April 28, 2004 link
The lettuce, broccoli and collards have finally sprouted. I was starting to be concerned. The radishes still haven’t showed up. Maybe the seeds were duds, or maybe they dried out.
I should probably try planting another round of radishes. After all, they’re the official vegetable of this operation.
April 19, 2004 link
It has begun. The 2004 garden is officially underway. An unseasonable 85 degree day drew me outside yesterday for several hours of work.
The first order of business was to construct a compost bin. I sawed an old wooden shipping palette in half; each half became the side fences of the bin. The rear wall is provided by a chain link fence. The fence openings and wood slats should provide plenty of air circulation for the compost to breathe. Now I just need to add biodegradeable trash to the pile. Fortunately, I have no shortage of trash.
Next, I planted some spring vegetables:
- Radishes—After last year’s overwhelming harvest, I’ve named radishes the official vegetable of The Great Growing Experiment. My friends still tease me about my radish-centric diet of June 2003.
- Lettuce—You can never have too much.
- Broccoli—Didn’t perform last year because of the heat. Hope it does better this time. Broccoli is one of the most nutritious vegetables. Supposedly, “it is often referred to as the nutrition powerhouse”. I’m not sure who refers to it in this way. Maybe I’ll start.
- Collards—While growing, you call them “collards”. When cooked, you call them “collard greens”. I’ve never understood the reason for this subtle difference in terminology.
I’ve been studying the shadows casted by The Bunker. The Spring weather is giving me a more optimistic view—maybe the shadows won’t be as bad as I originally thought. It’s hard to predict how the shadows will shift as the sun climbs higher in the sky over the next few months. It’s challenging to decide where to plant everything. In January, I sketched a master plan in my notebook. In the last few weeks, I’ve gone through several new iterations, trying to decide where everything should go.
April 13, 2004 link
Last summer, the big news around here was the sudden demolition of Meigs Field, a tiny airport on an island in Lake Michigan. The mayor decided he wanted to transform the land into a public park instead.
It’s a unique location for a park (or an airport)—a 90-acre island connected to Chicago’s central business district by a thin strip of road. Mayor Daley likes to describe the island as an urban oasis.
The city is developing a plan for the new park, which requires them to “get a consensus on a vision”. I agree with them—establishing a vision for public land is very important, especially in such a high-profile location. A poorly-planned park would be a disappointment. This park needs to be something special.
Here’s a proposal: how about a small agricultural demonstration? Playing off the original name of “Meigs Field”, the new space would feature a field of grain, plus patches of blueberries, raspberries and cranberries. The park would pay tribute to the Midwest’s agricultural heritage. Crops grown on the island could be donated to local charities, or sold to tourists at upscale food shops. The city could sponsor programs for school kids to help tend the fields. Throughout the island, interpretive stations could help visitors learn about the crucial role of agriculture in society.
The city’s current idea for developing a refuge of native plants is a good one, but it lacks romance. It runs the risk of turning the island into an isolated wilderness which requires constant patrolling. What happens if nobody uses the new park? It’s not exactly easy to get to—you have to make a special point of going there.
The farm idea turns the park into a true destination for tourists, school groups and families. By donating the crops to the needy, the city also advances public relations and sets an example for other cities. The point is not to grow a whole bunch of food; the land is too small for that. But it would greatly enrich Chicago’s cultural fabric by providing a link to the one fundamental element sorely lacking in the metropolis—agriculture.
April 7, 2004 link
I’m hoping for some nice weather this weekend. If so, it will be the first official garden work day of 2004. I can barely contain myself. If I’m not sore and dirty on Monday morning, I’ll be disappointed.
April 6, 2004 link
This journal is about the garden, not the construction next door. Regardless, I can’t stop commenting on it. There’s not much going on in the garden yet, so I just keep studying the building—trying to figure out how much sunlight it will block.
The finished building is difficult to visualize. So far, it doesn’t resemble any of the usual construction projects in this neighborhood. It doesn’t look like one of those ugly three-story condominiums; it doesn’t look like a single-family house either.
