Gardening for Wildlife

This blog claims to be about nature and garden, but the garden side of it has not had a lot of attention since its first couple of years. And since I shifted my focus primarily to birds and other encounters with nature, any gardening posts I have written seem like an abrupt switch of topic.

But there's a reason I subtitled this blog "Nature and Garden in Northfield, MN." It's because I feel that the garden, in its largest sense (not just a vegetable patch or a flower bed, as in common American usage, but a plant-focused environment that we design and manage for our sensory pleasure and leisure use, as well as sometimes for growing food) is absolutely linked to nature. So are farming and the other ways we use or misuse land, and that's one of the reasons I'm passionate about sustainable agriculture and land use policy. Nature isn't something detached from everyday life and food production; they are inextricably linked, and gardens and farms are two of the main places where nature and culture intersect. (Michael Pollan's book Second Nature is a wonderful exploration of this truth.) I've always been repelled by the notion of a garden as completely under human control, where insects (beneficial as well as destructive) and weeds are ruthlessly poisoned for a more "perfect," blemish-free appearance. That's not perfect to me; that's the antithesis of what a garden should be, and in gardens like that the hum of bees and the singing of birds tend to be silenced.

On the page of this blog called The Bookcase that Became a Blog, I wrote:

Penelopedia, the blog, came to be when I realized I had a cluster of interests that seemed to me fundamentally related. The way I realized this? I had a special bookcase near the kitchen that housed all my cookbooks and food magazines, organic gardening books and magazines, frugal living guides, Mother Earth News magazines, and field guides for birds, insects, wildflowers, trees and regional wildlife. That bookcase was essentially a blog waiting to happen. And then I read Barbara Kingsolver's book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, about the pleasures and values behind leaving behind much of the industrialized food system and eating locally and traditionally raised food, and everything seemed to come together: respect for nature, animals, natural and traditional foods, sustainable food production that preserves biodiversity and doesn't abuse animals, simpler ways of life including growing your own food, and the deep importance of place.

We feed birds year-round and have added to our feeding program over time to invite a greater variety of birds to our feeders. Watching birds and learning more about them so I can explain what I've seen have been an easy focus for my interest in noticing the intersections between our daily, distracted human lives and the natural world around us. It seems to me now that the natural evolution of our birdfeeding program is to take what we have learned about birds' needs to make our generously sized yard more of a garden: a place where nature and culture intersect for the benefit of both, where birds and other small creatures can find shelter and sustenance while we humans can enjoy a pleasing view, a peaceful respite, and some home-grown food.

So this year, while planning our most extensive vegetable garden in several years, we're also starting to think more creatively about how we might use our outdoor space in support of the birds I love to photograph and write about. We're already well along that path. There are good features in place, from purple coneflowers and some other native plants, to a few established shrubs (good shelter for birds); to medium-sized and mature trees (and more nearby). We've been using a heated birdbath to provide welcome water for wildlife throughout the winter. And we garden organically for the most part and we never use pesticides in our garden. But there is more we can do.

We're going to get some advice from our friend Mary, a master gardener, editor of Northern Garden magazine, and author of the My Northern Garden blog. And we've been looking at websites like Ecosystem Gardening and the National Wildlife Federation's Garden for Wildlife. I've also been collecting landscaping-for-wildlife ideas (and other gardening and birding links) on Pinterest.

We're leery of taking on a larger project than we can manage in a growing season, so our steps will be modest. But I'm feeling energized by this vision, and I look forward to reporting on our progress.

And so here at Penelopedia, along with plenty of continued birdwatching and phenology and the rest of my typical fare, I hope to weave in a greater focus on gardening for wildlife -- thinking purposefully about how to make our little portion of the outdoors more hospitable to birds, butterflies and other creatures that may pass through. I also welcome hearing about your experiences and any advice you have on creating a more nature-friendly garden.

Switching to Gardening Mode

So, who's planning a garden for this year? After a year of lying fallow and enjoying the fruits of our membership in Open Hands Farm CSA, I am definitely itching to start some seeds and get my hands dirty in the garden this year.

The good folks over at Just Food Co-op in Northfield are offering some get-ready-to-garden classes in the next several weeks. The first class is tomorrow! Call them to register: 507-650-0106.

Full disclosure: Just Food has been a client at my place of employment, but as I've made clear before, I am a longtime member and supporter independently of that business connection.


Garden Fertility: How to Grow Good Soil
Tuesday, February 8, 6:30-8:30 p.m. in the Just Food Community Room
Cost: $15/$12 owners
Jennifer Nelson of Gardens of Eagan will expound on the importance of healthy soil. GOE's claim of "Dirt First!" is no empty slogan. An organic farmer's most important job is growing the soil. GOE will pass on some of their secrets for the benefit of your garden.

