On Pruning a Peach

I spied a solitary bloom on our peach tree in the orchard, and I knew it was time to prune.  Removing branches from fruit trees in the south is typically a fall or winter task.  However, after losing a couple of small peach trees last year from the extreme cold, I erred on the side of caution and waited until the last possible moment to correct the tree’s architecture.  That moment had arrived.    

I scurried inside to review the art of pruning as if the minuscule time I saved meant less sap flowing toward the soon-to-be-removed buds.  Pruning is a commitment, like promising to cook a once-a-year meal for the family.  It is good to refresh the mind on technique. The last thing one wants is regret for years to come from a simple mistake, whether it be a bad cut or a burnt dish.   

I pulled The Holistic Orchard by Michael Phelps off the shelf and flipped through the pages.  Many things I knew. Prune for an open center, check.  Prune out branches that grow back inside the tree, check.  Prune above the bud that you want to grow outward, check.  

It was good to read again how light needs to penetrate into the tree and to imagine how the radiant energy would hit branches.  “Be the bud,” I am told not once but twice.  I chuckled at advice he received from a Vermont farmer in the book, “You done [sic] a good job at pruning if afterward you can take the family cow and fling her between the branches.”  

I don’t have a cow, and I wanted a second perspective. Therefore, I pulled up Dr. Mike Parker’s extension videos on pruning peaches.  I never had Mike for a class, but I considered him a friendly colleague while going through grad school at NC State. Since my tree was a couple years old, I opted to watch the video on pruning two-year old specimens. His discussion on heading cuts and scaffolding was helpful to think about maintaining good architecture.

Back outside, I grabbed my loppers.  My pruners were already in the holster I wear on my belt.  I would need both for the different sized branches.

I pruned the easy twigs first—the thin whips that grew into the center and on the bottom of the branches.  I next set about heading back branches to remove apical dominance and encourage them to strengthen and become more bushy in habit.  Then came the hard part—to reduce the upright growths down to nubs.  I should have pruned them last year, but I’m just so used to encouraging vertical growth in trees that it feels weird to make such cuts. The branches rose a good 10-12 feet up in the sky, and in a moment of, “Here we go,” one swift chop reduced the growth by half to stubs.  I felt like an accomplice to crape murder.  

Hatrack, anyone?

I always feel bad after a harsh pruning.   But, I know it’s better for the fruit tree—to encourage outward growth, an open center, and denser branches that can actually bear the load of the fruit.  And, having a well-pruned peach tree is better for me and my summertime cravings for cobbler.

Another benefit to pruning is the beauty I could bring inside afterwards.  Since I waited so late, the the buds were all primed to burst open.  I went through the clippings and chose the best I could to force indoors.  They have slowly opened over the past week becoming a beautiful sweet pink.  Now, I can’t wait for our trees to start bearing.  

The thinnings of ‘Tropic Beauty’ gain a second life with forcing. These peach blossoms are such a welcome sight after the buds pop open.

Notes from the Patch, November 2020

Just outside our garage—maybe 100 steps to the north—is a garden that we call the patch. It is surrounded by a double fence, mainly to keep out deer, boar, armadillos, and rabbits. This area is hard to just call it a vegetable garden because so much grows inside. Because of its security, I have planted many plants inside, and the patch houses a variety of perennials, cut flowers, carnivorous plants, and propagules. However, the back part is planted mostly with vegetables. I have to admit in the three years that we’ve lived here, this year is the best it has looked and the most productive it has been. I think it’s because the garden is finally settling into its own. I’ve had to take the design through a few iterations, mainly due to some rare flooding that can occur to make sure that the edibles are located out of the inundation zone. But, we are in the final layout where from here on out the bones should all be laid for the pathways and the beds.

Also, I have an organic matter system from collecting leaves on our 2.5 acres as well as bags of leaves sent to the curb in town. (Don’t worry. I always leave some leaves in our yard for my insect friends!) All of that organic matter is funneled to this garden.

