Catherine Seidenberg, our now-year-two vegetable garden guru, has once again aced the Broccoli Bonanza. That’s right, my bride and I have been devouring 100% organic, pest-free broccoli fresh out of the garden for a couple of weeks now. Quickly steamed, it’s packed with flavor, and oh-too-sexy to resist!
This morning I spied a Colorado Potato Beetle (Leptinotarsa decemlineata) or three in the vegetable garden. Here’s a fuzzy snapshot of one Colorado Potato Beetle contentedly munching away on young eggplant leaves.
Do you see the yellow striped beetle? It’s approximately center frame.
Here’s a closeup of another Colorado Potato Beetle once I flicked him/her onto the ground.
Despite the fact that these pests are aren’t questionably distractive to the vegetable garden, I find it difficult to kill such a beautiful creature. Somehow it’s easier to squish a slug that it is to crush this handsomely striped beetle.
Despite my aesthetic misgivings, I dispatched each Colorado Potato Beetle and made a mental note to doodle or perhaps watercolor one. Or two. (See above.)
This post, the latest installment in my friend or foe series, will endeavor to demystify Colorado Potato Beetle (Leptinotarsa decemlineata).
Here’s what you need to know about the Colorado Potato Beetle. (Many thanks to Sally Jean Cunningham whose book, Great Garden Companions: A Companion Planting System for a Beautiful, Chemical-Free Vegetable Garden, informed this and many of my gardening posts.)
I’ll start by hunting, doodling, and crushing. And then I’ll hustle up on installing our straw mulch (we’re WAY behind!) and adding some companion plants. Fingers crossed.
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.
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.
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.
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.
It took some patience, but it all came together.
A little trimming here and an adjustment there. And voila!
There remain a few questions such as how well the doors will hold up to harsh winter windows.
And how best to secure the doors when they’re closed to minimize air leakage and secure against wind flapping.
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.
Hroth’s video proves proof of concept!
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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!
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?
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.
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.
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
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!
One of the most refreshing midsummer garden staples is the cucumber. Cuke. Cucumber. Refreshing no matter what you call it.
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.
So we need to decide: transplant cucumbers or wait?
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!
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.
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!
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!
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.
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…
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.
I apologize in advance for bypassing several timely updates on the icehouse rehabilitation progress. Sorry. I promise that they are coming soon. But there’s something about springtime, about gardening, about the promise of colorful blooms and produce that I’m finding too tempting to resist. And so I share with you what I’ll call a “Giebel garden flashback” from last summer, August 10, 2022 to be exact. Taken by dear friend Brian Giebel and pushed out to the world via Instagram, I revisit it now with all the enthusiasm and optimism of an almost 100% planted garden. May 2023 be as abundant as 2022!
Thank you, Brian, for capturing this outrageous sunset (and my embarrassing posture). And thank you for reminding me what I’ve garden looks like in high season so that I may gird my angst about the two upcoming frost warnings.
I’ve learned again, and again that worrying about the weather is an unhealthy and unhelpful practice. So I won’t. Or, I will try not to worry. Nature, benevolent nature, will offer us what she considers right.
And in the meantime, we’ll postpone planting 18 newly arrived artichoke thistles. They look robust and healthy now, so we’ll try to keep them that way until the risk of frost has passed. Then, into the garden, they go!
Once those artichokes are planted, we will be almost finished. Today we offer an especial thanks to Pam for rounding up the artichokes (the last available from our supplier), and the Amish family who helps ensure that our seeds are in the freshly filled ground and the transplants are well tended. Thank you!
And to you, Brian, thanks for this Instagram post nine months past that fills me now with hope for our future harvest. Soon we will be feasting once again!
As asparagus time begins yielding to rhubarb time (photo update soon!) I brainstorm asparagus recipes that I’ll lament overlooking once seasonality advances our homegrown ingredients. A vague recollection sends me filtering through old blog posts and then drafts of incomplete blog posts. I find notes started on May 14, 2014, and I know what my final garden-to-gullet asparagus recipe will be: green eggs and ham.
