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On The Wild Side

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Christine Schoenemann (Maccabee)

Garlic: The Queen of My Garden

Have you planted your garlic cloves yet? It’s not too late, but the sooner the better. I must still clean out a tomato bed in order to make room for mine, so don’t feel bad if you haven’t started yet. I do my best to get about fifty of the biggest cloves from this past June’s harvest planted by early October, so they can get roots started before the frost. The roots are essential so the cloves do not rot over winter, at least that is my theory. By the time the snow falls, I usually have at least an inch of lovely green tops sticking up through the mulch.

Don’t worry, garlic cloves can endure the cold winter since they are hardy bulbs, much like our lovely daffodils, jonquils, and crocuses. Indeed, garlic is the queen of my garden as it demands to be planted every autumn no matter how busy I am. Not every gardener likes to grow garlic, but I have spoken to a good many folks who would like to but are not sure how to go about it. Perhaps the following garlic tale will inspire you to try.

Years ago, I lived in the outskirts of Morgantown, West Virginia, where many people had large gardens. On one of my daily hikes from town to home (I did not own a car back then), I took a different route and came upon a sizable field of something wonderfully green. Curious, I knocked on the door of the small cottage next to the field, and an elderly gentleman appeared. Conversation came easily as he gladly shared some tips about growing garlic. Garlic! I never would have guessed, as I was a novice gardener at the time, and so I stood there both amazed and eager to learn.

He told me that the secret to growing garlic successfully is to plant it in early autumn. I cannot remember all he told me, but whatever he said inspired me to try it myself. Over the years, learning through books and my own intuition, I have developed a simple method of planting that I will share with you. I simply loosen the rows with a hoe and then push each clove down into the soil, about one inch, with the tops barely showing, or not at all. I mark the rows so I can then put straw or grass clippings in between the rows, adding a little chicken manure if I have it. Simple.

Garlic is a well-known healing agent, with anti-bacterial and even anti-fungal properties; it may even lower cholesterol levels. If you have goats, add it to their feed if they have worms, and the worms will disappear. I tried that with my goats years ago and it worked! I wonder if it would help cats and dogs? Personally, I love it in just about everything I cook; I sometimes just chew on it raw, and am certain I am healthier for it.

Now, on to another garlic tale for all of you to chew on, lessons to be learned from an older and hopefully wiser woman…

One year, I was truly late in planting all the garlic cloves I had intended to. By mid-October, I had only a fraction of the bed planted. However, stubborn as I am, I became resolved to get the rest in before cold weather. Following the weather patterns, as every gardener does, I knew that several days of rain were coming. Since the weather was still mild, I became determined to plant the rest of the bed before the rain. So, in the dim remnants of daylight that evening, I turned the soil and planted a few dozen cloves, finishing up another dozen with the help of a failing flashlight. Throwing some goat manure and straw between the rows, I hurried inside to cook a late dinner, satisfied that I had done a very good thing. Shortly thereafter, the rain started. Dinner never tasted so satisfying that evening, with garlic in the stew, of course.

For me, garlic is the Queen of my Garden, a prima donna of sorts. She demands to be planted, even if the planting is after dark and with a failing flashlight! Yes, she rules my fall gardening with firm but kind authority. She is a must for all serious gardeners, and the results of your effort and patience will be a jewel in your crown.

Christine is a Master Naturalist in the State of Maryland and welcomes any questions or stories of your own about gardening for food or for wildlife. She can be reached at songbirdschant@gmail.com

 

On The Wild Side

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Misunderstood but Beautiful

Christine Schoenemann (Maccabee)

In a very real way, flowers are a lot like people. Fragile, they are born vulnerable, and if fortunate to receive the proper care, will thrive and bear much goodness. However, many people, like flowers, are misunderstood. Some of us are late bloomers and get cut down while struggling to grow, while others of us may express ourselves in the wrong way, or the wrong place, and are criticized.

True, it is about the world of plants and flowers that I mostly write, but the connection between humans and the natural world being what it is—ever constant and essential—is often times impossible to separate the two. Many of our greatest writers and teachers refer to nature, recognizing the wisdom that is to be gained if we but open our hearts and our minds to it. Many of these people have been misunderstood as well.

Four of my very favorite wildflowers are the lavender bergamot, rarely seen anymore due to mowing; the shy blue chicory; the wild asters, of which I have four species on my property; and the tall rarely seen white and yellow wild sweet clovers (which look nothing like clovers, but are in that family). Both chicory and bergamot are blooming profusely right now here at my Mystic Meadows, and I can never see them enough. The wild bergamot has cross-pollinated with its relative, the gorgeous red monarda, creating two new shades of purple and maroon. I am blown away by their beauty and their usefulness. Standing very still by each large cluster of flowers, which are shoulder high, the hundreds of flowers seem literally in motion with the activity of hummingbird, moths, various butterflies, and bumble bees—large and small. Of course, even a hummingbird cruises by for a nip on the way to its favorite mimosa tree. Sadly, I see very few honey bees this year.

Chicory is the most tenacious wildflower I know. It tends to grow right up against the country roads people drive down in their early morning rush to work or school, gracing our journeys with their joyful blue color, brightening our moods if we but see them. Even when mowed down, they grow right back, undeterred. If permitted, they will bloom right through the summer into fall, providing nectar for bees and, later, essential seeds for small birds like finch. They usually close their blue petals during the heat of the day, and so are seen as ugly by most people as they have tiny leaves and look spindly when their petals are closed. But oh, when the day is cooler and the flowers are open, behold the powdery blue profusion!

Wild asters spend the entire summer growing slowly into tall, elegant plants full of elongated leaves. There are four varieties which I grow throughout my gardens, and the reward for my patience is a glorious, end-of-summer show of tiny, daisy-like flowers, a final burst of white and purple beauty which goes well into the fall. These plants, besides being a welcome source of inspiration for me before the long, cold days of winter, serve as essential nectar and pollen for our bees. Without these wildflowers, the bees could easily starve in their hives. Goldenrod, which I will write about in a sequel to this article, is also significant for bees, and even butterflies, to stave off starvation. It is and has been mostly misunderstood as well.

Many years ago, I was enjoying the beauty of my back road where, unfortunately, the white and yellow wild sweet clovers were growing embarrassingly close to the road. They are somewhat guilty of looking gangly, like some people I know, and were very tall. I knew they would eventually be mowed, so I decided to cut them with more care by myself. So, I went home and came back, laden with an arsenal of cutting tools, only to loose my resolve when I put the blade to their stalks. I thought to myself, What is more important, the flowers or the road? I had observed very few of these particular flowers being permitted to grow anywhere, so I put down my weapons and joined the ranks of the misunderstood. After that day, they moved themselves to a safer place. They now grow, undisturbed, in various spots on my property. Plants come to me that way, and I welcome them with open arms!

I love the late bloomers and the misunderstood ones, be they human or flower. Perhaps our biggest challenge in life is to embrace these ones, to accept them as amazing creations on this miraculous planet, which is full to bursting with diversity. I leave you with an ancient Indian quotation I love that reflects the awesomeness of it all: “Flowers are the footprints of the dancing steps of God.”

Now, off I go to enjoy the rest of this glorious summer!

Christine is a Master Naturalist in the State of Maryland. She welcomes any questions and feedback at songbirdschant@gmail.org.