun. I’m happy to grow them in my greenhouse for you. But the rest may be good to go… –Aimee Baker

Time to Harden Off Eggplants (Photo: Aimee Baker)

So a holding pattern for some of the peppers. But April’s not over yet. And I’m staying optimistic that our organic veggie seedlings just might make it into the garden by the end of month!

April 21, 2023
Transplant Soon?

With the high tunnel prepped and heating up and a variety of organic veggie seedlings maturing, we just might be able to jumpstart garden planting by a month.

Transplant Tomatoes Soon? (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

We have been fortunate this year to have help getting our vegetable plant seedlings underway from the Amish family up the road who helps us with so many outdoor activities at Rosslyn, from Aimee Baker who started growing for us last year, and from Pam Murphy who manages projects like this for us on the property.

Transplant Peppers Soon? (Photo: Aimee Baker)

So we have all sorts of healthy young organic vegetable plants, thriving and approaching the point when they can safely be transplanted. Here’s the most recent update from Aimee.

I’ve been putting them in greenhouse during day, bringing them in at night… next week is looking fantastic temperature wise. But I have a few more to transplant. I’m the next couple weeks they’ll really take off! I figure more towards 3rd week they should be doing well enough and hardened enough to get some into ground. The peppers may take a little longer as they take a little more time to take off and harden, I’m figuring an extra week so end of April they’ll be good to go. –Aimee Baker

With temperatures improving, there’s a fairly good chance. We will begin to get things seated in the next week or two. And possibly transplants in mid/late May… Stay tuned!

April 8, 2023
Green Zebras 1st in High Tunnel

The high tunnel is now officially planted for the 2023 growing season. Hurrah! And the first plants in the ground are a pair of Green Zebra tomatoes (aka “Green Zebras”), a personal favorite that boast tart flavor, unique color, exotic pattern, and a tendency to ripen early. Win, win, win, win!

Green Zebras 1st in High Tunnel (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

This will be our second season high tunneling, but it’s our first opportunity to jumpstart planting (by about two weeks). Last year we received the high tunnel shipment damaged and missing parts. It took most of the spring to receive the missing and replacement parts, so we forfeited the benefits we’re hoping for this year.

High Tunnel Almost Ready for Planting (Photo: Tony Foster)

We kept the high tunnel covered all winter which accelerated warming of the ground over the last couple of months. Tony has been pampering the soil: supplementing with composted manure and other organics, tilling, and preparing beds.

Tony has done a remarkable job of preparing the high tunnel for early season planting. And check out that solar gain on a freezing day! (Source: Synchronous Progress)

Pam has already planted the first succession of spinach and French breakfast radishes, but those are in raised beds outside the high tunnel. I’m hoping to see signs of germination soon. And the asparagus bed should be waking up any day now. But these precursors to summer invite heady hopes for a robust early bounty, especially tomatoes, the crown jewel of our vegetable garden. So we’re tempting fate by leapfrogging the typical Mother’s Day planting date, crossing our fingers, and imagining tomatoes by the 4th of July. We’ll observe these two vanguard tomato plants and — if they thrive (or at least survive) — we’ll progressively transplant more over the coming days. With luck others (eggplant, tomatillo, peppers, broccoli, cucumbers, etc.) will join them soon.

Here’s willing juicy tomatoes by (of before?!?!) Independence Day!

May 2, 2023
Cucumber Plants

One of the most refreshing midsummer garden staples is the cucumber. Cuke. Cucumber. Refreshing no matter what you call it.

Cucumber Plants (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

I think we’re just about ready to start transplanting our spring-start cucumber plants into the high tunnel. But it’s a gamble. They won’t withstand frost. They will wilt and wither, and we will ring our hands, wondering why we jumpstarted them… Don’t try to trick nature!

And yet, starting tomorrow our evenings are likely yo stay above freezing, and our days are warming.

Cucumber conditions stabilizing

So we need to decide: transplant cucumbers or wait?

April 26, 2023
Spargelzeit: Asparagus Time!

Imagine for a moment enduring many, many months without fresh, homegrown produce. Tragic, right? Especially for a passionate gardener who loves to prepare and share garden-to-table fare for family and friends. Now you can stop imagining because this next part requires no imagination… It’s Spargelzeit!

Spargelzeit: Homegrown Asparagus (Photo: Geo Davis)

The word Spargel means asparagus and Zeit means time. The term Spargelzeit refers to the time of year when white asparagus is harvested in Germany (some call it Spargelsaison – “asparagus season”). (Source: GermanyinUSA.com)

Essex is a decent wander from Germany, but I certainly share their enthusiasm for the first harvest of homegrown asparagus. So whether we call it asparagus time (Spargelzeit) or asparagus season (Spargelsaison), let’s celebrate the first garden-to-table produce of the 2023 season.

Spargelzeit: Steamed Asparagus (Photo: Geo Davis)

Now, there is one little hiccup in my declaration of Spargelzeit, and that has to do with the color of the king of vegetables. But I’m getting slightly ahead of myself. Let’s return to Germany for a moment.

It’s that time of year again — the asparagus season has started in Germany! To say Germans love this seasonal vegetable would be an understatement… they absolutely adore it. Every year, the average German consumes roughly 1.5kg of the vegetable that is often referred to as the ‘king of the vegetables’.

Whilst the green variety is available all year round, Germans prefer the seasonal white variety that grows only during ‘Spargelzeit’ (asparagus season) which lasts from mid-April to mid or late June. (Source: Medium.com)

I remember discovering something similar while living in Paris in my 20s. Although the French considered white asparagus a delicacy, they looked askance at green asparagus. Too pedestrian, perhaps. Peculiar, say I. After all, the white asparagus has practically no flavor at all. But green asparagus, I’d like to suggest, is, in fact, the precise taste of the color green. Delicate, subtly bitter, and bursting with vibrance. The taste of spring… The taste of spring…

Spargelzeit: Asparagus for Dinner, May 6, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)

In the photo above the asparagus occupies place of honor in the middle of my plate. To the left, a simple grilled ground beef patty from Full and By Farm, and to the right some organic tomatoes I picked up in Vermont. Having spent the morning planting tomatoes in our high tunnel with Tony, I am hopeful, that soon — or at least far sooner than usual — I will be able to share photos of our earliest-ever tomatoes!

As a nod to Spargelzeit I tried to accompany my Rosslyn asparagus with other local food. Perhaps a sausage would have been more appropriate.

Traditional restaurants offer menus dedicated to this seasonal favourite, offering soups, salads and warm spears served with hollandaise sauce. It’s also served as a sort of add-on to other regional favourites, piled upon a schnitzel or a slice of saumagen (a haggis-like specialty from the Pfalz region), or stacked alongside a pair of hot, meaty bratwürste. When it comes to any plate of food in Germany, white asparagus is no exception: more is definitely more. That’s not a stereotype that will ever be crushed. (Source: The Guardian)

More is more, but I’ve decided to temper my overexuberance on this first day of Rosslyn Spargelzeit. I was tempted to serve myself a second heaping mound of asparagus, but I managed to exercise a modicum of restraint and placed them instead into the fridge for tomorrow’s lunch. Chilled asparagus with balsamic vinaigrette. Delicious.

May 6, 2023