Seeds and Such

My first vegetable garden was perfect.  It was the image of every sketch I'd seen from Peter Rabbit to Rapunzel.  Granted, at the time I was only eight.



I'm not sure what possessed me to ask my mom if I could grow a garden that year.  I vaguely remember the same small plot laden with tomatoes, peppers, and peas from her labor in years prior; but a garden wasn't something we had every season nor was it something I had been particularly enthralled by in the past.  Whatever the reason, I first set out to grow my very own garden under my mother's tutelage at the tender age of eight.  I even added a two-foot-tall white picket fence that unrolled on wire and posted around the perimeter, just in case Peter was lurking.   I distinctly remember the tendrils of the pea plants, their neighboring tomato plants climbing metal cages, the carrot tops as they peaked above the soil in a hairy mass (and the subsequent lesson on "thinning"), and weeds, a fair amount of weeds.  I have memory of eating only a few pea pods and some tomatoes out of my masterpiece.  No matter.  It was my perfect (and only) childhood garden.

Flash forward ten years.  I went to college out of state.  Back home, the veggie garden in the corner of the yard was long gone, covered by a kids’ play area full of toys and games.  I'd return home each summer, set aside one Saturday morning, ask my parents for a budget, and head to the nearest nurseries.  I’d pick out flats of flowers and greenery, bring them home, arrange them, and plant them in a few of our front porch planters. Again, I don't know exactly what propelled me to do this but I enjoyed it.  Just on principle I never wore gloves. I liked getting my hands dirty...it seemed more legitimate.  

Jump ahead another five years (or four years ago) when I landed in the Bluegrass State on my mother’s newly acquired 140-acre farm.  My childhood version of Peter Rabbit’s wonderland re-surfaced as a seemingly massive 60’ x 60’ plot of vegetables.  It was a venture intended to go hand-in-hand with the eco-friendly concept of the farm bed and breakfast my family was developing.  Learning as much as I could as fast as I could about organic and sustainable gardening I began a quest to replace our store-bought vegetables with ones grown in our own soil. All the while I was juggling the rest of my construction and business start-up responsibilities. That first season’s yield was probably more weeds than vegetables, but no one was more surprised than I that things would really grow and that I had grown them -- with my own two hands!  It was not a pretty garden, but I was proud of it. There was enough to eat fresh and store food from it. We even sold a bit of extra at our little downtown farmers' market.  At the end of the season I happened upon a long-abandoned cluster of carrot tops that had stalwartly claimed soil space among a mass of weeds. I pulled. Gently. Carrots! Five of them! Holding them high up in the air I yelled at the top of my lungs, “I grew carrots!!”  in sheer elation.  

Now it's January 2012.  I'm enamored by growing things; the clash of order and chaos that a garden evokes; the diversity, colors, and textures; the productivity and creativity; the teetering sense that I am both in control and being controlled; and the forgiving concept of "better luck next year" by doing it again or differently in future seasons. I've even come to accept a certain level of insanity associated with keeping a garden. You know what they say about doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results...  I wouldn't be surprised if there's someone out there writing a dissertation on the certifiable kookiness of habitually looking past the annual struggle with bugs, weather and weeds in exchange for the promise of a new start, the prospect of a better yield, and the reward of delicious FOOD!  

Leaving behind the notion of a hobby or commercial garden my quest is to balance the time, energy, and economic factors of my own food system.  I know that while I can’t do it all I can get pretty darn close and barter for or buy the scant extras that remain.  Though it may seem a bit excessive to write about gardening in the dead of winter, the truth is that I now spend the first weeks of every new year fantasizing about my garden with the ultimate goal of ordering my seeds before the month's end and the inevitable outcome of tantalizing myself with what's to come. When starting my garden plan and ordering my seeds I've learned to follow a couple guidelines and thought they might be helpful to share.

I buy from seed companies that are small and co-op or family-owned.  This takes a bit of research to discover because there are many popular names out there owned by large corporations that simply kept their small-feel and well-known name for the sake of marketing.  I've found that the ownership of the company has a direct correlation with the environmental integrity of the seed stock and the company's level of commitment to sustainability.  Here are a few of the companies I look to each year (in no particular order):  Southern Exposure Seed Exchange, FEDCO, High Mowing Organic Seeds, Seed Savers Exchange, Johnny's Selected Seeds, Totally Tomatoes, and Richters (primarily for culinary and medicinal herbs).

I buy seeds that are organic and/or heirloom varieties. There are a host of books and publications out there that raise questions and give facts and figures as to how and why GMO's are destroying the health and environmental cycles that nature has kept in balance for centuries.  Lately, I've been finishing the book Botany of Desire by Michael Pollen in which he commits one section of the book to Man's Desire for Control. He uses as example Monsanto's NewLeaf Potato that is genetically implanted with an insecticide.  Coincidentally, my husband Weldon has been reading The World According to Monsanto by Marie-Monique Robin which gives an in-depth review of the world's most controversial chemical company and leading producer of GMOs.  As a rule I stay away from GM seed.  Besides the philosophical reasons I believe the fruit grown from organic and heirloom seeds are another step healthier to consume.

I choose varities that have been developed to grow well in my region.   Kentucky can have a wet spring, hot dry summer, and wet autumn.  For this reason I prefer to target varieties of seeds that grow well in the hot summer heat.  There's not always an ideal variety but I'm not going to lean toward those developed to thrive in cooler, northern temperatures and a shorter growing season.  Summer heat is usually our limiting factor on performance.

I try something new every year.  I add different species, try some changes in variety, or implement a  growing "tactic" that will help in my quest for a thriving, sustainable garden.  As a new(er) gardener I've noticed how each of the past four growing seasons has catapulted me in terms of experience from one season to the next.  There's just so much to learn -- I feel like I'm leagues away from where I started when I arrive at close of each season!  I try to keep my eyes and ears open not only while in the garden itself, but while talking with veteran farmers (of like philosophy), and I READ, READ, READ as much as I can.  The more I keep adding to my knowledge and experience base, the more I can implement at a faster pace. (I'll add that my husband and I often garden together, so there's strength in numbers when four sets of eyes, ears, and hands are on the task).  Last year I paid a lot of attention to companion planting, we started sheet mulching with gobs of old hay, I added large planters near the front door for easy picking of herbs and lettuce, and I tried to grow one of each of the four major categories of lettuce throughout the entire season. I'm building on some of that in 2012 and have targeted a few additions as well. Namely, I'm endeavoring to grow greens (chard and kale) for the first time, I'm experimenting with starting some my own seeds in the house and in cold frames, and I'm growing fewer varieties of tomatoes in order to hone in on varieties that I intend to make into salsas, sauces, and condiments for the pantry.

Lastly, I pull back on the reins from the start.  It sounds antithetical but as exciting as it is to jump into a new season with fresh gusto and celestial-level ambitions, I learned in my first few years that invariably the garden will decide on its own what I need to learn in any given year and that combined with my "plan" will be plenty.  It's better to gain incremental degrees of success that bridge from one season to the next than to taste the overwhelming bitterness of failure because I've made too many changes or gotten too big for my britches.  Smaller trains have less spectacular wrecks.

This year I've given in to my type-A personality and my orders are already sent in and arriving. This is due in part to the fact that I went a little crazy with my orders last year and ended up with quite a bit of leftover seed (which I stored in the freezer).  Hence, the calculating went that much quicker and the orders were quite a bit smaller.  Consequently, it's easier on the pocketbook this year, too.  Next major learning curve? Seed Saving.  How awesome would it be to cut down on the initial cost of buying seed by saving my own from the previous season!?!  Can't wait to get growing!