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10 posts tagged posted by molly
In love with the outdoors, Molly and Martin moved to the Catskills, NY, wanting more: more trees, more grass, more sky, and a deeper and more definite connection to the land. Sharing recipes, how-tos, and the personal side of their story, follow them on the learning curve of their adventures and the unfolding of their farming fantasy.
Eggs come in many colors and sizes, as do the chickens that lay them. Whether you’re starting a back yard brood, or a sizable farm flock, choosing the right breed is one of the most important considerations. Since different breeds evolved in vastly different environments, chicken breeds can be as different from one another as dog varieties: American breeds are better suited to cold climates while Mediterranean breeds weigh less, eat less and socialize less. Asian breeds are magnificent, but hardly know how to lay an egg and English breeds are snippy. The rule of thumb is to select your breeds based on the function you want them to serve. If you want a fairly inexpensive ornamental backyard flock, bantams are the way to go. If you’d rather have a pure meat breed, Freedom Rangers will fit the bill. If you want fresh eggs daily and occasional chicken stews, you can’t go wrong with Rhode Island Reds.
There are literally dozens of varieties to choose from. Here are examples of a few breeds Molly and I have worked with, each serving a different purpose. … (read more)
White Leghorn
This breed is responsible for producing most, if not all, white eggs you find in grocery stores. They have a phenomenal lay rate- some will lay one a day, year round without a single break. The white leghorn is a relatively small breed, with an average weight of four and a half pounds for hens. Due to their small stature white leghorns have an excellent feed to egg conversion and are cheap to keep, but they do not make a particularly good meat breed. The breed is skittish and flighty, a trait commonly found in white-egg laying breeds.
Black Australorp
Known as one of the best dual-purpose breeds, this large framed bird is a prolific layer of large, brown eggs. Maxing out at nine pounds, and with pinkish white skin this breed makes a beautiful roaster if raised for meat. Unlike some heavy egg-laying breeds, Black Australorps have retained the instinct to brood, and will hatch out their own fertilized eggs without artificial incubation techniques. This is a great advantage for small farms and homesteaders who want a self-sustaining flock that has the ability to replace itself. The Australorp’s dark coloration acts as camouflage and gives it an advantage in hawk country, making it well suited for free ranging and to pasture rotation systems.
Araucana/Americana
Known as the Easter egg chicken, the Araucana is the only breed with the ability lay blue, green and pink eggs. Most Araucana eggs are a deep turquoise. The Araucana is a South American breed and is not particularly well-suited for northern climates, so some North American hatcheries have crossed them with hearty American breeds to produce mutts with the ability to lay brightly colored eggs. These are known as Americanas. They are not as productive as Leghorns or Australorps, but for the small egg farmer adding a bit of color to an otherwise dull-looking dozen may attract more attention and get more of those cartons sold.
Cornish X Rock Cross
If you have bought chicken in a grocery store, or eaten chicken at any restaurant, you have eaten Cornish X Rocks. This is not a breed but a hybrid between at least two different breeds- the White Cornish and the White Rock. Though by far the most widely consumed animal in the world, the history of this hybrid remains somewhat of a mystery. More than 40 billion Cornish X Rock crosses were produced last year and almost all descended from stock owned by three companies, and those companies have an interest in protecting the secrets of their success. So what’s so great about this hybrid? It grows unimaginably fast (I’ve raised batches that grew from hatchlings to seven pounders in seven weeks!). In fact, these birds grow so fast that if they are allowed to live past 12 weeks of age they will die of heart failure- that’s if their bones don’t shatter under their own body weight first. Though it is a cheaper and meatier bird than other breeds, Molly and I have decided not to raise them again. They are not self-sustaining and their short lives are miserable compared to those of the robust dual-purpose breeds. If you want to raise for meat look for Delawares.
In addition to sharing her and her partner’s back-to-the-land adventures for Dark Rye, Molly Marquand is Wilder Quarterly’s Horticultural Editor. She writes for the beloved periodical with her know-how on how to beautify your fire escape, backyard patch, or containers with year-after-year, flaunt-worthy green. Her partner-in-adventure, Martin Bernstein, graduated from Columbia with a degree in Creative Writing and has blogged about his cross country walk for the Huffington Post. He works at The Ashokan Center teaching about farming, colonial crafts, and environmental science and practices.
In love with the outdoors, Molly and Martin moved to the Catskills, NY, wanting more: more trees, more grass, more sky, and a deeper and more definite connection to the land. Sharing recipes, how-tos, and the personal side of their story, follow them on the learning curve of their adventures and the unfolding of their farming fantasy.
Last Saturday, Delilah went missing. On the posters we wrote ‘dark brown eyes, friendly disposition’ and then we revealed Delila is a duck. We see the wild ones flying up and down the streams here in the Catskills, even now when the water is frozen. It’s been a possibility for a long time, that she would quit the coop. For Delila the call of the wild is a loud ‘QUACK’.
