Moxie Gardener

Snow Peas sprouted and ready to plant. Not bad for seeds that are seven years old.

One of my earliest memories is of picking fresh peas out in the garden, then removing them from the pod and eating them raw.

Those were the traditional English Garden peas that my mother grew. I’ve never grown English peas; I choose to use the space to grow Oriental Snow Peas or Sugar Snap Peas.

This past winter while organizing and purging my seed collection, I came across two packages of peas—one each of Snow and Sugar Snap. I had written on the package that they were collected from my garden in 2002, which was the last year I had a large vegetable garden, due to injury and illness.

Being a thrifty gardener, I didn’t want to throw them away. I put them in a sprouter designed to grow alfalfa or other small sprouts for the kitchen. As you can see by the above photo, within a couple days they had sprouted.

Only ten Snow pea seeds sprouted and all but one have broken ground in the garden. As for the Sugar Snap peas, only eight sprouted and so far one or two have broken ground.

Pisum sativum var. macrocarpon, or Snow peas, have been found in both Chinese and Egyptian archaeological sites dating to 12,000 years ago. It is thought that the name derives from the whitish tint reflected from the pods in sunlight or the fact that they often grow on through late season snowfalls.

Peas aren’t fussy about what type of soil they grow in, as long as it is well-drained; pea seeds will rot if planted in soil that doesn’t drain well.

Plant peas in very early spring as soon as the soil can be worked. Plant about two inches apart and about an inch deep. When about two inches high, thin to stand three to four inches apart.

Provide a trelis for your Snow or Sugar Snap peas to climb. They’ll grow much taller than their English garden pea counterpart.

Peas are a legume and like all legumes, they fix nitrogen in the soil. What does this mean for your garden? The plants take nitrogen from the air (like magic) and exude it through their roots, thereby “fixing” it into the soil. This is most beneficial for crops that like a lot of nitrogen, such as greens or corn.

Peas stop producing when hot summer weather arrives so they are a perfect crop for succession planting. In my garden this year, corn will be planted right next to the fence where the peas will be climbing; they’ll stay out of the way of each other because the corn won’t have grown large enough to crowd the peas before the peas are finished producing.

One important thing to remember about peas: after they stop producing when hot weather arrives, cut the vines off at ground level and leave the roots in the ground. They’ll continue to decay and add nitrogen to the soil.

I’m sure I’ll only get a couple meals from my dozen or so pea vines this year, but they’ll also produce seeds for planting next year.

My research reveals that the new growth at the tips of pea vines is often cut and stir fried like a vegetable in Oriental dishes. I’ll definitely be trying this as a new spring vegetable this year.

Some of my collection of garden seeds, including many empty packages.

I’m a frugal gardener.  I don’t throw away seeds. I don’t even throw away the empty seed packages.  I keep seeds and plant them every year until they’re all gone.  Eventually, no seeds germinate.

At one point I had all of my seeds labeled and filed in a large index-card box (remember before PCs?).  I’ve slacked off in recent years and now my seeds are piled in a wicker basket and the index-card box is full of old seeds.

I admit it.  I’ve been lazy.

After documenting part of my disarray of seeds in the accompanying photo, I’m committed to organizing my collection of seeds and purging any that are no longer viable.

Here’s my plan.

First, I’ll sort through all the packages and separate those that are empty from those that contain seeds.

Next, I’ll determine which seeds are relatively new and likely to germinate.  I will conduct germination tests on seeds which I believe are too old to germinate.  (More about that below.)

Finally, I’ll re-file my seeds in my large index-card box.  I have stiff cardboard dividers and have divided my seeds into seven areas:

1. Annual flowers.
2. Perennial flowers.
3. Annual herbs.
4. Perennial herbs.
5. Cool weather vegetables.  (Plant primarily in Spring.)
6. Hot weather vegetables.  (Plant primarily in late Spring to early Summer.)
7. Other.

