Bugs!

There are little black bugs eating my potato plants and I don't like it. I think they are flea beetles because they aren't potato beetles and they leave tiny holes in the leaves. But, I'm not ready to go out and buy some kind of bug killer without first trying a couple organic methods. I visited the Montford community garden on Pearson drive today. Turtle and Julia were kind enough to show me about. Turtle gave me some good tips for combatting potato beetles. One: wood ash. Just take a handfull of wood ashes and dust them about on the plant where the beetles are active. If that doesn't work, I've got a mason jar full of garlic and onion parts soaking in warm water. Tomorrow, I'll strain the organic matter out and spray the tea on my taters. I'll probably go ahead and spray my other plants too, just to get a jump on the old bugs. Also, I've read up on companion planting. Seems I've got a good thing going with my garlic and onions being right there with my other veggies, although, I think I'll try to plant them throughout the rows, instead of all together in a clump. Marigolds I've read provide a very good companion plant to ward off harmful bugs. I can already see that next year's garden is going to need some better planning.

Since I've already brought it up, I want to take a moment to talk about the Montford Community Garden. It's a magical place and I fully recommend visiting it if you haven't already. There are two cob structures (made from earthen clay) that are very hobbity and lovely. The composting toilet is in one of these round, hobitt holes. It's a natrual timber framed, round building with a living roof. Unfortunately, the roof is suffering because of the drought, so I've offered to help install some microspray emitters that are water conserving and low profile. We'll have that roof back to its lush luster before you know it. Montford Community Garden was set up by Bountiful Cities, a non-profit org that helps set up such community gardens here in Asheville. Check them out here

Heirloom Tomatoes

I've been interested in historical gardens for a while now, so recently while grocery shopping at Earth Fare, I decided to buy a couple three heirloom tomato plants and then try to find out the history of the plants. Before I get into all that, I think maybe I should explain the term "heirloom" in reference to vegetables:

Heirloom tomatoes are open-pollenated cultivars that reproduce true-to-seed. In other words, the seeds of the plants will produce plants very similar to their parents. There is some debate as to the other criteria used to classify heirlooms. Some sources say that a variety must have been in cultivation for at least 50 years and contain an element of folklore. I, personally, like this definition, although it discounts at least one of the varieties I bought. In any case, heirloom tomatoes are not genetically modified and very often don't look like your typical large, red beefsteak tomato. Now, on to my Heirlooms.

There was a limited selection at Earth Fare the day I spontaneously decided to buy the tomatoes. There were about six options. I chose three varieties: 'Green Zebra', 'Patio Orange' and 'Large Red', for some variation in color. I hadn't planned on having tomatoes in my garden this year, since last year my garden spot proved to be to hard for the 'maters. But I had two pesky Black Walnut trees taken out of my yard which opened up some sun and saved my plants from the nasty hormones those trees secrete. So far, the plants seem fine.

Once the plants were in the ground, I began researching, looking for the "folklore" of my particular varieties. The first one I found, 'Green Zebra' was pretty bland. I only hope the tomatoes themselves are not. 'Green Zebra' is, by my definition, technically not an heirloom. It is an open-pollenated variety that reproduces true to seed, but was introduced by a tomato breeder named Tom Wagner in 1983. The tomato is a tart, green tomato with green and yellow stripes.

Next I looked up 'Patio Orange' which was listed by several seed catalogs as an heirloom of compact size, commonly grown in patio gardens where space is of short supply, but I could not find a single historical note about this tomato. No date of origin, nothing.

Lastly, I checked out 'Large Red', which I knew from the sign at the store had a long history in the US. Apparently, according to a book published in 1865 by Fearing Burr, this was the first and only tomato variety in cultivation from 1830 to 1865. It was primarily grown by the Shakers in Hancock, Mass before the first great waves of tomato madness hit the US. This classic tomato is quite large, approximately 2 inches tall by 4-5 inches wide, with deep ribs like a pumpkin. This heirloom is still highly prized for its robust flavor. Can't wait to eat them.

Herb Garden

There is a special satisfaction that comes from cooking with herbs and vegetables from your own garden. Beyond the feeling of self-sufficiency, beyond the satisfaction of knowing you are battling global warming, beyond the richness of garden fresh veggies and herbs,there is something intimate about eating food that you grew yourself. A satisfaction that is something akin to watching your child walk for the first time. It's the taste of accomplishment. Today I planted an herb garden in a raised bed in one corner of my veggie patch. It's the first time I've had a spot just for herbs. I used a rectangle made of 2"X10"s five foot by three foot. Then, I back filled the box with about 9 cu. feet of store-bought topsoil. I arranged my herb-starts in a formal garden style, each herb separated by a little stone wall. In a circle in the center I planted garlic. I've heard garlic is really easy to grow, so I just peeled some cloves and stuck them in the ground, just barely covered. Then, in each of the four corners I planted basil, thyme, oregano, and rosemary. These are my staple herbs. Along with salt and pepper and cumin, I pretty much don't use any other herbs. The radio is issuing a frost warning for tonight, so after I got everything planted, I built a little coldframe over the herb garden. All in all, I've got potatoes, onions, chard, squash and cucumbers growing and I've just planted carrot and corn seeds, which should come up in a couple of days. I'm looking forward to a bountiful harvest this fall. That is, if all my plants don't die from in the frost tonight. It's May 18th, for Chrissake.

