Is This Any Place to Grow A Fig
by Darryle Thomas
Judging by the proliferation of store-bought, silk-leaved and potted ficus trees...no. Typical conversations in the neighborhood speculate as to which day summer officially occurred this year. While allusions to the summer being so short so as to last but one day are a bit harsh, winter and/or snow can often last eight months in the hills of Vermont. On the other hand, I have not seen a single alligator lurking among the zucchini in my forty-plus years as a cold climate gardener.
Anyone who has left the car window rolled down on a beautiful summer night only to awaken to a coffee pot's worth of water in the driver's seat, will attest to the vagaries of Vermont weather. In order to barely intimate a normal growing season, we tend to tempt fate by planting as early as possible. Cold frames are common in native gardens, but are limited by size. The desire to plant the entire garden and gamble that this year the last killing frost will occur in April can be overwhelming to people house-bound by snow for the past six months.
One way to hedge the bet is to plant peas. Or kale. I am still eating crisp, green-blue kale that was planted over a year-and-a-half ago. It grew, albeit tentatively, under a double layer of polyethylene and snowfall right through the winter and was waiting patiently for my attention in the spring. Kale has an acquired taste. It also has more nutrition than most green, leafy crops.
Preserve the Hardy
As you become wiser with many years of gardening experience, you realize that some plants did very well in the colder years. If those plants are not hybrids, why not save any seeds formed? The truth is that these localized, frost-resistant seeds will produce equally hardy plants next year. Hybrids, as many of you know, can revert to their original cultivars. Genetic engineering miracles have allegedly involved crossing cells from arctic fish with tomatoes to produce a tomato capable of surviving several frosts. I think that I would be less surprised by the snapping jaws of an alligator in the zucchini than finding an arctic char dangling peacefully from a second-growth tomato plant.
It is a safe bet that any non-hybrid vegetables that either set seeds or harbored them in offspring would make good keepers, as 1996 may be a record-setter among inclement summer growing seasons. Suffice it to say, if you believe you have a good specimen, don't cook it.
Saving hardy seeds involves little more than a careful harvest of the best seeds. I save some of the largest as well as some smaller, but mature seeds. There might be some sort of validity to the runt-of-the-litter sayings. Carefully clean the pulp off the seeds and dry in an airy, shaded location. Be sure to store your dried seeds in a closed container until spring. I now save small jars once containing odd condiments, but the best jars may have had the word Beechnut on the label.
If saving seeds seems a little intimidating, be sure to purchase your seeds from the northernmost garden catalogs. While I buy seeds from Canada and Maine suppliers, I do like to gamble with seeds that might not grow well in this rugged climate. Chuck Darwin may be right with his evolution thing. The possibility of planting a seed that grows into a frost-hardy plant where none has grown before would excite any gardener. I, of course, welcome the financial rewards with equally open arms.
Location, Location, Location
Speaking of gardens, have you ever wondered why you parked yours where it is? When I lived upstate, near Lake Champlain, it was easy to see the tempering effects of a large body of water. Gardens near the lakes of this land tend to do better than their hilltop brethren. If it seems likely that a hilltop would get the most sun on a given day, ask anyone living on such a hill. The icy-cold winds whip without mercy over the tops of any highpoint on the terrain. Quite frankly, staking corn to help it remain upright is not ever going to become a passion for me.
If your plot of growing soil is on a hilltop, a hedgerow can make a big difference. A spruce or cedar hedge planted one hundred to two hundred feet away from the garden on the north and west sides can produce an ideal growing space. Once the wind is tamed, the high ground can use the brighter sun to full advantage.
Just as warm air rises to the hilltop during the day, cooling air falls into the valley at night. Gardens in lowlands are hit by frost late into spring and again earlier into fall. There just isn't a lot one can do to mitigate valley gardens short of calling Century 21.
One exception to the valley rule is if there is a fairly large stream at the valley bottom. The notorious tendency for water drowning plants forces the gardener to move further up the preferable southern facing bank. Cool air can still drop below the plot towards the water, but the tempering effect of the water warms the arriving cooler air. Obviously a garden planted midway up a south facing hillside, with a body of water at the base and a wind-protected peak above should produce the best growing in these Green Mountains.
Tricks for a Longer Season
If we haven't had that first killing frost by the time this article is in your hands, protecting a few tardy plants is still possible. I have a raised garden bed attached to the building I work in. To some degree the building is both beneficial and a hindrance, as it can block both the wind and some sunlight. Every fall I erect a poly tent over the slowly maturing crops. Rolling up the flaps allows for water, if needed, and temperature control. This small garden survives several otherwise killing frosts, buying enough time to finish the ripening process.
Occasionally there is one or two prized plants still in the garden when frosts impend. Simply stack hay bales on the north side to the height of the plants, tapering down on the sides. Leave the south side open to collect warmth during the day. This type of structure is easy to cover with plastic on nights when frost is likely. As with the previously described tent, be sure to uncover the plant during the day. Wet the bales in the morning so they can hold the collected heat better during the night.
One last trick to extend the season. Paw through the tomato plot looking for "volunteers." A volunteer is free plant that grew, possibly from a seed that overwintered from the previous year. If you have no freebies, cut and root a clone from a good tomato. Plant the shoot or volunteer in a five-gallon pail or other suitable planter. Place it in front of a southern window. Augment with a grow light, if necessary. Either stake the plant or cage the whole bucket. Treat it like any other house plant, except feed it a diluted liquid fertilizer solution every time you water. When mixing up a gallon of fertilizer solution, use half as much concentrate as is called for. No matter when your tomatoes mature, they will be sweeter and more flavorful than any at the grocery store!
Daryle Thomas, of East Wallingford, Vt., is a volunteer with the University of Vermont Master Gardener program. Daryle writes regularly on gardening topics and woodheating for our journal.