A Brief Personal History: My Journey as a Gardener

After having published numerous entries here about gardening, I thought it might be about time to tell how I came to this passion. I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, and went to college at UC Santa Cruz, majoring in art. On the campus I discovered the wonderful student gardens established by Alan Chadwick, the respected English gardener who introduced raised-bed French-intensive gardening to the United States. I was inspired to plant my first veggie garden in the back yard of the house I rented with friends while I went to school. The rich Santa Cruz soil rewarded me with bountiful yields in spite of my lack of knowledge, and so I was encouraged to continue gardening.

I first met my husband Steve in Santa Cruz, California in 1974, while we were both living at a communal household called "The Farm". The old Ohio-style house sat on five acres of the most delicious black topsoil imaginable. It was owned by a disciple of Alan Chadwick, who saw it as a kind of "Five Acres and Independence" scenario. I had moved there after returning from a six month sojourn in Guatemala, where I lived among impoverished indigenous Mayans eking out a living in a steep mountain valley. After seeing first-hand how important gardening really was, I was determined to learn back-to-the-land skills. When I saw Steve single-handedly clear the land of thorny blackberries to open up space for a vegetable garden, I was impressed. Once we had danced together our future was set!

This is a photo of The Farm taken this past winter. It was considerably funkier when we lived there! We know many devoted organic gardeners who honed their skills on this site, including Dahlia, the intrepid veggie gardener at LQ (seen below on her last birthday).

By the fall of 1976, Steve had taken me back east to "see snow". We had the good fortune when we first arrived in upstate New York to encounter a group who had purchased 432 acres of south-facing hillside near the hamlet of Truxton, in Cortland County. They intended to create a community land trust on the land. Today Common Place Community Land Trust continues to be home to 23 adults and 8 children in 14 homes, but we were the first.

The winter of '76-'77 was the worst in 100 years, and we spent it in the old farmhouse on the land. It had been abandoned in the midst of renovations ten years earlier. There was no insulation, tarpaper siding...and only a wood cookstove for heat. We stayed warm by cross country skiing during the days, and slept under ten wool blankets! Each morning we had to clear 4 to 6 inches of snow off the plank that covered our open air toilet. It snowed every night for 40 nights without a break. Great cross country skiing, however!

The following spring we gained our first housemate, an avid gardener, naturalist, and good friend named Scott Luscombe. The first thing we did was salvage some old windows and empty 55 gallon metal drums and cob together a greenhouse, where we started seedlings for our dream veggie garden.

We established a the garden in front of the old barn, in soil which had been growing enormous burdocks and poison hemlock plants; both indicators of fertility. Our bumper crops of corn and winter squash were a local wonder. Country Gentleman shoepeg corn plants reached over ten feet in height, amazing the farmer who rented some of our fields to grow corn for silage. Ultimately, as more folks came to live in the big old house, we expanded into a productive organic market garden, laid out, of course, according to French Intensive principles. Our beautiful, diverse, and unusual fresh produce really knocked their socks off in the big city of Cortland at the farmer's market!

As you can see, we opted for funk! See the rather bizarre structure on the left? We called that "the barn that landed from outer space"; looks strange, but our cob-job kept it functional for a good many more years!

We loved our rustic life, but after four years on the land, Steve decided to return to college to get a degree in agronomy. He felt called to spread the good word about organic agriculture! So in 1980 we moved to nearby Ithaca, where he earned a master's degree in Veg Crops and Agronomy.  While we lived in an apartment in the middle of town, we still kept a plot at the community garden for growing vegetables and herbs. I still use the trowel we won for having the most aesthetic garden!

After graduation we tried to stay in Ithaca, where we had many good friends. But there were no jobs there in Steve's field. The last place we lived in the area was called Fun Acres. Our friend Barb Martin (seen above in a shot taken last fall with her flock of heirloom turkeys) ran her own gardening crew both then and now, and has been a real inspiration to me.

Steve took a position at the Rodale Institute Research Center near Kutztown, Pennsylvania. This was serious Pennslvania Dutch country, and "if you're not Dutch, you're not much!" In spite of not fitting in with the locals, we were determined to make a life for ourselves. We found the perfect little house, a 150 year old two bedroom home on 1/2 acre in the village of Stony Run. The place must have always been owned by gardeners, for it was blessed with many mature ornamentals, including the most amazing wisteria I've ever seen.

It was an idyllic period. We adopted our twin daughters as tiny infants after we'd settled there, and when they were 18 months old I took a job where Steve worked at the Research Center, setting up and managing their bookstore/ visitor's center. This was located in a charming old one-room school house on the property. While there, I began collecting gardening books, and started applying my artistic sense to garden design. I designed and installed gardens around the bookstore, including a circular herb garden and a big rainbow cutting garden full of annual flowers. I put together a series of lectures, including many of the well-known authors of Rodale books, including Jeff Ball and Rosalind Creasy.