Pruning 101
Saturday, February 12, 2-4 p.m. at Thorn Crest Farm, 11885 Cabot Ave, Dundas
Cost: FREE
Come out to the orchard and learn how to prune apple trees and raspberry bushes. Gary Vosejpka, owner of Thorn Crest Farm, will give a hands-on demonstration of the techniques in the orchard and raspberry patch. Learn the appropriate time and basic skills necessary to prune for maximum production. Wear boots and dress for the weather. Expect deep snow out at the farm.

Ready, Set, Garden!
Saturday, February 19, 10 a.m.-12 p.m. in the Just Food Community Room
Cost: $15/12 owner
Sara Morrison, owner of The Backyard Grocery, will be discussing seed starting, companion planting and getting the most out of your backyard garden plot this season. This two-hour class will include instruction on choosing plant varieties, seed companies, seed starting equipment, planting mediums and seedling care, as well as ways to plan the garden so all inhabitants get along and thrive. The class will be a verdant mix of horticulture, history and general backyard garden fun. Be sure to bring your questions! www.thebackyardgrocery.com

Beginning Beekeeping
March 3, 7-8:30 p.m. in the Just Food Community Room
Cost: FREE
If you’ve thought about having your own backyard honey supply, this is for you. In addition to the culinary benefits of keeping bees you can help to increase the number of pollinators in our community. Find out what equipment you need, how to choose from the different kinds of bees, how to manage hives during the season, and whether to manage your bees organically. Learn about resources for classes, equipment, and beekeeping groups. Local farmer and beekeeper Chris Sullivan Kelley will share the basics of the apiculture trade.

Seasonal Eating Calendar
Tuesday, March 8, 6:30-8:30 p.m. in the Just Food Community Room
Cost: $15/$12 owners
Join Jennifer Nelson from Gardens of Eagan to learn how to plan your life around local, seasonal foods. Create your seasonal eating calendar of when and how to plan your garden, weekly menus, working with CSA deliveries, winter eating and more. With a little planning, your family can live a healthier, seasonal lifestyle while eating real, good food.

Call 507-650-0106 or stop by the store to reserve a space in these classes.

What to Grow?

Last year's garden in late June


Okay, putting on my gardening hat now. I'm a bit at a loss over what to do with my vegetable garden this season. We are splitting a CSA (community-supported agriculture) share, so we should have plenty of produce all summer and I'm a bit afraid of having too much if I plant much myself. The only perennial foods in my garden are rhubarb, chives and sage, apart from no doubt some self-seeded tomatoes from last year's overflow of fruits that split on the vine, and maybe a few other volunteers. I'd like to establish some bunching onions, but the rest of the bed is available.

So, what else would you advise planting at this point, either direct-seeded or with purchased seedlings? If I act very quickly I could get some asparagus plants and plan a permanent row, but I suspect I won't.

Maybe this is the year to have a riotous bed of annual flowers, but that can get expensive, and it feels a bit late to start anything from seed.

Maybe I should plant a cover crop and let everything else lie fallow for a year.

What would you do?

Tomato Jungle

My late-summer garden is a tangle of tomato plants. I've been picking the cherry varieties for several weeks, but the big slicers, especially the heirloom varieties, are just ripening now. Below are some of the red grape variety, which are not as wonderful-tasting as the hybrid Sun Golds (some are visible at the back), but which have proved much more resistant to splitting after the heavy rains we've had lately. I've had to put dozens of the delicious Sun Golds into the compost pile, but I have also resolved to save some of their seeds since I have so many otherwise going to "waste" (not that contributing to compost can be considered a total waste). When I can tell that they have very recently split and still look fresh I still sometimes try to use them, but if the split has dried or the fruit looks as if it is starting to rot, I consign them to the pile.

I've never dried tomatoes before, but the sweet Sun Golds are so prolific and proved so wonderful on pizza recently that I think I will dry a freezer-bagful. To do this, you wash them and cut them in half, spread them cut-side up (some sources say cut-side down) on a baking sheet, and place in a very slow oven (200 F.) for several hours, until leathery but still pliable. Some recipes call for salting the tomatoes and/or seasoning with Italian herbs before drying them. When properly dried they can be kept in the cupboard in a glass jar, but since this is a judgment call probably best made after some trial and error, I will keep mine in the freezer to avoid any risk of mold that could grow if they are not sufficiently dry. I'd hate to lose any.

Above is a mammoth Striped German heirloom tomato. I picked a similar one already, wrestling it out from between the supports; it more than filled my entire hand and probably weighed more than a pound. Unfortunately, it was so tightly wedged against the tomato behind it and the metal cage wires that it emerged sadly bruised. These have a old-fashioned appearance and are rather ribbed from the outside; they are marvelous to look at when sliced, as their flesh is a lovely yellow with red streaks. I have grown these before, and I think their flavor and texture make them a decent rival for the classic "best-tasting" Brandywines.

Above are Tasty Evergreens, a new variety for me this year, which are also getting quite large. The tag says to pick these when green with a yellow tinge, so after taking this photo I picked the closer one, but I haven't sliced it yet.

