FIRST HARVEST

For the first time, Andra and I bought a share in a CSA this summer. It was probably overdue, as we’ve been publishing stories about community supported agriculture in just about every issue of Zone 4. As chef Steve Kuntz of Montana Epicurean (see Zone 4 No. 4) explained to the Gallatin Women’s Club during a recent talk on local food, buying a share in a CSA is an investment in a farm. You become a partner, advancing the funds the farmer needs to purchase seeds, fertilizer, and equipment for a successful growing season.

One woman at that meeting, who’d previously joined a CSA, said driving to the farm to pick up her box of produce each week wasn’t particularly convenient. Another said bad weather had caused the farmer to lose crop and so she hadn’t received as much food as expected. In response, all Steve could say to the first woman was that seeing where your food is grown is part of the CSA experience, and that many farmers also offer pickups in town for those on tighter schedules. As for the second woman’s experience, shareholders are at the same risk as the farmer. Some years are better than others. As an investor, you help assure the farmer another year in business.

We invested in 3 Fiddles Farm, run by Karin and Matthew Broughton in Bridger Canyon, north of Bozeman (learn more about this young couple in the fall issue of Zone 4). This is only their second year, but we were impressed with what they grew last year, and with their infectious enthusiasm. Karin, just a wisp, spends all day in the fields, bundled up tight from the hot sun with canvas hat, sunglasses, long pants, and long sleeves. She loves giving tours, bouncing among the rows, peeking under covers, and pointing out every variety. This year they got a grant to reduce the cost of a hoop house, which will allow them to expand their offerings both in terms of species and duration.

This week was their first harvest. We drove out to the farm during the appointed hours (late in the afternoon, to give Karin time to harvest, rinse, and package everything. She waited in a shady area near a seasonal stream, keeping the vegetables as cool as possible. Here’s what was in our box:

½ pound Gourmet lettuce

½ pound Hot Shot spicy mustard greens

1-1/2 pounds Hakurei turnips

Bunch of French Breakfast and Cherry Belle radishes

Bunch of green garlic

Mojito mint

Karin recommends eating the turnips raw or slightly steamed, sautéed, or added to stir fries. “And the greens are fabulous, too,” she adds, “raw or cooked in combination with mustard greens or alone.”

We have a pretty diversified palette, but have never sautéed Hakurei turnips, so this will be something new for us. Not only does participating in a CSA give you fresh, local, food, it can introduce you to new and exciting tastes. Excuse me while I sharpen the big kitchen knife!

—Dan Spurr

PLAGUE & PESTILENCE

While much of the country recorded high temperatures the past few weeks (like the 90s in Denver), we here in Montana have stayed pretty darn cool.

Experienced gardeners around Bozeman know to wait until Memorial Day to move transplants outside. I did. In fact, I waited until June 6 because it was chilly. Our starts were in the sunroom and ready to go: peppers, tomatoes, squash, beets, cauliflower and more. It took a couple of hours and everything looked great, until…

Driving home from the post office on Monday I saw an ugly black cloud moving toward the mountains and over the bench where our house sits. Rain, I figured. As I turned into driveway the hail came. Big, golf-ball-size chunks of ice. The wind gusts hurled the balls with ferocity. I was afraid to get out of the truck and decided to wait a minute. By then, it was too late.

When it let up long enough to check the garden I ran across the yard ready to unfurl the fabric on my hoop tunnels. What a sorry sight! Everything macerated—except the garlic, planted last fall and already more than a foot tall, and the spinach. Even the skinny onion sets were shredded.

Okay, this is zone 4 right? Hail happens.

Undaunted, I bought plants at a local nursery and planted all the same vegetables the next weekend. On Sunday. Sure that I’d seen the last of my woes, I dusted my hands feeling happy, until…

Monday morning I woke to walk the dogs up the nearby canyon, walking past our garden, which is well fenced to keep the deer out. Dang if something hadn’t come in the night and eaten all the tender leaves off the Brussels sprouts, cauliflower, squash—everything newly planted except the tomatoes (well, thanks for that anyway).

Looking around I was dismayed to discover a gopher hole (actually a Richardson ground squirrel) inside the fence at the far end of the garden! For the next week I tried to thwart this little bugger—throwing pellets of poison down his hole (I’d never do this outside the fence where other animals could dig it up, i.e. our dogs and cat for starters); set a trap (he just pushed it out of his way, untripped; filled the hole several times with dirt (which he easily spewed out); and out of desperation, set a heavy paver over the hole (he moved the entrance outside the hole). So I got more pavers and practically cemented the whole area around his hole. It worked. (He’s still alive, but for now he’s a one-hole gopher, outside the fence.)

Elated, I replanted the garden for the third time. I felt like I probably should explain myself to the staff at the nursery, but figured they’re probably used to seeing people keep coming back to buy the same plants over and over again. Hey, these are the Rocky Mountains, right?! We’re used to futility.

