More Survivors

"North Pole" Lettuce

This "North Pole" lettuce (from Fedco Seeds) certainly lived up to its name. I planted this batch last fall, and they overwintered in the hoophouse (with its below zero temperatures),  protected only by an additional cloth row cover. We lost the oldest frozen leaves, but the roots remained strong, and the new growth has accelerated with the longer spring days.

Survivors!

Hoophouse (Feb. 16)

The tenacity of life is astounding.

While the rest of the planet was experiencing warmer than average temperatures, the northeast U.S. had one of its coldest winters ever. Outside Ithaca, NY, where we live, we had multiple nights with temperatures falling below 0 degrees F, even multiple nights with temperatures falling into the negative teens. We recorded a low of -2.7 degrees in the high tunnel (unheated hoophouse).


Fortunately, the deep snow cover and consistently below freezing temperatures helped prevent repeated freezing and thawing. But it was still a "zone 4" winter in a place that is typically "zone 5." And we didn't get around to providing extra mulch, doubling the row covers, or doing anything except waiting to see what survived. And while our March crops were nothing like the previous years, here is some of what we found:

High Tunnel Spinach (March 9)

Carrots and radishes dug from the hoophouse (March 9)

Low tunnels protected only by a single row cover (March 29)

Low Tunnel Tatsoi (March 29)

Low Tunnel Mache  (March 29)

Low Tunnel Spinach (March 29)

The challenge will be how to farm in face of climate chaos. For years, the conventional wisdom has been to look to and learn from those farming one zone warmer. But our frigid winter resulted from the changes in the shape of the arctic air front -- a wave pattern with now greater amplitude (the high and low points of the wave) as a result of global warming. As warmer air pushes into the arctic, some of the colder air mass is pushed further south. But where it descends will vary unpredictably from year to year. So while we will have many zone 6 winters (and summers), requiring crops that withstand warmer temperatures, we will also apparently have zone 4 winters (and summers) with colder temperatures and shorter growing seasons as well. And so the experimentation with sustaining life continues. 

Please, March ...

Someone was feeling playful at Cornell this week. The marquee outside the student union, which usually spells out the names of films playing in the theater inside, read instead: "Please March go out like a lamb. Please."

In contrast to last year's early spring, winter's chill is lingering this year. The hardiest of the perennial foods are just pushing through the cold soil - the nearly neon red-orange knobs of rhubarb and the first needle-like spikes of chives.

Rhubarb knobs (future leaves) pushing through the ground

The first chive spears

Still, I mind the "lion" of this month less than I would have in the past, for the greens in the hoop house are growing ferociously. The scallions, dormant and only partially grown all winter, are filling out. The claytonia, arugala and mustard are nearly at their peak. The mizuna has begun to bolt, providing some mini broccoli-like florets and a burst of cheerful yellow (edible) flowers. The rosettes of mache leaves are elongating, warning that they, too, will soon bolt to seed.

Overwintered scallions are filling out

Arugala

Claytonia

"Green Wave" mustard - very hot!

The mizuna (an Asian green) is starting to bolt

As for the needed promise of spring, the lettuce, kale and other seeds I planted in mid-February are now seedlings.

Lettuce seedlings in hoop house

All this growth means some added work, as the beds now need to be watered regularly. With night-time temperatures still well below freezing, it's too cold to set up the hose, so we carry a large watering can back and forth. About six trips in all. Our reward for our labor: large servings of braised mizuna and sides of the tastiest salad leaves.

No cabin fever here!

The snow continues to pile up and night time temperatures remain in the single digits, but we keep the path to the hoop house clear. By now, the growth of the daylight sensitive greens is unmistakable. Below: the rosettes of tatsoi, a mild Asian cooking green, have filled out.

Tatsoi, an Asian cooking green

The challenge this time of year is getting enough growth before the plants begin to "bolt." Once all their energy goes into producing seed, there are no more new leaves. So for lunch, tatsoi, the first to bolt, was on the menu. Baby greens, stir fried with just a bit of tamari; it tasted like spring.

Starting to bolt: the flower buds are in the center

Spring was also in my mind, if not the air, as I planted pac choi, rose radish, lettuce and red kale this morning. While they will germinate and grow more slowly in the cold, they should be fine. (Check back next month for an update.)

Richard used to tease when I insisted that spring had arrived in mid-March, just because it was sunny and above 50 degrees. Now I no longer need to wait until March to plant those first seeds. The solution for cabin fever! I'm cured!

Outside/Inside

Outside ...

Inside

Things change more slowly this time of year. While some of the plants – like arugala and claytonia have been growing enough to harvest– even if only occasionally – through late December and January, the growth of other plants has been far less noticeable.

Arugala has been growing -- slowly -- all winter

Still, change is happening, even if in small ways. It is now light when I leave work in the late afternoon, the first reassurance that the sun has begun it’s arc toward what we call “spring.” Just as I’ve noticed the lengthening of the days, so too have the plants. New leaves have appeared on the kale and winter lettuce. The rosettes of the tatsoi, an Asian stir fry green, are growing in both size and number.