Propagating Columbine

Columbine (Aquilegia canadensis)is one of my all-time favorite flowers, and a native to the lovely Blue Ridge Mountains. I've just finished an assignment for school that involves specific directions for growing this flower from seed, and I thought I'd share it with all of you. I might add that I've been growing it myself, as well, and it doesn't really need all of this to grow. It's quite happy sending up a shoot in some moist potting soil by the window sill. But, if you want to do it well, here's how:

Seed Collection

Columbine seeds turn jet black when they are mature and ready to be harvested around the end of July through August in my region (Western North Carolina). A stalk containing ripe seeds should be cut off and placed in a paper bag upside down. Leave the stalks in the bags for a few days, until they dehisce (dry out), then shake the bag vigorously. Then, seeds can be collected from the bottom of the bag, ready to be sown.

Preparation

In preparing to germinate the seeds, fill the germination plug tray (material 2) with Fafard germination mix medium (material 4). You should fill the individual units to ¼" of the top of the tray. Then wet the medium thoroughly using a sanitary water source, such as drinking water. Do not add fertilizer. Fertilizer may damage seedlings at this stage of growth(Davis).


Stratification

It is not necessary to provide Columbine seeds with a period of cold stratification, but in studies it has shown to improve the germination time. Therefore, a chilling period of 3-4 weeks at a temperature of 41 degrees F (Hartmann et al. p. 815) is recommended. Sow 2-3 seeds on the surface of the growing medium in each unit of the germination tray. Medium should be kept somewhat moist during the stratification period.

Germination
Once the seeds have been stratified, they should be watered thoroughly and placed in the greenhouse for germination. Columbine needs alternating day/night temperatures. Hartmann and Kester recommend day temperatures of 76 degrees F and night temperatures of 68 degrees F (Hartmann et al. p. 815). The growing medium should be kept evenly moist during germination. Regular misting will help maintain high humidity, as well, which can reduce transpiration and promote growth.

Vigorous Growth Period

Once the roots of the seedlings have begun to fill the germination tray units, it is time to transplant them to the larger multipot containers. In a large bucket, mix the Fafard Pro-Mix BX with the Nutricote Fertilizer at a rate of 0.15lbs of Fertilizer for every cubic foot of medium. Once the growing medium is mixed, fill the multipots about ¾ of the way up. With you finger or a pencil, make a small hole about ¼" to ½" deep. Carefully take seedlings out of the germination tray units by pushing up from the bottom of the units. *Caution* if you pull on the seedlings, the stems or foliage may break, resulting in plant death.
After transplanting the seedlings, pat the growing medium down around the plants and thoroughly water using a mist system or bottom watering system to avoid breaking the stems.
If the seedlings are crowded in the multipots, they must be cut back to allow for proper air circulation. This will help reduce the chance of fungus attacking the plant and prevent smaller plants from becoming lost under the larger ones (Davis).
Keep day/night temperatures the same as during germination and keep an eye on the roots of the plants. If roots outgrow the pots, they can cause the plants to die. Once roots have filled the multipots, transplant the seedlings to quart pots filled with the same growing medium mixed with fertilizer.

Hardening Off

By this time, plants should be reaching saleable age and should be transplanted to quart pots, in which they can be sold or transplanted into the ground. The plants should be give a 2-week period of gradual hardening off in which they are slowly exposed to the outdoor environment and more variable day/night temperatures. After two weeks, the plants should be strong enough to survive in the ground. *Cation* - Be advised that even after hardening off, a hard frost can kill the foliage. In case of frost, cover the plants. The plants will not flower the first year, but the second year they will make a wonderful display, after which they will reseed themselves.

Citations and References

Armitage, Allen M. 1997. Herbaceous Perennial Plants. 2nd Edition. Stipes Publishing. Champaign, Illinois

Davis, Kathy M.; Kujawski, Jennifer L. 2001. Propagation protocol for production of container Aquilegia canadensis plants (Container plugs); Beltsville - National Plant Materials Center, Beltsville, Maryland. In: Native Plant Network. URL: http://www.nativeplantnetwork.org (accessed 3 May 2007). Moscow (ID): University of Idaho, College of Natural Resources, Forest Research Nursery.