I find this division helps whether I’m planting seeds outside in the garden or starting them indoors.

To conduct a germination test, count out ten seeds.  Fold a plain white paper towel in half and then in half again.  Open up the last fold.  Dampen the towel slightly using a spray bottle.  Sprinkle the ten seeds onto one side of the folded paper towel and cover with the other side.  Insert into a plastic zip sandwich bag.

Don’t forget to label with variety, days to expected germination, and the current date.  Check daily and spray lightly with water if the towel starts to dry out before the seeds are expected to germinate.

I usually give seeds three to four days past the time they are expected to sprout, just in case.  At this time, open up the folded paper towel and count the number of seeds that have sprouted.  Multiply by ten, and this is your expected germination rate for the entire package of seeds.  If only 50% of the seeds have germinated, you’ll know to plant more seeds.

The growing season is too short to waste time and garden space waiting for seeds that will never germinate.  Test them and you’ll know what to expect.

I’m off to organize and test my seeds.

Pansies come in a wide range of colors, but varieties with blue, purple, and/or yellow flowers are the most fragrant.

It’s time to start pansy seeds so they’ll be ready to set out when the weather breaks.  It seems early, but it takes twelve weeks from the time they’re sown for pansies to be ready to plant out in the spring flower garden.

Pansies love cool weather and are one of the first annual flowers to bloom in spring.  Known by the Latin name Viola x wittrockiana, pansies were developed in nineteenth century England by crossing several different varieties of violas.

Pansy seeds need cool soil temperatures and complete darkness in order to germinate.  Cover soil with black plastic and remove as soon as plants emerge.  Grow under lights with nighttime temperatures in the forties and daytime temperatures in the sixties.

Whether you grow your own or purchase plants at the nursery, plant pansy transplants about eight to twelve inches apart in rich, loose soil.  Fertilize well.

Here in Minneapolis we can start planting pansies outside in about the middle of April.  As long as the weather doesn’t drop into the mid twenties or lower, pansies can handle a little frost.

Pansies aren’t really bothered by pests or diseases.  They grow about nine inches high and spread out the same width, and are available in a wide variety of colors, including two and three color combinations.

Unfortunately, pansies fade out and die off when hot summer weather arrives.  I’ve kept a container of pansies from fading in the heat by keeping it in partial shade.  It only lasted through June, though.  Once July and the really hot summer weather arrived they faded fast, despite my vigilant deadheading and copious watering.

Their flowers are edible and are often tossed into salads along with tender spring greens.  Another culinary use for pansy flowers is as cake decorations.  Just brush with slightly beaten egg white and sprinkle thoroughly with superfine granulated sugar.  Set on a rack and allow to air dry for a few hours.  Store in cookie tins with wax paper between layers.

Plant a mass of pansies near your home’s entrance or patio.  They emit a perfume-like aroma which is most noticeable at dawn and dusk.

These garlic chive seedlings have been growing too far from the fluorescent lights and have become "spindly" and "leggy."

Garden plants overwintering inside, along with seedlings we’ve started to get a jump on the growing season, need much more light indoors than we realize.  Garden plants, especially those that require full sun outside in the garden, need direct artificial light in order for them to grow well inside.  Seedlings need direct artificial light only a few inches above their tops or they will grow spindly and get leggy.  We want short, stocky plants with strong stems.

In contrast, “houseplants,” virtually without exception, are plants that grow in the shade of a canopy of trees in their natural jungle habitat.  Their natural requirement for less light is the reason we can grow houseplants so well without additional artificial light.

What is the best way to provide adequate light for our overwintering garden plants and seedlings we’re starting indoors to get a jump on the growing season?

If you have south-facing windows with a sill wide enough to accommodate a pot, your seedlings or overwintering garden plants will grow fairly well with this level of light.  However, the short days of the winter months will rob the plants of some vigor.

