Summer Solstice

As the earth begins its slow exhale and the days begin to shorten, we too take a moment to exhale a sigh of relief: our small spring harvest was a success and a cornucopia of summer vegetables lies ahead. Yet we take a moments pause between harvests and our little vegetable plants start mocking us and calling us lazy. They’re greedily inhaling all of those previous exhales and using that CO2 to power their exponential growth.

We spend most of our days weeding and watering, though I don’t really find a reason to weed. Is it not just useful ground cover? They have not overpowered our precious miniatures…yet...though perhaps in time. So, I keep weeding away anyways.

We have entered a dry spell (of harvest, not of rain, of which we've had more than enough of in my opinion) between our spring crops and summer crops. Thus far we’ve harvested about 25 radishes , 30 handfuls of lettuce, 4 handfuls of sweet basil, 1 handful of purple African basil, and about as much bok choy as you could ever possibly want. If you extend your arms in front of you like you're holding a basket so only the very tips of your fingers touch, that's about how much bok choy we had. I know, we use very precise measurements.

Last night I decided to take a stab at food preservation. I washed and chopped the bok choy, blanched it, and divvied it up between Ziploc bags- one serving per bag. I made sure to label and date it as the online directions advised. You're supposed to expel all the air before shoving it in the freezer. Some have fancy machines for that work, but me, I have a handy dandy straw. I zipped the bags so that there was only space enough for the straw and sucked all the air out that I could. Man, my lungs sure got a workout.

I also whipped up some pesto to freeze for later convenience. Toasted pine nuts, olive oil, a couple of garlic cloves, and fresh basil from the garden. Simple, yet delicious. Then I poured it in the ice cube tray and, after it was solid, transferred the cubes to a plastic bag. Now whenever I feel like pesto I can pop one or two out of the freezer, and voila, the taste of summer at my fingertips.

I’d really make a great housewife.

Rain, rain, don't go away. Please come often these summer days.

One of the major drawbacks of the placement of the garden is that a water source isn't in a very convenient spot. Actually, its about 700 feet away (measured yesterday by Tyler). The journey isn't all that flat either; there's a good amount of hill-age going on. Not that we mind much. Its good exercise. I actually volunteered to drag the water when Nic and I set to water a few days ago. Weeding on my butt just doesn't seem to do it for me. Anyways, 700 feet really isn't that far when you think about some of the women and children in Kenya spending 1/3 of their day traveling to bring water to their homes. (http://thewaterproject.org/water-in-crisis-kenya.asp)

How we do it: Our trashcan, our two buckets, and the one watering can is loaded up onto the cart. It takes about two trips to water our garden and the children's garden, now that everything is planted. But really, what's the big deal? A trashcan, two buckets, and a watering can are way cheaper than installing a watering system. My concerns however, are that it may deter growth in participants, lessen our legitimacy and permanence of the garden, encourage other gardeners to use their cars to carry water, and take time away from the upkeep of the garden, especially once school starts up again.

The rain has been great. We've been lucky to have a good downpour once or twice a week, keeping our treks for water at a minimum. But what happens when the rain slows? I'm not an expert a Pennsylvania summer weather, being as I've never been here in the summer, but i'm assuming it will get drier. Watering the garden is going to become a pain in the ass.

I don't really know if purchasing 700 feet of hosing would be worth it. Would there even be enough water pressure? And we couldn't really leave the thing lying across the baseball field. All in all, it would probably take just as much time and effort hauling the hose in and out of the shed as hauling the cart to and from the garden.

I'm unsure of what to do. Penn State just started a community garden consisting of 98 plots. Much larger than ours, of course, but their gardeners are also watering by hand. The article in the PASA (Pennsylvania Association for Sustainable Agriculture) newsletter I read did mention a summer intern making sure the "water buffalo" is always full. I'm assuming this mysterious "water buffalo" is some kind of water storage unite, however, despite my best efforts, all I got on google was a bunch of info on the actual animal.

One thing is for sure: something's gotta be done. Maybe a decision at least?

Mission 1 accomplished: all seeds planted

What seeds have I blessed with life today? Beans, beans, and more beans (Actually some nasturtiums too...no matter). It's almost unbelievable how a plant appears from these inconspicuous tiny seeds. In BIO 220 we learned about this one scientist who wanted to figure out where plant matter came from. He carefully measured the amount of soil present when the seed was planted, and after it reached maturity. Much to his surprise there was no difference in the two measurements. Life from (practically) nothing. Sometimes I wish I could photosynthesize too and feed off the infinite energy from the sun. Except I love "real" food too much to give up. Plus, where would I be now if there was no need for a garden? Probably slouching in some cubicle not having nearly as much fun as I am now.

Anyways, the beans are presently happy nestled in the warm earth, their new home for the moment. Unfortunately for them, I can take life just as easy as I can give it away. And that is exactly what I plan on doing Not without reason, of course. All living things must kill for their own survival; even vegans. And so these beans will become the protein necessary for my survival in a few months time. There will no shortage of beans in august, that is for certain.

One packet of Lancaster Brown beans (from Happy Cat Farm), one packet of New Mexican Cave Beans (Happy Cat Farm), and two packets of Blue Lake 272 bush beans (Burpee) are now in the ground. What does 272 even mean? Is that a secret code? They are organic beans but are they genetically modified? or is that just an easy way for Burpee to name them. eating 272 beans is a bit unappealing, but the picture is pretty. I must remind myself to look into that.