Although there are many tasty ways to concoct delicious green eggs (avocado, artichoke hearts, succulent spinach fresh from the garden,…) today I will alchemize the quintessential taste of spring — delicate asparagus spears bursting with their 100% unique tanginess — and hyperlocal, free range eggs from Full and By Farm.
Look at the brilliant yellow-orange color of the eggs! Almost too colorful to believe. And yet this is the signature of local, free range eggs. We consider ourselves fortunate indeed to enjoy a steady stream of organic eggs from Full and By Farm.
Although at other times we might’ve been able to prepare pork from Full and By Farm (or another local farm) in this case I’ve used dulcedumbres, smoked ham from the Village Meat Market just up the road in Willsboro.
As the ingredients start to set up with a little heat, the yellow, green and pink are still distinct, three parts of a perfect medley.
Cooked to perfection (overcooked, my bride would say), green eggs and ham, make the perfect breakfast, lunch, or dinner!
I imagine that many of us, perhaps even most of us.) remember the book, Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss. If you’re needing a little blast from the past, enjoy this video.
Are you too a fan of green eggs and ham?
We survived 2022, friends, and in some fortunate cases, we even thrived. Cheers to surviving and thriving an occasionally challenging year!
That means it’s time for a meandering year-ender…
I’d like to jumpstart my retrospective with a positive personal milestone.
Yesterday’s post, “New Year’s Eve”, was my 153rd post in a row, completing a 5-month streak of daily updates without missing a single day. It’s an impartial victory at this point with seven months still on the to-do side of the ledger, but it’s an accomplishment that underpins my optimism — indeed my confidence — that I can achieve my goal of 365 days of uninterrupted Rosslyn updates. (Wondering why one year is a significant benchmark? I’ll explain soon, I promise.) In broad strokes, this is beginning to feel like actual, believable progress toward resuscitating Rosslyn Redux, my multidisciplinary meditation on the *art of homing*. There are so many reasons why this is important to me, and I’ve poked at a bunch on them in recent months, but for now I hope you’ll just allow that this exploration, this inside-out creative experiment, this quasi crowdsourced inquiry, and the resulting nexus of artifacts and stories and visuals and poems and all of the esoteric marginalia that has accreted over the last seventeen years since Susan and I bought Rosslyn is meaningful. Heck, to be 100% candid, for me it’s not just meaningful; it’s vital.
But enough heavy handed me-centrism. I’m flirting dangerously close to catharsis, so it’s time to lighten up. Time to imbue the balance of this post with effervescent toast-worthy bullet points like champagne bubbles rising giddily. Time for levity.
But first, an aside. I’m trying to distill my year-ender into a positive, celebratory retrospective without slipping into a post-mortem review of some of the less celebratory events. For this reason I started with a little victory dance celebrating the Rosslyn Redux momentum. My re-immersion has been stimulating and it’s catalyzing all sorts of overdue transformation. For this I’m profoundly grateful. And I’m doubling down on my commitment to see this challenge through to its conclusion.
There’s actually much more to celebrate, but to avoid overburdening this retrospective I’ll streamline my recap by simply listing and linking some of the most notable highlights. That way you can follow the links to more specific updates if you’re interested. And I’ll add a coming-soon placeholder in lieu of a link for those I haven’t yet covered. I’m hoping that this will keep things as lean as possible, because isn’t that always on our New Year‘s resolutions?!?!
High on the happy news is the ongoing icehouse rehab. It’s been a looong fantasized vision (and an almost equally long unrealized vision) that involves rehabilitating the last of the four buildings we set out to revitalize back in 2006. And, in this case, there’s a self-serving motive fueling my push. I perennially pine for a writer’s “garret”, and at last the icehouse loft will become that sanctuary just far enough removed to allow me to spread my stacks and sink into my writing projects. I. Can’t. Wait.
