Archive for the ‘orchard’ Category

Beautiful nuisance

Monday, February 15th, 2010

This afternoon I walked up the road to the neighbors to buy a dozen eggs. It is a lovely day even now that the sun is low; well above freezing with little wind and enough dirt showing through the ice that the road is passable even without my cleats. I was on my way down Rat’s long drive with the eggs tucked securely under my arm when a very pregnant doe burst out from a spruce thicket and nearly gave us both heart attacks. We both made very girly screams, too – deer actually make a lot of noise when they’re not being stealthy.

She was awkward running, her legs splayed out and not neatly tucked under her body as they might have been in another season. Lean everywhere except her abdomen,  she was close enough that I could see lumps of head and rump under her hide when she stretched out to run. I walked home looking at the tracks that in the snowbanks that line the road, wondering if I could pick her’s out from all the rest by their peculiar spacing. There were certainly a lot of hoof prints, and she’ll probably make two more tiny sets in a few weeks.

I’ve been thinking about how to protect the new garden space created when we cut down the trees between the house and the road last fall. There are no real barriers there – no hedges or fence – but the local deer haven’t yet changed their habitual route that skirts where the forest used to be. It would be a good idea to enclose the space with a fence before they notice the shortcut.

The easiest and cheapest way to enclose a random space against most of our local predators is an electric fence. We don’t have woodchucks – not enough cleared land with soil to allow burrows – and rabbits are picked off by raptors before there are enough of them to cause a problem, so this fence will be geared toward deer. A one-wire fence with an A/C energizer should do the trick. Conventional wisdom used to be that baiting the fence worked best – the deer came forward and touched the green apple scented bait cap (and the charged wire) with its nose and learned not to go there. Recent tests show that it is actually more efficient to use repellent on cloth flags hanging from the wire. The deer tend to check the strange item and then to associate the repellent with the shock – making the repellent more useful on unfenced areas too. There have been stories about bears being attracted to the green apple and peanut butter lures, so there’s another reason to go with repellent rather than bait. This fence won’t do anything to a bear.

I use Premiere 1 Supplies for my fencing needs. I’m very happy with the Quick-Net and solar powered battery Kube that protects the lower garden. For this application, though, I’m going with an A/C Kube because I’m close enough to an outlet in the house to run conduit out to the fence. Add in some Intellirope, a variety of insulators for t-posts, trees and stakes, some rope connectors, a few spring gates  and a bag of 20 fiber rods and I’ll have a good chance of bringing lettuce seedlings to maturity. I am enclosing approximately 300 (linear) feet at a cost of @ $200.00. Factoring in the fairly long life expectancy of the equipment (10 years) over the amount of deer repellent, labor and lost productivity and I think this works out to a good deal.  Here’s the work sheet. More pictures to follow as the equipment arrives and is installed!

New work

Tuesday, December 8th, 2009

apricots on a green plate

Apricots on a Green Plate

Small paintings are really hard. I had no idea. I have a feeling I wasn’t a very good painter the last time I tried to go 9 x 12 inches, and with some increase in ability comes the need for enough space to swing the arm from the shoulder – get some muscle into it. I have some plums set up next, on the same size board, so that when I start an 18 x 24 drawing next week it will feel huge.

Last warm day

Friday, October 30th, 2009

It was 34 degrees when I got up this morning, and an October day that starts off above freezing is a treat. So I had a cup of tea, planted strawberries, talked to my neighbor RAT about taking down a stand of trees to make more gardening space and gave him some Pedialyte for his daughter who has the flu. Then I went to Bar Island to look for apples.

Bar Island is connected to the village of Bar Harbor by, well, a bar.  At low tide it is passable by car but is completely covered by water at high tide. Every summer some tourist miscalculates the window of opportunity and has to be rescued before their SUV is swept out to sea in an oil slick. (Or after, in which case there is a hefty fine.)