To insure that your plants growing on the windowsill get enough natural daylight, set them on the sill directly next to the window pane and insure that no curtain, shade, or blind is between the window glass and the plants.  A window with western exposure will give you slightly less vigorous growth than a window with southern exposure.

For exceptional results overwintering garden plants and/or starting seeds for your spring garden, grow them under fluorescent lights.  You will get the best results from fluorescent bulbs that indicate they contain the full light spectrum and emit light similar to natural sunlight.  Please note that these are not “grow” lights; they are full spectrum fluorescent lights.

For best results, place the plants so their tops are only a few inches from the lights.  It is imperative that you find a way to raise the level of the lights as the plants grow to maintain their robust, straight-up growth.  Make sure to turn the plants frequently to insure even growth.

Of course, the ideal way to overwinter garden plants and start seeds for the garden is in a greenhouse.  Some day I hope to be lucky enough to have one of those.

Until then, fluorescent shop lights are the way to go.

Seed catalogs arrive earlier every year--no complaints.

A couple of seed catalogs came in the mail yesterday and another one came today.  I dug out the ones that arrived last week.  It seems to me that seed catalogs are arriving earlier than ever.

Seed catalogs used to come in January—something to look forward to after the holidays during the long, cold, dark days of winter.

I love seed catalogs.  They’re full of pictures and descriptions of seeds and plants, but they’re also full of possibilities.  And hope.  Hope is what gardeners need when the ground is frozen and the garden is covered with snow.

Seed catalogs have seen me through January, February and March with a minimum of “green thumb” withdrawal.  Before the Internet, they were the best source for information on growing plants, not to mention the place to find out about new varieties and their cultivation.

I’m glad seed companies continue to produce seed catalogs.  As much as I love the online environment, there’s something about the physical pages of seed catalogs that I find comforting.  I can write notes on the pages and compare offerings from several companies at once.

I know, I know, you can do all that online.  It’s not the same.  I can curl up with a catalog or two; much as I’ve tried, “curling up” with my laptop just isn’t happening.

Forgive my “low tech” comforts.

Garlic Chive seedlings satisfy my need to grow something this winter.

There is no winter garden in Minneapolis.  Nothing that is actually growing, anyway.  The ground is frozen solid, covered with several inches of snow and probably will be for another three months.

In fall when the days get shorter, I always mourn the end of the gardening season.  Somehow, I find myself going through the phases of grief, grieving for the loss of the actively growing landscape.

After the steamy nights of summer, the cool nights of fall are a shock.  Then, the warm days of fall lull me into a false sense of security.  Winter will not come this year.  Or if it does, it will be mild, mild, mild.  A severe state of “cold-weather denial,” plain and simple.

Each morning I ask for one more frost-free day.  So many crops near maturity.  Just a few more anomalous summer-like fall days.  I promise to be good, if only we have a few more hot, sunny days.

As the autumn cool-weather crops come into their peak of flavor, I feel a little guilty about wanting hot summer weather to continue.  Honestly, are we not sick of zucchini and eggplant?

When the first frost hits, I always feel a little anger at the loss of so many flowers everywhere in the city.  Why can’t their owners cover them?  We could enjoy them for a few more weeks of warm autumn days, if only they’d been protected from that early frost….

As the falling leaves pile up in my garden and make their presence known with my every movement, I feel a sense of unhappiness, even depression, at the loss of my garden.  The lush vibrancy it had this summer is no more.

Depression gives way to resignation as I realize that even the cool weather crops have stopped actively growing.

Finally, I accept the end of this year’s gardening season, but only after the ground freezes solid and snow covers my garden.

For the next three to four months, all growing is done indoors, preferably under lights.  This year the houseplants and overwintering Rosemary and parsley weren’t enough.  I planted seeds.  Garlic chive seeds, gathered from my garden in September.

They’ve already germinated and are doing quite nicely under my fluorescent lights.  I expect to snip off enough to sprinkle on a salad or soup in about two or three weeks.

I grow food because I can’t not grow food.  Even in December in Minneapolis.