September, 2011
 |
| Dave weighs produce |
 |
| Annie screens compost |
 |
| Dismantling the pole bean trellises |
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
volunteers, september 2011
September, 2011
volunteers, august 2011
August 2011 was frenzied. I would usually snap a few shots of plants before the workday started and then almost forget to take pictures of volunteers.
August 6, 2011
August 13, 2011
August 27, 2011
August 6, 2011
August 27, 2011
volunteers, july 2011
At the end of each Saturday work day, especially when a large group of volunteers comes by to help, we try to take at least one group photo. A set of characteristics of these photos has arisen, and include:
1. When possible, at least one volunteer should pose with a pitchfork, Grant Wood style.
2. Infants and dogs are always welcome.
3. Dramatic changes in hairstyle may occur from one weekend to the next.
4. The floppier the gardening hat, the better the photo.
July 2, 2011
July 9, 2011
July 23, 2011
July 30, 2011
1. When possible, at least one volunteer should pose with a pitchfork, Grant Wood style.
2. Infants and dogs are always welcome.
3. Dramatic changes in hairstyle may occur from one weekend to the next.
4. The floppier the gardening hat, the better the photo.
July 2, 2011
 | ||
July 9, 2011
July 23, 2011
July 30, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
gone to seed
It is a cliché of gardening prose that non-gardeners are not aware of the origins of the produce that they consume. I suspect that, similarly, many gardeners would not recognize vegetable plants that have grown past the stage from which one usually harvests crops. Just as an urban shopper who grabs a bag of scrubbed potatoes from a fluorescent-lit bin in the produce section of a supermarket may not be able to imagine those spuds freshly dug from a mound of soil, so may a gardener have no idea of what a lettuce or collard will become if left to itself.
As gardeners, we are concerned with maximizing production and the efficient use of soil and weather; once a plant has produced the leaves, fruits, flowers, and edible seeds that the we seek, we pull it and compost it to make room for the next round of succession planting. We may assuage our feelings of ruthlessness with ruminations on the soil cycle—on how the unwanted stalks, roots, and leaves will be transformed in the compost bin into soil in which we will grow similar vegetables again; nevertheless, the change in our perspective in which a plant goes from being the source of food to vegetal waste differs little from that of the littering driver for whom a bag of cooling French fries transforms into trash to be thrown through the car window.
Our activities with crops extend beyond simple harvesting of products at the end of seasons; for many plants, we intervene earlier in the life cycle to extract our food. This is especially the case for those plants whose leaves we eat, such as lettuces, collards, chard, and basil. Our objective with these leaf crops is to keep them in the early stages of their life cycles, when their focus is on generating as many stalks and leaves as possible to serve as a photosynthezing basis for later processes of flower and seed production. Our goals as gardeners conflict with the goals of the plant: whereas the plant wants to guarantee the survival of its genotype, we just want salad.
At some point in the season, because of heat or some genetic trigger, a leaf crop plant will usually overcome the impediments of gardeners and bolt, or enter into its flowering phase. When a plant like spinach or lettuce goes into full bolt, there is no more harvesting: the plant’s leaves change from tender and succulent to tough and structural, and are no longer edible, much less palatable.
Unlike lettuces or spinach, leaf crop plants like collards and basil are more dilatory and less dramatic in their bolting, and gardeners can still intervene to slow the process and stretch out the harvesting of leaves. Pinching the flowering tops off basil plants, for example, can head off bolting for months, until the plant pulls an end run in October and turns bitter enough to dissuade a gardener from continued meddling. Just last weekend (mid December), I harvested the last tiny leaves from the collard and kale plants that we had kept from bolting for an entire season, and only because I didn’t think that they would survive any more days of temperatures in the teens.
Every time I remove flowers from a basil or spinach plant, I reflect that much agriculture is really just an effort to keep plants in a state of arrested development. We struggle to stave off flowering so that we can extract the products of immaturity. I believe that our own culture retards us, the gardeners, similarly. Pop songs celebrate the heady, initial stages of romance and say nothing about long-term relationships. Women feel pressure to maintain the appearance of nubility even after rearing children. Pictures of disturbingly buff geriatrics start appearing in the ad windows of the browser sessions of middle-aged men. We are encouraged not to be who we are becoming but to try to remain who we once were. Our fight to stay young, or at least young-seeming, requires that we purchase clothing and gym memberships and cosmetics and plastic surgery and Viagra. Capitalists harvest disposable income from our attempts to keep age in abeyance.
Partly to remind myself of my resolve to resist the blandishments of industries intent on infantalizing me, I do not pull up every lettuce or arugula plant as soon as it has bolted. I enjoy watching a few plants grow up wild and spindly in the spandrels formed between cucumber trellises; watching them change into something completely different from the luscious seedlings that we tended so anxiously in the spring; watching them fully realize their phenotype, becoming what they intended to become.
A plant fully gone to seed reminds me to heed Max Ehrmann’s advice to “take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.”
