A Pot for Vertical Gardening

Happy New Year, everyone!

With the cold weather upon us, we've been catching up on our reading, trying to stay abreast of gardening trends. Commercial horticulture is going through an upheaval just now. Even the big guys are paying attention, and us little guys are running in place.

The journals tell us that the interest in fruits and veggies will continue strong, especially among young people. The market for natives and drought tolerant plants is still there and swelling (no shock there given the ramifications of global warming.) Fairy gardens and terrariums, hmmm. Shades of my youth, guess we'll pot up a few terrariums, but anyone can stick some miniatures in among the plants, and given the cost of "fairies" and their furnishings, we'll have let our customers discover their own. Living roofs are wonderful; they'll be a real boon to the urban environment where stormwater runoff needs to be addressed, along with the urban heat sink, but I think that out here in the New Mexico sticks, roof water needs to be captured, in cisterns, basins and swales, rain gardens. Seed saving is a growing trend, easy and rewarding, and I hope more gardeners will join organizations like Seed Savers and  buy from Seeds of Change.

Bel embellishes a hanging pot

It's hard to find an issue of any gardening journal that doesn't have an article or photos about vertical gardening. From the huge, expensive installations of Patrick Blanc, or the one at Longwood Gardens, to medium priced kits, to one pot hanging on a garden wall, there's something for everyone. (http://pinterest.com/joeast/--see Verticality for some great photos) There are some really clever homegrown designs out there using everything from pallets and cinderblock to hanging shoe bags. Think of what a vertical garden would do for a chain link fence!


Again, there's a lot of interest in vertical gardening in urban environments, not just as a softening of the concrete jungle, but a cooling of the heat island, capturing rain water runoff, and even growing local foods where there is precious little open ground. Apartment dwellers can utilize their balcony walls--there are big dividends to greening the urban adventure.

Suburbanites with small yards are also finding verticality practical, and here in New Mexico where courtyards are a popular, even necessary feature, there are lots of walls that hold heat in winter, and offer windshelter in the summer. But before anyone rushes out to buy one of the  multitude of new hanging wall systems, they should consider a few points.

One--make sure your container is strong enough to support the weight of soil, plant and water. Two--make sure water will not pool against the wall; moisture can penetrate sheathing in a variety of ways that can lead to rot or termites. Three--make sure the planting pockets will hold enough soil for the particular plants you want. Four--like all containers, vertical planters will need care in winter in temperate climates. Five, like all containers, their fertility will be leached by consistent watering, and veggies especially will need additional fertilizer. Think about starting small until you know you can keep up with the watering and care these hanging gardens need.

After much nagging, Bel finally caved and has started crafting some pots for us. We've already potted up the first prototype. We had to cede the far end of the greenhouse, but she has promised to drag out her potter's wheel, and show Aly and I how to throw--we have so much time on our hands! But we're going to need some beautiful pots for another trend we're fascinated by--kesheiki...but that's another blog.

Winter Work in the Mountains

Lest anyone think we spend our winters recuperating from our hectic summer pace, our feet up in front of the fire enjoying the empty hours--here are some of the chores that keep us moving.

When the first hard freeze hit, icing caused the pumping rod on the windmill to noodle up. When the fan continues to turn, the captured rod can't slide up and down, and begins to twist. It can get amazingly distorted, preventing it from functioning after the ice melts. Bad things happen if this isn't caught soon enough. We know this, yet somehow the first hard freeze always catches us by surprise. This year wasn't as bad as past years, but we still had to straighten the rod. This is bad enough.

 Someone has to climb the 30 feet up to the fan assembly, disconnect the rod and lower it down. This takes muscle and know-how. Wilbur is elected (sometimes it's good to know no-how). We already stabilized the 380 feet of rod in the ground before separating if from 20 so feet above (it takes a crane to pull the whole length of rod if it should by some terrible bit of luck slip).

On the ground, Aly and I have the top sections of rod on a looong rope lowering it down (no photo obviously because it's reaallly heavy, and I can't be taking pictures which they keep yelling, this being an exciting part). Aly and I eventually get the rod down and beat it back into shape. By this time, there is a little breeze, and Wilbur is getting nervous. We haul the rod back up and he gets it reconnected. At this point he was supposed to climb onto the box at the end of the tail, and change the 5 gallons of hydraulic fluid that keeps things turning smoothly; this is quite a trick for a young guy on a still day. He’s not young, and the fan is beginning to strain at the chain. The fan will have to grind away, as we decide to save this task for another day.

Back on the ground, the three of us try to get the sections of rod hooked back up. This is another tricky part. The unchained fan is turning erratically despite the brake.  This is moving the top section of rod. A couple of years ago, I helpfully aligned the two sections while Wilbur and Aly were looking away, so as to quickly thread the sections together. When the two sections bumped, the fan drove them together crumpling the top back into the “S” shape we had just spent some hours fixing. I was unpopular for some time after that, but learned an important lesson—never show initiative when repairing a windmill. This time the sections joined smoothly. We are always surprised when this happens. 

