Rolling in the Beets

 

I planted the oddest little seeds I’ve ever seen last fall. They looked like tiny little asteroids. When dropped from my hand into the dirt, they disappeared as if into thin air (or outer space.)

Lo and behold, bright green tips arose where the asteroids had collided with my planting beds and voila! instant root vegetables.

Well, not instant. It took another couple of months, during which time I enjoyed baby beet greens – but then I had them. Creamy sweetness coming out of my oven.

 

My favorite new start this year was Chioggia Beets.They come out of the ground looking quite normal and then, once you cut them open, you get a beet that has white and red rings like it ran away to the circus and came home as the tent. Of course once they are truly cooked the difference between the rings is not as noticeable, but boy are they tasty.

 

 

 

Beet Salad

I first had this salad at a trendy little place in New York. (Okay, so I define trendy as on the nearest corner, but still…)

Ingredients:

Beets, both root and greens
Garlic, 2 – 3 cloves
Olive oil
S&P to taste (I use sea salt because it’s just better.)
Blue Cheese
Lightly roasted Walnuts

Clean your beets, reserving the beet greens.

Put the beets in a 325 degree oven to roast

  • drizzle with olive oil, salt lightly
  • wrap in foil
  • bake 30 minutes for a beet fist size or smaller, longer for those larger.
  • Don’t eat them if they’re old. Tough. Tough. Tough. MUCH better when you get them from your farmer’s market.

T-Minus 15 minutes ’til the beets are done: Roast walnuts in your skillet by turning up the flame and pushing them around, or, if you prefer, use your toaster oven.

When the beets have about ten minutes left to cook, chop your garlic to the desired choppiness and put in a skillet with some olive oil. Turn up the heat and sauté.

Once they’re tender (=not totally brown) dump your cleaned beet greens in and sauté until tender. Don’t overcook them, a little crunch is good. Remove from stovetop.

Pull beets out of the oven. Pull the skins off. (I tend to just cut in as if quartering. The skin peels easily.) Cut into smallish pieces.

Arrange greens on the plate. 
Sprinkle with walnuts.
Arrange cut beets on top.
Add about a Tablespoon or two of blue cheese.

Enjoy!

 

 

Starting from Scratch (paper)

I had a marvelous post on New Year’s resolutions that went pfffft into the either. I think it was a gift, really, because in frustration I went looking for a way to work on the negative feelings. Found the following video which shows a lovely way to recycle your old newspapers into pots to use as starters for spring planting. A few hours with my Baker Seed catalogue — Et Voila — a need for pots emerges!

Just remember to plant your tomato seed with only about an inch to an inch and a half in the bottom of your paper pot, then, as the plant grows, cover the bottom on the stem with soil, leaving a pair of leaves in the air for growth. Makes for a stupendous root.

Happy New Year!

Julie

Pachy-what?

My mother planted pachysandra outside the side door of our house in Louisville. There are two varieties I’ve found available, pachysandra procumbens, native to the Alleghanies — the kind you want to plant — and pachysandra terminalis, which is a lovely plant but which can be invasive if it escapes your beds.

Ours was in a straight bed, one that followed the foundation of our house, and the pachysandra was the first thing that actually grew there for longer than ten minutes. The window to the coal cellar lived smack in the middle of that wall, so the amount of accumulated charcoal was tremendous. (I guess this belies the black earth theory of my previous post!)

I used to love the feathery leaves, dancing to who-knows-what tune as I’d skip out the door to school, or a friend’s house, or up to The Loop for a carton of milk for supper. There were some decorative rocks in the bed with the plants, and occasionally we’d rearrange them like furniture for a different look.

Rabbits nested in our pachysandra after I left home. I got the most exquisite letter from my father  during my freshman year in college detailing the young rabbit’s initial forays into the world outside those leaves. Twitching noses and tentative hops disturbed the foliage, then suddenly, there they were, shooting across the sparse grass under the dogwood where anyone could see them.