As gardeners, we are concerned with maximizing production and the efficient use of soil and weather; once a plant has produced the leaves, fruits, flowers, and edible seeds that the we seek, we pull it and compost it to make room for the next round of succession planting. We may assuage our feelings of ruthlessness with ruminations on the soil cycle—on how the unwanted stalks, roots, and leaves will be transformed in the compost bin into soil in which we will grow similar vegetables again; nevertheless, the change in our perspective in which a plant goes from being the source of food to vegetal waste differs little from that of the littering driver for whom a bag of cooling French fries transforms into trash to be thrown through the car window.
Our activities with crops extend beyond simple harvesting of products at the end of seasons; for many plants, we intervene earlier in the life cycle to extract our food. This is especially the case for those plants whose leaves we eat, such as lettuces, collards, chard, and basil. Our objective with these leaf crops is to keep them in the early stages of their life cycles, when their focus is on generating as many stalks and leaves as possible to serve as a photosynthezing basis for later processes of flower and seed production. Our goals as gardeners conflict with the goals of the plant: whereas the plant wants to guarantee the survival of its genotype, we just want salad.
At some point in the season, because of heat or some genetic trigger, a leaf crop plant will usually overcome the impediments of gardeners and bolt, or enter into its flowering phase. When a plant like spinach or lettuce goes into full bolt, there is no more harvesting: the plant’s leaves change from tender and succulent to tough and structural, and are no longer edible, much less palatable.
 |
| Lettuce |
And like any adolescent, the bolting lettuce plant has volatile chemicals coursing through its body; in the case of lettuce, the plant is manufacturing a burst of sesquiterpene lactones, the compounds that make a broken lettuce stem ooze milky white sap, and which render it suddenly so potently, spit-it-out bitter. When lettuce season is over, it’s over. – Barbara Kingsolver, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life
 |
| Basil |
Every time I remove flowers from a basil or spinach plant, I reflect that much agriculture is really just an effort to keep plants in a state of arrested development. We struggle to stave off flowering so that we can extract the products of immaturity. I believe that our own culture retards us, the gardeners, similarly. Pop songs celebrate the heady, initial stages of romance and say nothing about long-term relationships. Women feel pressure to maintain the appearance of nubility even after rearing children. Pictures of disturbingly buff geriatrics start appearing in the ad windows of the browser sessions of middle-aged men. We are encouraged not to be who we are becoming but to try to remain who we once were. Our fight to stay young, or at least young-seeming, requires that we purchase clothing and gym memberships and cosmetics and plastic surgery and Viagra. Capitalists harvest disposable income from our attempts to keep age in abeyance.
 |
| Arugula |
A plant fully gone to seed reminds me to heed Max Ehrmann’s advice to “take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.”
 |
| Collard |
 |
| Swiss Chard |
 |
| Dill |
Monday, December 12, 2011
Photos from the Start of 2011
After developing an old roll of film I found these photos from the first few weeks of Ginkgo’s 2011 growing season. The beds look empty, like they do now, but there is life starting to reappear on the cherry tree and the rhubarb has self-started. The herbs don’t wait for us to unlock the gate and the mint in particular seems to care less about what we do.
It’s hard to acknowledge that the work is done for the season and that, while some of us may make mid-winter visits to the lot to aerate the compost or tend to this or that, we as gardeners are a seasonal crop too. We lay dormant and wait to be invited back to life.
Looking at these photos is therapeutic when confronting Chicago’s winter. Many people develop strategies to deal with the months of cold dark solitude– planning trips to upset the monotony, signing up for that knitting workshop, developing a reading list. This year I am looking at these photos to remind myself that it all comes back soon. There are no green leaves on the raspberries anymore, but the ground is not dead. All winter long the soil keeps working, replenishing itself, breaking down organic matter in the compost bins, insulating the fig trees, keeping the cover crop company.
So why should I feel dead come February? NAY! I choose life! Replenish Myself! Egg Nog, Hot Chocolate, Mulled Wine, and Mountains of Wreath and Reindeer Shaped Cookies To Bolster My Own Vitality! Overcoat Insulation! And keeping acquaintances company to help them replenish themselves and stave off the doldrums.The garden has returned to a horizontal landscape for the winter. No tomatoes and peppers and sunflowers sticking up, but looking at these photos reminds me of where the season begins and I cannot wait for Spring.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Gingko: 2011 Chicago Cares Community Partner Star
On the evening of Monday, November 28, a group of us from Gingko dressed up like adults (some of us did not recognize each other) and attended the Chicago Cares Star Awards Gala to receive the 2011 Community Partner Star award.
In its introduction, Chicago cares stated that
And as we're coming to expect, there was a short film: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=657kRLOsVac. (This has been the year of documentary for Ginkgo.)
Dave Snyder accepted the award for Ginkgo with his usual combination of grace, erudition, and flocculent majesty. The MC stated "when I looked around the room and saw Dave, I knew that he was the garden guy."
Later that evening, I asked where we would install our award.
"In the shed, of course," Dave answered. "Where else?"
So on the following Saturday, before adding leaves to the winter compost bin, I installed our award in an alcove formed by the joists in the wall of the garden shed: above where we hang the shovels, near the first aid kit and the keys to the cover plate of the water main, where we can see it on Saturday afternoons in summer.
