Moxie Gardener

Morels found near the Mississippi River in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Morels are the elusive wild mushroom that appears in spring in woodlands from Maine, south to the northern areas of the deep south, west to northern Texas and Oklahoma, and north to Minnesota with a few outposts in the Dakotas.

If you’ve never tasted a morel, it’s hard to understand the earnest obsession morel hunters have with finding these wild delicacies.

Last spring I found one in my yard in the middle of the city. This spring my son developed an obsession with finding them. I’ve seldom seen such singleness of purpose and stick-to-it-ivness. We hunted for the better part of a week and only found three small ones.

Yesterday he took his son and went out along the banks of the Mississippi near St. Paul and found a baker’s dozen. Score!

He took the above picture in situ of a couple morels they found.

My son made pasta with sauce from a jar for the two of them for supper. He snuck a diced-up morel into the sauce and his son pronounced it delicious. Only then was the child informed that the sauce contained morels.

Son of son has since decided that he likes morels.

We’ve decided to dry some of the morels and use them to make a side dish or appetizer to serve on Christmas. We’ve also decided that we’d like to make that a yearly tradition.

And I’ve been informed that this year’s hunt for morels is not yet over.

That’s my boys.

If you're new to the "garden," you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Happy growing!

Last year's kale survived overwintering and is struggling to grow this spring.

Just a quick update on the kale I covered up to overwinter. I wrote about it here and again here. Then I finally conceded defeat in this post.

Was out expanding the garden today (more about that later). I happened to smell cole crops. I investigated a little further, then determined that while the kale plant I took pictures of earlier (see links, above) was indeed dead, there was another, smaller one that most definitely was not. The stems were still purple, and it looked like some new leaves were trying to unfold.

I got out my camera and took the picture above. At first I could really smell the cabbage, but then it became overcome with an onion smell, after I smashed the chives trying to get a close up of the kale.

I just may get an early spring mini-crop of kale from the lone survivor.

About the garden expansion: my son and friend today moved some of the monolithic stones that outlined my vegetable garden plot, thereby increasing its size by about one third.

(Note to all: the garden was pre-formed and outlined with monoliths when I inherited it a couple of summers ago. It hasn’t exactly been an award-winning producer, but I plan to change that this summer, providing I don’t break my arm again. But I digress.)

The garden is larger. Instead of three sides bordered with monolithic stones, there are now only two. One side borders a fence, and the other is wide open to the yard.

One of three kale plants I covered up to overwinter managed to survive into mid April.

The spinach seeds I planted a couple weeks ago in an old twelve gallon crock are germinating.

Lettuce seeds I planted last fall to overwinter came up and survived a late season snowstorm without my covering them.

I poked around the tarragon and found at least one bud at ground level trying to reach through the leaves toward the sunlight. I’ll leave the mulch of dried leaves on it until the nights reliably stay above freezing. I’d hate to have it survive winter, only to die from a late spring freeze.

I imagine the rest of my fall-sown greens will begin to germinate after we get some much needed rain.

Seeds for early spring lettuce planted in fall and overwintered.

Success! As you can see by the photo at right, at least some of the greens seeds I planted last fall are germinating. Those in the picture are a mixture of lettuce seeds.

I love it when a plan comes together.

I should be picking baby greens for salads by the first part of May. That is, if the snowstorm we’re expecting this weekend doesn’t do them in. I’ll have to go out and cover them this evening, after they’ve had a chance to do some growing on this sunny, albeit cold, spring day.

So far, no sign of any other seeds I planted last fall—spinach, purple mizuna, arugula, pak choi, radishes, or green onion. There are some small green onions, but those were already up and growing last fall when I covered the garden.

As for the rows of mesclun and radishes I planted in the flower garden on the south side of the house, no activity there, as well as none in the large crock where I planted spinach seeds. Here’s a link to the post I wrote about that.

While I was examining the ground, I saw some ants scurrying around, doing ant things. Not that I’m in love with insects or anything, it’s just another sign of spring I thought I’d share with you.

The gardening season is finally, finally here in Minnesota.

Rock on!

Overwintered kale plant--white stuff is mold, not snow.

First full day of spring. Garden still frozen solid.

Took rake out and began raking the foot-high pile of leaves off of vegetable garden. Handle of rake broke. Grrrrr.

The kale plant I buried last fall still has some leaves that look alive. Unfortunately, the stem and surrounding ground is full of a healthy layer of white mold (see the picture at right and also this link to a post about it ).

There was a rather strong odor like old cabbage in the area where the kale plant is. I picked a couple of leaves. They were limp, but not “rotten.” I brought them in the house, just in case I got up the courage to cook them.

I finally put them out in the compost pile after I smelled them every time I went into the kitchen. Couldn’t imagine eating them when they smelled so sour.

I have to report that my experiment overwintering a kale plant was a failure. According to my research for this post on growing kale, kale are biennials and should survive the winter. Perhaps I should have uncovered it as soon as the weather warmed to above freezing during the day. I think I’ll try again next winter.

One of the things I love most about gardening is conducting experiments. Some fail, but occasionally I’ll have a huge success. Some of these successes can change the way I garden. Some defy conventional gardening wisdom. Some extend the range of plants I can grow. All are enlightening.

Look for more gardening experiments as the season progresses.

Love, love, love getting my hands dirty.

I did it again. I ran out and planted vegetable seeds in my flower garden because the ground was thawed. It wasn’t even completely thawed, just enough to dig up the top inch and put some seeds in it.

Last year I planted spinach there. I couldn’t find any spinach today when I went out to plant, so I planted a short row of mesclun. Then I added a row of Fire ‘n Ice radishes, then a row of mystery radishes (radish seeds still in the pod, harvested late last summer from my garden, but never processed, labeled or stored correctly).

Back in the house, I started digging out the seed packages that I’d tossed in a general “seed holding” area. Found the spinach. Back outside and planted spinach seeds in an old, cracked, twelve gallon crock.

My vegetable garden, on the other hand, is still completely frozen. It’s covered by at least a foot of leaves. The ground around the garden is still too wet to walk on. Ever see a grown woman cry in frustration because she can’t dig in the dirt?

By next weekend, the ground should be dry enough to walk upon. Then I’ll see exactly what has survived in my vegetable plot under the blanket of leaves. I know the kale did, I wrote about it here.

I confess I dug around a little and found some green onions whose leaves were green, not dead and brown. I’m also wondering if the seeds I planted last fall will germinate. I wrote a post about planting them that you can read here.

Finally, it’s finally time here in the perpetually frozen north to start seeds for tomatoes and peppers. I know the seeds are around here somewhere….

Last summer's kale plant poking out from its winter bed of leaves. (Yes, the white stuff behind it is snow.)

Last fall I covered a two foot tall kale plant with a heap of dried leaves. Above freezing temps for most of last week melted most of our snow cover and today I found the tip of the kale poking out of the leaves.

When its cold and everything’s frozen, it sometimes feels like warm weather will never come. Then you see a living, green plant in the frozen wasteland. Memories of warm spring days and the smell of unfrozen soil rush in to keep hope alive. Only a few more weeks until spring.

It comes to mind every time I look out the window and see snow, ice, and leafless trees. Only a few more weeks until spring.

It becomes the song stuck in my mind, accompanying my inner voice throughout the day. Only a few more weeks until spring.

The words echo in my mind every time I leave the house. Only a few more weeks until spring.

Most of all, every time I have to scrape frost off of my car’s windshield I tell myself: Only a few more weeks until spring.

Seems more like a lifetime.