The Happy Cat Farm seed packets are actually quite entertaining to read. They give you quite a little story, though not much at all about how to plant them (how far apart? how deep? how much sun? how much water?) so I did my best. I've found that as incredulous as it is for a plant to grow from this tiny speck, and even with my inexperience, these seeds are up for anything and seem to be pretty resilient. Let me just take a minute to share with you these seeds' stories:

"Lancaster Brown Bean is only a working name until we can determine the true lineage of this bean. The provenance of my bean is from the collection of David Haas (my grandfather) of Lancaster County, PA. I gave some of these beans to William Woys Weaver, and he had no idea what they were, so if anyone knows what they are please let us know. This is a very tasty dried bean with a light brown color"

" New Mexican cave bean an archeological team from UCLA came upon these beans. The beans were in a clay pot sealed with pine tar and were determined by radio carbon dating to be over 1,500 years old. The flavor is nutty with a hint of smokiness."

Anyways, now all the beds are planted. I suppose the majority of the labor from now on is weeding. whoop dee do. I wish we had a bit more room to plant the Hopi Blue Dent corn, seeds that were given to us by a recent graduate. The smoky blue color of the kernels intrigue me greatly. I could've sacrificed some of the bean space. However, different varieties of corn, i've learned, are supposed to be planted at least 40 feet apart to prevent cross-pollination. Being that our whole garden is about that long from end to end, planting the blue corn wansn't a feasible option. I suppose i'll leave the seeds for the enjoyment of next season's gardeners.

Beans: good for the belly and the spirit

I had a surprisingly difficult time dragging myself out to the garden today. I have no idea why; I mean I created this garden, I lobbied for this student internship. I suppose I was just being a lazy, moody teenager. Thankfully I only have three more months, in theory, to endure those plaguing moods.

By 11:45am I had arrived at Baker Campus and set to work on my goal for the day: get the beans in the ground, by God! before it's too late. But, since I had set my mind to plant a vining variety, a trellis became the first order of business.

There are all kinds of contraptions out there built for the purpose of growing beans using string, wire, poles, supports, etc., but me being new at this sort of thing, I took Dick Raymond's advice in his book Joy of Gardening and built a teepee. Why should I trust Dick's preferences, especially if they're spelled out in a book from 1982? Haven't things changed since then? Well, for one, he got someone to publish his book. That's pretty legit in my humble opinion. Secondly, the idea of a teepee was more than favorable to me. I am still a teenager after all, which means it wasn't too long ago that I was a child. I'm still allowed to have childish longings to hide away in secret forts, right? Actually, mostly I trust Dick Raymond because Tom, the college's Sustainability Coordinator, our advisor in this endeavor, and amazingly knowledgable in all things gardening, recommended this book. Its old, but the things he says are still true. I suppose, there are only so many ways to stick a seed in the ground and watch it grow.

After not too much contemplation, a teepee was constructed. I used four bamboo poles Tyler had previously chopped down from a neighbor's yard. We legitimized this action by telling ourselves that the bamboo was encroaching on the college's property and it was clearly ours for the taking. I mean, it does grow amazingly fast, and there was so much of it, I'm sure thy wouldn't mind giving some to poor college students trying to prove to the college and to the world that small-scale organic gardening is effective, worthwhile, and worth investing in.

The bamboo poles were each about ten feet tall; nine feet after they had been buried in their designated places, which was about four and a half feet apart. Maybe it was a bit large, but i'll gladly sacrifice ease of harvesting to be able to fit inside the teepee. I then placed 3 more bamboo poles parallel to the ground and tied them to the base of the erect poles on three sides of the teepee. I tied three strands of twine, evenly spaced, to each parallel pole and attached them to the top for further vining area and cover for the teepee. I just hope the twine will last through the season.

Finally after spending way too much time constructing my second home for the summer, I planted the seeds. They are called Italian pole beans, which we ordered from Seeds of Change. A pretty standard type of bean, but I figured we couldn't only plant crazy, strange, and exotic vegetables that we don't know the first thing about preparing. The package of the beans describes them as "the finest flavored snap bean" We shall see.

Things we might need to remember:

• 6-14 days to germination
• 60-70 days to maturity
• keep seedbeds moist, but once established, "deep, infreuquent watering encourages deep roots and strong stems"
• pick when young and tender

I also planted the "Amish Nuttle Bean", a Happy Cat Farm seed packet we purchased from Space to Grow downtown. I planted them between the two rows of sweet corn. I hope they have enough room. The packet says they're a Native American bean variety that was traditionally planted as a companion plant to corn. I trust the Indians, they did know how to survive in the North American wilderness after all.

I finished by hawling a cartful of compost to the garden, generously donated by the Chesapeake Bay Foundation. I fed the non-existent beans, the corn, cucumber, watermelon, squash, herbs, beets, and tomatoes. I had no real method, and truthfully I don't really know if it was helpful to the sprouts. Is there such thing as too much compost? The only thing I did know was that I didn't want to hawl the cartful back the the pile of unused compost sitting on the outskirts of the garden, lonely and forlorn. I was careful not to give compost to the pepper plants. I don't know where, but I read that peppers actually do better without nutrient additions.

I forewent weeding. The weeds have Thoreau and his views on weeds having just as much right to life, as well as my lack of motivation, to thank for their extra day among the living.

At the end of the day I had no regrets. Even after for hours of laboring, I felt more energized than I had before I started. It's just so satisfying and refreshing spending your time out in the sun, sinking your fingers into the earth, and breathing life into these tiny seeds. And in turn, they breath life into me.