I don’t know why we never entertained the idea of clipping her feathers. Can I make the comparison that raising livestock is akin to raising children (go easy on me, moms)? For a couple of first-timers, the tight-rope-walking act of balancing animal safety, with animal freedom, is challenging. As the days stretch longer, each 24 hour slot yielding 2 extra minutes of sunlight, Martin and I find ourselves out in the yard, scanning the skies, surveying roofs, prowling the woods for her featherweight body.
Of course, in farming, nothing is a total loss. Carcasses nourish the bodies of the living, and the dark dank soil. Brassicas are a sacrificial sink for the onslaught of garden pests. And every experience feeds our partnership- the bond that fuels this lifestyle. Out of the duck shaped hole Delila has left behind, emerges a new commonality that we share- an understanding that makes our directive stronger. The burdens of this life are made easier by couple-dom, I must admit… (read more)
And that’s not to say individuals can’t accomplish great things. I know people who raise flocks of sheep, and gigantic gardens, alone. Undergoing this commitment to raising our own food, has opened my eyes to the miracle and abundance of partnership- to the revelation that bonds exist everywhere. Let me give you a few examples: yesterday when our entire litter of rabbits picked the lock on their cage and went careening around the yard, our neighbor flew to the rescue with his fishing net. Last week when our rooster John Wayne met his untimely end at the jaws of a dog (our dog), the woman at the end of our road plopped a new, spare rooster into our run. Although Martin and I currently possess a mere five ducks, eight rabbits, 12 chickens, two dogs and a horse, work is constant. When we expand to the desired twelve ducks, ten rabbits, twenty-four chickens, two pigs, one cow, a few thousand bees, two dogs and two horses, it will be ceaseless.
It seems to me, also, that food nourishes these bonds. There is something about growing that is demonstrative of an innate need to give. Of course there is pride involved, too. The creation of that perfect, blushing tomato, or rich round of cheese- they beg to be shared and shown off. Their perfection merits witnesses. When Martin and I first arrived in the Catskills we were overwhelmed by our community’s desire to give (or show off. Whatever. It put food in our bellies). Karen arrived with an armful of her carefully bred Catskill tomato slicers, Deb came over with a half gallon of still-warm goats milk, and Robert delivered bundles of his own parsley and basil. Our dinners were festooned with the glittering gems of local produce right from the get-go. Now that we are slowly inching up the ladder of self-sustenance, we are able to give back too. And so we weave a strand of partnership in a new direction, strengthening the entire web of community.
The status of partnership allows for a kind of privilege, too: I get to pick and choose what I do, and that’s something not to be forgotten. I can bow out of slaughter, and Martin leaves the finicky planting of our crops to me. Unlike the stalwart farmers of yore who spun and scrubbed and slaughtered and seeded, we are not yet pinning our survival on the operation of this homestead. Martin and I have full time jobs, we have our strengths and weaknesses, and we have each other. When we relinquish our connection to the supermarket and start counting each and every bean, spud, and head of corn in earnest I have a feeling things will change. Certainly the partnerships we have fed and watered in this very early stage of our adventure will be essential. In fact, they might become our most precious possession.
In addition to sharing her and her partner’s back-to-the-land adventures for Dark Rye, Molly Marquand is Wilder Quarterly’s Horticultural Editor. She writes for the beloved periodical with her know-how on how to beautify your fire escape, backyard patch, or containers with year-after-year, flaunt-worthy green. Her partner-in-adventure, Martin Bernstein, graduated from Columbia with a degree in Creative Writing and has blogged about his cross country walk for the Huffington Post. He works at The Ashokan Center teaching about farming, colonial crafts, and environmental science and practices.
In love with the outdoors, Molly and Martin moved to the Catskills, NY, wanting more: more trees, more grass, more sky, and a deeper and more definite connection to the land. Sharing recipes, how-tos, and the personal side of their story, follow them on the learning curve of their adventures and the unfolding of their farming fantasy.
Duck Fat. It’s the answer to most culinary questions in our house, i.e ‘How did you get these potatoes so perfectly crisp?’ (duck fat). ‘How did you make this stew so deliciously rich?’ (duck fat). ‘What’s the secret ingredient in this breakfast smoothie?’ Ok. Just kidding. We haven’t gone that far.
Yet.
The recipe for this day-after duck roast soup is adapted from Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall’s ‘Meat’ book. It owes its luxurious full-bodied flavor to (cue everybody) duck fat, and the long slow boiling of the duck carcass. Requiring minimal other ingredients, it really is the thrifty champion of recipes, without skimping on flavor. Plus, any animal deserves to be used up to the absolute last drop of goodness- and this soup will do just that.