My friend Tom nicknamed it “The Bunker”. That’s really the best way to describe it. It’s a one-story cinder-block shell, with no windows. The only openings are in the front and back. At the entrance, you have to step down—the floor is below street level. It looks like it could be a big garage…for a tank.
After the initial building of walls, I haven’t seen any construction crews for two weeks. They seem to have abandoned it. What gives?
March 24, 2004 link
I planted the first seeds of 2004—an entire tray of thyme. It’s still too cold outside, so these seeds are getting started indoors under flourescent lights.
I tried the same thing last year, but didn’t have much success. The indoor lights are just not strong enough to simulate sunlight. The plants grew, but never developed strong stems and leaves. They were like the spindly little sprouts that you find on a sandwich. Nevertheless, I decided to try again…with fewer plants. No sense wasting all those seeds.
The alternate idea this year is to start seeds directly outside. I will use some homemade cold frames to protect them from frost.
March 23, 2004 link
Over the weekend, Tom stopped by to check out the garden. We poked around in the backyard for a while, then somehow ended up pillaging the neighbor’s garbage. They must be doing some remodeling, because they were throwing away a big pile of scrap wood.
Tom and I grabbed armfuls of wood to use for garden edging. Maybe I’ll expand my fancy boardwalk with the leftovers. We also found some metal headboards to build trellises. After 15 minutes of hauling junk, we had transferred most of the neighbor’s trash into my backyard.
March 19, 2004 link
Last year at this time, I was chomping at the bit to get started planting some seeds. The soil was waiting for its first tilling in a decade, and I had sketched out a multi-year plan for the garden.
Year One (2003) was to be the foundation year—the land would be prepared, the paths laid, and the basic patterns of water, sunlight and climate studied. Of course, I also grew 44 pounds of food. It was good, but I knew I could do much more.
In my plan, Years Two & Three (2004/5) were going to be the years of peak productivity. Year Four would be a transition year, as I prepared to move to a different home in Year Five. In the new home, I would hopefully be able to implement a long-term garden plan, using the lessons I’d learned from this experiment.
This was a loose plan, of course. I recognized that unforeseen personal circumstances (marriage, car accident, winning the lottery) could possibly change everything. But I always assumed it would come down to a personal decision to modify the plan. I never expected that forces beyond my control would change everything so suddenly.
Despite the sun-blocking construction next door, I’m going to continue with the project. The growing space might be smaller, but I still think I can exceed last year’s total of 44 pounds. It just requires some creative modifications to the master plan.
So now I’ve thrown down the gauntlet (to myself). Put up or shut up, you stubborn son of a gun. Things are going to get interesting.
March 18, 2004 link
Bummer. Construction crews are erecting a building in the formerly empty lot adjacent to my garden. The next-door lot has been empty for years, allowing plenty of direct sunshine to flood the garden space. When I moved in, I took it for granted that the adjacent lot would remain empty. Neighbors can’t remember the last time a building stood there.
Now a big building will cast shade across about two-thirds of the garden. I went out yesterday and tried to analyze the angles—based on the sun’s movement and the positions of buildings and trees. I’m estimating that two-thirds of the space will be unsuitable for food growing.
It sucks, but I have to accept the new situation as a challenge. The remaining one-third is still large enough to grow lots of stuff, especially if I maximize the space by growing vertically. I can experiment with trellises and poles. I can pack things together. I can plant ongoing waves of short-season plants. It will be less space to water and weed.
Despite my optimism, it’s easy to get discouraged as I see the building getting taller and taller every day. What lousy luck…
February 27, 2004 link
I’ve been baking lots of zucchini bread this winter. After accidentally growing some zucchini footballs last summer, I shredded them and stuck ‘em in the freezer. Every couple of weeks, I pull out a frozen bag of squash and bake it into a loaf of sweetly spiced bread. The flavor of the zukes is completely lost, but it feels good to have fresh bread that didn’t cost $4.00 at the supermarket.
The other thing I’ve enjoyed is frozen pesto. Last Fall, I tossed my basil patch into the blender, then froze the mush into ice cube trays. It’s perfect for a one-person meal. I just melt a couple of pesto cubes onto a plate of pasta.