But, another reason it looks good is because November is a time my fall vegetable garden reaches its zenith from the little warmth left of summer and the absence of a hard frost yet from winter. We have been delighted from all the produce we’ve harvested so far this winter from it.

I spoke to a group of gardeners with the Huntsville Botanical Garden earlier this week via a webinar about the joys of cool-season gardening, and I took a plethora of pictures of the patch for that presentation. I wanted to share a few of these photos with you so maybe I could even whet your appetite for gardening on the darker side of the calendar.

The front of the vegetable garden in the patch. To the right is the swale, a three-foot wide depression I had to dig to help direct water through the property. It hasn’t really been landscaped much yet beyond the few perennials I’ve stuck there for holding.

A photo from the other side looking toward the neighbors.

I had a challenging time getting peas going. They just collapsed from a fungal disease early on. A later sowing of' ‘Sugar Snap’ didn’t die and now are blooming.

Early issues with peas forced me to buy some additional varieties. Here you see the disease resistant ‘PLS 595’ at the front and ‘PLS 141’ at the back. The broccoli also looks good with a mulch of leaf mold.

A close up of ‘PLS 595’. Even the tendrils are edible!

A much better crop of peas from ‘PLS 595’

Watching videos of Conor Crickmore of Neversink Farm inspired me to try this new approach to trellising peas. PVC T-joints help to support electrical conduit holding nylon twine.

One of Karen’s favorites is Swiss chard (and mine, too!). She enjoys it even better than lettuce in salads! Here the rainbow colors from the ‘Bright Lights’ mix glows warm in the morning.

The always beautiful ‘Ruby King’ cabbage

Carrots, spinach, and kohlrabi are coming right along. I will continue sowing spinach and carrots into January.

And, collards have been fun to pick. I love sautéing them with bacon grease, a little brown sugar, and garlic.

One of my favorite kales! Every time I see ‘Dazzling Blue’ I want to throw up jazz hands. *Jazz hands*

And, there are other plants in the patch like this Cuphea micropetala. The warm-colored petals and blues in the broccoli foliage behind are a nice contrast.

Meeting my Hero, Eliot Coleman

It is said that you should never meet your hero.  I disagree.  

---

This story starts with a book I found in Barnes and Noble back in 2002.  I was 16, and my family and I were shopping in one of the neighboring towns near Memphis, Tennessee. The only reason I know how old I was is because I actually scribbled, “Bought June 2002,” inside the front cover.

I found the gardening section way off in a back corner of the store. Which, let’s be honest, that is usually where that section is stuck.  I was scanning the titles on bindings when near the bottom of a case, four words caught my eye.  The New Organic Grower.  It was written by some guy I’d never heard of named Eliot Coleman.  I remember it being a hefty book, so I pulled it from the shelf and began to scan the pages.  After flipping through it and seeing the incredible detail inside, I thought, “I’ve been looking for this book my whole life."

---

Of course, now that I’m in my thirties I chuckle thinking I had that thought almost 20 years ago. Maybe it went through my mind because I had been gardening for over ten years already from the young age of five? (A fun aside, this summer marks my thirtieth year tending the soil and growing plants in some form or fashion).  My parents worked days, and they dropped us off at my great-grandfather’s house where he and my grandmother (Granny) lived.  Mom called him Granddad since that’s what he was to her, and that name stuck for me, too.

Granddad would inevitably go out and work in his garden, and I looking for something to do would follow him.  The memories are a bit of a haze.  The strongest is me following his Troy-Bilt tiller and smoothing our footsteps out with a rake.  I also remember his strawberry patch where he’d renovate a row every year, and his okra, but I never went near it because Granny said it would itch us.  And, I remember his tomatoes and tomato cages made from concrete reinforcing wire.  One year, when I really got into gardening, he created a small spot for me to grow some things.  I grew a two pound tomato that year.  For me it was no longer just something to do. I was hooked, and it was thanks to him.

Granddad passed away when I was 13.  I remember it being cold and windy standing out in the graveyard.  Granny offered to let me keep working Granddad’s garden.  She knew I loved growing plants, and she probably wanted some company, too.  We didn’t really have a good location at our house. My parents had let me try at home, but the only sunny area was between two black walnut trees.  Now, I know about allelopathy, but then I didn’t know why my home garden struggled so much as a kid.  So, Granddad’s garden became my sandbox for trying out new ideas for growing plants.  

