Cherries, berries and more

Wild cherry, or Prunis avium ("bird cherry")

An avian frenzy earlier this week alerted me that the wild cherries growing not far from our deck were ripening. Since then, there has been a continuous parade of birds from early morning through dusk, and, seemingly, an equally continuous conversation as word spreads through the tree tops. Not surprising then, that the latin name for the tree, Prunis avium, translates as "bird cherry." However, the birds are not alone in their feasting. Grey and red squirrels scamper through the branches seeking their share, in their haste, knocking to the ground almost as many cherries as they eat. Last night, around 9:30 pm, an unusual rustling in the garden drew me out to investigate. About two-thirds of the way up one of the 50 foot cherry trees was a dark, furry shape, slightly bigger than a large cat. It was difficult to be sure in the fading light, but it appeared to be a possum getting in on the feast. Or perhaps a raccoon.

The Goumi berries are more within our reach

We hate to miss out, but have had to be satisfied with the handful of burgendy jewels Richard has pulled down with last summer’s invention – a very long pole to which he has taped a large fork. (No tree-climbing exploits for him this year.) On the other hand, we do have the strawberries, which are planted as a border along many of the perennial flower beds, and the goumi berries, which in their first full year are yielding a handful a day of scarlet-red, tart fruit.

A handful of goumi berries

Native to the Russian Far East, China and Japan, the tart but tasty goumis are a bit like pie cherries. Given the rapid growth of these shrubs, we will likely have 3-4 times that amount next year. So far, the birds have left them alone – because they are occupied by the cherries, or haven’t yet discovered this non-native fruit, or the still-small shrubs are too close to the ground (and our cats), I can’t say.

Woodland strawberries

This has also been a bumper year for the tiny woodland strawberry. Some opportune combination of rain, warm weather and, perhaps, Richard’s efforts to thin out the woods where they grow as groundcover. While it would take a lot of work to find and pick enough to fill a bowl, they are wonderful to nibble, with a flavor that is more “strawberry” than any of the domestic varieties bred for their larger fruit. Tidbit from Wikipedia: "Evidence from archaeological excavations suggests that Fragaria vesca has been consumed by humans since the Stone Age. The woodland strawberry was first cultivated in ancient Persia where farmers knew the fruit as Toot Farangi. Its seeds were later taken along the silk road towards the far East and to Europe it was widely cultivated until the 18th century, when it began to be replaced by the garden strawberry."

Snow peas are at their peak.

As for vegetables: mid-June, we are finally nearing the end of our overwintered and early-start greens; the last of that kale, mustard greens, and Asian stir-fry greens will probably be eaten by next weekend. But the snow peas – planted in mid-March, the day after I impatiently cleared the deep, insulating snow from one of the beds – are at their peak, and the sugar snap peas are not far behind. We’re harvesting the early carrots, beets and turnips as well.

Beets and turnips

The chard awaits. The cabbages are filling out...


.. the squash, beans and corn are up...

... and while weeding among mint, I startled a leopard frog, perhaps the same one I wrote about last summer. I was happy to find it, in part for its help on pest-patrol and in part, because it is an “indicator species” whose presence speaks to the health of its habitat. Once common, leopard frogs began declining in the 1970s and have not yet recovered.

Finally, out by the garlic and potato beds, the species roses are blooming. Simpler in form than the hybrid tea roses, they are far more fragrant and far, far less fussy, not prone to pest or disease and requiring little tending. They yield very large rose hips, which we'll harvest later in the summer for winter teas. They also remind me to stop weeding and smell the roses.

Beauty and Abundance

Painted Lady butterfly on valerian flowers

Sometimes life takes over, and you just have to live it, attending to what must be attended to, and leaving the documentation of life for some other time. Such has been the case for the past several months. But the wonder of the world is that its wonders continue nonetheless. So even in difficult times (and perhaps even more so in difficult times), I'm taken by the beauty and abundance surrounding us.

Just last weekend, we saw half a dozen different butterflies and managed to photograph several. With the help of our small "Guide to New York State Butterflies," we were able to identify them.

White Admiral butterfly

Yellow Swallowtail butterfly on Dames Rocket (photo R. Lansdowne)

But for me, there's also wonder in abundance. Whether sitting on the porch or walking through the yard, one can't help but notice food everywhere. In the past month, the garden has produced more than we could eat, and already 5 pounds of chard and several pounds of spinach have been blanched and frozen, awaiting next winter's soups. 7 pounds of pac choi has been turned intokim chee (Korean pickled cabbage), with another several pounds to process next week. And we've eaten, and given away, uncounted pounds of salad.

Overwintered Tuscan ("dinosaur") kake

At this point, most of the overwintered greens, along with those planted in early March in the "warm frame" are done (or almost done) now, having bolted during the unusually warm temperatures we had in May. So stir-fried greens are on the menu every night that we're home for dinner.

Overwintered Siberian kale

The first of the earliest snow peas, sugar snap peas, turnips, and beets -- planted in mid-March -- are ready to eat, as are the carrot thinnings.

The first of the sugar snap peas, planted on March 17, the week the snow melted.

Harvest of mid-March-planted beets, peas, and carrot thinnings.

The potatoes, flanked by bush beans in front and garlic behind, have now been "hilled up" several times. There's some evidence that beans interplanted with potatoes inhibits damage to the potatoes. No one is certain why, but "companion" planting does seem to work. One of my favorite companions is mint, which I allow to freely grow throughout the garden, tearing it out only when it takes up too much space. I haven't seen it documented anywhere, but it does seem to offer protection from leaf-eating insects to other crops, perhaps because of its scented oils.

Hilled up potatoes, with just emerging bush beans in front and tall garlic greens in back.

The most well known companion planting is the Native American tradition of interplanting the Three Sisters: squash, beans and corn. In that combination, it appears that the beans, with their nitrogen-fixing rhizomes support the heavy feeding squash, while the sugars from the corn roots stimulate the nitrogen-fixing bacteria on the bean roots. The squash, with their large leaves, shade the ground, preserving moisture and inhibiting weeds.

Three Sisters (corn, bean & squash) bed, with a March planting of carrots in the middle. These will be harvested soon and another squash hill planted.

We planted those heat-loving crops last weekend, the traditional last frost date for this area, along with the tomato and basil seedings, and repeat plantings of beets, radishes, carrots, and turnips. They have germinated quickly with the much needed heavy rain several nights this week, interspersed with warm sunny days.

Pole beans a week after planting.

This year, we're also experimenting with straw-bale planting to increase the space available for winter squash and tomatoes without having to prepare new garden beds. We began lining our old driveway with the bales about 6 weeks ago, sprinkled them a bit of fertilizer, and watered them periodically to encourage the straw to begin to break down a little. Then we simply poked small holes for squash seeds and larger ones for the tomato seedlings, and added a bit of soil.

Our straw bale experiment

None of this speaks to the abundance of the perennial crops: fruit trees and shrubs, nuts, and perennial vegetables. But those will have to wait for another day, as its time to stop writing about life and get back to living it.