And here is the Green Zebra variety, another kind I've not grown before. I couldn't find the planting tag and was wondering how to tell when to pick these, but Johnny's Selected Seeds says they are ripe just as the green fruit develops a yellow blush, as the closer fruit above is starting to do. The photo on Seed Savers Exchange (first link above) seems to show that the main portion of the skin will turn considerably yellower than this, with distinctive green stripes remaining. Either way, these are very attractive. Johnny's notes that these are "not technically an heirloom" but lists them with its other heirlooms.

I bought all my tomato plants at Just Food Co-op's Mother's Day plant sale this year; most of the large, vigorous seedlings were raised by the nice folks at Big Woods Farm.

I've done no fertilizing this year other than digging some purchased compost into the soil before planting. I put down straw mulch, and except where it wasn't thick enough, I've needed to do very little weeding. (Whether I've actually weeded where I needed to is a story better left untold.)

Happy tomato season, everyone.

Quote of the Week: From Michael Pollan's Second Nature

My quote of the week, which appears near the top of my sidebar, reads:

"In American gardening, the successful compost pile seems almost to have supplanted the perfect hybrid tea rose or the gigantic beefsteak tomato as the outward sign of horticultural grace. What I read about compost gave me my first inkling that gardening, which I had approached as a more or less secular pastime, is actually moral drama of a high order."

It's from Michael Pollan's book Second Nature: A Gardener's Education (1991). Pollan has become better known since then for The Botany of Desire (2001) and The Omnivore's Dilemma (2006). Given my interest in how we think about, and the sources of, our food, I certainly mean to read the latter, but haven't yet. I remember The Botany of Desire particularly for its grim portrayal of chemical-dependent "conventional" potato farming necessitated by the American public's love of perfect French fries, and the freedom from such extreme chemical dependency that is promised by genetic engineering.

In Second Nature, Pollan devotes a chapter to the "moral drama" that's inherent in gardening if we care, and it seems we do, about gardening as more than either a purely artistic pursuit, using plants as our paintbox, or a manufacturing process, in which soil is only a substance that holds plants up while we feed them chemically. He describes the transition in the last century from agriculture that had relied on composted organic waste for thousands of years to the downward spiral of chemical fertilizer use:

At first, yields increase dramatically. But the cost is high, for the chemicals in fertilizer gradually kill off the biological activity in the soil and ruin its structure. Eventually, few organic nutrients remain, leaving crops completely dependent on fertilizer -- the soil has become little more than a device to hold plants upright while they gorge themselves on 5-10-5. And to make matters worse, the more fertilizer he uses, the more problems the farmer has with disease and insects, since chemical fertilizer seems to weaken a plant's resistance. After [World War II] the farmer in this predicament succumbed to a host of new chemical temptations -- DDT, Temik, chlordane -- and it wasn't long before he found himself deep in agricultural hell.

The home gardener, meanwhile, had been walking down pretty much the same ruinous road. .. By the 1960s, the shelves of his garage were lined with the dubious products of America's petrochemical industry... Where one might reasonably have expected to find the logo of Burpee or Agway there were now the wings of Chevron. Somehow gardening, this most wholesome and elemental of pastimes, had gotten cross-wired with the worst of industrial civilization.

This is the wilderness in which [Robert] Rodale [the father of modern organic farming and gardening] found the American gardener and confronted him with a stark moral choice: he could continue to use petrochemicals to manufacture flowers and vegetables, or he could follow Rodale, learn how to compost, and redeem the soil -- and, the implication was clear, himself. [Second Nature pp. 84-85]

After a tour through the history of the Jeffersonian agrarian ideal, to Thoreau's bean field at Walden, Pollan sums up:

No less than the nineteenth-century transcendentalists and reformers, we look to the garden today as a source of moral instruction. They sought a way to preserve the Jeffersonian virtues even in the city; we seek a way to use nature without damaging it. In much the same way that the antebellum garden became a proof of the agrarian ideal, we regard our own plots, hard by the compost pile, as models of ecological responsibility. Under both dispensations, gardening becomes, at least symbolically, an act of redemption. [p. 85]

I think there is more to it than that. For me, at least, keeping some kind of garden connects me with the fundamental nature -- or, conversely, the natural foundation -- of life: the seasons, the soil, the miracle of the seed, the renewal that comes from decomposition. We are often so disconnected from nature that apart from the occasional natural disaster we can and often do go about our lives as if they -- we -- were not utterly reliant on sun and earth and air and water. To me, that disconnect is unacceptable: gardening is not just about personal redemption, but a lifeline to all that is real and basic.

But I do view organic gardening as a moral issue, believing that in gardening, as in our other interactions with the world that is the only home not only for ourselves but for all other forms of earthly life, we should do our best to leave things no worse than we find them.

Image credit: Kessner Photography/ Wikimedia Commons.