This is the bar toward Bar Island at dead low tide. There’s actually salt water to either side. Today it was crowded with seagulls and crows eating barnacles and small crabs, as well as tourists.

bar island 1

And here we are, halfway across, with the Crown Princess anchored just inside Sheep Porcupine Island. There are four Porcupines: Sheep, Burnt, Long and Bald. If you’re standing on the town pier and looking out across the harbor, they are “A Sheep Burnt is Long Bald”. Probably true, along with being a nice memnotic.

crown princess

Bar Harbor logged 97 cruise ships from May through October in 2009. The Crown Princess is actually on the petite side, no matter that she could easily be another island in Frenchman Bay. Tomorrow we have the Queen Mary II and that will be the end of them till mid-May 2010. Town will be filled with passengers all weekend, on foot and in tour buses, clutching shopping bags and cell phones, decked out in parkas and wool hats in the 40 degree sunshine. Not that I’m complaining all that much – they spend a great deal of money here and can’t bring their cars.

This is the view down the bar, back toward the village.

bar toward village

I didn’t take home any apples this trip. It was a beautiful day: I saw buffleheads and eiders, heard ravens talking in the woods and the calls of several species of woodpeckers, spoke with many foreign travelers (mostly about apples) and had a wonderful day. There was even enough light to work in the garden when I came home.

These are the only apples I saw on Bar Island today. Little orange crabs on a pale (but still living) tree, they were growing in an abandoned orchard mixed in with cherry, peach and plum trees, all gone to ruin.

crab tree

There’s a certain Slant of light

Tuesday, October 27th, 2009

On Winter Afternoons —

That oppresses,like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes —

Emily Dickenson, #258

Winter is on the way- no matter that I worked outside in the 50 °  sunshine yesterday, with midges floating around my head. I brought in firewood, cut down the elecampne stalks to use as kindling and put boots on all the trees.

Tree boots are a necessity here, where the snow cover is often in place for months at a time and rodents of all sorts tunnel in close to the trunk and damage the soft bark. I use fiberglass window screening – cheap and easily available – and hemp twine that degrades over the course of the winter, softening enough that the tree’s growth will not be impeded if the gardener is tardy with removing it.

I’m habitually behind on my garden work, but this year I found myself with a beautiful day and all the materials to hand. I dug out the bag of screening and found, at the bottom, pieces that I had cut to fit and labeled for future use some years ago. It was funny to hold the screening up to the trunk of say, the Seckel pear, and find it too small by half. I’ve added younger trees to the collection since then so nothing went to waste, but trees – like children- do grow up before you notice.

So I managed all this work in one day instead of having to come inside because my hands are frozen, trying to get it done ahead of the first December snow. In doing so I realized that I have a lot of fruit trees. More than I would have thought and I had no idea I was being casual about the numbers. In an effort to be honest about the extent of my plant fixation, and perhaps stave off buying any more from this year’s Fedco Tree catalogue, here are three tree boots portraits for Winter 2009.

I actually have pictures of all my trees but seriously, overkill. I can list them off though: Red Baron Peach, Belle of George Peach, Clapp Pear, Seckel Pear, Stanley Plum, Blue Permain Apple, 2 Beta Cherries, Russian Crabapple, Westfield-Seek-No-Further Apple, Sargeant Crab, Montmorcery Cherry, un-named apple seedling from Acadia National Park, Black and Pink Crab, Liberty Apple, and a Minnesota 477 apple.