Winter lettuce with new growth

The overwintered kale has new leaves as well.

While these are typical signs of spring, we do not take them for granted in January. It regularly has been in the teens during the day and low single digits at night. As Ithaca’s new school superintendent, a transplant from Virginia, said he tells his mother, “Yes, that’s Fahrenheit, not Celsius.” Sunday night brought an unusual low of -10, without the wind chill factored in.

These new lows are distressing, possibly indications of the more extreme weather patterns caused by the overall warming of the planet (higher highs, lower lows, more floods in some places, more droughts in others). Still, when I went out to the hoop house this morning to check, the plants were chilled, but still very much alive. I’m heartened by the tangible evidence that it is possible to grow more of our food close by, even in the Northeast U.S., even in the winter.

On Saturday, when we had a rare day of blue skies and bright sun, the temperature rose to the high 60s in the hoop house, even though it was a mere 14 degrees outside. I enjoyed a mini-vacation surrounded by the sight and scent of growing greens. Richard and Kat joined me briefly (although Richard didn’t stay long enough to shed his winter coat).

Richard and Kat visiting in the hoop house

Spring equinox salad

Having so many greens growing in the yard has lulled me into a false sense of time. Yesterday’s thirty degree high and last night’s low in the teens reminded me that it is not yet the end of March. In the past, I would only be thinking about my spring garden at this point, with planting still at least six weeks away. Frosts are likely here through mid-May, with the possibility of frost extending through Memorial Day.

Mid-morning today, there was still ice on the water collecting in low spots in the yard.

So I was glad to curl up last night with some books Richard brought home from the Cornell libraries. I have been wanting to read Helen and Scott Nearings’ now classic Living the Good Life, describing their half century of homesteading in Vermont and Maine from the late 1920s though the 1970s. While looking for it, Richard also found another of their books, Building And Using Our Sun-Heated Greenhouse: Grow Vegetables All Year-Round (1977). In it, the Nearings describe how they achieved near self-sufficiency in growing vegetables, even in New England, where winters reach 40 degrees below zero. They cite other farmers, writing in the 1930s, who knew how to do the same thing. The “trick” is to select near-hardy greens (they focused on kale, chard, lettuce, escarole, parsley, celery, and leek) and then give them minimal protection.

Turnip greens. Protected by a low tunnel, they have been growing many tender new leaves.

The result is a spring equinox salad that rivals salads I used to be proud to harvest in June. With the spurt of new growth appearing in the overwintered plants in the low tunnels, I harvested a pound of greens this week. Mache and claytonia still make up the bulk of the salad. But there is now enough Tuscan kale, Asian savoy, fresh turnip leaves, spinach, red beet leaves, and mustard to add variety.

Baby tuscan ("dinosaur") kale leaves are great in salad.

Two viola plants (Johnny Jump-Ups) wound up near some straw this winter and have greeted the sporadic warm days with a profusion of purple blooms.

Semi-hardy violas (Johnny Jump-Ups) are one of the earliest of the edible flowers.

Nearby, I found some arugala that overwintered as well. Some greens are sufficiently hard -- think kale and arugula -- that they will overwinter without any protection beyond a blanket of snow, resuming growth as soon as temperatures climb above freezing.

Spicy arugula can survive winter with no more than a blanket of snow for protection from the cold.

Last weekend, we dug some wild onions Richard had planted near the stream. And today, the first edible primrose flowers opened.

Edible primrose flowers

I knew – before reading the Nearings’ work – that the knowledge of year-round vegetable production in temperate climates has been around even longer than the past half century. Maine farmer-researcher Elliot Coleman, whose experiments, example, and writings about four-season harvests builds upon the Nearings’ work – and have inspired our own efforts – has translated 18^th and 19^th century French texts that describe how Parisian market gardeners practiced intensive year-round gardening in greenhouses heated only by decomposing manure. They took their vegetables to market daily, filled their empty carts with horse manure from the city’s stables, and returned home. Farming 6% of the land area of Paris, they provided the city’s inhabitants with vegetables year-round in a latitude similar to our own.

Still, I found myself astounded and appalled at the extent to which direct evidence that vegetables could be grown year-round in the northeast U.S. had been marginalized, ignored, and even denied. For most people, it has long been common “knowledge” that the growing season here extends from Memorial Day to Labor Day. But perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, this kind of growing is suitable for home gardeners and small farmers, not agribusiness. There have not been large profits to be made in promoting it.

Low tunnel spinach

And yet, the salad greens I have been growing require minimal labor and few costs. I tossed some seeds in the ground in September. Richard cut some wire hoops. We threw some plastic on top and weighted it down with stones. There has been almost no weeding and, once the weather turned seriously cold, no watering. Also no pests. Cold fingers while picking greens has been a small trade-off for the absence of cabin fever. After all, when green plants are growing – and ready to harvest – in February and March, winter starts to feel like spring.