One or two duck carcasses
Two tablespoons of olive oil
2 large carrots, chopped
1 onion, finely chopped
2 celery stalks, chopped
A splash of brandy
1-2 glasses of red wine
4 cups chicken stock
2 cups water
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2 garlic cloves, bruised
2 bay leaves
A sprinkle of thyme
Freshly ground pepper
Bring the wine, brandy and stock to a boil in a pot. While that’s heating up, pick as much of the meat off the carcass as you can, and roughly chop the rest of the carcass up. In a large, heavy pan, heat the oil and fry the vegetables until they are lightly colored. Add the meat bits, and carcass parts and let sizzle for a few minutes. Once the alcohol and stock mix has come to a boil, pour it over the vegetables and meat in the pan and add the tomato paste, garlic, bay leaves, thyme and pepper. Add water as necessary to cover the carcass and let simmer for 1½ hours. Enjoy with a crusty loaf and a smile. Glass of full bodied red, recommended but optional.
In addition to sharing her back-to-the-land adventures for Dark Rye, Molly Marquand is Wilder Quarterly’s Horticultural Editor. She writes for the beloved periodical with her know-how on how to beautify your fire escape, backyard patch, or containers with year-after-year, flaunt-worthy green.
In love with the outdoors, Molly and Martin moved to the Catskills, NY, wanting more: more trees, more grass, more sky, and a deeper and more definite connection to the land. Sharing recipes, how-tos, and the personal side of their story, follow them on the learning curve of their adventures and the unfolding of their farming fantasy.
For us, Sundays are a holy day. Not because we sing psalms, not because we spurn technology, and certainly not because we take the day off of work. For us, Sundays are sacred because, after a fashion, we pray.
Sundays are the one day a week we harvest our meat. We watch our animals the days before, noting who is ready, and who is not. The anticipation of a deadline, quite literally, eases the pressure and guilt. There is expectation involved. The day asks this task of us. A schedule bends us to our duties, to the promise we have made to this lifestyle and our animals. Where the praying part comes in is a little more complicated…
We made our first tentative step towards farming six months ago. There had always been herbs on the windowsill, and lettuces in boxes balanced precariously on the fire escape but as unabashed carnivores there came a point when the farmers’ market didn’t cut it anymore. Eventually, we packed the car, left the city, and made a dash for it. Winding up in the Catskill park, the 700,000 wild acres that shelter bear, bobcat, bald eagle and the NYC water supply, the time was ripe.
Martin swapped his pocketknife for a flock of downy ducklings and we dove in. Although we had both separately experienced farm life as employees and apprentices, this would be our first shared encounter, cultivating and nurturing something of our own. And that has made all the difference.
It is an odd irony that living what we call ‘the wild life’- raising our own food with the knowledge that in 6 weeks, 8 weeks, a season, we will slaughter it for consumption- has brought us closer to religiosity than any church or doctrine. After all, we sought this life as a mad escape. We clawed our way towards it as though our lives depended on it.
It felt, in many ways that the place we are now was borne out of rejection and rebellion- the antithesis of the quiet order and rigorous dedication that builds religion. But the same high-pitched fervor, the same unshakeable bass note of faith is resident in us as in the most pious of prayerful pilgrims.
Now when I say we are nearer religiosity than ever before, I mean that two ways. First of all, there are the routines. Dawn is inexorable. We are dragged from bed as though attached to puppet strings- strings played on by morning’s herald, our Rooster, John Wayne. Night brings a similar routine. The winking of early winter stars elicits action: us, out in the backyard, bundling new hay into everyone’s bed; the crunch, crunch of scooping grain; the satisfied slurp of ducks drinking from a bucket; the rhythmic nibble of rabbity teeth on a radish. These are more than tasks we perform. We practice them.
Hunting for efficiency, divining for signs of health or sickness, opening our minds to new learning. We come, each and every day to the same place, to the same altar, to make our pledge anew. And then there is the practice of slaughter.
Early on in animal husbandry you learn there are many monikers for this one fatal activity. Processing. Harvesting. Culling. Although we began our foray into meat production confident and un-squeamish, we quickly learned the value of such euphemisms- at least for us. There is no getting past it. Meat means death. It means blood, and sometimes, a struggle.
The words bespeak the mechanics of the ordeal, and leave out the entrails, somehow. They remind us of the end product—delicious, home-grown, lovingly raised food. But when you commit to raising meat you accept that death is an inevitable part of life. And more importantly than that, it is that mortal interaction which gifts us with sustenance.