stanley plum 1

Stanley Plum - one of my oldest trees

clapp pear 2

Clapp Pear - yellow, conical fruit

blue permain apple 4

Blue Permain apple, very old variety, hasn't cropped yet

Appling

Thursday, October 22nd, 2009

appling 1One of the great joys of autumn up North is the apple harvest. The “King of the Orchard” is a staple crop here, and the only orchard fruit to bear regularly and abundantly despite spring freezes and cold summer rain. Yesterday my friend Liz and I went to an abandoned homestead on the Douglas Highway on our lunch hour and picked grocery bags of apples: Baldwin, Yellow Transparent, Olive Crab, Winter Greening and a few others that I can’t identify even using “Apples in Maine“. I was picking with the intent of making applesauce so I tried to stay mostly with varieties I could identify. New England was planted all over with cider apples, and they have too much tannin to make a good sauce. Taste the fruit if you’re unfamiliar with the tree – people describe cider apples as “floury” or “dense and dry”. They may not even be particularly sour – it’s the texture that  leads to applesauce with the consistency of library paste. My particular rule of thumb is to only pick from trees within 60 feet of a house. The best “dessert apples”  were  planted where they could be tended and picked with a minimum of effort.

It was probably our last good picking day for a while – 50 degrees and bright sun with hatches of midges and late mosquitoes swirling around our heads. Then I went home and made applesauce. For this recipe you’ll need a food mill. I have a Villaware and I love it.

appling 2Wash your apples if you need to. None of these have been sprayed, and they grow at least a quarter mile from any road so a light rinse will do. Halve them and cut out the stem and blossom ends. I halve them only to check for rot or insect damage.

Leave the skins and seeds for color and flavor. Pile the trimmed fruit into a large pot. Now add the secret ingredient -  2 C of sugar. Adding the sugar now allows it to blend with the finished sauce and, I think, improves the flavor and texture over adding sugar to the finished product. It also increases the liquid content, allowing you to add less water. Then add about 1 C of water mixed with 2 Tbs. lemon juice. Stir to coat the apples. I don’t add any spices at this point, preferring to spice the individual batches as I use them. Put a close fitting lid on the pot and cook at medium high for about 20 minutes, checking periodically to see if you need to add more water.

appling 4The apples are ready when they’ve “exploded”. Turn off the heat and allow the juices to soak in for about half an hour with the pot still covered.

appling 5Dump the apple mixture into your food mill in batches. It would be nice to wait long enough for the apples to cool to room temperature, but by this time it’s always 10:30 p.m. and I have to get on with it. By all means wait till you can comfortably handle the fruit if you have that luxury – it won’t do it any harm and you’ll avoid spatter burns. Crank the mixture through the mill. The Villaware produces a nice smooth sauce, ruddy and thick with the processed apple skins, and only about a cup of waste from a whole pot of apples.

appling 6

Dish yourself a sample of sauce and congratulate yourself on an efficient use of resources. You can put up the rest by canning, but applesauce is a fairly low acid food and prone to contamination. Consult your Blue Book for details or get yourself some real produce freezer bags from the Agway  and  freeze the sauce in meal size packets.

appling 7According to Liz, this is pretty good stuff.

Pruning, part 2

Saturday, September 19th, 2009

Stella Cherry (pie, or sour cherry)

This is an incredibly hardy, but suicidal tree.  Branches grow everywhere – in toward the trunk, across another branch, over and then under another branch – with great abandon. None of the other fruit trees seem hell-bent on smothering themselves with their own growth. This is especially annoying because the deer do a lot of damage to the lower branches – they chew the branch tip down to a random leaf node and the tree grows wildly in whatever direction that happens to be. Don’t let the ruminants do your pruning.

cherry tree before

I followed the rules and cut down the vertical growth, the crossing growth, and trimmed the tree to my personal requirement – I have to be able to pick the fruit without a step ladder – so I cut back the overall height. I also took off the secondary trunk and some of the lower branches that had been habitually damaged by foraging deer. And now, the “after”:

cherry tree after

Much better – I can even get in and clean up the errant strawberries around the trunk. This tree has a very nice caliper. I use white latex paint mixed with Surround CP to keep out borers and discourage pests, and a strip of fabric-backed duct tape coated with TreeGuard to catch the ants.

