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Grounded: Spring Direct-Sow Seeds

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Seeds-in-bed
Whenever we make lists for weekend tasks, we usually get a lot done. We also usually do not get to at least one of the things on said list. This past weekend, it was sowing the direct seeds into the beds I’d prepped. However, feeling restless in the middle of a Monday workday, I snuck out and got the seeds all sown — despite gale-force winds. Last spring was uber windy, and I fear more of the same if April 14th were any indication.

For peas, I planted Purple Pod peas, a new offering by Cook’s Garden, and Alaska peas (in honor of Curt’s roots). For greens, we did arugula, baby pak choi, two kinds of spinach, including America, Buttercrunch lettuce and a gourmet mix lettuce, four kinds of carrots, including King Midas, Parisienne, Purple Dragon and Red, Chioggia beets, scallions, four types of kale, including Red Russian, White Russian, and Lacinato Kale, and some French fava beans. There are some French Breakfast and Watermelon radishes stashed among them for good measure.

The wind was truly remarkable, so I’m curious to see how many seeds got blown far from where they were sown. Time, as it always does, will tell.

 

Up and At ‘Em

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Grower2011

It took but a week for most of the seeds to germinate and sprout. The lights are now all on, and the heat mats are off.

The eggplant and peppers remain like sleepy toddlers, fussing about, but there is movement. We’ve had a few fails, including one Peach Habanero, all three Aji Nortenos (which did the same thing last year, but I tried them again in memory of our dearest beloved first dog), and the Rossa di Milano onions. Having said that, I will continue to water them and love them. Plants, like people, can surprise you, so you’re better off not throwing in the towel until … well, until, I don’t know. I’m an optimist, so I’m probably not the best person to tell you when to give up on a plant or a person.

While the seedlings are growing — and they are! We are raising the lights constantly! — there is much happening elsewhere. The weather has been alternately cool and warm, windy and rainy, sunny and lovely, but we’re making the most of every moment we can. The grapevines arrived, but because Curt has been away, we’ll wait to set them in the ground until we have a full weekend day to set the site and for, let’s be honest here, Curt to dig the damned holes. Fortunately, the grapevines are packed to keep for up to two weeks, and we have a cool basement in which to store them. I don’t have the highest hopes for ever making wine from them, but we did purchase Cabernet Franc grapes as that seems to be what grows best in New York.

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The Big Reveal: The Seeds We Started

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In my last post, I droned on about the method to our seed-starting madness (probably not for the last time, rest assured), but I realize I didn’t reveal precisely *what* we put in each of those 336 cells. Usually, we tend to start closer to 500 seedlings. However, last year, with great success, we cheated a bit on transplanting, and it saved us time and quite a bit of sanity. Hence, the lower volume. A precise explanation is definitely to come.

So, what seeds did we sow, exactly? Obviously, if you know anything about Victory Farms, you know that there were tomatoes. Lots of tomatoes. LOTS. Like? Like Betty, Costoluto Genovese, Cuore di Bue, Fried Green, Goldman’s, Grand Marzano, Green Zebra, Indigo Ruby, Juliet, Martino’s Roman, Nova, Pompeii, Pozzano, Principe Borghese, Purple Cherokee, Ramapo (THE Jersey tomato — much more on this later, too!), Red Brandywine, Roma, Rosso Siciliano, San Marzano, Striped Roman, Super Sweet 100, Thessaloniki, Toro, and Valencia.

The only eggplant we adore is Rosa Bianca, so that is the only eggplant we grow. These creamy delights share a tray with tangy tomatillos — purple and verde, along with Frank and Rubine Brussels sprouts (with which I’ve had little luck, but hope, if not success, springs eternal in Victory Farms).

The cabbage that will become sauerkraut, courtesy of our Gairtopf, includes Ballhead, Couer de Boeuf, Danish Ballhead, Famosa, Ruby Ball, and Red Express, and boasts a brassica-only tray.

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Sowing the Seeds of Love

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Every year, I panic and think I am completely late to the seed sowing party — and every year, I am right on time. The perks of keeping a scratch-pad of a written journal in your gardening bag includes being able to figure out when you’ve accomplished major milestones each year, at the very least. On Sunday, April 6th, we pulled out all the trays and cells to clean. Fortunately, we had a bunch of new ones in Curt’s shop (Hello, over-orderer!), so there wasn’t any cleaning involved. We unearthed the Johnny’s seed starter from the tool shed (I still have two more enormous bags, in case anyone needs some.), and then I set about mapping what seeds would go in which trays and who would be tray neighbors.