The very first bird we took was a duckling raised in our own backyard since he was a fluffy ball of down. The day was electric, or it might have been, we were so wired with excitement. Martin sharpened his knives to deadly points, and checked every instrument with careful precision. I knelt behind him. Moral support. Our Rouen duck struggled not. Everything went with quiet exactness. But as the dark blood flowed, streaming from our duck’s neck I began to cry. We both did. For regret, for remorse, for surprise at the immense power we hold in our hands. As we crept up close to that dark ravine that divides vivid life from death, we quailed. As we watched that certain quick-silver thing, that energy and brightness called life disappear we were humbled.
And what is a person to do when confronted by such bigness? By a finality that is all at once concrete and yet so ineffable? The answer came quite naturally to us, a pair of fancy-free ex-New Yorkers: we bowed our heads and said grace.
In addition to sharing her back-to-the-land adventures for Dark Rye, Molly Marquand is Wilder Quarterly’s Horticultural Editor. She writes for the beloved periodical with her know-how on how to beautify your fire escape, backyard patch, or containers with year-after-year, flaunt-worthy green.
~ by Molly Marquand, Wilder Quarterly Horticultural Editor
The cool season of winter brings a lull to gardens from California to Connecticut. Although most plants use this time to rest and revitalize, a few unusual species thrive in winter’s cooler temperatures and can be planted to keep the garden feeling vibrant. As days lengthen in January and February, the busy work of the gardener begins: sowing seeds indoors taking stem and root cuttings and planting the first hardy specimens out in.…. (read more)
Region 1: New England & Northern States (Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, New Hampshire, New York, Rhode Island, Vermont, North Dakota, Wisconsin).
After the first hard frost, cut back late flowering shrubs such as butterfly bush and hydrangea. Roses can be pruned thigh-high for the time being and left until spring when buds begin to swell. A good layer of composted leaves or mulch can be added to the garden bed now to help tender perennials stay warm through the deep freeze.
As snow falls, contemplate the season’s successes and failures. Inventory seeds and lay out a garden design. For next year, plant native shrubs such as the winter bloomer witch hazel or those with colorful fruit like winterberry and beautyberry to keep wildlife flocking to the garden all through the season. If you live in the vicinity of white pines, go looking for the pine-tube moth. Each larva is wrapped in a silken chrysalis made from the needles of its resident pine. Touch the tube gently and its inner host will wriggle.
Region 2: South, Southeast & Mid-Atlantic (Alabama, Arkansas, Delaware, Northern Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Maryland, Mississippi, New Jersey, North Carolina, Tennessee, South Carolina, Virginia, West Virginia).
The milder climate of the Southeast makes winter an ideal time to amend garden soil. A soil test is a quick and easy way to assess nutrient and pH levels and identify problem areas. Since it takes a few months for additives like lime and sulfur to be incorporated into soil, applying now will ensure beds are prepped in time for spring’s new growth.
Tinker with the compost pile, adding in the clippings and rakings from autumn. The old adage is two parts green, one part brown. Continue turning to encourage decomposition and mixing. Camellias bloom in late fall to early winter across the Southeast. Encourage prolific bloom next year by pruning after the flowers fall. Hard wood cuttings of favorite shrubs can be taken now, too. Select straight, young shoots from the center of the plant and cut at a 45-degree angle with a sharp, clean blade just above the leaf node. Dip the cuttings in rooting hormone and bury in a light potting mixture so that only one or two leaf nodes protrude.
Region 3: Central Plains & Midwest (Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Missouri, Ohio, Eastern Pennsylvania, Nebraska).
Blisteringly cold temperatures and deep snows arrive in the Central Plains and Midwest as early as December. Focus now on indoor plants that, since being moved indoors, will have begun to decrease flower production and drop their leaves. Dose tropical potted plants in late winter with a light, diluted fertilizer such as fish emulsion to boost their strength. Make sure all potted plants’ soils are well draining to decrease the possibility of saltbuildup and root rot. Less hardy plants that need to be brought inside to survive winter dormancy can be stored in a pot in a cool place and occasionally watered to prevent extreme drying.
Now is a good time to prune dangerous branches from trees and thin pendulous shrubs to limit damage from heavy snowfall. Re-stake wobbly saplings and retrain vines that have escaped ties. Fruit-producing trees such as apples and pears are best pruned in winter when the overall structure of the tree and its nodes are most visible. Heading cuts remove the terminal portion of a shoot, reinvigorating the buds below.
Region 4: Southwest & Southern (California Arizona, Southern California, New Mexico, Oklahoma, North Texas).
Although days are getting cooler, the Southwest’s early winter dry weather can leave plants as parched as hot summer. Take particular care of pot-bound displays and consider replacing scorched garden plants with drought-hardy alternatives such as lavender and cestus. In anticipation of the precious rains of spring, sow wildflower seed across swaths of empty space. Common varieties such as calendula, cosmos and silene do well, but native species will likely do better. Orange California poppies and bright blue arroyo lupines look beautiful swaying together en masse. Desert mistletoe and netleaf hackberry fruits begin to ripen in the wild, timing their appearance with the early courtship rituals of many desert birds.
