Yesterday I decided that it was time to empty the bottom tray of my worm bin and mix up some potting soil.

When I managed the greenhouse at the Tsyuhehkwa Center on the Oneida reservation I would make a potting mix that consisted primarily of one part worm castings to two parts sphagnum moss. I am now trying to avoid sphagnum and use coconut coir in this mix.

Here is the recipe that I used for this batch:

1/3 five gallon pail worm castings
2/3 five gallon pail coconut coir
1 quart expanded shale
Handful Azomite (a "rock dust" mineral powder)
2 TBS micorrhizal inoculants

First, I removed the castings from the bottom tray of my "Worm Factory." I only needed to fish out a couple of stray worms as most had already migrated upwards to the next bin. The castings were a little on the wet side. I should probably be adding more dry fibrous materials to the steady diet of coffee ground and tea leaves that I feed my worms.

Next, I broke off some of the coir from a large compressed block. The coir expands to about three times its volume when broken up and mixed with a little water. This particular coir had mostly long fibers. Coir that has been ground to a finer consistency is also available.

Coir Block

Moistened Coir

To this mix I added a quart of expanded shale. I used this because I happened to have it on hand. I could have also used coarse sand, bird's eye gravel, or decomposed granite. I also added some rock dust for trace minerals.

Expanded Shale

After reading Teaming with Microbes by Jeff Lowenfels and Wayne Lewis I decided to experiment with a micorrhizal inoculant. Some of these organisms may have already been present in the worm castings, but the particular inoculants that I used claimed to have twenty-five distinct species.

After a thorough mixing, I felt that the batch had too much coir (I don't think that it was done expanding when I added it). Luckily I had a small bag of purchased worm castings in the house that I added to fix the consistency.

I often add kelp meal to my potting soil as well as a small amount of granulated organic fertilizer. In my current system I water my vegetable transplants with liquid seaweed and occasionally fish emulsion, so I didn't feel the need for the added fertility. I would have also added some composted rice hulls if they would have been available to me.

When I worked with Bruce Blevins at Nokomis gardens, we would make different kinds of compost piles for different soil mixes. I don't have that luxury right now, but I have found the worm casting mix to give me good results.

Finished Mix

It helps to have a plan. For business, for life in general, and certainly for growing plants to eat, planning gives you some control of the future. January is planning month for lots of northern gardeners. My planning includes going though several favorite seed catalogs and ordering seeds to replenish any in short supply in my seed inventory.

I also start looking at what is going to be planted where. In January, I print out two new charts for my south and north garden beds and start to pencil in the plan of crops and their locations. The charts go back to 1986, but it's really the last seven years I care about. I use previous years' charts to help maintain a rotation that I took from Eliot Coleman's book, The New Organic Grower.

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About a year ago I set up a worm composting system using the Worm Factory. I was pretty excited about it at the time, and I decided to name it Phil (each individual worm is also named Phil). Because I've read that vermicomposting can take a while to really get going, I was careful not to overfeed Phil during the first few months. I don't think I even added a second tray until two or three months had passed.

When July rolled around, the creator of the Worm Factory offered to let me try their new model, and I happily agreed to trial it.

The new Worm Factory is designed to allow better air to flow through the system. The bottom tray now sits on a booster that creates an air gap all the way around the bottom of the tray, and the lid now sits above the top tray rather than inside of it. I was told I could simply take the old trays and stack them in the new system, but I wanted the tray colors to match.

Transferring Phil into his new digs was also a good opportunity to check on the composting process. Aside from a few paper scraps and minor food chunks like eggshells, the bottom tray was ready to harvest (note to self: do a better job of crushing eggshells before feeding them to Phil). I kept the tray going, though, mostly because I was too lazy to empty it out right then.

Fast forward to January 2010, when I finally got around to harvesting some worm castings (I'm skipping a few months where Phil developed a fruit fly problem, and I left him alone for a while – I now make sure to microwave the scraps I feed him to kill any fruit fly eggs).

I moved the bottom tray to the top of the system and left the lid off. I also stirred the castings and kept the light on to encourage the worms to migrate down to the tray below. I left it like that for about a day or so, hoping that the castings might dry out a bit before I took them out to store them. They were still quite moist when I transferred them to a big bowl, though.

We'll probably mix the castings with potting soil and use the mix for our indoor potted plants, most of which are in dire need of transplanting at the moment.

