Arctic Blast

The sun hangs frozen in the sky and I shiver, even while standing next to the fire.

A trek outdoors is no longer something to look forward to. I hunker down, steeling myself against the weather forecast, as if I were a sailor facing a gale.

Yes, single-digit lows are common to Kansas winters, but not in December. That's January weather. But Kansas weather doesn't look at the list of norms and does what it does when it damn well pleases. So I look at the weather forecast and sigh.

Later today, I will pull back the blankets and sheets, lift the plastic over the low tunnels, pull back more sheets and some row cover to see whether the lettuce has survived the last couple of days. Right now it is just 9 degrees Fahrenheit (that's NINE degrees, and it's not the coldest low in the forecast). I will harvest whatever looks edible, put all of the coverings back and hope for the best.



Golden days of Autumn.

On Tuesday, when the high was in the upper 60s, I harvested kale and collard greens, just in case the visit from Arctic winds put everything into dormant mode until spring (I hope it all comes back, anyway). However, we still had lots of lettuce in the refrigerator, so I covered it all and hoped for the best. Now I'm not so sure that "the best" will mean the lettuce survives. So I will don about 20 pounds of warm clothing and bring the lettuce in.

First, however, I'll head to the post office to pick up a package, then buy a couple of gallons of diesel fuel so my husband can fuel the tractor and get it prepared for possibly pushing snow on Sunday.



Rosemary Gladstar, herbalism guru, giving one of several presentations at the
Mother Earth News Fair in Lawrence, Kansas.

Tomorrow morning, we'll head into Lawrence to check out the Christmas parade, which features decorated, horse drawn modes of transportation and nothing else. The temperature will likely be in the single digits, even by 11 a.m., since the high is forecast at 19 for the day (18 today). So we'll be in our insulated overalls, heavy work coats and MuckMaster boots, with various clothing layers underneath to watch the parade, IF they don't call it on account of cold.

I've been absent here for some time. Summer got extra busy in August, with a flood of green beans and tomatoes, along with my starting the Extension Master Gardeners program. No homework, but a full day away from the farm from mid-August through mid-November. And Other Things. But I am here today, with a few photos from my absent time.

St. John's Wort covered in frozen dew in late November. This herb is trying to take over the nursery bed where I started it.
I am taking that into consideration while trying determine where to transplant it to.

Solar Powered Food

It's been a busy summer. I won't make any excuses or apologies for being gone from here for so long.
It's been a busy summer. (Did I say that already?)

A couple of months ago or more, I promised the readers of my newspaper column, The Gardener's Corner, more information and photos of the solar powered dehydrator that my husband built at a workshop last fall.

So here it is at last. The dehydrator is approximately 4 feet by 4 feet and contains four trays made of wood frames and a stainless steel mesh. Don't use aluminum or non-food grade plastic screens, since the food lays directly on the mesh/screen. The wood on the lid and screens is finished with food beeswax and natural linseed oil (not the stuff at the hardware store with lots of toxic things in it).

The lid has an aluminum metal plate painted black and is topped with clear, corrugated green house plastic. The metal is on the bottom of the lid and the plastic is on top, leaving air space between them. The black-painted metal allows the dehydrator to heat up, but does not expose the food to direct sunlight, preserving more of the nutrients and flavor. The screens sit on a frame of 2x4s. On the bottom of that frame is corrugated metal roofing. While the openings at each end of the corrugated plastic on top are blocked to prevent heat from escaping, the ends of the metal bottom are left open to promote air flow and prevent moisture build-up.

My husband built the stand on his own and added hinges to the top of the lid and a handle for lifting the lid. We use a length of 2x2 to prop the lid open for when we load and unload the dehydrator. Here it is loaded with tomatoes and eggplants. The dehydrator is set at an angle to better capture the sun's rays. Wheels would make this much easier to move, but new ones were expensive and we haven't been to the salvage yard yet. Wheels off of a lawn mower would work well here.

Because the trays can be removed, cleanup is quite easy.

I was really eager to get started drying tomatoes in late July. I had planned to dehydrate many of them and had planted Black Plum Tomatoes specifically for drying. They have a lovely dark color and are small, pear- to oval-shaped. See how lovely they are?

 The Black Plums turned out to be too pulpy for dehydrating, but they are the best tomatoes for roasting that I have ever tasted. So, the larger Amish Paste Tomatoes were the main ones for the dryer.