As late winter turns to early spring, the rains return, speckling the xeric landscape with shades of green. Take this time to plant bare root trees and shrubs. Soak roots in water for 12 hours prior to planting to ensure the plant is refreshed, and prune back branches by 1/3 to invigorate lower buds.
Region 5: Western Mountain (Colorado, Idaho, Montana, Nevada, Utah, Wyoming).
As one of the snowiest regions in the country, winter gardening in the Western Mountains is mostly done indoors. When outside shoveling the ample white stuff, make sure plants along the edges of paths aren’t uncovered. On warmer days, check the garden for evidence of frost heave and firmly press plants back into the ground with a well-aimed stomp. Bring boughs of evergreen trees inside and force early blooms of bulbs to keep spring close in mind.
Check stored tubers and dormant plants for rot and shriveling throughout the winter and discard any affected specimens. Summon wildlife in the garden by setting out a bird feeder with a mixture of foods such as high-fat animal suet and a variety of protein-packed nuts.
Region 6: Pacific Northwest & Northern (California Alaska, Northwest California, Oregon, Washington).
The almost constant winter rains of the Pacific Northwest region make mulching a must at this time of year. A good layer of mulch helps prevent soil erosion, compaction and keeps tender plants warm where deep frost occurs. Covering the compost heap to keep essential nutrients and minerals from washing out in the deluge is a good idea, too. Although wintertime temperatures generally keep fungal problems to a minimum, remember to leave room for air circulation between plants to avoid this problem. Ameliorating drainage problems in the garden will alleviate the suffering most plants endure in sodden, soggy winter soils.
Select wintertime bloomers to keep hummingbirds visiting. Crimson flag, a South African native, produces spikes of bright pink flowers that will perform all through the season. The delicate, dangling bells of abutilon come in a variety of colors and sizes and provide a reliable food source for hummers through December. To bulk up the food available for other wildlife such as grouse and turkey, plant snowberry. Native to the Pacific Northwest, this shrub produces milky-white berries during winter months and is a hardy addition to the garden hedge.
Region 7: Tropical & Sub-tropical (Hawaii, South Texas, South Florida, Puerto Rico).
Many people simply watch their scarlet red poinsettias wane as the holidays pass, but gardeners living in tropical and subtropical zones can plant these Christmas ornaments out in the ground. The white variety is more fragrant and can easily be propagated from hard wood cuttings. In Hawaii, now is also the time to prune the famous puakenikeni and encourage the production of flowers for leis.
Across the tropical and subtropical region, gardenias are blooming. Like most other shrubs, gardenias benefit from pruning after flowering has ceased. Winter is a good time for fruit and nut production in the tropics. Members of the citrus family in particular deliver well at this time of year. Passionflower is easy to grow from seed, produces abundant fruit and sports a flower unmatched in complexity of form. Rose apples produce a pear-shaped, rose-scented fruit and bloom year round.
Wilder Quarterly’s Horticultural Editor, Molly Marquand, is a shepherd of green things. With her help, beautify your fire escape, backyard patch, or containers with blooms and edibles.
~ submitted by Molly Marquand, Wilder Quarterly Horticultural Editor. Text by Abbye Churchill, photography by TBD.
Growing between the pages of a thumb-worn dictionary, sprouting from a Lego block toy truck or blossoming from the cracked mirror tiles of a disco ball, children are finding inspired locations to grow their own food.
This is thanks to the Wicked Delicate Garden Contest put forth by Ian Cheney of Truck Farm: to plant a seed in the most creative place you can think of. The challenge is part of a larger constellation of projects designed by Cheney and his friend and collaborator Curt Ellis to rethink our food sourcing and inject new, creative methodologies into America’s agricultural practices. (read more…)
Cheney and Ellis realized the need for innovation after spending a year growing an acre of corn in Iowa and tracking its way into the fast food industry. This experience was the subject of their Peabody Award-winning PBS documentary “King Corn.” After the completion of the film, Cheney relocated to New York City. “I had a real desire to grow something other than fast food and found myself casting around for someplace to grow a garden, but didn’t have anywhere to do it.”
Inspiration struck when Cheney recognized that the same 1986 Dodge pickup truck he’d used to drive around the corn fields of Iowa could serve as something of profound importance in New York City: additional real estate.
Employing some green roof technologies Cheney had learned about while filming “The Greening of Southie,” his 2008 documentary about Boston’s first residential green building, Cheney and Ellis went about planting heirloom seeds in the bed of the old pickup. Their first harvest, parked on the streets of Brooklyn, yielded enough produce to start a Community Shared Agriculture (CSA) subscription farm in the microcosm. Twenty members collected produce throughout the summer for a nominal fee.