I planted a fourth time, and stapled row covers over the new plants. This helped for a few days and I was momentarily hopeful. Alas, the leaves started getting picked off here and there until there was nothing left but the main stems. Interestingly, there was no damage to plants in the raised beds. Why? Because the invaders couldn’t climb up a 2x10? This theory suggests a mole, vole, or shrew, of which our fields have probably hundreds. And they could easily pass through the 2x4 mesh of the wire fence.

But why this year and not last? Why me?

On Father’s Day our son Steve brought me four lovely pepper plants, a big tomato plant, and a Jerusalem artichoke. Think I planted them outside? No way!

I bought an Earthbox (more on this clever container system in a future issue) for the peppers and tomato, and planted the artichoke in a big container—IN THE SUNROOM. I figured as long as I can keep the white flies out, I’ll be fine.

The next morning at 5:45 I trotted downstairs to walk the dogs, who often sleep in the sunroom when it’s too warm in the house proper. Boulder, our big male border collie, ran up to me expectantly. Strangely, there was dirt all over his muzzle. I looked past him to my Father’s Day plants. He’d dug up the artichoke. I guess its roots smelled good. Darn him.

Scientists are predicting an unusually bad year for grasshoppers. I’m ready for them. Yup, what a surprise when they come flying out of the dry fields into my garden ready to chow down, and find—nothing.

Some years you can’t win for losing.

—Dan Spurr

WINTER DAMAGE

This is a tough spring for landscape damage. I’ve received a number of queries from readers wondering why the tops of their trees and shrubs haven’t leafed out yet.

An old rule of thumb is that it will take a tree or shrub about as many years to overcome transplant shock as it was old when planted. For example, if you planted a 3-year-old tree it will take that tree about 3 years to catch up with itself and overcome transplant shock. In other words, that tree will not be "established" for three years and the damage you see can actually have been done in the nursery, or from transportation from nursery to the garden, or from transplanting. Such damage typically shows up as dieback of the tops of the branches.

If recent transplanting is not the case, then the problem could be from some damage incurred last season. Since this season has not yet begun, the damage would have to have been caused either last summer, last fall, or during the winter. Most of the damage we see in southwest Montana is desiccation damage, which usually shows up on the uppermost branches for a couple of reasons. A) The uppermost branches are most exposed to sun and wind and consequently get hit the hardest. B) Uppermost branches have large surface-to-volume ratios, meaning they have proportionately greater surface area for transpiration/water loss. C) The outside shoots, well exposed to the weather, are also the newest shoots, with less bark to protect them. D) The newest shoots are also the last to harden off in fall and a sudden drop in temperature will knock them out. This lack of hardening becomes even more problematic if the plants were watered or fertilized late in the season to keep them "green."

Roots are killed when soil temperatures hit about 15°F. Since we had a pretty good snowcover this year I doubt that outright kill is the cause of upper branches not leafing out. Last fall we had very warm weather and things grew late, then we got clobbered literally overnight with -20°F temperatures in mid-October. So the shoots may have gotten damaged at that time (most likely). Now, there was some storage of starch and nitrogen in the trunk and roots of the trees before that time. This is used for growth in the following spring. The nutrients stored are pushed up in spring to help the upper parts of the plant metabolize until the leaves can come out and do their job by sending photosynthates back down to the roots. If the leaves did not come out, obviously they cannot resupply the roots with nutrients. When the roots run out, the top of the plant dies. Also, the extreme cold may have damaged the phloem tissue in the trunk. If that is the case, even if the leaves do come out they cannot replace the root nutrients and the upper parts of the plant die.

All of this damage begins to become evident when the weather warms...right now, but it was induced last year sometime. I have seen many apple trees girdled by voles in winter that bloom well and even leaf out normally, only to wilt literally overnight when the weather gets warm...the damage the voles did to the phloem and cambium was irreparable. In that case the roots could supply the top with water and some stored nutrients through the xylem to get things in gear, but the top could not replace the photosynthates, and eventually when the tree was put under heat stress, it died.

If the branches are dead, prune them out any time of year. But be sure they are dead. Sometimes damage is not fatal and the branches will leaf out slowly and late. My rule of thumb is to wait until the 4th of July (see photo for branch that leafed out after being pruned). If they haven't leafed out by then they are likely dead, so the wait would not change things; if not dead, it is so late in the season that they won't have enough growing time and be weak going into another winter, and if the fall or winter is tough again, they will likely go out next year.

This is typical scenario for this area. A plant may hang on for several years and folks say, “What do you mean I can't grow that here? I've had it growing for X number of years!” But then the winters and summers find a way to clobber us and the plants that gardeners thought were hardy, weren't—and I feel vindicated!

Our ‘Adelaide Hoodless’ shrub rose which is supposed to be hardy here and which had done very well for us for a half dozen years, got killed back to the snowline this year. Our yucca (hardy to zone 4 according to the books) has severe dieback, and all four of our hardy plums may not make it. It is for this reason another old rule of thumb of mine is that hardiness zone designations are only accurate to +/- one hardiness zone. Gardeners put way too much stock in their zone accuracy—after all, we're dealing with weather!

Bottom line: I think much of the damage you see was done by the deep sudden cold last October that was exacerbated by the unusually warm weather leading up to it.

—Dr. Bob Gough