Snow Blankets My Winter Garden

I’m a bit late in posting these images, but here are some photos of the snow day we had in Seattle last Thursday, Dec. 8. Up here on Phinney Ridge (about 300 feet above sea level) we got perhaps two inches of snow, which lasted about a day, until the rains returned.

Here’s how my winter vegetables looked under that fluffy white quilt, and one post-snow shot that shows how they fared.

A long tunnel cloche holds salad greens in my front garden.

carrots in cold frame

Carrots tops under the Triangle Tunnel cold frame peek perkily past the plastic.

The Brussels sprout leaves droop but will bounce back. Not so sure about the shungiku flowers behind.

Snowy garden

A plastic cloche holding beets, the Triangle Tunnel protecting carrots, and the unprotected Purple Sprouting broccoli in snow.

Garden after snow

The beets and carrots are fine under their cloches, and the broccoli bounced right back after curling up to protect itself from the cold snap.

Giving Thanks, 2016

This holiday weekend, the garden is soggy from steady rains. But the day before Thanksgiving yielded a warm, dry spell that got me out amongst the vegetable beds to harvest a bounty for our holiday dinner, and to reflect on the many reasons to be thankful.

Here is my annual photo essay on the joys of year-round gardening.

edible chrysanthemum shungiku

Not much is flowering in the garden right now, but this edible chrysanthemum (also called shungiku) is too cheery to cut!

Redventure celery

Redventure celery provided a bounteous harvest for our Thanksgiving stuffing recipe.

Brussels sprouts

Two tall Roodnerf Brussels sprouts plants yielded enough small- and medium-sized sprouts for a generous side dish, lightly spiced with a fresh onion.

Carrots

Young Chablis Yellow carrots are still brightly growing under my Triangle Tunnel cold frame.

Arugula

Arugula: a reliable winter flower and leafy green to spice up our salads.

Apple

I missed harvesting a small apple high on our Liberty tree, and the cluster of leaves from our unusually warm fall makes that branch remind me of spring.

peppers and parsley

My raised bed cold frame hosted Jimmy Nardello peppers this summer, and some are still alive and turning red amongst a flotilla of parsley leaves.

Black Spanish Radish

This Black Spanish radish, growing large right next to a path, will need to be moved before it sends up its rangy flower head.

Parsnips

Those are All American parsnips under the big floppy leaves, and you can barely see where I pulled three of them for our holiday dinner.

Baby mustard greens

Baby mustard greens are coming in thick under a layer of floating row cover.

Miike Giant mustard

One beautiful leaf from this Miike Giant mustard is enough to spice up a salad or soup.

leek

A stray leek escaped notice among summer plants, and now is full size.

perennial kale

This perennial kale is in its second year and still offering plentiful harvests.

Fava beans

The Broad Windsor fava beans planted on October 30 are poking up cheerily through their protective mulch.

Cabbages

Mystery brassicas: these two volunteers that cropped up among the fall greens are probably cabbages.

Ruby chard

The deep red stems and dusky green leaves of this ruby chard are luxurious among the parsley ground cover.

Purple Sprouting broccoli

The Purple Sprouting broccoli didn’t provide any food for our Thanksgiving meal, but its healthy growth promises early spring abundance.

 

 

Holiday weather blues? Don’t despair, plant!

It was the best of weather, it was the worst of weather.

Memorial Day Weekend in Seattle will bring up brooding Dickensian thoughts. What should herald the start of summer here often disappoints. When all you want to do is take your kids hiking, go to a music festival, wheel off on a nice long bike ride, or simply just host a BBQ, you have to look to the skies, and judge the depth of the grey.

Why, then, would I start this post so optimistically? The best of weather, by what standards? Well, my Brussels sprouts love it.

Brussels sprouts seedlings

These Brussels sprouts, sown on May 7, got potted up to 4″ pots this week, and will be ready for the garden by mid-June.

At this stage of the year—what I call mid-spring in my catalog of mini-seasons—I am engaged in a garden tug-of-war. Part of me wants to grow the fattest red tomato on the block, so juicy it drips down my shirt. I want big pepper plants heavy with spicy pods. Some years, I even yearn for a stand of corn.

But my muscles yank me back to cool-season crops too, and possibly more to reality. Mid-spring is a time for struggle on the part of my tomato plants, and the peppers can stay under cover or fight for their survival. But it’s a glorious time of growth for cool-season vegetables. They celebrate this dreary holiday weekend weather like twirling hippies at a Phish concert.

And now, when you’re focused solely on getting those hot crops of summer in the ground, let the cool breezes of a maritime spring clue you in: time to give those long-season vegetables of next winter some love.

Tomatoes and Peppers in Greenhouse shelves

The tomatoes are getting leggy, and the peppers aren’t getting any younger in their pots. But the greenhouse shelves work great!

