Beware of Weeds Bearing Gifts

alternanthera-pungens

It was such a lovely little ground-hugging plant. I first noticed it growing in the paths between the beds. And, along with its loveliness, it was driving out the Bermuda grass. So, not only did I allow it to grow, but I encouraged it. It was soft, pleasant to walk on and kneel on to work the beds…a gift!

It spread readily throughout the garden that first year. Then, late in the season I went out to do a little weeding and knelt down upon this lovely little plant and…PAIN! It had developed thousands of tiny little stickers that stuck to me, my shoes, my clothes, knees and hands. I had been fooled! The pretty, little seemingly harmless plant was none other than Alternanthera pungens or Creeping Chaffweed aka Khaki Burr Weed! Apparently a problem throughout the known world but unknown at Charamon until the last couple of years.

So here is the lesson, never trust a weed! It may be pretty, it may have a lovely little flower, it may hold the promise of being beneficial. But then, when you least expect it, it will turn on you to become another enemy of the estate.

It is so pervasive now that I’ll probably never be fully rid of it. About the best that can be said is that, along with Nutsedge and Bermuda, it makes pretty good biochar.

The Asparagus Lesson

Most of what one needs to know to grow the luscious, luxurious spears of Asparagus in Texas can be found here. I agree with nearly everything except the use of chemical fertilizers and the advice to contact your county agent about insects and diseases since that person will probably recommend some chemical pesticide. We organic hippie-types believe that healthy vegetables are resistant to insects and diseases.

Growing Asparagus in West Texas (or anywhere else, really) is not easy (especially initially) for several reasons.

First, as you will notice from the site I gave you and the pictures that I graciously provided that one has to do a lot of digging. Do it now, because the older one gets, the more challenging it is to dig the trenches and descend into their depths to plant the crowns. It is, however, excellent exercise.

Second, one needs to properly amend the soil. I used my trusty cement mixer to add compost, Texas Greensand, a few handfuls of bone meal, and some blood meal (some sweat got in there as well). Expend the time and trouble because those plants will be around for the next fifteen to twenty years (unless you fail them in some way…more about that later).

Third, it apparently likes soil that is a little more acid than my alkaline soil and water. I deduced that from the chlorosis (yellowing of the fern-like leaves) that characterized my first planting. So, I work pretty hard (you’ll just have to trust me here) to increase acidity using cottonseed meal and adding Texas Greensand every other year or so. I also inoculate the roots with mychorrizae. We’ve had pretty good results at Charamon Garden but we have also learned some hard lessons.

Fourth: Asparagus likes frequent, deep watering. Our area is semi-arid so having a reliable source of water is crucial because, friends, it don’t rain much here. And here is where I failed last year. Part of the bed didn’t get enough water and the Asparagus, predictably, bit the dust…literally. I had to dig a new trench (short furrow in the picture) and replant.

Fifth: Asparagus requires an investment in time. If you are planning on moving frequently, don’t bother because it takes three years before the first harvest. So, for my new plantings, another three years to full harvesting capacity. I guess I deserve it.

Sixth: Our winters here tend to be on the mild side, but Asparagus likes them cold. My plants don’t die back naturally until winter is nearly over. So, they must be snipped off at ground level by the end of November. This allows one to begin adding compost and other amendments to insure health by March when new sprouts make their appearance.

Seventh: Bermuda grass is the enemy. Don’t let it get into your Asparagus! After it does, it is nearly impossible to control. It stealthily weaves its despicable and evil rhizomes and tendrils through the Asparagus and slooowly begins to CHOKE it! Aauugh! I know because it has tried to infest and possess my Asparagus bed. But I shall PREVAIL by dutifully pulling and digging out all of this foul demon contagion I can during the winter. Be vigilant my friends…be vigilant.

We savor tender, flavorful, fresh Asparagus sufficiently to suffer. The long trench in the picture is to fill the bed which the first planting didn’t quite accomplish. We may be gluttons for punishment, but we are also gluttons for Asparagus.

In the meantime, eat your veggies…Nonnie and Pop said so!

(top photo: Asparagus in the garden at Dirtpatch)

Sad Saga of the Squirrel

Warning! What you are about to read is not meant for small children or adults with weak stomachs.