Now in its third growing season, Truck Farm has taken on many different branches. In addition to feeding a small New York community exceptionally local crops of arugula, sugar snap peas, oak leaf lettuce, basil, cherry tomatoes and other heirloom delicacies, Cheney and Ellis have expanded their fleet to 25 trucks across the country. The mobile farm project is also the subject of a documentary film “Truck Farm,” which explores urban agriculture in its myriad forms. Truck Farm has also taken on a macro role with the development of FoodCorps, a national program with AmeriCorps designed to provide students with fresh, healthy foods, teach children how to grow their own food, and inform them of its nutritional value.
Beyond its function as a food source or educational tool, Truck Farm has succeeded in something much greater: injecting vital creative thinking into the current problems facing the American agricultural system. By shifting economic scale, introducing individual agency into food production, and seeing the potential for growth in any object or landscape, Cheney and Ellis have envision the entire city as fertile ground.
“I think that, as a world that is predominately urban, we all have a stake in it. It makes sense to shine a light on the city and hidden infrastructure that we take for granted, or don’t think creatively about,” notes Cheney.
Viewed in this light, today’s urban infrastructure is merely a bed for tomorrow’s growth—so, start planting.
Wilder Quarterly’s Horticultural Editor, Molly Marquand, is a shepherd of green things. With her help, beautify your fire escape, backyard patch, or containers with blooms and edibles. This piece was originally published in Wilder Quarterly’s Fall 2011 issue.
~ by Molly Marquand, Wilder Quarterly Horticultural Editor
Fall descends with different levels of intensity depending on whether you live in the Far North or Deep South, but generally it is recognized as a time for harvest, seasonal closure, and garden quiet. Wildlife settles down or migrates to fairer climes and plants quiesce leaving behind remnants that require cleanup and maintenance. Those few living in warmer American regions will keep on growing, but the majority of us will rake up, cut back, and put the garden to bed while dreaming of next season…. (read more)
Region 1: New England & Northern States (Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, New Hampshire, New York, Rhode Island, Vermont, North Dakota, Wisconsin). Frost Window: September 15 – November 5.
Region 2: South, Southeast & Mid-Atlantic (Alabama, Arkansas, Delaware, Northern Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Maryland, Mississippi, New Jersey, North Carolina, Tennessee, South Carolina, Virginia, West Virginia). Frost Window October 5 – December 5.
Region 3: Central Plains & Midwest (Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Missouri, Ohio, Eastern Pennsylvania, Nebraska). Frost Window September 25 – October 25.
Region 4: Southwest & Southern (California Arizona, Southern California, New Mexico, Oklahoma, North Texas). Frost Window September 25 – December 1.
Region 5: Western Mountain (Colorado, Idaho, Montana, Nevada, Utah, Wyoming). Frost Window August 15 – September 15.
Region 6: Pacific Northwest & Northern (California Alaska, Northwest California, Oregon, Washington). Frost Window March 30 – April 30.
Region 7: Tropical & Sub-tropical (Hawaii, South Texas, South Florida, Puerto Rico). Frost Window March 30 – April 30.
Wilder Quarterly’s Horticultural Editor, Molly Marquand, is a shepherd of green things. With her help, beautify your fire escape, backyard patch, or containers with blooms and edibles.
Text by Kate Senner, Photography by Rory Gunderson. Originally published in Wilder Quarterly
On a recent trip to New Orleans, I was leafing through the cover story of The Gambit, a weekly newspaper, profiling young people piloting local agricultural projects. Greater New Orleans is, evidently, rife with organic farming, community gardening, and edible education initiatives. Rifling through another couple pages I noticed that the paper’s events section exhibited an impressive list of farmers markets dotted across the city. Throughout the month (June), drummed the editor, New Orleanians would partake in the Eat Local Challenge: a 30-day pledge to purchase, cook, and consume only local food.