Phil's fly problem has cleared up, and he seems to be chugging along just fine for the time being. I think this year I'll make it a goal to ramp up production and really put Phil to work.

No black eyed peas for us New Year's Day. This larder has capucijners. Capucijner (pronounced cap-you-sigh-ner according to the Fedco catalogue) peas are one of the richest and most complex soup peas we have cooked with. We've been saving seeds that we think we purchased from Johnny's Seeds about 20 years ago. We're not sure because they don't have them in their catalogue any more but this Dutch heirloom purple podded pea (pisum satisvum) is obtainable from several sources under various aliases such as Blue Podded, Dutch Grey, Blauwschokkers and Pois A Cross Violette. Legend has it that this pea was named after the Capuchin Monks who developed it during the 1500's. Apparently the shape of the pea along with the color – an olive darkening to brown – looked like the cowl of the robes that the Monks wore at that time. (Cappuccino coffee is also derived from Capuchin but we won't go there!)

Here's a picture of this past year's peas (lighter color) and the darker version (the older the seeds get the darker they get) from the harvest of a year ago:

When cooked, these peas stay whole and form their own gravy. They make a great meatless soup because they have a stand-alone flavor. Of course the usual onions, garlic, salt & pepper are de rigueur for all my soup pots. The rest of the ingredients depend on what's on hand in the refrigerator or freezer. Hot peppers and fresh herbs such as cilantro are always nice additions along with carrots, celery, squash and other soup vegetables. (This time I used onions, garlic, one dried hot pepper poked with a fork, 1 cup chopped butternut squash, a handful of chopped cilantro, pinch of sage leaves, 1 tsp. salt, 20 grinds of pepper & 1 T. Liquid Aminos.)

Capucijner peas can take a long time to soften when cooking the long slow method (overnight soaking and simmering all day). I've dug out my pressure cooker for a faster version. Here's the method: Cover about 2 cups dried peas with water by about 2 inches over the top of the peas. Then pressure cook at 15 pounds for about 20 minutes. Let the pressure drop down naturally. While this is happening prepare the rest of the ingredients. When you can safely remove the lid add everything else plus more water (if necessary) and pressure cook for another 20 minutes. Let pressure down naturally. Check the doneness of the peas and adjust the seasonings. (Please read directions for your own pressure cooker. If using split peas they can clog the vent.)

Start a new tradition. Dig out the pressure cooker and rattle those pots and pans, it's capucijner pea soup for dinner tonight!

Last month as I spotted some plants growing out of my compost piles, I was reminded of a fun course that I took at the University of Texas with Dr. William Doolittle called Environment, Development and Food Production. Professor Doolittle introduced us to Edgar Anderson and the idea of Dump Heaps and the Origin of Agriculture.

Hyacynth Bean Flower

In his 1952 book Plants, Man and Life, Edgar Anderson devotes a chapter to the idea that early humans may have developed agriculture via the dump heap. First he distinguishes between "closed" and "open" habitats. In a closed habitat, such as a mountaintop, only certain plants thrive. Plants from other environments tend to fare poorly if they grow at all in closed environment. Gardens are a relatively open environment in that plants from a wide array of different environments can survive and even thrive within their confines.

The dump heap is an even more open environment. Imagine left over plant parts, along with some of their seeds being constantly thrown into a fertile pile of waste material. Says Anderson, "species which had never intermingled might do so there, and the open habitat of the dump heap would have been a more likely niche in which strange new mongrels could survive than any which had been there before man came along."

Brassica flower

Even if this tomato had managed to produce fruit before the first frost I probably wouldn't have eaten them as it is growing out of a separate compost pile that I maintain for dog waste.

I have often seen squash grow out of a compost pile. Anderson notes that squash, along with beans and amaranth are likely candidates to have originated in dump heaps. Burdock, stinging nettle and Jerusalem artichokes tend to take over Noel's compost piles in Wisconsin. All are weedy plants. However they are not only edible, but also extremely nutritious. According to Anderson, "the history of weeds is the history of man." I look forward to seeing what weeds pop up next in the compost.

Border         Digging        Spading          Manure
 Fork             Fork             Fork               Fork

I'm surprised at how few people in the general population of gardeners truly know how useful a good fork can be. Doing all your digging using a spade or shovel is often not the best way to approach the task.

For most garden and landscape tasks that require breaking or cutting earth, a fork is the better tool to choose. In actuality, for many gardening and landscaping jobs you really need both a fork and a spade or shovel. In tandem they make the work a lot easier.