One of the tour guides I worked with was an avid gardener named Barbara Pressler, who ran a small nursery from her home called W.C. Fields (the joke centered on an outhouse in the garden). Her place was a wonderland! Here we are at Barb's when the girls were about three. Her friend was showing us a rather sizable serpent he'd caught, much to my delight (I've been a herptiphile since forever!). The girls have never shared my enthusiasm for reptiles...can't understand it!

At the bookstore I dried herbs and everlastings I grew in my gardens, and used them to create wreaths to sell. Sometimes I taught classes. Barb used to quiz me on the Latin names of plants. "Quick, Moria; what's this one?" "Umm...Erigeron...no...Eringeum, uh... planum?" "Very good. Now this one?" It was a real crash course!

Our yard became an oasis of beauty, and between improving our garden and those at the visitor's center, I was learning a lot. Our favorite project was a hand-dug pond (Steve dug, I told him where to toss the dirt! We are an excellent team!). Good friends in Ithaca, Wylatt (seen below in a recent photo lifted from his Facebook site, playing his flute to the trees in Hawaii) and Mary (with whom we dined last fall on a visit to Ithaca)

This duo created one of the most beautiful gardens I've ever experienced beautiful garden out of a former trash heap. They ran a small nursery, starting many hard-to-find perennials from seed, inspiring me to try new and unfamiliar ornamentals. I'll always be grateful for the Kirengashoma palmata they sent home with me! 

In addition there were many outstanding gardens nearby to visit, such as Longwood. You can see how all these elements came together to educate me in horticulture. 

                                   I was becoming a gardener!

In the above photo you may recognize my brother Russ, who visited us from California. Here we are checking out the demonstration gardens at the RIRC. It's an idyllic scene, but fate was soon to turn our Pennsylvania Paradise into a nightmare. I'll never forget the day I learned that Robert Rodale, the idealistic and visionary leader of the Rodale Institute and Press, had been killed in a car accident while visiting Russia.

(Photo courtesy of Seeds of Change)

No one had expected this tragedy, least of all Bob himself. The vacuum left by his demise created a chaotic power struggle, and all the joy and hope that Steve and I, and many of our friends and co-workers had felt while working at the Rodale Institute fizzled away. Soon many of us were hunting for jobs elsewhere.

That's when Steve accepted a position with Seeds of Change, the nation's largest organic seed company. We sold our beloved home, packed up our belongings, cat, dog, kids and all, and moved to New Mexico. It couldn't have been more different! Of course we kept gardening. But soon after our arrival the high desert was deep in a prolonged drought. We were saving bath and dish water for plants, and still losing things. It was time to relearn how to garden!

In 1998 we built our house, choosing a site overlooking the Santa Fe River in a cohousing community; which was a link back to our time with the community land trust in upstate New York.

Now we were on the land once again.

While Steve became involved in the art and business of seeds, I took a job at a local native plant nursery, Plants of the Southwest, pictured above. This wonderful resource is the creation of Gail Haggard, an extraordinary, intelligent, devoted woman. I worked there for about a year, during which time I gained a feel for how to garden in this challenging environment. 

There I met my good friend Susan Westbrook, who was the manager. I will always be grateful for her wisdom and guidance, generous spirit and unflagging good humor!

At this point I am moved to mention some of the many talented and generous people who have helped to educate and inspire me since moving to New Mexico.

To Bob Pennington, owner of another terrific source for xeric plants in Santa Fe, Agua Fria Nursery, for always sharing his vast store of knowledge and experience, I offer my thanks.

The founders of Seeds of Change, three of the most brilliant horticulturalists I've met:

Dr. Alan Kapular, botanist and plant breeder

                                       Rich Pecoraro, Farmer Extraordinaire

Gabriel Howearth, seen here with his partner Kitzia Danel, co-founders of Buena Fortuna in La Ribera, Baja California Sur, Mexico.

All of these folk have created rich, healthy and diverse gardens and shared their vast stores of knowledge with open hearts.

To Gordon Tooley, owner of Tooley's Trees, and his friend and associate Paul Brian Jones, I send heartfelt thanks for their knowledge of tree care.

One day I received an unexpected offer of a job tending the garden of an older English woman near Canyon Road. When I went for the interview, we talked easily for over an hour. It wasn't until her daughter came in and over-enunciated her words that I learned that this lady was completely deaf. She watched me work in her herb garden for a little while before she decided to hire me...I guess I passed her test! With my talented crew I've been caring for the gardens at LQ for eight years now.