What struck me was not just that New Orleans, one of America’s great cities, with a rich culinary tradition stemming from its Cajun, French, Creole, Spanish, African American, Spanish, Jewish, Italian, Irish, Latino, and Vietnamese roots had embraced the urban agriculture movement. And New Orleans has never required a challenge to eat local. Anyone familiar with the term ‘locavore’has witnessed community gardens blanketing empty lots across the country like wildfire in recent years; certainly post-Katrina New Orleans is in no short supply of neglected urban space. That the city is a good candidate for adopting this trend is undeniable.What was striking was less about ecogastronomy or the educational virtues of gardening and more about the transformative power of what Alice Waters has called the “pleasures of work.” The satisfying labor of growing food, of seemingly creating something out of nothing, and reclaimingorder against the backdrop of uncontrollable circumstances, is a prevalent thread in the stories of New Orleans’ grown-locally projects… (read more)
I decided to a closer look at two community garden ventures in New Orleans, one of which popped up after Hurricane Katrina and the recent BP oil spill, and another with roots going back to the 1970s, that nevertheless has yet to break ground. Both tackle adversity—and not just the ecological kind. The socio-economic implications of these projects are proving a viable catalyst for political change, from the ground up. Grow Dat is a 19-week youth farming program launched in 2011 that teaches urban teens how to grow, market, and sell fresh produce. Much like Alice Waters’ Edible Schoolyard, which has its own branch in New Orleans, Grow Dat is focused is edible education—i.e. fostering knowledge of sustainable food production and nutrition through the harvesting and cooking of fruits and vegetables.Unlike the Edible Schoolyard, however, whose schema targets elementary school students, Grow Dat enlists local teens and gives them a stipend for their work. Positioned as an alternative after-school job, which for some New Orleans kids means working at a fast food joint, Grow Dat gives its young farmers a taste of entrepreneurship: they take turns working in the garden and retailing the products of their labor. Its participants are invested in all aspects of the business cycle, exiting the program with desirable employment and leadership skills and a sense of empowerment.
The notion that growing one’s own food has socio-economic and psychological benefits that should be cultivated in the classroom has been hotly contested (see Caitlin Flanagan’s2010 article, “Cultivating Failure,” published in The Atlantic.) But if you look back to pre-Katrina New Orleans, to the mass migration of Vietnamese to the city’s ‘far east’ in the mid-1970s, local agriculture proves a hefty tool for survival. Not only has backyard and community gardening contributed to upward mobility for three generations, but its very survival gave this previously quiet ethnic community a political voice—one that very literally changed the shape of New Orleans.
I drove out to see the site of Viet Village—an urban farm project—in the Vietnamese enclave known as Village de L’Est, or Versailles by locals. The first immigrants who arrived here left Vietnam during the war with the help of Catholic organizations and assistance from the US government. The city’s Gulf Coast climate and French influence made for an accommodating location for the mostly agrarian refugees, who brought seeds with them to America and immediately started growing. The elderly population continues to keep the practice alive, cultivating and harvesting vegetables unique to South East Asia in their backyards and along the Maxent lagoon. What’s leftover is sold at the community’s farmers market, which has been in existence for 35 years.
The vibrancy of the Village de L’Est gardening tradition has been attributed to many things: a desire for self-sufficiency, the connection to a distant homeland, and the financial contribution that otherwise unemployable elders make to their families in supplying them with food. The mental health benefits of ‘hortitherapy,’ among older people especially, have proven crucial to their survival in this foreign culture. But keeping this tradition alive has proven an extraordinary task.
Heading east on the Chef Menteur Highway, on my way to Village de L’Est, I presumed Viet Village would be something to look at, to photograph. What I discovered instead was a sign attached to a chain-link fence bordering an empty lot. The sign featured a rendering of what Viet Village was to become: a 28-acre organic farming complex featuring individual garden plots, a food market, a compost site, a livestock area, and a playground. I learned that the idea for Viet Village was a response to a post-Katrina re-zoning plan, put forth by Mayor RayNagin’s office, to turn this area of East New Orleans into a ‘green space’ or demolish it and build an airport. Without its consultation Village de L’Est was suddenly off the map. The community’s response was outrage; already the hurricane had turned the neighborhood’s water supply noxious and government efforts to restore public services had been slow. With the help of Tulane University, the Mary Queen of Viet Nam Community Development Corporation drafted a design for Viet Village, structured around local agricultural and the church. Raising their voices for the first time, the residents of Village de L’Est protested, bringing the city’s plan to a halt, and emerged with a community garden project that would endure for generations.
But soon after, in a cruel twist of fate, the city began dumping the detritus left from Hurricane Katrina (toxic and otherwise) approximately one mile from Village de L’Est, further threatening their ecological surroundings. Again the community stood up to local government, employing the power of numbers, and after much tribulation managed to close the dump for good. All of this—and then BP oil spill in 2010—have delayed a ground breaking ceremony at Viet Village. Many in the neighborhood say that, despite all the press attention and political headway, the prospects of reviving Village de L’Est’s gardening culture to its former status are slim. But one might also see these challenges as fodder for resurgence. The combined eco-disasters of Hurricane Katrina and the BP oil spill created an irreparable dent on New Orleans’ natural resources, fostering hyper-awareness of the fragility and limitations of its environment. City residents from all socio-economic backgrounds are looking to community gardening as a means of restoring a semblance of order and self-sufficiency in the face of these events. It seems grossly simplistic to frame this movement as a gastronomic trend or an educational experiment hardly worth the work.