But, with Granddad’s death, my source of knowledge and information about how to garden that I had relied on was gone.  I’ve always had this pursuit of figuring out which way is the best way.  I don’t know if it is genetic or if my parent’s taught me to think that way. I realize now that there can be many “best” ways to approach something.  But, as a kid, I wanted to have the best garden.  I had this idea of gardening in harmony with earth. So, I started reading gardening books. Enter The New Organic Grower.

If you don’t know much about him, Eliot Coleman is considered by many to be one of the top leaders and pioneers for the organic movement in the United States, and The New Organic Grower is a testament to his work. Eliot’s book helped me learn to think as a young horticulturist.  It was the science, wisdom, and experience of good growing, and I loved his approach to trying new things.  The chapter he wrote titled “Pests?” was eye opening and well researched.  He asked the question what if diseases and insects aren’t problems but messengers that something is wrong with plant production?  Eliot also wrote about developing new equipment and technologies like the collinear hoe, a tool I use all the time in my garden, and movable greenhouses. His stories and guidance about how to grow plants in winter astounded me. I never wanted the gardening season to end in Tennessee, and here was a guy growing fresh produce during the winter in Maine!  If he could, I could. I started building cold frames and low tunnels covered with plastic. And, I learned about attention to detail with growing plants, one of his central beliefs a steward of the land should hold and practice and how stacking small benefits he called one percenters could lead to cumulative gains in plant growth.

I read that whole book—probably at least twice—about his experiments and methods at Four Season Farm and carried it with me into the garden so many times that the edges and pages are still smudged with soil.  My parents continued to feed my learning by getting me Eliot’s Four Season Harvest and two long VHS videos of him giving presentations.  We even taped his show Gardening Naturally. I was officially a fan.  

---

I always wanted to go visit Four Season Farm to meet Eliot.  As I rose in the ranks of horticulture, I would occasionally cross paths with someone who knew him or had visited the farm, which made me feel that one day it would be possible to venture north.  

In 2012 when the Perennial Plant Association met in Boston, I realized I could do an overnight trip at the end of the conference up to visit Eliot Coleman’s farm in Maine!  The website stated that he could not promise to be there for visitors. I hedged my bet that in case he was not there the first day I could catch him on the way back.

I left early that Monday morning.  It was a five hour drive north from Boston through some of the most beautiful, midsummer country.  Eventually, I turned back south toward Cape Rosier where the farm was located.  I pulled into the driveway at the Four Season Farm sign.  I was surprised just how close the farm was to the ocean. 

Giddy giddy!

I pulled up and parked at the farm stand surrounded by beautiful perennials.  I spotted Eliot off to the side working with a guy on a bush hog.  At first I was hesitant to speak with him because I did not want to disturb him, but the girl at the farm stand counter told me that he loved to talk with visitors. So, with that knowledge (and the thought, “Dude, you’ve travelled almost 1,000 miles to see this place…”), I ventured over and introduced myself to him and his friend Mark. I said that I didn’t want to interrupt his work, but I was wondering if I could chat with him for a bit.  

He said that he would talk while they fixed the mower.  He asked how I got into this crazy profession while he knelt over the contraption, and I told him about my great-grandfather.  When I told him about me reading his books when I was 16, he said, “Oh, you are definitely crazy.”  Mark said, “Or, a serial killer,” as he shifted his tools.  I laughed, and they did, too.  

Eliot told me his story about growing plants being an adventure that never ends.  He shared with me his passion to learn, which was inspiring, and his love for reading the research journals.  Eliot asked about my research, and I told him about my work on growing substrate and nutrition.  He talked about the soil and said that he used soil blocks to grow plants. He alluded to his reverence for mother nature and discussed how her systems are amazing if we will just let her work.  