Here’s a quick list of what to sow now in pots for planting out in June and July:

  • Purple sprouting broccoli
  • Brussels sprouts
  • Cabbage (winter)
  • Parsnips

And here are some things to plant directly in the garden in mid-July for fall and winter eating:

  • Collards
  • Jerusalem artichoke
  • Kohlrabi
  • Rutabaga
  • Turnip

There are many other, shorter-season veggies that can be sown later in the summer and into the fall for fall and winter eating, but for right now, instead of trying to jump-start summer, skip over it and look to fall. Put on a Dead record and rave on with your brassicas.

Final presentation at City People’s

Many Seattle gardeners are mourning the impending loss of City People’s Garden Store on Madison, which got the land sold out from under it for the inevitable mixed-use development. It was the first nursery I used when I moved to Seattle in the mid-1980s, and I still hold it fondly in my mind. When it closes at the end of this year, it will be a major loss for city gardeners. I will miss it.

I’ve been giving a series of edible gardening talks there for years, and my last talk is coming up next weekend. On Sunday, June 5 at 11 a.m. I’ll do a seminar on starting long-season vegetables. Hope you can join me, support the store with some purchases and give City People’s a proper send-off.

Quinoa, Orach Harvest

What do quinoa and orach have in common? Along with being planted in large patches by me this year, they are both members of the Chenopod (Chenopodiaceae) family. They also both are beautiful, adding striking swaths of color to the garden.

Another thing they had in common is that I recently harvested both of them from my garden for seed.

Quinoa heads

“Brightest Brilliant” quinoa delivers yellow, orange and red seed heads. Purple orach stands behind it.

I planted purple orach and Brightest Brilliant quinoa. It was a two-year plan. Last year I had small quantities of the seed, and wanted more, so I planted both and saved their seed. This year, I could plant a miniature field of them. Felt like I was back on the farm.

When I realized that both plants were part of the same family, I understood better why I was so attracted to them. The Chenopods also include two of my other favorite garden veggies, beets and chard, which also provide striking reds and oranges to the vegetable garden.

I’ve always connected orach with a third Chenopod, spinach. In fact, orach is sometimes called “mountain spinach.” Orach delivers smooth, thick leaves on a long stalk. We plant thickly, then thin the plantings and strip the leaves off the stems. It seems best for salad when the leaves are still young and tender, but the older, larger leaves can be enjoyed if lightly steamed.

It surprised me to find that quinoa is also part of this clan. To my knowledge, it’s the only family member whose seed is part of the plant that we consume. I don’t know about you, but I’m not interested in gnawing on a mouthful of spiky, tough beet seeds.

Quinoa’s small, round seed puffs up nicely in hot water to make a pleasant light grain that can be the base of a salad or used in a pilaf-type dish. It pops softly between the teeth. It takes quite a bit to include in a meal — at least a half-cup of seed — so my goal this year was to grow enough to do that.

Drying seeds

Quinoa and orach plants are cut and hung on an improvised drying rack. A sheet beneath will catch the drying seed.

I haven’t yet stripped the seed off the drying quinoa plants. I have a hunch that it’s going to be a challenging job to clean the crop, and I’ve read that it is a bitter seed unless repeatedly washed.

But we did eat a lot of orach this summer, and have enough seed to cover the “back 40” next year. That’s probably the case with the quinoa too. And as beautiful as the two were together, I can always just replant them for the color.

Hummingbird, Meet Broccoli

This is exactly why you let the purple sprouting broccoli go to flower.

hummingbird

Hummingbird

hummingbird

hummingbird

hummingbird

hummingbird

hummingbird

hummingbird

This is an Anna’s hummingbird (Calypte anna), one of the most common (and yet, not at all “common”) hummingbirds in the Pacific Northwest. I’ve seen them in my garden year-round.

“No larger than a ping-pong ball and no heavier than a nickel,” says the uber-informative All About Birds, the website of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology.

They share more fascinating hummingbird facts:

  • Mostly green and grey, the male’s “gorget,” or throat patch, can shine with iridescent pink colors in the right sunlight. The color can extend over the bird’s entire head.
  • The males have a characteristic small white spot behind the eye.
  • During mating season, the males have a “dive display” in which they rise to 130 feet, then plummet down in a matter of seconds, stopping to hover a few feet in front of the object of their display.
  • Sometimes a bee or wasp will get impaled on the sharp beak of the bird, causing it to starve to death.
  • Their normal body temperature is about 107 degrees, but when it’s cold, they can go into “torpor” where their breathing and heart rate slows, and their temperature drops to 48.
  • They have tiny legs and can’t really walk or hop, but they can sort of scoot sideways when perched.

 

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