From my experience this past year, Rainbow Swiss Chard seems to be quite a versatile plant. It can take summer heat, as well as winter temps in zone 6a. I can’t think of many plants that can grow inside an unheated greenhouse in both summer and winter. In summer, temps in the greenhouse can reach well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. In winter, I kept the plants inside a cold frame inside the greenhouse (2 layers of protection), so lets assume temps as low as 20 degrees Fahrenheit at times.
Pictured here are Rainbow Swiss Chard plants harvested from the greenhouse on January 20th, 2021. The only issue is we just don’t eat as much Swiss Chard as lettuces and other salad greens. In that case, I probably won’t grow as much Swiss Chard going forward and I’ll look for other vegetable plants that can withstand similar temperature extremes, which we do eat often. Any suggestions?
I decided to harvest entire plants, instead of the cut-and-come-again method, which works well with Swiss Chard, because the plants were being heavily invaded by aphids. Perhaps I’ll try the Neem oil to see if it is effective on the aphids on the few Chard plants that I did not harvest. Either way, it is time for a fresh start. I’ll probably sow Broadleaf Endive seeds (member of the Chicory family) in this cold frame shortly and they should come up beautifully by March.
I feel like lumber is way overpriced and I hear there are shortages too. I’m not against big box stores, but I’ll avoid them if I can. Either way, I just didn’t feel like driving to Lowe’s or Home Depot. The woods behind our house seem to be nearing the end of the “Stem Exclusion” stage of forest succession. In this stage, resources, such as sunlight, become limited for certain tree species like Eastern Red Cedar (Juniperus virginiana), which were some of the first tree species to appear in the early stages of forest succession.
Most of the Red Cedar in these woods are now dead because they were shaded out by larger tree species like Northern Red Oak (Quercus rubra) and Black Cherry (Prunus serotina). Some of the Cedar-skeletons are still standing; others have been blown over by wind. I have mixed feelings about harvesting the cedar trunks from these woods. On one hand they make a nice natural looking raised bed that will help feed our family. On the other hand, I am removing material from these woods that is essential to the detritus food web, even if just several pieces.
As vegetation goes dormant during the colder and darker months in the Northeast, the marsh takes on a simpler, yet mysterious form, still teeming with life. Northern Pintail duck, Mallard, Wood duck, and billions of aquatic life forms are abuzz in this water-world. When you look out onto the marsh, the world comes to a halt with sky above and sky reflected below.
I painted this watercolor in January 2020. A typical northeast gray winter afternoon. The sun is shrouded in thick clouds. In January this place is very quiet and solitude is possible. In the spring, summer, and fall – get your socializing hat on.
I often get excited about the idea of planting trees near my home. Trees that will grow to become old, gnarled giants – beautiful sentient beings that amaze us. Then, a selfish reminder sets in. I will not be around to witness the transformation; my lignin endowed friends and I live on different timescales.
But wait. I can still plant things and watch them grow to large proportions in my lifetime! Trees, such as water loving willow species grow rapidly and reach mature size in just 15 years. Shrubs likes Red Osier Dogwood can grow to their maximum size in just a few years. Better yet – tall native perennials like Joe-Pye weed can grow a foot taller than me by its 2nd year of growth.
Still, how many of us have watched a little green Shagbark Hickory sapling spring 120 feet upward and put on fierce slabs of gnarled bark, pointing every which way? How many of us have planted American Sycamore and hung around long enough to see its smooth gray bark become a rugged mass, adorned with white, brown, and gray-green flakes? In the winter, the Sycamore takes on a ghostly form, as monster’s white tentacles reach out over icy water.
Finally, I come full circle and realize that my initial excitement is valid. Shortsighted are gardeners who plants trees for themselves only. Who am I to prevent air and water purification, food and shelter for living organisms, and many other gifts offered by trees? Plant trees I will – and if the exotic bug doesn’t get them, maybe my grandchildren will have a magical place to swing and climb