It may snow this week… It’s been raining and in the low 40s (°F) since yesterday afternoon. I haven’t seen a frost at my house, but there’s been ice on the metal mailbox in the morning. Some of my co-workers who live in the boondocks reported frost last week. And we’re almost a month beyond the former average first frost date. Moreover, in my weather journal, I’ve recorded high temperatures in the 20s (°F) in October in the last few years.
So… all things considered, I decided that we are done with the growing season.
I took down the temporary tomato tents. The tomatoes don’t seem to care, though they also are not ripening. And the fruits are not much wider than a pencil, so it’s not worth gathering the green ones to ripen them in the house. I will leave them until they finally succumb to the cold, and then they will become compost.
The beans are yellowing, but there are still peas. Without a groundhog, they are growing nicely. I will probably get a harvest before a hard freeze wipes them out. The herbs and flowers are all spectacular still. The asters and mums are glorious. Calendula and marigolds are everywhere. The hollyhocks are going for a late round of blooming after recovering from rodent destruction. I even have a sunflower, the first one that has ever bloomed here. Plus my New Mexico sunflowers (helianthus maximiliani) are blooming for the first time. It took them a couple years to become established here. I don’t think it was much different in New Mexico. I remember planting them and then forgetting about them before suddenly one October there were huge plants covered in golden stars. Interestingly, though these flowers are everywhere in central New Mexico, they are actually native to the eastern US. So they might feel right at home here. Somewhat like me.
In any case, the garden is still going today. We’ll see what happens later in the week. I don’t know if I believe the forecast, but I prepped the winter garden beds just in case. I watered everything thoroughly. I planted seeds for a few brassicas, spring onions and carrots in with the potatoes. Then I used heavy row cover to make a double layered covering on the bed. This is an Eliot Coleman trick. Put down one layer of fabric about 3″ above the soil. Then cover the whole bed with another layer. He uses an unheated greenhouse. I just made a bed-sized poly-tunnel for the top layer. This bed will be hard to access, but I shouldn’t have to water it until after the ground starts to warm up again.
I also watered and covered the bed that is planted with carrots, beets and rutabaga. These all have their true leaves and are ready to settle down and snooze for the winter, but they probably will need water several times throughout the dormant season. They are also under a couple layers of landscape fabric, but because this bed is in full sun all day, I just layered the fabric over the hoops rather than put a layer on the ground. That way it will be easier to uncover the bed for watering, though that will not be a pleasant task for the plants or myself. I use warm tap water to try to make up for the lost heat and only water in the middle of the day in calm, sunny weather.
The cold frame greens are salad ready now, and I had a bowl full last night topped with roasted hazelnuts and what is probably the last of the raspberries. Aside from a potential November harvest of peas, what I have growing in this cold frame bed is probably all I will get out of the garden for the next five to six months. That is a bit sobering. But I have two bins of potatoes, another of onions, one of the apples that grew here and two filled with Burtt’s apples. I went and picked almost two bushels (about 75 pounds) over the weekend. It’s a mix of Empire, Macoun, Mutsu, and Northern Spy. Most are coated in so much waxy bloom that they look dusty purple and green. That wax is a natural preservative, so they should keep for months in the cool basement. At an apple a day — to keep the doctor away — I should have apples until March. I also have a freezer of prepared food — mostly various strains of savory pie and quick breads — enough frozen corn and roasted winter squash purée to outlast my desire to eat such things, and a few dozen bags of frozen berries that will turn into muffins, pancakes, and scones. I have done a reasonable job of storing the harvest, so I don’t feel too worried.
Much of it did not come from my garden, but it all is grown here in Vermont, mostly on farms that I have visited, located within a few miles of my house. Even the grains are Vermont grown. Now and again, I still buy fruit that has traveled a good distance, and there are no sources for oils in this part of the world yet, a hole in our local food web that someone might want to fill. Rapeseed grows just fine, opportunistic brassica that it is. We just need to develop the oil extraction infrastructure, I think. But there are people who import olives and press the oil here, so maybe they could shift to locally grown oil seeds. If that is a need. Most Vermonters don’t use veg oil though. This is definitely a butter state.
Vermont is proof that humans can localize food, as well as most of our other basic needs, and still live very well. This state never completely joined the global economy, being small and relatively cash poor. However, the people here have always had a strong independent streak, preferring to do for themselves even when they have the wealth to buy from others. But unlike the rest of flinty New England, Vermont also has decided epicurean leanings and a wide variety of rich food traditions blended together. The original Vermonters still live here comfortably as they have for thousands of years. French is still a first language in many Vermont families. In my stone-cutting town, Italian surnames outnumber typical Anglo family names. There are fewer recent immigrants, but since this is a small state, that handful can have an outsized influence on the local culture. There is also a surprising number of people who have come here from the desert Southwest, adding chile to the mix. So it is not unusual for restaurants to serve an eclectic blend of everything from succotash to ratatouille to tamales to house-made pasta drenched in marinara. The point is people here like their food and want it to do more than provide calories. We don’t settle for crap; we savor each bite. And we spend a good deal of every day in pursuit of those savories, from cultivating our own gardens and small farms to creating delicious meals. We even produce many of the tools needed to cook good food. If you want a tagine, I know a potter who makes them… among other specialty cookware.