It took several tries to get a good batch of dried tomatoes. The mostly sunny days that the National Weather Service forecast for my first batch turned out to bet mostly NOT sunny. You kind of need sun to make a solar dehydrator work. Most of those tomatoes got moldy. Another batch also got moldy, in spite of considerable sunshine. The dehydrator was next to and facing a large area covered with a couple of feet of chipped wood. We figured that the wood made the area too humid and that mold spores blew into the dehydrator from the wood. After moving the contraption, we had more success with the tomatoes. They are quite wet and take at least two very sunny days to fully dry. So we left them in for at least part of a third day, or finished drying them in our little electric dehydrator after the second day.

Be sure to turn the tomatoes at the end of the first day, or they will be plastered to the screens and difficult to remove when fully dry.

Eggplant slices were quite easy. They took less than two full days to become crunchy dry. I like them crunchy, my husband likes them still a bit leathery. Tomatoes are leathery when properly dried; if crunchy, they are too dry.

From left and clockwise on plate, dehydrated tomatoes, plums and eggplant. Pretty much any vegetable or fruit can be dried.

We had a tree full of Stanley plums this year. At first we thought they were so-so in flavor, then they got a bit riper and we started to like them. But we also decided to dry some. After drying our first batch, we decided to dry all of the rest of them. I've been buying expensive figs for snacking, and the plums are every bit as good as those.

You can dehydrate pretty much any food. Dehydrated food takes up much less storage space than wet stuff. Dried foods should be kept in air-tight containers. We use canning jars with lids. For longer storage and better preservation of color and nutrients, store dehydrated foods in the freezer. Since we did not fully dry down our plums, they are in jars in the freezer. The tomatoes and eggplant are on a shelf. It's best to protect from light.

To dehydrate tomatoes: Core and cut off bad spots then plunge into boiling water for one minute (or steam for 3 to 4 minutes, don't steam more than a single layer at a time). Cool slightly and slip off skins. Cut larger tomatoes into quarters or smaller pieces; halve small tomatoes. Lay on drying racks and turn halfway through the drying process.

To dry eggplants: Cut off stem and blossom ends and cut out bad spots. Slice about a quarter inch thick or slightly thicker. The long Asian eggplant we cut on a diagonal to get larger pieces. Because we like to eat them as crunchy snacks, I toss them with a wheat-free soy sauce before putting them in a shallow glass baking dish. If you are going to rehydrate for cooking, skip the soy sauce toss. Bake at 350 degrees F. for 15-20 minutes (depending on how deep they are in the dish). Cool and place on drying racks. Never layer anything more than a single layer deep on drying racks and try to avoid having things touching.

To dry plums: Wash. Cut off bad spots. Halve and remove stones. Lay on drying racks.

Almost anything can be dehydrated. Vegetables generally need blanching, while fruits need no heat treatment. However, it is recommended to dip some fruits (apples, pears) in lemon juice or ascorbic acid to prevent discoloration. If you don't care whether they brown, skip that. Numerous books and online sites will give you particulars about dehydrating various foods. Even meats can be dehydrated -- but I'm not going there.

Enjoy!

Stinging

 

Paper wasps favor eaves of buildings and the tops of exterior door frames for nest sites. These black paper wasps built
their home in the corner of a garage door and don't seem disturbed when we open it. They can stay. It was wasp like these
black ones that nailed my hand recently.

A couple of weeks ago, while deadheading a yellow flag iris that had shriveled up long before, a paper wasp stung the back of my hand. I assumed that I had squeezed it or something, until I saw the nest hanging among the foliage of the nearby honeysuckle vine.

The nest got knocked down, since the honeysuckle badly needs to be pruned. Paper wasps generally don't rebuild in the same spot. And they are welcome to rebuild in a more convenient place. I frequently see paper wasps cruising through the collards and other garden plants (my husband likened them to Blackhawk helicopters) searching for juicy lepitoptera (moth and butterfly) larvae.

The adult wasps don't eat the larvae themselves, as they feed on flower nectar, but they feed them to their own babies. Here is an interesting video of paper wasps, including footage of them shredding a caterpillar to feed their babies. The fact that they hunt down plant-munching larvae makes them beneficial critters in the garden. I do not begrudge them their ability to defend themselves and their nests.

Even though I frequently work among plants abuzz with hunting wasps and bees of all sorts, I rarely am stung. Accidentally crushing a stinging insect will get you stung, but most of my stings have come when I come too near the nest for comfort. Some bugs are quite testy, while others will suffer a great deal of disturbance before delivering a sting. Much of the time, they will give a warning buzz before going in to do damage.