His wife Barbara came out at one point, and they stepped aside to have a conversation.  I said goodbye after they were finished and asked for a photo.  He was so welcoming, and it was amazing to me to see how much he reminded me of my own great-grandfather. He invited me to walk around the farm and take photographs. Here’s a few for your enjoyment.

Wouldn’t you want to stop at such a lovely place and purchase your produce?

Inside the Four Season Farm stand is beautiful produce and clear labelling that welcomes customers.

A shot of the production fields at Four Season Farm

Note the tidy spacing between these onion transplants

They even had some cut flowers like Zinnia off to the side

One of Eliot Coleman’s practices is succession sowing. You can see in this image the even progression of crop age from recently sowed on the right to older plants on the left.

One amazing thing I learned from reading Eliot’s books was that greenhouses could be on wheels! The greenhouse in the distance can be moved down the length of this bed on the pipes. So, one greenhouse can now cover more space. Anchors hold the structure down.

Where this house currently sits are crops that like warmer weather like cucumbers. After these crops peter out, this greenhouse on wheels can be moved further down the field to cover late season crops that need additional protection.

A beautiful planting of leeks

In The New Organic Grower, Eliot details how to effectively market your produce. These seasonal salad boxes are recognized by his customers in local stores.

Young lettuce transplants spaced out in the beds.

This greenhouse was one of the permanent structures on the site. The tomatoes and cucumbers look lovely.

I can say from experience that these tomatoes were delicious!

After I walked around the farm, I stopped back by the produce stand and bought a pound of cherry tomatoes for the road and two large ones for breakfast the next morning.  I left, full from marking an item off my bucket list and filling up on delicious delights from his farm.  It was wonderful meeting one of my horticulture heroes and seeing Four Season Farm.  

That trip was eight summers ago. I still practice things I learned from reading his books to this day, and I’m so thankful to have yet another individual in the world of horticulture who is willing to share his time and expertise to inspire us all. So, thank you Eliot Coleman for being a hero and inspiration to so many gardeners, even those of us who were once 16 years old sitting on the floor in a bookstore and green as ever to all that this incredible plant life could hold. I agree, it is certainly an adventure that never ends.

Recipe: German Red Cabbage

We harvested the last of our red cabbages this week.  What has been one of my favorite cool season vegetables for winter color has also become one of my favorite cooked edibles since I learned the recipe for German red cabbage on a trip to Fredericksburg, TX a few years ago.  Cooked down with apple cider vinegar, apples, and cranberries, it adds a tang to meals like sauerkraut and bratwursts as well a sweet tagalong for pork tacos.  Note, it will dye any article of clothing that you wear, so take caution.  And, chopping up red cabbage is a study in art. Cutting one open I feel like I’m starring into a cosmic swirl with the way the leaves are rolled on and around each other.  

Instead of giving you the forty-page history of my life, my wife, my non-existent children, every person I’ve ever met, and everything I’ve ever done or cooked like most cooking websites do before they give you the recipe, I’m just going to give you the recipe. :-)

INGREDIENTS

• 1 4- or 8-quart Crockpot (you can also cook this down in a large pot if needed in a shorter amount of time)

• 2 large red cabbages or 4-5 smaller heads (basically, fill the crockpot)

• One Granny Smith Apple (with skin on)

• 1 cup of apple cider vinegar (adjust based on taste)

• Cranberries (how many ever you like, it’s their time to shine)

• 1/3 to 1/2 cup sugar, to taste (again amount based on size of pot or crock pot)

DIRECTIONS

1. Quarter the cabbage, and slice off the core stem at the bottom.  

2. Chop into small pieces about 1 inch × 1 inch.  Rinse with water and put into crock pot.   

3. Cube the apple except for the core.  I leave the skin on.  Put in crock pot.

4. Pour in apple cider vinegar, the sugar, and the cranberries.  

5. Turn crock pot on high (4 hours), or low if you have more time.  We cook it until everything in the pot is a rich purple color.  You may have to stir the apples in as they will sometimes just sit on top.  

6. Serve and enjoy.  This dish reheats well.  

German red cabbage, a delicious side dish for spring meals.