Mrs. B is more than my client. She is a dear friend, and it is an honor to be able to call myself Head Gardener at LQ. She has a remarkable amount of gardening wisdom stored in her head, and we both enjoy cooking up plans for revitalizing the grounds at LQ together.  

I also want to thank my mother, Elsie Wright, for creating beautiful gardens for me to play in as a child. Who knows if I ever would have become interested in gardening without that exposure?

And of course, to my wonderful, wild and wacky spouse, my best buddy and life partner Steve...well, I just couldn't have done any of it without you, my love!

It's been a crazy, wonderful ride, and I'd do it all again if I had the chance. I still have many gardens and art yet to create, so life is full. My dream gardens include a "retirement" to a permacultural paradise on a tropical coast where I can raise mangoes, swim (with my mertail) with dolphins, and drum with my friends. If you read this (not so) little autobiography all the way through, you are indeed a friend, and welcome in my garden any time!

Planning the Vegetable Garden, Part I

Now is the time to start imaging the garden for next year. What worked in the garden this year, and what didn't? Did you learn that no one in your house really likes turnips? Then either leave them out of the garden altogether, or perhaps try one of those new Japanese hybrids that promise to be as sweet as a melon. Didn't grow enough broccoli? Give it more room in next year's plan. Ran out of lettuce? Plan to plant successively, and intercrop with other things.

Then there are the longer term design issues. Maybe you'd like to create a shady sitting area from which to contemplate the garden while sipping a lemonade (I recommend it!). A potting area outside of the greenhouse, with a trellis for shade, could serve to harden off the seedlings you intend to start indoors in late winter. Now you can think bout what you want, and soon you can pull out some graph paper and start designing and mapping the garden.

The vegetable garden differs fundamentally from perennial, ornamental gardens, and requires an annual planning process. How you want your garden to function will determine what kind of layout you'll have. A well-laid-out garden means that everything is visible and easy to access.

Dahlia, the dedicated vegetable gardener at LQ, runs a tight ship. She and I were comparing notes one day about how we thought one should lay out the beds in the veggie garden. We'd already worked together for a couple of years at that point, and found we got along well. "Of course the beds should be permanent, so you don't have to redo them every year. And of course the beds should be double dug to work the soil deeply, but then never stepped on so that they don't get compacted. And they should be straight, so it's easy to use row covers and trellis systems. And so of course the paths should be wide and straight; four foot wide beds are exactly right." Several more "of courses" followed; we were in agreement on everything!

"You know," said I, "I learned vegetable gardening in Santa Cruz, where I lived on a small, 5 acre farm in town, which was owned by a disciple of Alan Chadwick (you can google him)." "The Farm on Ivy Lane??" asked Dahlia in disbelief. "So did I!" It turned out we had lived in the very same room at the Farm ten years apart. No wonder we agree so well! This little oasis was also where I met my husband, Steve. But his approach to planning a veggie garden is very different from mine, as you'll see in the next blog. Perhaps this is because at LQ we are trying to make a garden which works for the owner, the other residents, and for tours. That's what I meant when I said above "how you want your garden to function will determine the layout".

The beds in the LQ veggie garden are permanent, with established paths. They are carefully prepared each spring. Cover crops, sheet compost, and/or finished compost is dug in, then the beds are raked smooth. The beds are slightly raised, but because they are never stepped upon, the soil remains loose and friable, allowing easy penetration of rainwater running off the more compacted paths into the tiny air pockets in the soil of the beds.

At the entry of the veggie garden is an especially formal section we call the "potager" (POH-tah-zhay, which is just French for vegetable garden). In this area cut stone defines raised beds which form a symmetrical pattern in front of the greenhouse. Each bed is carefully planned for maximum of aesthetic delight, as well as for crop rotation and most desired crops.

As the plants grow, the two foot wide beds allow access to all parts of the garden. With the bed width set at four feet, it is easy to reach into the center of any bed from one side or the other. Mulch on the paths eliminates mud as a problem.

By contrast, the veggie garden at TP grows rather by topsy. There is a nice wide path down the center, but some beds become inaccessible as the season progresses and the plants grow. I find that sometimes I can't avoid stepping in a planting area to get to the plants behind it. Still, it's productive!

One of Mrs. B's delights is to always add a touch of whimsy to her gardens. Here a sculptural plant stand forms the centerpiece in a potager bed. Note the many edible flowers, such as Tagetes minuta, or "Tangerine Gem" marigold, which tastes like orange peel in a salad and adds color.