Cloudy weather kept these ladies close to home in the blackberry bush. Often
these black and yellow striped ones are called yellow jackets. While related,
they are not, however, yellow jackets, but paper wasps.

While pruning the blackberries last week, I found a paper wasp's nest in one of the blackberry plants. They weren't terribly disturbed, I saw the nest before anyone buzzed me, and I'd rattled the plant with some pruning. A few days later I was able to pick berries off the plant and they simply buzzed out, but didn't head toward me. So they're cool. I will take the nest down once it is abandoned for the winter so they don't return next spring.

Wasps, like many native bees, have one dominant female who is generally responsible for at least starting the nest building and laying eggs. Her sisters, or more frequently, her daughters, expand the nest and feed the young. When winter comes, some females overwinter to start their own nests the next spring.

When stung by a wasp, immediately apply vinegar or lemon juice to neutralize the venom. A paste of baking soda works against bee stings, and also helps ease the pain and itching of wasp sting. Here is a link to a number of home remedies for stings.

Look to wasps as your friends in the garden. When they are around, stay calm and treat them with respect to maintain a friendly relationship. However, like all relationships, if you push the other person too far, you'll get stung. So, know the boundaries and keep the vinegar handy.

 

Reptilius Interupt Us

Wait for it... Wait for it...

Encounters with wildlife is a given when you live in the country, especially when you are surrounded by woods. Most wildlife encounters or sightings are benign, or possibly annoying.

However, some can be potentially dangerous.

We live in a clearing surrounded by rocky wooded slopes, meaning that snakes are everywhere. It is particularly prime real estate for woodland snakes, such as the black rat snake, which we encourage, and the rattlesnake and copperhead, which we discourage. For the most part, we've seen the black rat snake most frequently, rarely seeing a copperhead near the house and never seeing a rattlesnake.

This year, however, we've seen few black snakes. I suspect that during last year's drought they migrated to a lower area with water. A few days ago, my husband was standing on one of the large rocks at the bottom of our terraced gardens around the house, sweeping water from the puddles to discourage mosquitoes. As he swung the broom out, a copperhead snake struck at the broom from the grass below, then slid into a cavity beneath the rock. Startled and scared him a bit.


Peeking out of the hidey hole; snare poised; garden hose flooding the hole.

That night he fashioned a snare from an old aluminum tent pole and some telephone wire, planning to capture the snake in the daylight. The following morning, as I went to the garden, I saw its head peering out of the hole, testing the sunlight.

Then began the wait.

My husband sat on a bucket on the stone, the snare poised in front of the snakes head, and waited...

and waited...

and waited...

I watched the hole to see which way the snake moved, whether it went further back into the darkness or started moving out. I snapped a few photos. I answered the phone. I got the binoculars so that I could see it better, as I didn't want to get to close and startle it back under cover with my presence.

But copperheads don't move quickly. If they sense a potential threat they "freeze" rather than sliding away as most other snakes will. They depend on their camouflage, which blends well with a litter of leaves (and the wood mulch on our garden paths). That is why copperhead bites are the most common venomous snake bites in the U.S. People don't see them and may stomp a foot or place a hand near them. And the copperhead's first instinct is to strike, rather than move back.

Setting her free.

However, a copperhead's venom is the least potent of any of Kansas's venomous snakes. Yet it's venom makes the bite quite painful and it can destroy flesh and bone tissue, creating scarring and perhaps causing the loss of use of a limb. They generally inject only a small bit of venom, or none at all, when biting for protection, so sometimes bites do not result in poisoning. However, even a non-venomous bite can create a nasty infection, so medical attention is always recommended.

After about 45 minutes of waiting, the snake moved back in a ways and we decided to try and flush it out with water. We shoved the end of a hose into the hole and turned on the water. The water ran and ran and ran, never running back out the hole. So there must be a deep cavity under the stone. A perfect snake's den. Possibly where our 7-foot black snake hid out when it lived here.

Another hour or so of waiting and the copperhead's patience did not wane. Then it moved to the side of the cavity, just inside the opening and pulled its head further in. Perhaps the cavity was finally filling up a bit.

Then my husband's patience ran out and he stuck the snare inside, finally capturing the snake. we saw her fangs as she tried to protect herself, but she could not strike with the snare closed just behind her head. Into a 5-gallon bucket she went and I popped on the lid.

My husband held the lid tight on the bucket as I drove the car to a spot less than a mile away. We set her free at the creek, where I'm sure she'll find plenty of tasty rodents and a new den. Our woods are rife with copperheads. We know that. They are welcome to stay in the woods. However, if they venture into the gardens or near the house, they will be relocated.