This year, I want to explore more ways to preserve my garden produce. Maybe I’ll try canning or pickling. A cupboard full of home-canned food would be quite an accomplishment.
That’s a funny side-effect of my growing experiment—I’m turning into my grandma.
February 26, 2004 link
I ordered seeds online last night. The weather is warming up, and I’m starting to get the itch to get outdoors. Especially after reading about how the PTF folks are starting the Spring planting rush in California. Yippee-ki-ay, Mister Falcon.
February 23, 2004 link
Projects for this month: I need to order my seeds…and fast!
I need to build some cold frames. I need to arrange a lead test for my soil. I need to chop down some trees. I need to clean-up some leftover garden mess
from last year. I need to get some mud on my shoes.
February 22, 2004 link
NASA recently released a study indicating
that the most fertile land in America is covered by major cities. This is not surprising, considering
successful agriculture is a prerequisite for thriving human settlements. Additionally, cities are often founded near lakes and rivers, where natural forces have built-up good soil. Chicago, for instance, was constructed on top of a marshy swamp next to Lake Michigan.
Think about all that great black soil underneath our sidewalks and roads. What better argument for an expansion of urban food production systems? The people are here; the soil is here; the water is here. Let’s put two and two together. Cities are a natural place for agriculture.
January 31, 2004 link
The girl upstairs moved out. Any Chicago-based gardeners looking for a one bedroom apartment with ample backyard growing space? Of course, you’d have to share the space with me…but maybe we could split the watering/weeding duties. (Email me if you want the landlord’s phone number.)
When she moved out, she left behind 25 old window frames. They were too bulky to take with her. Each of them is about 4 feet by 5 feet, with the glass panes intact. She said she found them by wandering through neighborhood alleys, especially near demolition and renovation sites.
I asked why she had collected so many of these things. She wasn’t sure—she said—but she thought they might be useful for something. She showed me a glass-topped kitchen table she had made from one of them. It was really nice. I had no idea she was so industrious.
Anyway, she told me I could have the rest of them. So I am now the proud owner of 25 old window frames. My plan is to build portable cold-frames that I can set outside in the Spring and Fall to keep seedlings warm. Then I can sow seeds directly outside, instead of trying to start them under flourescent lights indoors. That approach was not very successful last year.
There are a couple of concerns:
- Storage space for completed cold frames
- Possibility of lead-based paint on the window frames
January 16, 2004 link
The seed catalogs are pouring into my mailbox. Apparently, some of these companies share their marketing lists. I ordered from two comanies last year, but I’ve received seven catalogs already this year. I expect a few more to arrive soon.
The thing about mainstream seed catalogs is that many of them are the same. They offer the same selection of seeds, and sometimes even use the same photographs.
There is this one picture of a little toddler standing next to a huge watermelon. Every time I open a new catalog, I see this girl. She’s everywhere! The funny thing is that the photo is probably about 10 years old. The little girl probably has her driver’s license by now.
Many of the catalogs also use the same color scheme. The main background color is usually yellow. Then they use dark green for the headings, and throw in a splash of complementary red. What gives? I don’t know.
The sometimes-low quality of seed catalogs doesn’t really bother me. I’m glad they’re spending money on their products, rather than glossy marketing. Besides, there is something charming about them. The old-fashioned, low-budget look is reassuring in contrast to today’s hyper advertising world. For the most part, I like seed catalogs.
Regardless, I have to wonder what would happen if a company adopted an edgier approach to their catalog design. What if they borrowed a grungy design aesthetic from punk rock? Or maybe a sleek modernist angle? What about a retro theme?
Can you imagine cover-art that looked like an Andy Warhol painting? Or how about satirizing a 1950s movie poster? Attack of the Giant Tomatoes! What about a catalog directed at urban gardeners? Combine imagery from the country and the city. It could have photos of corn growing beside a graffiti-covered wall.
Some may argue that gardening should be kept separate from the forces of pop culture—that the two should never mix. I disagree. Exciting catalogs might encourage gardening among younger people. It might produce a greater awareness of food production among the general public. Maybe gardening would even become cool. Wouldn’t that be something?