The LQ vegetable garden in high summer, with the corn tasseling, and flowers blooming all around. Flowers are not "just for pretty" in the veggie garden. They serve as alternate food sources for a wide range of predatory insects and pollinators.

Take some time to dream about the garden now. It's good to keep a journal throughout the growing season, tracking how the various varieties did, what problems you encounter, how the weather was. I'm not as good at this as I should be; I try to keep it in my head, which definitely has its limitations! Next year I hope to keep the garden journal as a part of this blog, which should help all of us!

Composting

A good compost pile is the backbone of a good garden. I like to have a hot compost, above 140 degrees Farenheit, preferably. The hot temperature is the result of microbes digesting the organic matter in the pile. Hot compost kills weed seeds and pathogens. However, some people prefer cold compost, which is easier to make, but takes longer. Anytime you put together a large pile of organic matter and water it will eventually decay. Don't feel daunted if you can't put up a Cadillac Compost Bin like we have. Just a pile will work, as long as it is big enough. Compost happens!

We used to just have a compost pile, which worked but was messy, especially after some of the community dogs developed a taste for rotted kitchen scraps. So the community agreed to invest in some really fine bins. I based the design on the ones we had been using at LQ, which Alec, the compost king, had built. But these bins are even better. There are four bins, each four feet wide and six feet deep by five feet high. The front is made of 1" X 10"s which slide into place between grooves. Between the bins there's a similar system in the front half of the dividing separation. The back half and the outside are reinforced wire mesh.

My husband Steve, the reigning regent of the veggie garden at TP, has taken on the composting duties as well. He likes seeing the magical transformation of waste into black gold. Finished compost is black and crumbly, with no smell. It is essential for organic gardening.

There are four bins in all. We use the left bin, Bin A, to accumulate chopped organic material. Kitchen scraps not fed to the goats and chickens, like onions, coffee grounds, and citrus peels go into the small tin trash can so he can properly integrate them into the pile. Bin B is the newest pile, made from a mixture of the goat and chicken pen mucked out material, the chopped weeds and prunings from bin A, and kitchen scraps all. These materials are layered like lasagna, watered as they go in. The whole pile is topped with a layer of straw or dry leaves.

The compost gets turned twice a year. It's a big job and does take some muscle. Definitely better with a few folks taking turns...that's one of the advantages of cohousing. Before the biannual mucking, we turn the piles to empty Bin B so it's ready to receive the new compost. Bin D, on the far right, is the oldest, and has been emptied by then. So the pile in C goes into D, then B is turned into C, leaving B empty for the new pile. The compost goes mostly to the veggie garden, which is close at hand. Some makes its way to the ornamental gardens as well, adding valuable nitrogen and organic matter to our sandy soil.

Here Steve turns the pile from one bin to the next. You can see how useful the removable slats between the bins are. The turning speeds up the process, as material that had been squashed on the bottom winds up on the top, and everything is mixed up, making material more accessible to the tiny organisms that are working on it.

I often liken building a compost pile to making bread. Both depend on biological activity to work, and require a familiarity with getting the right balance of ingredients. As Steve turns the material, he fluffs it with a practiced toss of the pitch fork. This adds air into the pile, which is necessary for biological activity. Meanwhile I add water with a hose. I use a brass shut-off valve to control the spray and am careful not to overwater, which would cause the pile to go anaerobic. It should feel like a damp sponge. Without any water, there would be no decomposition.

Because our manure comes from the goat pen, it is often trampled into hard layers. Here he breaks up the clods with a Japanese farmer's hoe, which we got from Seeds of Change. "Get the right tool for the job!" sez Mr. Natural.

On one of our Community Days, we see another cohousing resident cutting sunflower stalks into short lengths before they are put into the bin. This is an important step; chopped material breaks down much more quickly, and doesn't cause problems when turning the pile.

The finished product enriches the veggie garden in the early spring before planting. We love our compost bins; now we have a neat pile and no more sick dogs! The soil here is very low in organic matter and the sunlight is so intense that it burns it up quickly. If we didn't make compost we'd have to buy it to be able to do a vegetable garden. But since we have the animals and lots of organic waste at hand, it makes sense to nourish the land, and ultimately ourselves, this way.

Transplanting onion seedlings

Here is the awesome vegetable gardener at LQ, Dahlia, transplanting onions seedlings into the garden. If you want to save onions through the winter, it is important to grow them from seedlings, not sets. Seedlings can be purchased from several seed companies (of course I like getting organic ones from Seeds of Change!), or you can grow your own. I start onion seeds in 2" pots in late January or early February in the greenhouse. They can be grown in groups of three or four without thinning; in fact they like to be a bit crowded! New Mexico has a great climate for growing onions and it is a reliably successful crop at both gardens.