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Brighten your holiday table with the 'other' green vegetable – greens of all colors. The greens I've enjoyed the most recently are the seared collard greens at the Eldorado Grill in Madison, Wisconsin. Admittedly I haven't eaten collards too many times, they just weren't on the menu when growing up in Minnesota. If you want to try the exact recipe check it out in the 'Eldorado Grill Southwestern Cuisine Cookbook' by Kevin Tubb, owner of this superb restaurant.

For a simplified way to get your seared greens to the table get out your favorite vinaigrette dressing, whether bottled or homemade. Try one made with seasoned rice vinegar or oil and tamari. Heat up your heavy duty cast iron frying pan or wok, chop your favorite greens or combination thereof and toss them with the dressing as if you were going to serve a big salad. Include a hot pepper if you like a little extra bite – a whole one, dried or not, with holes poked in it works well. When the pan is hot add the dressed greens and sear the flavor right into them. Stir frequently and cook for 5-10 minutes or until softened the way you like them. Try not to overcook or the pleasing bright green will turn to olive drab and so goes the fresh flavor.

Red Russian Kale

We happen to frequently use Red Russian kale since Noel has it growing like a weed in the garden. (Note in the pictures that the garden beds have already been blanketed with leaves for the winter.)

Lacinato Kale

This year we planted lacinato kale (received from a friend) for the first time though with its bumpy leaves we at first thought it was savoy cabbage. (Thanks, Geoff, for helping us figure it out before it was too late!) Sometimes it pays to label your plants but then we like nice surprises in the garden.

Two years ago I threw the remains of a horseradish thinning into the compost pile. It rooted, as horseradish likes to do, and I let most of it grow. I've always grown horseradish in my regular garden beds, keeping it at one end of the herbs. After this weekend's harvest, I'm pretty sure the horseradish will stay in the compost area.

Digging horseradish out of my clayey beds is always a back breaker and I leave so much behind that I have horseradish sprouting for the next several years. Digging it out of the compost and the soft compost-rich soil in that area is a lot easier. The roots are cleaner, fatter, smoother, and straighter than they would be coming out of my beds.

In northern climates horseradish is amazingly easy to grow. The most difficult problem is keeping it under control. It will spread vigorously and almost any piece of it will root and sprout. It is not pest and disease free, however. Insect damage from wire worms and rotten spots that form in the folds of the convoluted roots are two of the major problems that I've had.

Roots Ready for Peeling and Processing

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After a record hot summer with virtually no rain, this has been a most perfect fall for gardening. Right now I am enjoying sugar snap peas, cilantro, Japanese mustard greens, pole beans and radishes. Broccoli, broccoli raab and tatsoi will be in full production soon.


Cascade pole beans

I use a raised bed gardening system similar to the one presented in the John Jeavons book How to Grow More Vegetables. I learned how to create raised beds through a two year apprenticeship that I did with Bruce Blevins at Nokomis Gardens, East Troy, Wisconsin. Bruce studied under Alan Chadwick shortly before Chadwick's death. Chadwick brought the "French-intensive" method of gardening to UC Santa Cruz in the late 1960s. Bruce also passed on some of the other aspects of the Chadwick experience by making us learn garden related poetry. One of my favorite passages is from Romeo and Juliet: (Mickle means great):

O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities:
For naught so vile that on the earth doth live
But to the earth some special good doth give;
Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice sometimes by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath residence, and medicine power:

My garden beds would be better described as deeply dug rather than raised. The top of the bed only reaches a few inches above the surrounding ground and I don't use any type of structure to contain them. Double digging involves removing a layer of topsoil, loosening the subsoil with a digging fork, and then replacing the topsoil.


Just Planted Bed September 6

Seedling emerging a few days later

Double digging has been criticized for overly working the soil and potentially damaging soil structure. Jeff Lowenfels and Wayne Lewis point out in their book Teaming with Microbes, that excessive tillage can destroy the large formations of soil fungi naturally present in some soils. I take these considerations to heart, but I also find that a one time initial double digging of the east Austin clay soil that I have in my backyard makes a tremendous difference in the productivity of the garden.

