A Fine Spring Day

Hello sour grass, my old friend! Welcome back again. Here you are with one, lone, bright-faced bloom lighting up a neglected corner of the yard. Can spring be far behind?

It was such a splendid, dirt-under the fingernails day I ended up spending the whole morning in the garden. The usual inspection tour -- lately just a quick look around our damp, cold, scraggly, uninviting backyard patch -- turned into a flower photo op.

The first oxalis blossom opened nearly a month earlier than last year -- mid-January as opposed to the week of February 10. (One of the great features of a garden blog is the gradual accumulation of exact data from year to year.) Spring does seem to be running early. There are golden fields of wild mustard blooming already out by the coast and our neighborhood is sporting the first gorgeous tulip magnolias.






The volunteer arugula has put forth its trademark four-petaled blossom, delicately veined like the wings of some kind of exotic helicopter insect. I've seen the hummingbirds buzzing these blooms.






Here is borage -- not a very good photo. I'm sure it looks at lot better than this to the bees who gather here.






The pea plants are blooming again, unfurling like the Japanese folded paper flowers that "bloom" when you put them in water.






More flower origami: elegant black-trimmed fava bean blossoms are opening on three-foot tall stalks.






These hot pink rosettes aren't flowers at all, just some garden art that resulted from the thinning out of an overgrown clump of volunteer chard. Lots of the leaves had been so thoroughly mined by leaf miners that they had rotted into slime during the rainy spells. Yuk!

Undaunted, and energized by the unexpected spring day (I know, I know, it won't last), I weeded and trimmed until the plants could breath and soak up the sun. The lipstick chard pictured above is growing back from a venerable gnarled stump, all that's left of a plant that grew six or seven feet tall last season.






There are several varieties of chard in the patch, some growing from over-wintered stumps, some springing up for the first time.






Here's a shot of the north half of the winter garden. The oxalis and the borage are in the back corner where the fences meet; the arugula is to their right, the peas are in the foreground twining up the wooden stakes, the favas and the patch of chard are out of view to the right. In the foreground you can also see spinach, lacinato kale, and a bed of sponsored arugula. In the background are a couple of beds of lettuce. Out of view are broccoli and leeks. The paths are covered mostly with miner's lettuce. And that's about it.

We are harvesting lettuce, miner's lettuce, spinach, arugula, kale, and chard. We are waiting for broccoli, leeks, another round of peas, and favas.

Ready to pick or not, edible or not, everything looks beautiful on this fine spring day.

Chardus Giganticus

We are getting some mighty tall chard these days, leaves that are twenty inches long and more. You could carry them in a parade like banners or use them as fans or shellac them and use them as decoration. (If you were so inclined.)

What with the bountiful chard and the lush stand of kale and the ever-sprouting purple broccoli, it was clearly time for a green soup session -- "the Green Zone," said B. warily. There are now several quarts on hand, ready to go into the freezer.

2010 Eat-the-Chard Challenge

It's peak time for the chard, which is being harvested by the armfuls: as much as we can carry and give away and, of course, eat. I made another big batch of green soup. It was mostly chard, supplemented by kale and broccoli.




This time the soup actually made it to the dinner table for a quick feast. What it lacked in general crowd appeal (except to fanatics like myself) it made up for in ease of preparation, i.e. it was already made and just needed heating up. A sprinkling of parmesan cheese helped a lot. The ubiquitous garden salad rounded out the occasion.

We have been keeping up with the self-imposed 2010 Eat the Yard Challenge of eating something from the garden every day, even if only a sprig of parsley. So far we've only missed two days. Once we had a late medical appointment in San Francisco and decided to wait out the traffic in Sausalito, watching rainbows over the Golden Gate and dining with an old friend. The other time was a wedding. So we have good excuses.

The rest of the time it has been the usual round of salad almost every night, lettuce on tacos or veggie burgers, and greens in the soup. There was one instance of emergency parsley added to a tomato sauce at the last minute.

I find the Challenge very motivating in making sure that the abundance in the yard makes it onto the table.

The Eatin' o' the Greens

As long as we are in St. Patrick's Day mode, it's worth saying a word or two about the spring tonic version of green soup, which is very very green. The summer version is mostly zucchini, a light concoction with fairly good crowd appeal. The spring version is for true believers only -- mostly kale and chard with whatever broccoli shoots can be gleaned.

I made some recently and have been enjoying the results for lunch. This never gets served at dinner because the Army surplus color of the soup is a little off-putting for some.

Above is an array of kales: Siberian, Redbor, and Lacinato (also known as Tuscan, Black Tuscan, or Dinosaur kale -- for obvious scaly reasons), and also a few shoots of Purple Sprouting and Romanesco broccoli. For connoisseurs of green, this is a delight for the eye. For connoisseurs of green soup, a delight for the palate.




In the last couple of weeks of warmer weather, the chard has been sizing up. There is more than enough anytime we need it. I can't keep track of the varieties any more because it comes up as it pleases and I move the seedlings around wherever a good spot opens up. The palest leaves are most likely Bionda de Lyon. But once it's harvested and headed for the soup pot it's all just yard chard.






There is one bed of Rainbow Lights chard planted from nursery starts that contributed to this batch. The photo captures only part of the spectrum which ranges farther into shades of red and orange.





The soup-making process is the same as for the summer version (see "Zucchini Factory," June 30, 2009, for description of process). But it's not the same soup -- the spring tonic version is so muscular I felt like the pot might get down off the stove and start doing one-handled push-ups.






Here's the final mixture, after blending. Intimidating for some, thrilling for others.