In its introduction, Chicago cares stated that
Ginkgo Organic Gardens consistently communicates with volunteers about upcoming project dates, other gardens in need of volunteers, and how they can become involved with Vital Bridges, a local food pantry catering to the needs of those living with HIV/AIDS. Their collaboration with Vital Bridges enables volunteers at Ginkgo Organic Gardens to impact the community in a variety of ways. By managing and maintaining a consistent volunteer base every week, their leaders make our volunteers feel welcome and truly appreciated.
And as we're coming to expect, there was a short film: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=657kRLOsVac. (This has been the year of documentary for Ginkgo.)
Dave Snyder accepted the award for Ginkgo with his usual combination of grace, erudition, and flocculent majesty. The MC stated "when I looked around the room and saw Dave, I knew that he was the garden guy."
Later that evening, I asked where we would install our award.
"In the shed, of course," Dave answered. "Where else?"
So on the following Saturday, before adding leaves to the winter compost bin, I installed our award in an alcove formed by the joists in the wall of the garden shed: above where we hang the shovels, near the first aid kit and the keys to the cover plate of the water main, where we can see it on Saturday afternoons in summer.
2011 yield results
The following chart compares the annual yields from Ginkgo Organic Gardens for the past four years. Each year's performance is represented with two graphs:
The bad news
The yield for Ginkgo Organic Gardens for the 2011 season was 934 pounds. It's the first time in four years that the harvest has fallen below a half ton; in fact, the yield for 2011 was the lowest that it's been since we started collecting data in our current format.
We suspected midway during the season that the harvest would be lighter than that of 2010—just not by this much. The yield data support some of the reasons that we speculated might be behind this season's poor performance.
Foremost of these reasons was the season's slow start, as evidenced by the yield comparisons for our tomato crop. Our tomato vines in 2011 started producing 3-4 weeks later (weeks 33 and 34, in mid-August) than they did in the prior year. It is likely that temperatures were not sufficiently high during a critical phase of tomato plant development in May and June. Without an unusual late rally in mid-October (39 pounds), in fact, the 2011 tomato harvest would have been the same as that of 2009.
I focus on tomatoes because that crop usually composes the bulk of the garden's yield. In 2011, our yield of 322 pounds was 36% of the total.
Another reason for the low yield is that a number of our crops failed to produce. Our harvest of summer squash, for example, was a third of the 2010 yield (23 lb, compared to 69 lb); and most of our pears rotted or were squirrel-bitten before we could get them to the pantry (13 lb in 2011; 45 lb in 2010).
The good news
2011 was a good year for beets, winter squash, and green beans, and a banner year for peppers. Our tomato harvest, though lower than last that of 2010, was still significant. It was also the first year that we could bring figs to the pantry.
Selected Crop Yields, 2011
- Each bar represents the yield for a week. The weeks cover the harvesting portion of each season, from the first weekend of June (week 23) to the weekend before Thanksgiving (week 47).
- Each line represents the cumulative yield.
- Yields are in pounds.
The bad news
The yield for Ginkgo Organic Gardens for the 2011 season was 934 pounds. It's the first time in four years that the harvest has fallen below a half ton; in fact, the yield for 2011 was the lowest that it's been since we started collecting data in our current format.
We suspected midway during the season that the harvest would be lighter than that of 2010—just not by this much. The yield data support some of the reasons that we speculated might be behind this season's poor performance.
Foremost of these reasons was the season's slow start, as evidenced by the yield comparisons for our tomato crop. Our tomato vines in 2011 started producing 3-4 weeks later (weeks 33 and 34, in mid-August) than they did in the prior year. It is likely that temperatures were not sufficiently high during a critical phase of tomato plant development in May and June. Without an unusual late rally in mid-October (39 pounds), in fact, the 2011 tomato harvest would have been the same as that of 2009.
I focus on tomatoes because that crop usually composes the bulk of the garden's yield. In 2011, our yield of 322 pounds was 36% of the total.
Another reason for the low yield is that a number of our crops failed to produce. Our harvest of summer squash, for example, was a third of the 2010 yield (23 lb, compared to 69 lb); and most of our pears rotted or were squirrel-bitten before we could get them to the pantry (13 lb in 2011; 45 lb in 2010).
The good news
2011 was a good year for beets, winter squash, and green beans, and a banner year for peppers. Our tomato harvest, though lower than last that of 2010, was still significant. It was also the first year that we could bring figs to the pantry.
Selected Crop Yields, 2011
| Crop | Yield (lb) |
|---|---|
| Green beans | 42 |
| Beets | 44 |
| Collards | 19 |
| Cucumbers | 18 |
| Eggplants | 17 |
| Kale | 49 |
| Hot Peppers | 39 |
| Sweet Peppers | 98 |
| Potatoes | 26 |
| Radishes | 10 |
| Butternut Squash | 72 |
| Turnips (with greens) | 37 |
| Tomatoes | 326 |
| Pears | 13 |
| Raspberries | 10 |
| Basil | 19 |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)