It’s a funny thing when your prosaic, way-more-intelligent-than-most father gets all poetic on you. I wasn’t sure where that letter came from, but he followed this with more romanticized musings, all based on things he noticed in the natural world. Animals, plants, weather, stars all equally informed his writing.

Life’s pretty darn short — Go out and plant something — and let the poetic bloom.

Pachy-what?

My mother planted pachysandra outside the side door of our house in Louisville. There are two varieties I’ve found available, pachysandra procumbens, native to the Alleghanies — the kind you want to plant — and pachysandra terminalis, which is a lovely plant but which can be invasive if it escapes your beds.

Ours was in a straight bed, one that followed the foundation of our house, and the pachysandra was the first thing that actually grew there for longer than ten minutes. The window to the coal cellar lived smack in the middle of that wall, so the amount of accumulated charcoal was tremendous. (I guess this belies the black earth theory of my previous post!)

I used to love the feathery leaves, dancing to who-knows-what tune as I’d skip out the door to school, or a friend’s house, or up to The Loop for a carton of milk for supper. There were some decorative rocks in the bed with the plants, and occasionally we’d rearrange them like furniture for a different look.

Rabbits nested in our pachysandra after I left home. I got the most exquisite letter from my father  during my freshman year in college detailing the young rabbit’s initial forays into the world outside those leaves. Twitching noses and tentative hops disturbed the foliage, then suddenly, there they were, shooting across the sparse grass under the dogwood where anyone could see them.

It’s a funny thing when your prosaic, way-more-intelligent-than-most father gets all poetic on you. I wasn’t sure where that letter came from, but he followed this with more romanticized musings, all based on things he noticed in the natural world. Animals, plants, weather, stars all equally informed his writing.

Life’s pretty darn short — Go out and plant something — and let the poetic bloom.

Purple Power

from purplebearspurpleflowersandplants.com

I belong to an internet-based group of friends who regularly share Purple Power with one another for emergency boosts of virtual support. If you have had an emergency recently that turned out for the best, then I firmly believe it was stray Purple Power that settled around you and made things all right.

To promote all things purple this Spring, I am going on a hunt to find the best purple flowers for the garden.

 

 

 

 

Lobelia: this dainty purple blossom enhances my winter garden here in zone 9, but it’s hardy all summer in most zones to the north. according to the USDA plant pagesLobelia erinus L. or “edging lobeli”, is native to California, Oregon, Utah, Michigan and Pennsylvania. It doesn’t go into why it skipped the states in between, like Colorado, where I’ve so often seen it included in the summer plantings, but there it is. Lobelia is wonderful in hanging baskets, edging a bed, or in pots of all kinds.

 

 

Aster: Similar in appearance to a purple daisy, asters grow about 18 inches  to three feet tall and have a light feel to their foliage in the garden.  Technically, they belong in zone 3 – 8, so they are not ones that grow particularly well for me when I put them in the flower border, but pop up naturally in my pasture. Go figure. They show up in time for the fall garden, so perhaps I ought to wait until then to mention them, but they fit the purple theme.

 

Clemetis: Love, love, love this climbing vine. My Aunt Myrtle had a beautiful one on the post outside her kitchen window and the house sparrows loved to hide in the shadows of the leaves, peaking out to see if she had refilled their feeder perched at the top of the post on which they grew. Zone 4 – 9. Protect the roots against the sun which is necessary for good bloom growth. I dump a heap of compost on the base, which serves to both protect the roots and encourage lots of beautiful flowers.

 

Crocus: Spring would not happen without the happy opening of the deep purple buds of the crocus bulbs. Must have plant for any garden. It’s tougher to establish in my far-south location. the trick is to put the bulbs in pots — worth every bit of effort that goes in for those wonderfully fragrant spring blooms.