In addition to the icehouse rehab (and a writer’s hideaway), another biggy on the decade plus wishlist came tyre. In late winter off 2022 we finally invested in a high tunnel for the Rosslyn vegetable garden. It’s been a fascinating learning curve, and in a couple of months we’ll be getting it ready for another growing season with the benefit of one year already under our belts. Totally unrelated to gardening but similarly braided into the lakeside lifestyle that draws us to this remarkable property, we’ve made a change in our aquatic locomotion. You may recall that Errant, our 31′ sloop was sold in the hopes of replacing it with a slightly larger sailboat. Well, that plan was impacted by the attenuated pandemic which distorted the boat market and compelled us to stall long enough to deep-think our wants/needs. In short, our plans evolved significantly. Last summer we took delivery of a new 28′ Chris Craft launch that has become our entertaining and “picnic boat”, allowing our ski/surf boat to serve it’s proper purpose despite serving as our “everything boat” for years. This decision was part of sailboat shift as well. In a pretty significant reorientation we’ve been exploring the possibility of our future sailing adventures happening along the California, initially, and then possibly further north and south. This spring we’ll again sail on the west coast and continue to experiment with different iterations for our future sailing plans.
But I’m drifting of course, so I’d better tack back toward Rosslyn.
Despite a disheartening debacle a year or so ago during our first foray into repairs on the Rosslyn’s boathouse gangway, the summer of 2022 marked a turning point. First came Patrick McAuliff‘s monumental transformation of Rosslyn’s front yard, replacing the overgrown, toppling arborvitae hedge with a handsome hemlock hedge. This quick summary oversimplifies (and leapfrogs a mysterious discovery), but I’ll unravel this yearn soon enough, I promise.
And then there was Rosslyn’s deck rebuild. This story had been evolving for a while (all the way back to TimberSIL). Most recently the same OPUD who cost us dearly on the boathouse gangway effectively hamstrung us on the deck as well. We retreated to Essex from Santa Fe earlier than normal to escape the worst forest fires in New Mexico history. With boathouse and deck in unsafe and unusable condition we began cancelling summer guests and plans…
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m sidestepping into the post-mortem that I intended to keep separate. Back to the deck rebuild which is complete, sturdy as can be, and stunningly beautiful (Hurrah, garapa decking!). And better yet, the ingredients for this rebuild included an outstanding team of friends and family and former collaborators on projects like the ADK Oasis Lakeside renovation who coalesced at the last minute and quickly became a skilled, collegial, productive, and fun loving team. In fact, much of this team is what has now evolved into the icehouse team.
After the boathouse gangway’s false start, there’s good news on Rosslyn’s waterfront as well. After the deeply discouraging setback inherited from the OPUD, after dismantling much of their work in order to rebuild correctly (the verdict of every single contractor who evaluated the miscarried first attempt), and after painstakingly recreating the original conditions instead of perpetuating the errors inherited from the OPUD, we’re back on track with a capable, experienced team. Fingers crossed that the boathouse gangway will be good as new next spring!
And there’s sooo much more. But I’ve waxed wordy, and my update has gotten too long. So I’ll abbreviate boldly with that list I promised earlier. Better late than never.
Trail building was advanced significantly with the hard work of Tony Foster, the guidance of John Davis, and the oversight of Pam Murphy. Rewilding progress was made, and thriving wildlife population documented. Tile and grout maintenance underway in bathrooms and kitchen by Clay Belzile. Stone wall reveal and landscaping at ADK Oasis Highlawn, and orchard restoration and stone wall rebuilding at ADK Oasis Lakeside. Too many contributors to these projects to list them all, but some notables were Bob Kaleita, Phil Valachovic, Patrick McAuliff, Roger King, Aaron Valachovic, and Tony Foster.
Other highlights include excellent gardening assistance on all three properties by our incredibly hardworking Amish neighbors, re-homing the zero-turn and the truckling, and one of our best apple and pear seasons in the orchard.
I’ll close with an admission that I didn’t succeed 100% in restricting my retrospective to the celebratory highlights. I drifted into post-mortem territory a couple of times. But, for now at least, I’ve edited out our unfortunate encounter with Covid, my father’s health upset, and Susan’s miraculous recovery from a life threatening tragedy this autumn. Today is a day to embrace success and optimism. And from the vantage point of January 1st even the most difficult challenges of the last year give me cause for celebrating success and renewing optimism.
Cheers to a glorious new year!