Anything extra goes in the freezer. There is still some summer soup left in there and now there will be plenty more until the zucchini starts coming in in a few months. The eatin' o' the greens goes on all year.

Yard Chard

Sunday was so warm and delightful a day I got drawn into some unplanned garden tasks, merely as an excuse to be outside. (Hard to believe only two days later as I look out at a cold rainy evening.) There were volunteer chard plants coming up in various spots and raised beds just sitting there under their blankets of straw. Why not put the two together?

The particular patch pictured above is on the path next to last year's chard bed. It consists mostly of seedlings of the coveted Bionda di Lyon variety. All I had to do was dig up the seedlings with a trowel and plant them right back into their ancestral home.




The soil in the bed was perfect: crumbly, dark, and full of earthworms. Several months ago the bed was covered with a layer of fresh horse manure -- earth apples that I get now and then by the bagful from a friend who volunteers with the Morgan horses at Pt. Reyes National Seashore -- and a protective layer of straw. Under the rotting straw there was no trace left of the manure. It was completely assimilated into the rich web of life that we call dirt. I'm expecting big things, literally, from this patch of yard chard.

Survey of the Winter Garden

Rain, rain go away. Oh well, I can't go out and play in the mud so I might as well use the time to record for posterity the winter garden of 2009 - 2010. These photos are from January 22, a couple of weeks ago. The plants look pretty much the same now.

None of the winter plantings grew as fulsomely as I had pictured in my imagination last fall. Perhaps I got them out too late (October), or perhaps they are just biding their time for a spring surge. At any rate, they have kept us in salads and winter greens all through the dark months.

Pictured above is a bed of Dinosaur and Redbor kale, slug-tattered but productive. We've also been getting nice kale from volunteers around the yard, Siberian and Curly Blue, I think. I was
given some seedlings a few years ago and now they come up on their own.




Romanesco broccoli (from nursery starts), which has been growing very slowly and has not yet formed heads. Around the edges of the bed are little cilantro plants (from gathered seed). Although still small, the leaves have spiced up many a salad.



The purple sprouting broccoli (nursery starts) also has not produced anything yet but broad gray-green leaves. Quite successful as an ornamental.



Sparse looking spinach patch (Bloomsdale and Gigante d'Inverno, from purchased seed). Every now and again I can pick a leaf from each plant to fill out a salad, but so far there is not enough to cook with. The California poppies are starting to grow here and could easily take over this bed.



Assorted chard (from gathered seed). The back row includes plants from last year that just kept going, re-sprouting from the base that died back in the summer.



Rainbow chard (nursery starts) surrounded by parsley that just keeps going from last season.



Assorted lettuce (from purchased and gathered seed), including a volunteer Black Seeded Simpson seedling that I moved here from one of the paths where it had sprung up. In front is some red chard that just won't quit.



Forellenschluss lettuce (from purchased seed).



Black Seeded Simpson lettuce (from gathered seed).



Bronze Arrowhead and Red Lollo Antago lettuce, ravaged by slugs but still producing a lot for eating -- eating by people, that is.

These beds have been in continuous use, summer and winter. It may be that I need to re-examine my soil building program to make sure they have enough fertility to sustain so much growing.

Winter Pizza!

This fine artisan pizza is a one-handed creation, courtesy of B., who refuses to let a broken wrist interfere with his artistic process. (And thanks to the no-knead method of the very useful tome: Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day.)

On Christmas Eve B. fell off a stool while changing a light bulb and we found ourselves in the emergency room, where -- at the stroke of midnight -- a cheerful doctor strode into our cubicle, exclaiming "It's Christmas Day! Merry Christmas!" Not at all like the terrifying Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, the dreadful apparition who appeared to Scrooge as the clock struck twelve, he seemed more like Scrooge himself on Christmas morning, brimming over with holiday cheer.

Since it was the left wrist that had a hairline fracture, pizza making continues with only a little help here and there from willing bystanders. The garden contribution is a bit of sauteed kale and chard strewn sparingly over the tomatoes and cheese. Evidently the artistic secret is not to overdo the toppings.

As for the 2010 Eat the Yard Challenge (something from the garden every day), we have hit the three week mark -- which is probably about average for New Year's resolutions.

January 18: a bit of fresh cilantro in the chili, garden salad
January 19: same
January 20: winter pizza, with chard and kale topping
January 21: spaghetti with garden tomato sauce from the freezer, leftover sauteed greens

Tonight it's salad again; I picked a basket full of makings this afternoon when the sun came out.

Winter Bounty at the Table

Mmmmmmm, frost-kissed greens for dinner: mostly chard chopped up fine, with a little chopped kale for added character, sauted in olive oil with garlic and some canned tomato. I could eat this every night.

Winter Bounty

We had only three nights of temperatures in the twenties. By Thursday we were back to cloudy skies and predictions of rain, finally fulfilled today. All the winter-hardy plants are looking really perky now, coming into their own as their summer compatriots are reduced to limp brown rags, or, in the case of the nasturtiums, green goo.

This afternoon I went out in the rain -- accompanied by a wild-eyed, stir-crazed canine companion -- to do a little picking.

Pictured above, top row, left to right: Redbor kale, Blue Curly kale, a few leaves of dinosaur kale, right below the dinosaur kale some Red Lollo Antago lettuce, Rainbow chard, with some Bloomsdale spinach right below.

Bottom row, left to right: cilantro, Bronze Arrow lettuce, Black Seeded Simpson lettuce, arugula (a self-seeding volunteer coming up all over the garden), Forellenschluss lettuce.

A festival of vitamins and minerals!




The lemon tree seems fine. Some of its leaves have more of a yellow tinge than they did before the freeze, but that's all.