 

Passionflower: This is native in my area, so I catch them springing into life back in the woods behind our house. The fact that eventually they produce fruit which feed the wild birds is a happy plus. I know some make jelly out of the fruit, but my sild-feathered friends get them all way before I get to them. Zones 4 – 10. Vines can be up to 15 feet long. Work well in soil if heavily mulched, or in lightly mulched pots.

 

And last, but never least, Lavender:

I have had the worst, absolutely the worst, luck in growing this lovely herb. My cousin, Annie, whose farm Sunshine Lavender Farm in North Caroline has wonderful luck — or just works harder at it. I adore it for oh-so-many reasons. The scent, soothing, calming and lovely in any form. The sight of the grey-green foliage waving in the breeze, the deep purple blossoms standing proud above the leaves, waiting for us to pluck them and make them into sachets, teas, or bake them into delicious breads and cookies.

 

Happy gardening!

 

courtesy SunshineLavenderFarm.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spring is Sprung

I’m about to make Deb jealous again. I started my tomato seeds a few weeks ago and am about to stick the fledgling plants in the ground. Uh-huh. You heard me right. Second week in March. Tomatoes in the ground!

You see I garden on the Gulf Coast where the sea breezes coming from 100 miles away still reach my front pasture. (Where the kitchen garden resides.) Typical last frost used to be counted as Valentine’s Day hereabouts, but now it’s the first of March. I can tell it’s Spring by the blooms on the mulberry tree.

At least I thought I could. And then the temps went back down to the 40s. So much for my poor tomatoes in the ground. Thank goodness for freeze cloth!

Varieties planted in Spring 2011:  Vorlon, Carbon, Roma, Better Boy, Yellow Pear, Cour de Blue, Amish Paste.

Happy gardening!

Whirled Peas

“For the love of Pea, won’t you please grow?”

This is me, nervously watching, and occasionally verbally abusing, my spring plantings. I’ve currently got potatoes, fennel, cabbage (left from the fall) broccoli (ditto) and brussel spouts (ditto). I know I’ll never see actual edible stuff off that broccoli and brussel sprout plants, but I can’t give up on them, I just can’t. (But I’ve planted a few broccoli seeds, just in case.)

So far, the highlight of the coming of spring is the duet of Asparagus tips that appeared this week in the clump I established last year. If I hadn’t noticed them because Buttons was peeing on them, I might have harvested them…but now…thanks to the 6 pound wonderdog, not going there. (Note to self: put up fencing around the clump to prevent future “watering”.)

But those peas…wait…I think I see some green!

What do you mean you can’t see it? OK, I”ll go back out and take a better picture…

Wow those grow quickly! (Actual time-lapse between photos is three days.)

These are Lincoln garden peas, which I look forward to crunching in my spring salads. Last year I only got about three pea pods off my peas, but the year before I got tons, well, was able to freeze about two cups, and had fresh peas in my spring salads for about two months. Mmmmm. Lincoln peas are supposed to do better in warm climates. South Texas counts as warm which is why I’m planting this variety this time around.

Bed Prep:

  • Check the soil Ph. Optimum conditions for peas are a soil with a pH of between 6.0 or 7.0.
  • Add compost to make sure you have a good level of healthy soil.

Planting:

  • Inoculate your seed for better healthy growth.
  • Direct seed, space at 2″.
  • Plant 2″ deep.
  • Create Rows 2″ apart.
  • Sow additional seed in additional bed space every 2 – 3 weeks for succession plantings.

When to plant:

  • Depends on your climate.
  • Like cool weather, but are susceptible to easy freeze damage.

Where to plant:

  • Like raised beds for good drainage.
  • Rotate your crops. (Even if you have a small garden! The bed pictured above had squash and cucumbers in it last season, so the rotation worked out well for me.)
  • If you find that your peas turn dark they may have a fungal disease. Remove and dispose of separately. Don’t turn under as this won’t do you any favors — only continues the problem in that bed’s soil.

Happy gardening!