(For the record, this sense of verve goes well beyond food. Vermonters love living, love crafting a beautiful life. We have theatre and art, music and literature to rival any wealthy urbane culture. And it’s less expensive… so everybody can enjoy it.)
The only worrying thing about localizing Vermont-style is that I’m pretty sure Vermont-scale is about as big as it can go. Big cities will not fit in vertiginous Vermont, for one thing. But even if we had the space for a large urban area, we could not produce enough to feed a large urban population. The land would not support it and there isn’t enough labor. Moreover, this isn’t a transport-friendly climate or terrain. Vermont culture would have to be leveled and debased with synthetics and cheap labor if it tried to ship food to an urban population that doesn’t produce its own needs. This isn’t a culture that can be exported for sale. It must be hand made in place, and every body contributes. I don’t know one single person who doesn’t actively participate in producing their own life. And I work in a bank…
So it’s possible to live well… but maybe not big… certainly not global… something to keep in mind.
Meanwhile, it is coming into winter, and I am planning out the next growing season today. After the marmot debacle, I am putting in more thought on fencing. I’ve also found a contact for someone who will trap the beast and take it elsewhere. And I’ve planted my grass hedge, though that will take at least a few growing seasons to be dense enough to discourage a groundhog. But mostly, I am just considering what I grow and how I grow it. Do I really eat enough cabbage to justify planting marmot-magnet brassicas? How can I intercrop beds to better hide what the rodent likes to eat behind things that repel other animals? (Not that the rodents who live here seem to have any major dislikes except potatoes and herbs… they even eat the nightshades…) Could I start veg under row cover and only uncover it when the plants are mature and full of whatever defenses they have? This last would be the most effective way to discourage most rodents, maybe even the groundhog, but it is hard on the plants. In the growing season, it’s hot and dry under those coverings. And my row-cover hoops aren’t big enough to shelter most mature plants, nor do I have enough fabric to do tall tents. So that will take some ingenuity…
One thing I will never do again is use plastic mesh. The hog shredded the plastic deer fencing that my neighbor gave to me. The bird netting that I bought was more difficult to shred because it was a finer mesh. Even though it was also thinner plastic, the rodent couldn’t get ahold of it with his teeth. However, it proved impossible to reuse. Plants wove themselves throughout the mesh. This particular plastic sticks tenaciously to everything, so it ripped and tangled into hopeless knots no matter how carefully I tried to remove it. (There was significant foul language accompanying that chore…) It is all trash now… I will not repeat that.
Another task that is starting now is related to putting the garden to bed. In addition to carefully cleaning off and stowing the stakes and supports and such in the garage, I am also starting the sharpening project. Good sharp tools make for lighter work and, like properly sharpened kitchen knives, fewer accidents. So I clean off all the dirt and then, while the metal is wet, run a whetstone over everything. Serrated saw blades and my lawn mower need to go to the hardware store where they have the tools to sharpen those sorts of things, though some of the saw blades will just get replaced. But I can clean and sharpen most of my tools. Keeping everything sharp and clean, not only makes it easier to dig and cut, it keeps the tools in good shape. They last longer. I don’t have to replace tools (though, embarrassingly, I have lost several pruners in the jungle).
While I am on this project, I also take care of any wooden handles. I clean off whatever dirt is ground into the grain, give those with a natural finish a light sanding to keep the wood splinter-free, and then rub oil into the wood. I used to use linseed oil, but now I have some food-safe cutting board oil that is non-toxic (though I’m not certain that properly used linseed oil is toxic) and supposedly preserves wood better… because magical folklorish reasons, I suppose. Anyway, I got it from Lehman’s… the stuff they sell usually does what they say it does. So we’ll see.
When all this is done, the tools get hung in the garage where they won’t get wet or dulled. Never store tools with the blade or point on the ground, especially not on concrete. It takes more space — or creative use of barrels and such like — but it’s absolutely necessary if you want your tools to last more than a year or two. I will admit to slacking in the gardening season and not hanging up the shovel every time I use it. But that’s why I take the time to sharpen up everything and store it correctly in the off-season. Though… I’d probably still have to sharpen the shovels and trowels even if they were always properly hung on their pegs. There are quite a lot of rocks in Vermont “soil” after all… Besides, I like this project. It’s calming and quiet, and I can sit on the porch watching the birds and the rain while I do it.
That’s what I love about winter tasks. They’re slow and methodical. Soothing and peaceful. Meditative. And you can watch the world or make up poetry or just daydream while you do it. Plus, you can usually enjoy a cup of tea or warm cider while you work. And you rarely get wet or mud-splattered. Except when shoveling snow… which… they say could be happening as soon as tomorrow.
Oi…
Fall color
Here is a bit of Vermont’s famed autumn color. I took these pictures on my lunch walk on Friday. As you can see, there are already many bare trees. Peak color lasted about ten minutes this year, I think… The only good thing about that is that we’re almost done with leaf raking — might be done before it snows this year!
©Elizabeth Anker 2024