 Chores are unrelenting during the winter. Most are not as dangerous as working on the windmill, but there’s often a little frisson of anxiety when working around farm equipment. We bring in our own wood for heat, and we each have our own chain saw—mine is the smallest, but it gets the job done. All that wood has to be split, and Wilbur split his fingernail in half the last time he used the splitter. We weren’t surprised when this happened as he tends to bleed on every job; if these were the days of blood sacrifice, this place would be a temple. 

It’s gotten cold again (windmill’s disconnected-yay), and it’s snowing, so we’re using more propane in the greenhouses (boo). We have lots of tanks that need to be kept filled, because if the two propagating houses freeze, months of work is lost. This is Wilbur’s job, another case of know-how. After he dealt with the propane, we all bundled up and went out to put the snow blade on the tractor. Pretty soon, he’ll go back out to plow the half mile of drive. If it gets bad enough, Aly will join him on her tractor.  They have the tractor know-how. I’m just the cook. It’s good to have people with know-how. 

Got to go; just got the second section of scaffolding up on the wall we’re building. When we get time, we work on the interior. Chores...

Great Green Walls

There's an interesting article in my latest Lawyer's catalog about the Great Green Wall initiative. There are plans afoot to build what is essentially a windbreak nine miles wide and 4,400 miles long from Dakar to Djibouti (east coast to west coast). This amazing multi country project will attempt to halt environmental degradation and slow creeping desertification.

In China, a Great Green Wall being planted for the same purpose will cover 42% of the country by 2050. The Chinese have planted 56 billion trees in the last ten years. There is a lot of controversy over these projects--but as the Amazon loses 2,700 million acres a year, replacing some of that biomass elsewhere can't hurt.

There is a lot of renewed interest in the windbreaks planted during the Dust Bowl period, which had a major impact on loss of topsoil then and for many years after. Lawyer's notes that most if not all of these have disappeared, making room for modern irrigation systems.

Today, as I watch my New Mexico soils heading north on every errant breeze, I am contemplating my own wind break. I am still plotting the best layout, and assembling a variety of trees and shrubs, but this spring, come hell or high water, the planting begins.

Fruit Explorers Follow Up

We've just had our second meeting of the tentatively titled New Mexico Fruit Explorers (see October post) and we've already got a pretty impressive membership. Naming no names (without permission) we have some truly knowledgeable folks whose expertise spans apples, apricots, figs, Chinese dates and more.

Though nothing is firm yet, we're talking about hosting workshops (got some great grafters!), tours of our respective holdings, and field trips. Meetings are on the first Saturday of the month, and anyone with an interest in fruit is welcome. Amateurs to experts, or even if you just like eating it, and would like to know more. Email for more information.

Air Layering Fiddleleaf Fig

Early in September we decided to tackle the fiddleleaf fig that was touching the 15 ft ceiling in number 1 greenhouse. It took both of us to drag the monster outside where it got a much needed shower before surgery (there is a faint omnipresent haze of dust in the air here, even on the stillest of days--hence the shower). Aly and I made about 10 layers, each about three feet long, not counting a number of small cuttings we took. And there's the advantage to airlayering a tropical that makes cuttings easily--a much bigger plant.

We began by girdling the limb we were going to layer. A small box cutter with a new blade makes this the easiest part of the procedure. I made two cuts that sliced through the bark and cambium about an inch apart completely encircling the stem. I can then draw the blade from upper cut to lower cut without danger of overshooting and leaving a ragged edge or flap.

It took several days of soaking to get the peat hydrated--New Mexico. We firmed a handful of very wet peat completely around the cut--this is where two sets of hands are useful. It's not easy holding onto the stem, while keeping the peat in place until it's securely wrapped.

There are a number of commercial gadgets out there to accomplish this part, but foil has always worked fine for me. In Florida, the land of perpetual trickling sweat, foil was enough. Here in New Mexico, keeping the peat wet until roots emerge is tricky; I used a layer of plastic wrap, enough to cover the peat with a lot of overlap, with the ends twisted tightly around the stem.

The foil is wrapped over that, again tightly squeezing the ends shut to seal in moisture. I tied both ends snugly with twine just to be safe. Then we dragged the monster back inside.

Fast forward to mid-November. Roots have developed nicely, and none too soon; despite two layers of protection, the peat is drying out.

We've just finished potting up all the layers that we made in September. Although houseplants are not really our thing, we'll sell these next season when Mountain Gardens opens. For someone who considers herself an outside gardener, I seem to have acquired a lot of houseplants in sore need of division or cutting back.

Speaking of which--the monster was unfazed by our surgery. Maybe this time we'll use two layers of plastic.

What's Still Green in the November Garden???