As New Orleanians rebuild their lives and city, they’re using the opportunity to view society, in some sense, from scratch. And from an outsider’s perspective, they appear resistant to the idea of filling it with more fast food restaurants or concrete-covered school-grounds. This city likes it local. They’ll fight to keep it that way because they know, better than anyone, that keeping alive the great city of New Orleans is fundamentally a labor of love.
~ by Molly Marquand, Wilder Quarterly Horticultural Editor
There are two garlic types with different cold-tolerances, habits and growing needs, hardnecks and softnecks. Knowing when and what types to plant is key to growing success. Softnecks are more tender, heat tolerant, store for longer (around 9 to 12 months) and have pliable, braidable necks. This is the garlic of the Mediterranean and Central and South Asia. Hardnecks are hardy and flavorful but store for only 2 months and have stiff necks. This is the garlic of northern Europe, Russia and North Asia.
Generally, southerly gardeners should choose softnecks and northern softnecks. Those living in middle America can grow either. Some softneck varieties grow in sub-tropical regions but not truly tropical areas as garlic needs cold and long days for bulb formation and tropical climes lack both. Good starter hardneck varieties are ‘Northern Quebec’, ‘Siberian’ and ‘Music.’ Tried and true softneck garlics are the classic ‘Italian Late’, ‘Inchellium Red’ (National Taste Test Winner!) and ‘Susanville.’
Good Garlic Sources include The Garlic Store, Territorial Seed, Bernier Farms, and Hood River Garlic.
Wilder Quarterly’s Horticultural Editor, Molly Marquand, is a shepherd of green things. With her help, beautify your fire escape, backyard patch, or containers with blooms and edibles.
Wilder Quarterly’s Horticultural Editor, Molly Marquand, shares her know-how on how to beautify your fire escape, backyard patch, or containers with year-after-year, flaunt-worthy green.Molly Marquand on The Perennial’s Great Re-Appearing Trick
Not all plants are created equal. Perennials are the tenacious stalwarts of nature, resiliently springing back each season. Simply put, they’re the gift that keeps on giving, and for gardening enthusiasts, they’re golden.
The secret to the perennial’s re-appearing trick lies hidden below ground, where the plant stores food to carry it into the following year. Growing from a bulb, corm, rhizome or root, perennials can be easily spread or replanted, as long as you know the magic of how they make more of themselves.
Here are a few garden beauties that benefit from propagation (that’s a little friendly intervention from you) in late summer/fall:
Succulents: They are just as they sound—those juicy-looking, thick greens native to the arid western and southern parts of this country and live quite happily along rock walls, in pots, or in a garden bed. But did you know these plants are perennials, too? Unlike other perennials, succulents are able to root and create a whole new plant from a single leaf cutting. Try it on hens and chicks, aloe, or prickly pear. Here’s how: cut or gently pry off a single leaf or cactus pad. Allow the freshly cut wound to callus, and heal for a few days to seal the plant off from fungus. Place the leaf on (but not in!) a bed or tray of sandy soil and start the vigil for roots. Once they form, gently press your new succulent into the soil, give it plenty of sunshine and keep lightly watered.
Rhizomes or roots: A rhizome is the stem of a plant that’s found underground. Look at ginger root: that’s a rhizome, and it’s how a whole class of plant life reconstitutes itself. That said, rhizomes like to be treated differently from succulents: as a general rule, spring bloomers can be divided in the fall, and late summer and fall bloomers in the spring. Irises grow from stout rhizomes running just below the soil’s surface, and each summer they add new growth, and new rhizomes. To divide your iris and get more of the good stuff for free, begin by gently forking up your iris clump. Pull apart the tangled roots, keeping an eye out for new rhizomes that are about as thick as your thumb. Before you do any separating, make sure selected rhizomes have at least two leaves protruding from them. Slice the rhizomes off their mother plant with a clean sharp knife and trim their leaves to 5” so all energy can go to root growth, instead of maintenance of long leaves. Replant your new rhizomes all facing the same direction, and about 12” apart. When properly planted the top of the rhizome should just be visible above the ground.
Bulbils: Super colorful and incredibly easy to grow, lilies are perennial oddities when it comes to reproduction. A few species, particularly tiger lilies, produce little black balls in the axils of their leaves called bulbils. Contained within these tiny black pearls is all the information needed to create a new lily for next spring. Collect lily bulbils in late summer or early fall—whenever their shiny casings have turned a rich and glossy black—and place in a zip lock bag in the refrigerator to germinate for 3-4 weeks. Then plant the bulbils in rows in trays of regular potting soil under bright florescent lights. Given 8 hours a day of ‘sunshine’, bulbils will begin to grow roots and their first set of lily leaves. By spring they’ll be strong enough to go out in the garden and given one more year, they’ll be flaunting.
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