The idea of tray neighbors is important as best sowing practices include putting slow germinators with other slow germinators. That way, your seeds are germinating at relatively the same time. This matters as most seeds need to germinate in darkness. But once they begin to rise, you must remove the dome and set them under lights or you’ll get leggy, scraggly seedlings. With this in mind, I remembered peppers were terribly slow on the uptake, so I put them in their own trays, and tried my very best to put like with like. Obviously, my system is never perfect because there are so many variables when it comes to seed starting, from the seeds themselves (Are they new? Have they been treated kindly?), moisture levels, temperature, and, of course, luck.

After our initial sowing prep on Sunday of filling the cells with the seed starter material, writing out labels, and marking what each and every cell would hold (336!), we left the actual sowing to Monday. This may have been on account of an impromptu visit to Patio for cocktails with our friends Michael and Trish. On Monday afternoon, though, I cranked through ’em all before Curt even arrived home. We wound up with eight trays of starters in all: three 32-cells of tomatoes (with the determinate ‘maters grouped into one and a half trays), one 32-cell of peppers, one half 32-cell of eggplant and assorted Brussels sprouts, one 32-cell of cabbage, and then two 72-cells — one of lettuce and onions and the other of basil and marigolds.

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March Madness: Safe Seed Ordering Complete!

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Seeds-Done

Every year since our first summer in Victory Farms, I have vowed to have my ordering done on January 1st. And, every year, the seed ordering becomes an exercise in March Madness. I spent the day in front of my computer with dozens of safe seed catalogs, placing orders with everyone from Johnny’s, Peaceful Valley, Seed Savers Exchange, Seeds of Change, and Territorial Seed Company, among others. I did place a single order with the Natural Gardening Company before heading off to ski at Beaver Creek in February, spurred only by a deep-rooted fear of missing out on my beloved Ramapo tomato seeds. However, the rest of it was relegated to today.

I feel terribly anxious as I usually start my seeds slightly earlier. However, I am comforted by the fact that I sowed our seeds later than ever last year, and we ran into fewer issues when it came to transplanting. We are very fortunate to have a cold-frame greenhouse to use to harden off our seedlings and give them room to grow before getting them settled in the garden. Our greenhouse, though, is just 10′ x 12′ and things tend to get very crowded very quickly. So, working with smaller plants is infinitely easier.

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Should I Stay or Should I Grow?

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VF
Every year, right about this time, for the past six years, we’re usually sowing seeds, or we’re at least fixing to. This arctic polar freeze of a winter, however, has rendered that all but impossible. My planting shed is frozen shut, so I’m not sure if I have seed-starting mix from Johnny’s in there or not. And I’m not wholly certain about how many seedling trays I have either.

As I go through seed catalogs and ponder what to fill all our rows with, all the while stuck in limbo, there is one thing I can do: I am officially committing to high yield/high consumption/low waste. Like, tomatoes? We got that. Tomatoes are a success story at Victory Farms. And, even with 80-100 plants every season, we’ve done very well with managing yield and loss. This makes me less interested in low-yield plants (such as broccoli) and, beyond that, any plant that I waste (and by waste I mean winds up in the compost or rotting on my sill).

I have a better idea of what will wind up in Victory Farms, but it’s nowhere near set in stone. I’m just trying to get there by studying shopping lists and our crisper in the down months. Getting back to yield, I’ve done so-so with peppers, even though I grow more than 50 plants each year. I think I’m going to scale way back, but go big on the love and get them in the garden way earlier and harvest much more regularly. I think I can increase production and ultimately increase it with the peppers if I can grow an amount that I can really micromanage and see how they respond.

It all feels like wild speculation while the garden resembles the tundra. I am so grateful that Curt hauled in 10 bales of straw to protect the beds.

Ones to Grow On…

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The saddest thing, depending on what kind of growing season you’ve had, for a home farmer is closing things up for the winter. You will never be overwhelmed by more bittersweet feelings than those that wash over you when you’re mulching your well-used beds with blankets of straw and bidding adieu to your faithful minions, the earthworms, in the bitter chill and sweet light of late Fall days.

Days before depression really sets in, though, seed catalogs begin to arrive in the mail, letting you know that there really has got to be a morning — or a spring — after. More exciting for me than any holiday cards (even those with super-cute kids or pets), new year catalogs get me positively giddy. Like mothers who forget the pain of childbirth as they procreate once again, I cannot recall any of the pain and heartache of last season’s efforts.

Drunk with optimism (and, let’s face it, a martini — or two), I sit here again with catalogs stacked high, teeming with Post-It tabs, and dreaming of what we will sow very, very soon.

Cabbage for sauerkraut (enough to share with all in 2012!), tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes, and more greens. Ingredients for perfumed ales and stouts. Lettuce as far as the eye can see. If you want us to grow something for you — or grow something so we can put it up for you, speak your peace.