Hartman, H.T., D.E. Kester, F.T. Davies, and R.L. Geneve. 2002. Plant Propagation Principles and Practices. 7th ed. Prentice Hall: New Jersey.

The Great Smoky Mountains

Wild Orchids

The Pink Lady's Slipper (Cypripedium acaule) is an arresting flower, especially when encountered in the wild. The plant consists of two large football shaped leaves that fan out from the ground with a single pubescent stalk, a quarter of an inch thick and a foot high, protruding from between them, upon which is perched the flower. The entire flower measures about 1 1/2" to 2" across and is composed of a pink, oblong sac hanging down like a lip and a three reddish, skinny petals above the lip. A green sepal hoods the upper petal and the opening to the sac. The sheer complexity of the flower is astounding, but there is something more than just scientific wonder that stirs inside me when I see it. Somehow, this flower reveals the entirety of the forests: This whole wild mountain range with it's peaks and valleys, trees and flowers, animals and humans, rocks and dirt. The whole of the ecosystem throughout history is reflected back at me when I stare into the intimate folds of this flower. I cannot get enough of staring at it, but I manage to pull myself away, pick up my 70 pound backpack and head up the trail. Later that day, as I crest the highest point in my three day journey, I look out onto the Smokey Mountains and I get the same feeling of historical awe. There it is: 180 million years of geological and biological history. Above me, thick, dark, primeval clouds blow across the grey sky. I can see in the distance patches of light shining down into the valley where breaks in the clouds let the sun shine down.

It's my second day in The Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I'm hiking the Gregory Bald loop that begins and ends at the Twentymile Ranger station in the South-West corner of the park. Two nights and about 5 miles a day through some of the richest, most abundant preserved forest land in the country. There are at least 100 species of native trees in the park and over 1,300 flowering plants. There are two major reasons why the plant and animal life is so diverse in the park: One, the park is located in a temperate region that sees long warm summers, mild winters and lots of rainfall. Two, the variation in altitude is extreme ranging from 840 feet above sea level at the mouth of Abrams Creek to 6,643 feet above sea level at the peak of Clingman's Dome. In fact, an ambitious project called the ALL TAXA BIO-DIVERSITY INVENTORY (ATBI) is taking a detailed inventory of ALL the flora and fauna of the park. As of October 2006, the ATBI has identified 651 species new to science and 4,666 species previously not known to inhabit the Park.

With all that life abounding, it helps to have a focus: mine is wildflowers. Late April is an ideal time to see wildflowers and even with the late frost, I am not let down. I see no less than 5 species of Trillium with a great deal of color and size
variation, from the sessile Little Sweet Betsy's (Trillium cuneatum) to the Great White Trillium (Trillium grandiflorum) and Nodding Trillium (Trillium cernuum) ranging from pure white to bright pink. I see at least two different Solomon's Seals (Polygonatum spp.) of which I have not yet identified the species.
As I get closer to the top of Gregory Bald, the vegetation begins to change. The taller, more succulent plants like Trillium and Solomon's Seal give way to more prostrate plants that hug the ground to stay warm in the bitter cold winters. Plants like Bluets (Houstonia caerula) line the edges of the rocks and paths. I enter a hardwood cove and the ground around me is literally carpeted with Spring Beauty (Claytonia virginica): The lush green foliage peppered heavily with the creamy white and hints of pink. It's there, among the Spring Beauty that I come across the largest patches of Yellow Troutlilies (Erythronium americanum) I've ever seen.

The vegetation on Gregory Bald is somewhat different than that of Max Patch (see earlier post). The clumping grasses are more lush and less trod upon and there are 3-4' brambles, plus a couple of brave trees. The view is nothing short of spectacular. Native Flame Azaleas not yet in bloom cover the Northern edge of the bald and I can't help imagining them all glowing orange as I head down the other side to my camp.

Backcountry camping is highly regulated in the park so that the damage us hikers do to the ecosystem is negligible. High cables with pulleys are rigged to keep food out of reach of bears. This camp, at around 4,500 feet above sea level is surrounded by Spring Beauties. I lay in my tent and read Gerard Durrell's My Family and Other Animals. Out of the corner of my eye, through the thin trees, I see something move. My stomach jumps like a spooked moth. A bear? I see it again, a light brown patch moving slowly through the trees. Deer. Four of them to be exact. I jump up and grab my camera and start tiptoeing through the woods. I am no stealthy hunter, and even though I'm upwind of the animals, I'm sure they have spotted me. Even so, they pay me little mind and soon I'm within ten feet of the youngest fawn. There is a mature doe and what seem to be her three offspring, two older and this one, still wobbly on his feet. They are grazing the woods for none other than Yellow Troutlilies. I'm aghast. Can't you eat something else? Now I realize the far reaching effects that Coyotes have had on this ecosystem. After the red wolf and the cougar were driven to extinction in these mountains, the deer population exploded. As a result, flowers like the Yellow Troutlily were in decline. Now that a large predator has filled that niche, namely Coyotes migrated here from the West coast, flowers like Troutlilies have a chance to repopulate. As I'm following the deer, I happen to catch a patch of Dutchman's Breeches (Dicentra cucullaria) which is an amazing looking flower that looks kind of like a pulled tooth or, sure enough, like a pair of puffy pants.

