New Rhythms

The first frosts have come, and in the past several weeks, we have hurriedly gathered the last of the pole beans, basil, and some heirloom cherry tomatoes that proved surprisingly resistant to the late blight. We stored the squash, garlic and potatoes; replanted next season’s garlic; cleared debris from spent beds; and began to mulch the berries and fruit trees. We gauged the remaining chard, kale, and sorrel, whose leaves withstand even the early killing frosts; enjoyed the resurgence of arugala which has reseeded itself throughout the garden (and garden paths); and knew that the cabbage, leeks and carrots could be left in the ground to harvest as needed over the coming months. These are familiar rhythms to gardeners and farmers in the Northeast U.S.

But for us this year, some of the rhythms of this transitional season are new.

This fall, we are also evoking rituals of spring, tending young greens – planted in late August and early September – and watching them thrive in these cooler days. Some of the crops are familiar, others are as new as the rhythms of planting, weeding, and thinning at a time when most of the garden is heading toward dormancy. There’s spinach, beets, mâche, claytonia, radishes, mustards, raddichio, a mesclun mix, and a variety of Asian greens.

The photos (from top to bottom): late summer-planted Vitamin Green and Pac Choi surrounded by marigolds, before last week's killing frost; fall-planted Hon Tsai Tai, Savoy, and radishes; claytonia ("miners' lettuce"); self-seeded Asian "spoon greens"; and an early summer planting of spicy mustards that is continuing to produce new leaves. Some of those greens made a wonderful stir fry earlier in the week (along with some bright orange calendula petals) and a crisp, tangy salad last night.

Our goal is to eventually have freshly harvested greens throughout the entire year. Our guide: the writings of Eliot Coleman, an inspiring farmer, researcher, writer and local foods activist from Harborside, Maine. The author of (most recently) The Winter Harvest Handbook, Coleman profitably brings vegetables to market year-round from his zone 5 Four Season Farm using unheated, plastic-covered “hoop houses.” His success challenges the myth that we must ship food 3,000 miles across the U.S. because northeast winters preclude year-round vegetable production.

While “fall gardens” – vegetables planted in mid- to late-summer for fall harvest – are an old, if relatively lost, North American tradition, Coleman’s work opens the possibilities of extending that harvest into the frigid, snowy months by selecting cold-tolerant crops and providing minimal protection. One version of this protection, low “hoop houses” – plastic secured over small wire hoops – is quick and inexpensive to erect. We put them up a couple weeks ago when night-time temperatures began to frequently drop below freezing.

Next year, we will replace them with a “walk-in” structure – a hoop-framed greenhouse -- still unheated, but significantly larger and easier to access.

We’ve made only a small start this year, still acclimating ourselves to these unexpected rhythms. But we hope to have fresh salads and stir-fries into the new year. I’ll write more about what we’re growing and how it’s doing as this new gardening season unfolds.

A Blue-Spotted Salamander Visits

Rock piles, logs, leaf litter and underbrush provide ideal shelter for a variety of insect-eating reptiles, our partners in pest control. I found this burrowing Blue-Spotted Salamander in our garden last week while extending one of the flagstone paths through the front gardens. Richard had left a small pile of flat stones for me, on top of what had been the potato bed. When I lifted the sun-warmed rocks to lay them on the path, he (or she) scurried out.

While these salamanders live on land, they rely on vernal (seasonal) pools that retain water into mid-summer for breeding. So they are primarily found in moist forests and swampy woodlands where shady depressions collect and hold water well after the spring melt. Given this summer's rain everywhere is moist and swampy. But our "muddle" -- the hole we've dug in heavy clay soil that will eventually be a small woodland pond, along with our shift from large expanses of lawn to a more diverse ecosystem -- is clearly attracting larger numbers of reptiles to take up residence in our garden.

Warm Oranges for Cooler Days

Fortunately, my garden has not been as neglected as my blog. These fall days are busy – the late summer lull at work ends with a rush of new programming and grant deadlines. Meetings seem to sprout in my calendar as fast as weeds. Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur -- the Jewish new year holidays -- are most welcome, interrupting the pace with time for reflection and appreciation, but they also fill several days. And then there are the garden projects: the shorter days remind us that whatever we hope to finish before winter needs to be done now.

Richard is chopping wood as I write. Earlier, we enjoyed the unseasonably warm weather as we worked on some new paths, moved a few shrubs, planted garlic, weeded and mulched, and got the plants still sitting in pots into the ground so they can settle before winter. In between tasks, there were still green beans, nasturtium blossoms, fall raspberries to nibble as we passed. Most years, we would have had a killing frost before the end of September, but the very rainy weather has kept night-time temperatures above freezing.

In the photos I have been taking, there are warm oranges everywhere: Red Gem marigolds (above) with their petite edible flowers, and calendula (right), whose petals can be added to rice, soups and salad, providing the color of saffron and a tangy, slightly sweet flavor, sprawl through the garden.

The Hopi squash is a rare heirloom that we grew for the first time this summer. 

It is similar to pumpkin in texture and taste. Paired with some just-harvested onions, garlic and leeks, and roasted, it made a wonderful soup last week. 

We ate it with a raw cabbage salad (a mini, tender "Caraflex" cabbage marinated in a olive oil and lemon juice), perfect for a cold, rainy evening. 

The pumpkins, on the other hand, are still ripening; they should be ready in another few weeks. Earlier today, my mom asked for some roasted pumpkin soup for Thanksgiving so we’ll store them until then.