Look closely and you can see a bit of her camouflaged back disappearing in the grass.

I want the black rat snakes back. More than one person has told me that they keep away venomous snakes, for whatever reason. I miss my giant black snake and hope that it is safe and well. I know that some people will swerve to hit snakes that are on the road and I worry about my reptile friends (of which I consider the copperheads one). Shame on those people. Large snakes are quite beneficial, holding down populations of rodents and baby rabbits.

So, that is the end of our reptilian interruption. Back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Oh yes. Hubby blocked the entrance to the cavern. One less snake hideout to worry about.
Just for kicks, here is a link to a slide show about Kansas snakes.

Doddering Along

Dodder, Hellweed, Devil's Guts.

It's freaky.
Frightening even.
I read about it a number of years ago and felt anxious about the prospect of ever finding it in my garden.

A vampire among plants.

It even looks creepy. Jaundiced yellow strings slung across the green growing stuff. My husband likened it to yellow Silly String.

Dodder. (Cue the screeching violins)

Are you recoiling in horror?

Perhaps the name doesn't quite strike terror in your soul, but some of its other names will -- Hellweed, Devil’s Guts, Strangle Tare, Scaldweed.

So, maybe you're not quite quivering in fear, but dodder is not something you want lurking about.

Dodder is a parasitic plant that is capable of very minimal photosynthesis on its own. It gets pretty much all of its food from the plants it attaches to.

Dodder seed sprouts in the soil, sending up yellow tendrils that wave about "feeling" or "sniffing" for a host plant. When it finds one, it sends roots, called "haustoria," into the green flesh of the plant and its connection to the soil withers. Then it becomes completely dependent on the host plant.

Fortunately, many dodder species are somewhat host specific and will not parasitize or "vampirize" every plant it finds. Many species of dodder exist, but I don't have a clue how they tell them apart. You can find out what species of dodder are likely to infest your region here.

Cereal grains, such as these oats, generally will not host dodder.

Grasses and cereal grains tend to be non-hosts, so you can plant these in an area where dodder has appeared to starve it out. Unfortunately, dodder seeds tend to be rather long-lived, spending a decade or more in the soil before sprouting, so once it appears, you need to keep an eye on the area for quite a while to manage any recurrence. The scariest type of dodder is the Japanese dodder, now invading California, which can completely cover fruit trees, particularly citrus.

The sickly looking patch of dodder showed up in an area of black medic, a leguminous "weed" closely related to alfalfa, one of the dodder hosts of main commercial concern. Other legumes, as well as tomatoes and their relatives, are susceptible to dodder. Fortunately, you can get rid of it fairly easily by cutting off the host plant below where the dodder has attached. Then burn it!

I chose to simply kill out the patch of black medic -- kill host plant and dodder with (gasp) herbicide and will let grass move in. I will keep an eye open for any future dodder sprouts and get it before it creates a 4x4-foot patch again. And I'll keep an eye on any other plants to make sure we haven't inadvertently spread dodder seed elsewhere.

While researching dodder, some vague tendril of memory told me that it might have medicinal value. And indeed it does!

However, that did not save its life. The patch is now brown and crispy. A fitting end to a vampire.

 

Gray skies with no rain.

Berry season is slowing down. The black raspberries are nearly finished. They were not as prolific this year as last year, probably because we didn't water them much through last summer's drought and I failed to apply compost in the fall. Many of the floricanes are dying before the berries are fully formed. Not sure why, but that's the way it is. This week I hope to go through and cut out all of the second-year canes (floricanes, or fruiting canes) leaving only this year's growth. Then I will give them a good dose of compost. Later I will dig some of the little suckers and use them to finish out the bed where the black raspberries grow.

However, the blackberries have performed fabulously. Nearly three gallons of berries are in the freezer, and we've had our fill of sweet, juicy blackberries to eat. I've also had my fill of black raspberries, as well as a few extra for the freezer, but not like the blackberries.


Blackberries!!

Last year was the first year the blackberries were in their current location. I had mistakenly planted them in too tight of a space, so I dug them all and moved them to more spacious quarters. We got just a few berries last year, but they are now fully settled in and have amazed us with their prolific nature. Since they are a primocane producing variety -- they flower and fruit on first-year canes as well as second-year canes -- we should get some berries until freezing weather sets in.

In past years, however, when I cut the canes down each spring for primocane production only, the production was sparse. The primocanes start producing about the time summer gets hot and dry here, which tends to dry out and burn up the flowers and baby fruits. So we'll see.