I make the beds no wider than I can reach from the pathway, so there is no need to ever step in the beds and re-compact the soil. With successive plantings I find that loosening the soil with a Bio-Fork and a digging fork to be sufficient. The Bio-Fork is a two-handed digging fork with ten inch tines used exclusively for loosening soil. In Noel's gardening system both potatoes and sweet potatoes play an important role in the crop rotation and by harvesting these vegetables the beds are effectively dug rather deeply.


Bio-Fork

Since I don't grow anything in the pathways I use a flat shovel to skim off the top two to three inches of topsoil and throw it onto the beds. I use CobraHead® Long Handle to shape the beds and since rainfall is an issue in central Texas, I make a slight lip around the edge. Bruce taught me to be precise about the width of the bed so I use string lines to keep the beds at exactly 50 inches wide. At 6'5" I could probably make the beds a little wider, but I have stuck with this size. I keep the pathways just wide enough so that I can get in between the beds comfortably without my size 14 boots accidentally trampling my dinner.


Early October

I have recently taken to mulching the pathways between the beds with pine straw. I do this in part for weed control, but mostly to keep my feet from getting muddy when I go out to harvest some greens or herbs when I am cooking.

Raised beds offer many advantages, but one of the biggest is that I get a lot of produce from a compact area, therefore I don't have to weed or water an extensive area. Given how much that I travel to promote CobraHead garden tools, this really helps me keep my garden from getting out of control.

In late October I harvested my first crop of Satsumas. I planted a "Dwarf Owari" Satsuma in the early spring of 2008 in the front yard of my east Austin home. That year it produced a few jasmine scented flowers, but no fruit. This year it flowered in late March and produced eight fruit. I eyed those fruit longingly all summer long waiting for them to ripen.

The weight of the fruit nearly bent the tiny tree over to the ground. By the time I picked the first fruit it had come within a centimeter of the earth. The tree is in front of the bouganville.

While researching Satsumas I came across several name variants: Satsuma Orange, Satsuma Tangerine, and Satsuma Mandarin as well as two different Latin names: Citrus reticulata and Citrus unshiu. I also found towns in Texas, Louisiana, Alabama and Florida named for this delicious crop. Of course, the fruit itself is named for Satsuma, Japan.

According to Texas A&M Extension, most Satsumas are hardy down to about 26 degrees Farenheit. Last year I covered the young tree when temperatures dipped into the low 30s. Two newer varieties, "Miho" and "Seto" can survive temperatures as low as 15 degrees.

The inside ripened fully while the outside peel remained mostly green. The green did take on a yellow-orange tinge and fruit felt soft when squeezed gently. The segments had almost no seeds and little of the typical citrus sourness. Commercial producers often use ethylene gas to get the outside to turn fully orange in order to give consumers a more familiar color.

The disjuncture between the color of the inner fruit and the outer peel reminds me of the best orange juice that I have ever tasted, in the Tehuantepec Isthmus region of Oaxaca, Mexico. Often sold on the side of the Pan-American Highway fresh squeezed into plastic baggies, this delicious juice also comes from oranges that stay green on the outside. (Unfortunately for the growers, highway juice sales are one of the few ways to sell the fruit. The wholesale prices that growers receive in the region have dropped so low that it often doesn't even cover the cost of harvesting the oranges, so they are often left on the trees to rot.)

I have since expanded my citrus plantings to include kumquat, a potted Mexican lime, and a neglected "Miho" Satsuma waiting to be transplanted. As long as I provide some supplemental water, they seem to thrive in the scorching Austin summers. Not a bad trade off for the rhubarb that I miss from Wisconsin.

I've explained my composting process previously, but I wanted to show a picture of an army of red worms working the sludge mass in a 55 gallon drum that we use to collect kitchen scraps.

Boss Cat supervised as I tipped over and emptied the drum. The worms were thick throughout the mostly digested material.

I'm building a new compost pile. I do this once a year, as I clean out the garden and get the beds ready for winter. I'll alternate layers of cornstalks and other harder materials, earth, compost from the barrel, and the softer weeds, grasses, and plants that I've been piling up here and there for the past season.

The stuff in the barrel was so well worked up by the worms that it had almost none of the normal compost barrel stink. I've got another full barrel that is not old as this one. It will have a lot less worms, and when I tip it over, raunchy, unpleasant orders will escape, but I'll work that stuff into the pile and the stench will quickly dissipate.

Most of the worms won't survive after having their world turned upside down and then being spread out over the new pile. Some will escape, but many will become part of the excellent compost that helps us grow our own food.