Twelve years ago, I left behind a life and career in New York City to move full time to our farm in rural Bucks County, Pennsylvania, a new career, and a calmer, "greener" existence. Planting and gardening, animals and wildlife, building and repairing, harvesting and cooking, writing and lecturing, joy and contentment are all integral parts of this wonderful new existence. It has been a revelation to me, and one I would not only like to share with you but urge you towards. I look forward to your comments.

Monday, November 12, 2007

At this point in the garden season, there is always that tug between the impulse to neaten up and the knowledge that dead plant matter left to rot over the winter will provide loads of beneficial nutrients to the soil when forked under in spring. This is all a balance and I have learned that, on a purely visual basis, there are some things I can stand to leave and others that simply must go, however horticulturally beneficent they might be if left to their own devices.



As we all know, it pays to allow most plants to die back to at least that forlornly limp and yellowish stage as this allows the plants to absorb sunlight and strength for next year. This is particularly important to bulbs, like daffodils and narcissus and the like, but also to most perennials. That said, I finally hacked down what was left of the peonies in the white border, as I was sick to death of looking at their blackened remains. Likewise the stalks of the spent shasta daisies, although their leaf clumps still look remarkably fresh, and the big, naked canes of the hearty hibiscus out by the pool.

This neatening impulse also took itself off to the cutting garden, where I pulled out the all dead zinnias, lopped off the tops of the very forlorn looking dahlias, and dug up the tubers to be stored over the winter. For those of you who are dahlia lovers and wish to do the same, the tubers are best stored in a crate of slightly moistened peat moss or wood shavings at a temperature between 40 and 50 degrees. Do check them, however, a couple of times throughout the winter to make sure they’re not rotting or shriveling.



In the vegetable gardens, I denuded the big bamboo structures of their limp bean, squash, and tomato vines, and raked up the remains of the nasturtiums, bush beans, and whatever else had succumbed to frost, leaving the die-hards to provide some becoming human fodder for a few more months. In fact, last night, I had a nice garlicky sauté of kale, chard, and arugula along with some mashed celery root to accompany a grilled steak. Also still thriving are leeks, cabbages, broccoli, the winter squash, which has been harvested and stored, and a good number of the herbs, including mint, parsley, and sage. There are still plenty of good meals to be had from the garden, even as December approaches.



I’m going to dedicate the last portion of this column to the subject of mulch and mulching in general, as this is the time of year when we should all be giving this subject some due consideration. First of all, let’s consider that blanket of fallen leaves that is currently covering most of our lawns. To many, this is a nagging chore involving aching backs and shoulders and mounds of useless debris perpetuated on unsuspecting man by an unfeeling Mother Nature. To others, however, this is certifiable brown gold, as valuable to the gardener as a bucket of earthworms or beneficial nematodes.

For if you rake your leaves into a pile and, even better, one encircled by a perimeter of stout wire fencing so that you can really pack them in, then leave them to degrade for two or three years, you will have achieved the wonder of humus, which is nature’s gift to your soil. As well, if you amend this pile occasionally with animal manures, kitchen waste, grass clippings: whatever presents itself in your household or on your land, and fork it thought every once and a while with a pitchfork, you will be adding veritable gems to your gold. The best scenario, if you have the room, is to have three or four of these piles going, in close proximity, so that you always have one sufficiently “aged” to employ immediately, and so that you can amend the others easily as you’re whipping your way by with your cart.



I'm going to retire this blog for the season here, as I'm sure all gardeners are looking forward to a little down time as winter descends, and I look forward to catching up with you again come spring. A magical holiday and triumphant New Year to you all.