We may need to start watering the berries, too. For the past three weeks, I've been on a daily watering schedule. We've had less than an inch of rain in the past few weeks. The soil has developed large cracks in some areas. Storms have passed us by several times, dropping less than a quarter inch, if anything, each time. We see cloudy skies (such as the top photo) but receive no benefit, except the drop in temperature.

Yesterday I saw the thermometer hit 102 F. Fortunately, we've done the typical Kansas summer thing and the 100-plus-degree temps hit one or two days, then the weather calms down to the low 90s high 80s for a while. Much better than last year, but we've still got the rest of July and August to get through.

Last year, I learned that a regular watering schedule gets the garden through some intense stuff, so I started watering as soon as the forecast indicated stretches of no rain. So things continue to grow, a bit behind schedule because of the weird weather in late spring, and devastation by cutworms and rabbits, but growing nonetheless. We are still harvesting broccoli and greens... and blackberries, of course. A number of the apple trees have fruit on them, as do the pears and plums. Even one peach tree bears a few fruit, which survive two freezes after flowering. So I'm not complaining.

But I'm still watching the skies, hoping for rain.

Grass

Buffalo grass.

I never thought that I'd commit myself to daily weeding of the grass.

No, not weeding grass out of the garden -- weeding weeds out of the grass.

But for the past three years (or is it four?) we've tried to establish a good cover of buffalo grass in certain areas. It has worked only partly. We do have nice patches of it, but that should be large areas of buffalo grass.

I've never paid much attention to "lawns," but I do recognize the need to have some kind of short ground cover in places where you want to entertain, where the grandkids can play, where I walk between house and garden and from garden to fruit trees. Mud and dust aren't that great, and short grass makes less cover for wildlife that you don't really want hanging out at the edge of the garden or real near the house. I don't mind the deer wandering through from time to time, but I don't want them bedding down at the edge of the garden.

So we mow a fairly good size area around the house and gardens. Regular short mowing over the years has caused the brome grass (not native, but a formerly planted hay crop) to weaken and thin. Herbaceous weeds (those that die to the ground each year) have moved in, which makes for not a terribly pleasant "lawn." So we thought we'd plant buffalo grass and let it take over, eventually.



Crabgrass

That has been expensive. Buffalo grass seed is not cheap -- $15 a pound this last batch. We ignored the advice of experts to kill out the competition before we planted. Since buffalo grass is a "warm-season" grass, it greens up and starts growing later than many typical lawn grasses, so the cool season brome takes over and smothers it before it gets growing.

I do not like using chemical herbicides. I more than dislike it, I hate it. However, I resorted to spraying the brome and other cool season weeds this spring before the buffalo grass started growing. This summer, we will lay tarps or similar things over the areas we plan to seed next year (we're taking it a little at a time) to kill most stuff out before next spring. We didn't do that with the areas we planted this year, because they had some fairly decent bits and pieces of buffalo grass we didn't want to kill.

Now the crabgrass has taken off, and we are furiously digging it out to keep it from smothering the buffalo grass.

But, we are making progress.

Aided by early rains, the buffalo grass (in the sunnier areas) has sprouted pretty well. Numerous clumps from previous year's seedings are healthy and sending out above ground runners that take root.

We were warned to be patient, that you don't see much in the first year of your buffalo grass. And so we are seeing some reward from previous years' work and expense.

Why do we want buffalo grass this badly?
It is highly drought tolerant. When conditions are inhospitable, it simply goes dormant. By the end of last summer's heat and drought, the buffalo grass was brown, but it came back this spring when the rain came, unlike some other grasses.
Most important of all, buffalo grass is a short grass (native to the Midwest Plains) reaching only 6 to 8 inches in height. So it needs mowed just once a month, if that.

So now you want a buffalo grass lawn?
First, get rid of whatever is growing there, however you want to do it.
Plant as early as you can during its planting season (starts April 20 here in Northeast Kansas) to take advantage of the natural rainfall. If you don't get much rain, water twice a week until it starts growing well. But don't overwater; it didn't evolve in rainy areas, after all.
Keep down any competition that sprouts.
Don't plant it in shade.
Wait.
If you need to, seed into bare patches.
Wait. It'll happen.
Don't fertilize... much.

Of the dozen or so varieties available, we planted Texoka, because... that's what was available to us through the conservation district.

And, yes, buffalo (more accurately called "bison") apparently did eat buffalo grass when they roamed the Great Plains.