Skip to main content

Herbal challenges

The thought of an orderly, scented kitchen garden like I've seen at The Huntington Gardens or in books is so appealing. 

Ranks of herbs -- thyme, oregano, basil and parsley -- lining neat pathways in easy reach for cutting. A garden right outside the kitchen when you need a pinch of marjoram for a sauce . . .

At Fink Farms, it never works out like that.  Unruly bunches of herbs grow into each other, or bolt or shrivel in the sun without water.  When we first started the farm, we were growing herbs in the main garden with the tomatoes, and beans and lettuce greens.

I decided to set up a separate herb area along the cinder block wall, first because of squabbles about what should go where between the then-three partners and, secondly, because I'd read that herbs like adverse conditions.  Since we were composting up the main garden, I thought perhaps the herbs would do better in less rich ground.

There were problems with that thinking:
  • There probably isn't enough time left in my lifetime to turn the denatured, suburban dirt in the garden plot into "rich" soil.
  • Outside the garden plot, there is only hard, denatured, suburban dirt. That's several steps past "adverse conditions." It comes nowhere near a virgin Italian hillside where the goats roam free and fertilize the soil.
  • Taking the herbs out of the main garden plot means taking them away from water.  Our watering system is a long, maze-like trail of soaker hoses that lead from a single faucet and a timer to keep us legal with the L.A. Department of Water and Power. It's hard enough to keep water flowing to the end of the soaker hoses, which spring leaks or get caked with mud. Without the hoses, someone has to carry watering cans of water to the herbs. Regularly. It doesn't happen.
So, it's survival of the fittest . . . or survival by accident.  By the cinderblock wall, thyme struggles, although the rosemary bush a yard or so to the south thrives. (Of course, the rosemary bush is planted over a dead cat . . . ) The mint in a huge pot died in the heat and drought. The oregano growing at the shady threshold of the door into the garage is doing well. The dill has survived a take-over by the volunteer butternut squash plant, but it's bolted into flower. Three types of basil have survived, maybe because of shade from the butternut squash plant.

The bottomline is that we have enough basil and oregano to dry.  Enough to replenish the stock in our two kitchens.  (To dry, we bundle into small bunches, rinse in the sink and let the moisture dry off. Then we put the bunches into paper lunch bags, staple the top of the bag and the dangling strings closed.  We hang the bags in a dry place for 10 days.  When the herbs are dry, we can rub them off the stems into the paper bag and toss the tied stems into the compost heap. We can put the leaves into jars for use as needed.)

We watered the thyme well today, and trimmed back the flowering tops.  Hopefully in a couple of days with some additional water, the thyme will come back and we can dry more that as well.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Know Your Soil For Best Garden Results

I've always taken soil for granted. It was there. You put seeds into it. You put water on it. Plants grow and produce flowers, fruit or vegetables. Gayle Weinstein, author of Xeriscape Handbook; A How-To Guide to Natural, Resource-Wise Gardening , takes a different view: “Soil . . . acts as a highway between life and death, land and atmosphere, plants and animals.” It stores water, air and nutrients and makes it possible for an exchange of elements and chemical reactions to occur, she adds. She describes soil as being animal, vegetable and mineral combined. Here are six tests Gayle recommends for getting to know your soil. Grab a shovel and a quart jar. Dig up two cups of dry soil two-to-six inches deep from the areas you want to test. Gather a glass of water, dish washing detergent and paper towels. A soil pH kit, a meter or litmus paper will be needed for the final test.

Order in the Garden

The first year that Fink Farm was in operation, we devoured Mel Bartholomew's Square Foot Gardening .  A 10-foot by 12-foot plot isn't much.  We pegged off one-foot measures on two adjoining sides, and rolled some pebbled pavers into position to give us places to stand amongst our soon to be thriving garden. But then things started spinning out of alignment. For starters, it became clear that running string across the dirt in one-foot increments was going to create one nasty arrangement for digging on any scale at all. All I could envision was a broken ankle from hopping over all that string.

Water saving ollas

When you're saving water, the first step is to get the water where it's needed in the most direct way possible. No sprinkler heads rising like swans in a ballet to spew water 18-inches above the ground, splashing sidewalks and gutters. No sprinklers nodding back and forth sending sprays of water as tall as a child. Nope, it's irrigation dripping directly at the base of a stem or water bubbling at dirt-level. You can't get much more direct than an olla (pronounced oy-ya ). In the irrigation world, an olla is a clay pot, usually with a round bottom and a longish thin neck that is planted in the dirt next to plants that need water.  The dirt is mounded around the pot so that only the end of the neck shows. Water is poured into the opening to fill the buried pot. The clay absorbs water that in turn is absorbed by the dry earth surrounding it.  The plant gets a slow steady supply of water. Because the pot is buried, there's little exposure to the air and evaporatio...