Posts from — May 2010

(20 Minute Jim) Following my new mantra, I got up this morning and harvested a paper bag full of mint before coffee and even before the dew was off the lawn. Yes, yes, yes – technically this is a case of “do what I say, don’t do what I do” because it’s best to wait until the dew dries before touching plants. It’s just too easy to transmit soil-borne diseases to the leaves where the dew can help them stick and help them grow. In the cool of the morning, feel free to take walks through the garden, to appreciate the new wonders and perhaps to map out the work you’ll accomplish later. Just don’t get dirty until things dry off.

Unless you’re deliberately trying to kill off something, say, like a rogue patch of mint. A few roots of mint and another few of lemon balm escaped when I “transplanted” the major planting a year or two back to make room for more asparagus. I say “transplanted” because I’d kept the mint growing in a bucket that I cleverly submerged in the soil with the intent to KEEP it from spreading. Silly human. Now there’s a luxurious patch of mint and lemon balm underneath the asparagus right near the rhubarb.

I’m almost ready to play along with this spontaneous grouping, at least for a bit. This trio of the tall ferns of the asparagus, the broad elephant-ear leaves of the rhubarb and the wily opportunistic shoots of the mints seems like a good match of height, leaf and growth habit. After these three are done sucking up the sunlight, I bet there will be very little left for any weeds to grow. But at the moment, there are lots of weeds mixed in and to get at the weeds, I had to harvest some mint.

I used normal kitchen scissors – don’t let 20Mintue Jan know, OK? – and I dropped the sprigs cut end down in a standard paper grocery bag. The kind of bag I used had handles which will be handy to hang for drying. Paper bags are best because they’re porous and will allow the leaves to dry without molding and they’re also opaque. A weird thing I learned about mint is that it must be dried in the dark or the leaves will turn black. They’ll still taste and smell like mint but they’ll be black instead of green. I snipped for 20 minutes and then retired back inside for coffee.

Looking at that bag of fresh mint reminds me of my mother. She was always so eager to make everything into a celebration. I remember growing up she’d take a deep breath of air on a particularly beautiful day and say, “We should be sipping mint juleps on a porch somewhere.” So after Jan and I were married, one day when my Mom and Dad had helped us all day painting and working around the house, we told them to have a seat out on the porch, that we’d be out in a minute. Jan and I had researched the recipe for authentic mint juleps – which are basically sugar, mint… and bourbon! – and we made some for Mom and Dad. One sip and Mom’s eyes nearly popped from her head. She was a life-long teetotaler and had NO idea what actually went into a mint julep. They appreciated the gesture, I think, but Mom never spoke about mint juleps again.

Mint Julep
for each serving…

4 sprigs of mint
1 teaspoon
finely crushed ice
1-1/2 jiggers

1. In a 12-ounce highball glass or tankard (perferably silver or aluminum), place 3 sprigs of mint and sugar. Crush mint with muddler or handle of wooden spoon until sugar is dissolved, about 5 minutes.
2. Fill glass to brim with ice; pour in bourbon; don’t stir. Add more ice to fill glass. Set in freezer.
3. Just before serving: Garnish with mint sprig. Serve with long straw.

(20 Minute Jim) As part of my mid-life crisis, I’m taking a class in motorcycle repair. It’s been a great chance to go back and learn things I missed earlier in life. When other kids were monkeying around under the hood of cars, I probably felt more comfortable on my knees weeding a row of carrots. The class is starting with the basics of tools and measurements and how to fill out a time card.

Which brings me to the piece of wisdom that I want to share. The instructor said something to the effect of “you don’t have to work at some break-neck crazy speed. Just keep doing something all the time and you’ll likely be the most efficient worker in the shop.” So simple. So clear. This week, I’ve really adopted that mantra of “just keep doing something.”

It’s easy to let myself sit down and take a break when I’ve finished some portion of a larger project. I deserve it, right? For instance, the other day when I was planting the tomatoes, it took far less time than I’d imagined. I was going to call it quits but since I still had time left in my “20 minute” allotment, I kept plodding ahead and I also got some squash and some more broccoli planted. Even if I’d banked the unused time, I suspect the effort to overcome the psychic inertia of getting started again would have eaten up most of the time savings. Instead, I just kept working and ended up planting all the seedlings.

I admit that this advice seems a little bit obvious. But so far, it’s working for me, not just around the garden and not just around the motorcycle shop.

If you are going to go the organic route in kitchen gardening, sooner or later you will find yourself thinking about insect management. We try to take the attitude that having a healthy garden is having a healthy ecosystem in our yard, one that will attract birds and bees and other living things. One of the important lessons I learned came from reading The Organic Gardener’s Handbook of Natural Insect and Disease Control edited by Editors Barbara W. Ellis and Fern Marshall Bradley, a book we’ve mentioned previously here. What I learned was this: not all insects are bad. Some of the insects you might see in your garden are actually there for the express purpose of eating the insects you don’t want. How great is that? This book has helped me to recognize ladybug larvae, which are no where near as cute as grown-up ladybugs.

from http://berkeleynaturally.wordpress.com/

Deciding to eliminate insects based on some cute-ness factor is a setting a course for disaster… and a lot of squishing.
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Our neighbor had this commercially manufactured raised garden bed in her garden, and for the last few years we planted it with tomatoes next to the small shed. This year, we decided to try something different. We moved the bed closer to the house and planted it with a mesclun mix. It’s looking great! It’s kind of a funky container, but I think we may have found a good use for it.

I thought that having a dedicated raised bed would make weeding much easier– and I was right on that account. I was able to get the soil nearly weed-free before I planted the mesclun seed so that was a bonus. The sprouts are reaching a good size so our neighbor is planning on making a spring salad for a Memorial Weekend dinner.

20MinuteJim made a good deal with a friend: a clump of rhubarb plants from our kitchen garden in exchange for a fantastic rhubarb pie recipe. We did our part. I’m anxiously waiting to try the recipe!

A quick aside here: when I speak of “transplanting rhubarb”, I mean something closer to “dividing and sharing” rhubarb. I do not mean “moving rhubarb” because eliminating rhubarb from a spot where it has become established is recognized by most home gardeners as a highly challenging undertaking. Therefore, when you plant rhubarb, do so with a sense of commitment and serenity about having given your rhubarb a permanent home in your garden.

How does one transplant rhubarb? Here’s the easy steps to follow:

1. Choose a well-established plant to divide.

2. Use a spade to dig deeply around the plant to be sure to get a good portion of the plant’s roots. If you aren’t trying to move the whole plant, you can chop off a section of the plant. Just be sure to dig deep enough to get the root part as well.

Rhubarb plant with a section already removed

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