It's supposed to get cold again this weekend, more wind. While the days warm up, our nights are dipping below freezing, ice in the morning on the birdbath. The coneflowers are done, the hyssops brown stalks, the gailliardia a crisp haze of seed fluff. The garden's winding down and winter's on the way. It's a good time to poke around out there and make some notes.

Lamb's ear

Santolina

Dianthus

I like to see what still has a nice green presence despite the freezes--like the very ordinary lamb's ear, soft and silvery. The grey santolina looks very nice, too. The dianthus has flowered until the very second I took the photo (a carnation is still putting out buds). So is the white tufted evening primrose, a native that blooms nonstop. A pattern seems to be emerging--these  plants all have silver grey foliage.

Still looking good, and yes, silver, are the artemesia's--wormwood, Powis Castle. Horehound is everywhere in the mountains, one of the medicinal herbs brought in by the earliest Spanish settler's and escaped. Kept trimmed up, it's a nice filler, and useful if you're an herbalist.

The sages are wonderful choices for the mountains, tough, fully winter hardy, delicious. The varigated form shown is not quite as reliable as salvia off.', but its pink and silver make any companions stand out. I haven't found anything it doesn't look better next to.

These silvery plants are among the best choices for up here, tough, drought tolerant in this arid climate, and yes, lovely far into the end of the garden season.

Horehound & yarrow

Some nice, bright greens that still look fresh are heuchera, another native, salvia nemerosa, the iceplants and sedums, evergreen germander, the yarrows. One of the yarrows still sends up an occasional burst of pink.

I'm taking my notes, looking for holes of course, and areas that need more (or less) silver. It's still a raw, new garden, the trees and shrubs too small to have any significant impact, so the herbaceous perennials provide form, texture, color. Eventually there will be windbreak trees, walls for shelter. (I don't understand why our winds don't have some romantic name like the Santa Ana's, or sirocco, or mistral--a lovely spanish word for unrelenting, pitiless, maybe despiadado. "The despiadado's have returned--I shall go mad.") But the wind has been quite mild so far this fall, and I'm my prosaically sane self.

The native geraniums are filling in nicely under a tall juniper, their leaves coloring up a bit, ditto the plumbago with a few bits of blue petal left. Colder weather coming, hope it looks this nice next week.

Varigated sage

White tufted evening primrose (dianthus & artemesia on left)

Heuchera & salvia

Germander

Yellow iceplant

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

North American Fruit Explorers--NAFEX

We're pretty excited--a local NAFEX member is trying to form a southwest fruit group, and we've been invited to the first meeting.  Trying to produce fruit can be a mysterious, frustrating experience, especially when you're seemingly growing in a vacuum--no one out there to help, to encourage, to answer questions. That's why we joined NAFEX some years ago.

The North American Fruit Explorers was founded 45 years ago for that very purpose--to expand knowledge. Today there are thousands of members from across the country, Canada and farther. Anyone is welcome from the rankest (the closest you ever came to planting an apple was accidentally swallowing a seed) amateur to the most erudite pomologist. The annual membership fee is nominal--$19. And if you're serious about growing fruit, any fruit, there is no other place where you have access to so many experienced people so willing to share information.

Today, everything is available online, a far cry from the days when member's letters were exchanged in a round robin system by USPS. Members can access archived Pomona's, the quarterly magazine. Pomona is a compilation of articles, interest group postings, and even excerpts from books (usually by members). I just finished the Fall issue which included articles on apple grafting, jujubes, growing wolfberries, and an excerpt from Grow Fruit Naturally... by Lee Reich. Every issue is full of reports on how members are doing with whatever cultivar they hope to grow in their particular backyard. And there are lots of professionals reporting too, commercial orchardists, and university researchers. (Lots of folks had a tough couple of years, so we didn't feel so bad about our poor half dead trees.) And this is all nuts and bolts, no pie-eyed generalities (or very few).

There are interest groups for all the usual suspects--apples, peaches, pears--and some unusual ones. There is a huge amount of interest in fruits like autumn olive, hawthorn, honeylocust, chestnut, pawpaw, persimmon and haskap (lonicera caerulea) among others. (Some of the groups are in need of chairs--the primary requirement is "interest in the fruit...and desire to learn more about it.")

There is an annual conference--Ohio in 2013. We haven't made it yet, but are hoping to. This year's was in Saskatoon and in addition to the many talks, attendees toured local growers and the research facilities at the U of SK.

I get 2 or 3 emails a day from the listserv, and the topics cover a wildly diverse amount of material, usually about fruit, but occasionally chickens or something else will pop in--most everything has some relevance. Weather always, apple butter recipes, and what better fertilizer than well composted poultry manure?!

There are other perks too--access to seed, or scions or bud wood for grafting, The Fruit Grafter's Handbook is available to members as a pdf download.

NAFEX is a wonderful resource, especially for those fairly new to growing. And it helped the fellow hoping to found a local fruit growers group find us.

Information about joining NAFEX can be found at nafex.org