On the way down the mountain the next day I catch another Pink Lady's Slipper and another wild orchid, the Showy Orchis (Galearis spectabilis), in a small cluster. Each plant boasts three or four delicate flowers consisting of a white lower lip and a
pinkish hood. These little orchids stand only 4-6" high and are quite rare. Tiny Dwarf Crested Irises (Iris cristata) line the banks near the creeks and huge drifts of wild Geraniums(Geranium maculatum) created thick, beautiful masses of green and lavendar. I finish my hike, tired and happy, my head spinning with colors and scents. Next time, maybe I'll see how many different ferns I can find...

4,629 feet up - Max Patch Bald

Today I spent the afternoon in Madison County, walking the Max Patch loop. Max Patch, for those of you who have not experience it, is an Appalachian Bald, which is a mountain top that is completely barren of vegetation over six inches tall. From the top of Max Patch you have an uninterrupted 360 degree view of the Appalachian Mountains from Mt. Mitchell to the Great Smokies. The best part is, all the surrounding mountains are undeveloped. Oh they may have a house or two here and there, but it is a far cry from sights like Reynolds Mountain in North Asheville that is completely covered in million dollar mansions.
Max Patch is only one of several balds that top mountains in our region. The precise cause of these balds is unknown, but it is thought that seasonal forest fires may have originally left the mountains bald. It is known, however that many of the balds were used first by the Native Americans and then by the settlers to graze livestock and grow food.
For me, being on top of the world on a day like today was food for my soul. The first wildflowers I glimpsed as I dashed into the woods to heed mother nature's call (it's quite a drive from downtown Asheville) were Mayapples. None were in bloom and the leaves were quite droopy thanks to our late spring frost (see earlier post). But, nestled behind the tree I was using was a clump of sessile Trillium, none of which had opened yet, but bade well for my day on the bald.
The first half mile of the trip was exhilarating. With my two-year-old son on my back, I encountered several blanketed slopes of Spring Beauty (Claytonia virginica) mixed in with Giant Chickweed (Stellaria pubera) which has the interesting characteristic of a five-petaled flower that looks like ten petals: the petals are deeply cut, making them look like two.
Then I saw it, a little yellow face nodding down with black freckles and petals that curl back up towards the sky: The American Trout lily (Erythronium americanum). A little cluster of the flowers, thick, mottled leaves covering the ground. I had thought I'd missed out on all the Trout lilies. Most of the ones down at my elevation in Asheville had already passed, but these were in full bloom. Later on down the trail, I came across a huge colony of the lovely little ladies, but most of the flowers had been spent and only a few solitary heads hung above the mottled leaves. I can only imagine what that hundred square feet must have looked like when all those beautiful flowers had been in bloom. Then, just a few feet past the Trout lily colony, I found a little outpost of Downy Rattlesnake Orchid leaves. None had flowers, but just knowing that the white, squarish-veined leaves would sprout Orchids made my heart flutter.
Needless to say, I enjoyed myself thoroughly up on that bald mountain. My son Jackson seemed to enjoy it as much as I did, though I can say he was markedly less interested in the flowers.

Heaven on a Mountain

I visited the home and garden of Peter Gentling this past week and saw what a garden can be. He has 20 acres of the most pristene mountain garden I've ever seen. The garden path stretches down the mountain in little curves and cut-backs, creating nooks and surprise beds all the way down the slope. There were too many amazing plants for me to even go into detail, but suffice to say, there was nothing lacking. Unfortunately, this late frost hit him hard. Nearly all of his Japanese Maples were killed back to the trunk and a couple may have been destroyed completely. Although he said he hadn't checked yet, he was afraid that his 120 ft., 60 year old Dawn Redwoods might have suffered a fatal blow, as well. Hostas were turned to mush. Not a single azalea blossom survived the extened 16 degree F freeze or the 40mph winds. A fatal combination. It was the worst late frost damage he'd seen in his 40 years on the mountain.
Peter's native flower garden was not what you would call spectacular, but to a hortophyte, like myself, it was heavenly. Many of the flowers were dead or wilting or were not open, or had just opened. But he had Mayapples, at least four different species of Trillium, bloodroot, a double petaled bloodroot, Oconee bells, wild ginger, and so many more I can't remember them all. It was a beautiful sight.