I collect rainwater. My method is very low-tech…I simply place two 55 gallon drums under the eaves and let the water from our infrequent rains drip off the eaves into the drums. When it comes time to harvest the water, I put a length of hose in the drum and siphon off enough to fill a couple of watering cans. When the level gets below siphon level, I lower a pump into the drum. I have cut holes in the top to accommodate the pump (see pictures).

Collection Drums

After several years of collecting rainwater this way, I learned yesterday (I should have known already) that those holes can also accommodate unwanted guests. We have had a long

Squirrel-sized hole

dry-spell here and, apparently, a parched squirrel decided to slake his thirst from one of the barrels. He got in, but couldn’t get out.

Now I am not a lover of squirrels. Yes, they are cute, but they are also destructive little *%$# beasts. They eat my fruit off my peach, pear and plum trees. They plant pecans in my garden beds (one year I had to uproot 75 seedlings!). They are rodents…yes, “tree rats.” I have threatened to shoot or trap them but never drown them. So, I hate that he had to die in this inhumane way. In a way, however, he got his revenge.

As I began to siphon water from the barrel, I noticed a stench. I didn’t pay too much attention to it until I saw a slick on the water and something floating in the barrel. Oh no, I thought. Something has died in there! and that was indeed the case. I had already filled two water cans and gotten my hands into the mess. I tipped the drum over and, sure enough, out floated Mr. Squirrel, dead and in a disgusting stage of decomposition.

Well, I spent the next twenty minutes in various stages of barfdom. If squirrels have ghosts, it was rolling on the ground with laughter. I approached the back door with my hands in the air like a surgeon getting ready to scrub up and called for the Mrs. to open the door. She let me in, a puzzled expression on her face, and in sign-language, I signaled her to turn on the taps and to squirt a bit of antiseptic soap into my hands. I was finally able to quit gagging enough to tell her what happened. I washed thoroughly and fixed a cup of tea (very therapeutic).

The next step was to deal with corpus squirrelus. So with shovel in hand, I bravely scooped up the remains and resumed gagging. I walked to the garden area, carefully averting my eyes from the contents of the shovel. And, not wanting to lose any organic benefits he might impart to the soil, I buried him in the blackberry bed.

I think I’ve learned my lesson. So, the next step is to cover the tops of the drums with screening that will let the water in but not unwanted visitors, who, like fish – quickly begin to stink.

Later that evening, I told Number One about the ordeal. He is genetically very similar to me and, right on cue, he began gagging in sympathy.

Ordinarily I would end this blog by admonishing you to eat your veggies but somehow that seems inappropriate at this time. So, I will just say: take a lesson from me and keep the critters out of your drums because soggy squirrels set off squeamish syndromes and rotting rodents reduce you to retching responses. Nobody wants that.

Dear USDA, no NAIS!

To Whom It May Concern:
I am a 68-year-old urban farmer in Abilene, Texas. I began our tiny farm (just fruits, vegetables and eggs) because I was concerned about my family’s nutrition. I wanted to grow good fresh food without any additives over which I had no control. I also wanted to be able to purchase milk and meat from small producers who cherish these same values.
Because of weekly trips to the local farmer’s market, I soon learned that others who do not have access to land are also concerned. All of us are disappointed to learn about proposed NAIS regulations which would effectively drive some of these local farmers out of business.
I am aware that the proposed regulations have been motivated by a desire to control disease but I am confident that it will have the opposite effect since people who cannot afford involvement will either quit farming altogether or do so illegally.
Such a regulatory climate favors large corporate factory farms to the great disadvantage of small, family-owned farms. This is decidedly unfair.
Furthermore, many serious food borne illnesses, such as e. coli or salmonella contamination will not be curtailed, because tracking ends when the animal is slaughtered.
Add to all of this the usual confusion and bureaucratic burden that inevitably accompany such programs. Will the hoped-for ends justify the means? I am confident they will not.
I therefore urge the USDA to withdraw the proposed rule to implement portions of the National Animal Identification System, Docket No. APHIS-2007-0096.

Yours sincerely,
Dwight Whitsett
Charamon Garden