Preschool Graduation!

Not for my kids -- they're long past that.

Two weeks ago, when we had nearly two feet of snow on the ground, and no reasonable expectation that spring was anywhere near, Mr. Mulch started the first of our seedlings.  

Yes, this is early, and yes, it's in apparent defiance of Mother Nature, but we have high hopes that the scheme we installed last year to extend the end of the growing season might also be used to get an early start on it.  Mr. Mulch installed a series of metal hoops over our raised beds, draped plastic over them and, presto -- instant greenhouse!  We had one renegade kohlrabi that kept growing doggedly until late December.

So this year, we started radicchio, kohlrabi, and kale on February 10 -- a new record for jumping the season.  Last week, they seemed just as eager as we were.  In each cell there were tender shoots sprouting optimistically under the grow lights, competing with several cell-mates to see which one can grow stronger first.

Just one week later, and that optimism meant that for much of the radicchio and kale, it was time to move on up.  They graduated to their first solo abode -- the plant equivalent of a studio apartment, where they can continue their journey without sharing nutrients with their weaker cube-mates.  Here are those specimens that survived the first thinning...

They now happily occupy the lower floor of our grow light tenement.  The slower growing kohlrabi and the laggard kale and radicchio seedlings reside on the top floor.

I wonder if word of next week's imminent thinning will spread from the plants below to those above, and perhaps encourage a more determined battle for dominance in the remaining cells. I don't know whether it would be better to play soothing music to calm the plants, or spur them on with tales about survival of the fittest.  I'm inclined to the latter, since the competition in here is nothing compared to what they'll see outdoors, and we'll need the strongest and wiliest to make it past the various insect predators they'll face later this season.

And I'm thinking that maybe a few Pilates sessions wouldn't hurt, either!

Denial

So what if there are 2 feet of snow on the ground and Mr. Mulch and I will spend most of the day snowplowing and shoveling?  We didn't lose power or internet, which means that I could happily spend the morning (while waiting for the gale force winds to subside) drooling over perennial catalogs and dreaming about being able to see the bare ground again.

Never mind that the snow is as high as the raised beds, and there are no contours visible on the terraced path up to the back hill.  I can see them; I know where they're hidden.  So this morning, I fired up the online catalogs and did some damage.

Two years ago our good friends Cheryl and Tom gifted us a big bag of Badger Gladioli (they're lunatic Wisconsin fans) and they were spectacular.  And surprise, surprise -- they reappeared the next year, probably because the winter was so mild.  Certainly not because I took care of them the way I was supposed to; I'm far too undisciplined to dig up the corms, clean them off, wrap them up, and coddle them all winter.  Besides, I've killed every plant I've ever brought into the house, so they were better off buried where they were.

But this year, we're clearly having a real winter again, so if I want Gladioli, I'll have to take steps.  So... this morning I ordered...

... 20 of these...

... 30 of these...

... and 20 of these!

Because someday, I will be able to see the ground again. And please remind me how much I was anticipating this when I start complaining about having to plant 70 bulbs!

February Blues

February takes forever.  Even when the sun is out, the landscape is bare, brown, and stark.  The trees tumbled by Hurricane Sandy still lie scattered, shorn of branches and leaves, like so many gigantic tuning forks on the side of the road.

The garden is just hunkered down waiting for better days, and since we're actually having a winter this year, so is most of the wildlife.  I've seen a few deer tracks, but it appears that most of the does and last year's fawns must be bedded down deep in the woods. 

But just when I'm ready to go into hibernation myself (which would not bode well for all those pressing projects at the office), Mr. Mulch reminds me that we still have one harvestable crop out there!  So we suit up and head for the otherwise barren beds, and find... Cavolo Nero!
 
Tuscan Kale, with tall, slim dark corrugated leaves -- a plant so hardy that even the deep freeze we had last week only nipped a couple of tips.  It has a fresh coat of fluffy snow from last night's quick moving storm, but once we brush that off, we have a nice sized harvest.








I'm so happy to have some of our own fresh veggies that didn't come out of our freezer stores that I don't even mind the 20 minutes it takes to strip all the leaves from the inedible stalks.  I have a lovely recipe for Tuscan Kale Caesar Slaw that Mr. Mulch has been lobbying for, and this will go nicely with some boiled potatoes and the skate in black butter sauce I had on the menu for tonight.

Maybe February won't be so bad this year after all!




Addendum:  Here's what the Kale Slaw looks like when assembled, and here's a link to the recipe.  It was absolutely delicious!  Definitely a keeper -- thanks Charlotte!