I’ll bet this tree will have new growth in a week.  Bonus picture of the alpine garden, still unaffected by the recent 35 degree nights.

asters coneflower

Time to prune

Monday, September 14th, 2009

Or rather, past time. We had a tremendous amount of rain during May and June, and into July, and the fruit trees put on new growth to the tune of 2 or 3 feet. Long, delicate branches with bright green leaves that begged for a good haircut, but I just can’t bring myself to prune damp fruit stock. An open wound on damp wood is vulnerable to the same infections as a wound on skin and wet tools spread disease easily from branch to branch and tree to tree.  Then came the drought.

It hasn’t really rained on the island since mid August. The ground is hard, the new growth brittle and undernourished. It’s way past time to relieve the trees of their spring abundance.

I use prune-toolsa small pair of Felco pruners (red handled), a huge, heavy set of loppers , a Fiskars graphite handled pruner and, not in the picture, a Japanese pruning bow saw with tiny, fine teeth that cuts on the pull stroke. It’s perfect for making cuts on branches over 1 and 1/2 inches (too big for the loppers) even over my head. Of course, I try to prune with prevention in mind – I don’t like cutting huge branches off my fruit trees.

So first: remove all the vertical growth. Not really a problem with my Russian crab or the Blue Permaine apple, but an addictive habit of the sour cherry tree. Second: remove all the growth that crosses another branch, or the trunk. Third, repeat until one can throw a cat through the branches.  A live cat. Safely.

Always clean your tools between trees – or even between cuts if working on an isolated infection on a particular tree. I use isopropyl alcohol and a clean rag, and then oil them thoroughly at the end of the session. I carry sanitizing wipes in a plastic bag for emergency cleaning – if I’ve made a mess in the field and can’t return to the hoop house right away.

Here’s the Stanley plum, pruned to an open vase shape. Sadly, I don’t have a “before” picture, but the refuse filled two wheelbarrows. I started the work a week ago, and there is already new growth on the oldest cuts.

prune-plum

Next post – before and after pictures of the sour cherry tree.

Bee post

Monday, April 20th, 2009

One of the recent developments in beekeeping is “box theft”. Most professionals in the pollination business have hundreds of hives in remote locations – because commercial orchards are huge tracts of land and anyway, the whole point of hive location is to keep the bee-ways from intersecting with people movement. Bee commuters and human commuters don’t play well together. Meanwhile, bees are dying and colonies are scarce and ever more valuable. Stealing them is easy, establishing ownership of a particular box of bees is hard. There are complex solutions like dye and DNA typing, but most people brand their woodenware. It’s fast, permanent, and doesn’t bother the inhabitants. I have two hives on an island and am not feeling too threatened, but I do have a brand.

My grandfather, Louis Harrison Barnard, had a dairy farm. The barns burned (twice) and there isn’t much left except some photos and a few items that weren’t flammable. The brand is about three feet long. The handle is a smooth steel rod that has been fashioned into a loop at the top. The business end is attached to a rough rectangle about 8″ long and letters (reversed as type) have been welded to the face. This isn’t the sort of implement that was used on livestock -  I imagine it was burned into the wooden milk cartons and wagon stakes and a lot of other things that went up in the fire.

Last night I made chicken on the barbeque and set the iron in the coals. Then I hauled all my new woodenware out to a gravel area and went to town.

woodenware

Weather post – First day of spring

Friday, March 20th, 2009

Sambuca candensis "Good Barn"

This is not what the garden looks like right now. Today, the max-min thermometer in the (unheated) hoop house registers -7 and 111 degrees. That will have to even out over the coming months to make a fine crop of elderberries. This particular bush is from Fedco, the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners (MOFGA) seed co-op. It’s called “Good Barn” because it’s a descendant of “that good bush down by the barn” at the Nearing homestead. It is disease-free, gives a bountiful crop and the deer don’t seem to like it even enough to nibble at the blossoms, which are beloved by the bees. My only complaint would be that it grew wildly beyond the predicted 6′ tall and wide, and when it hit twice that I had to relocate it from the dooryard (where it’s cool shade was our old dog’s best friend) to the lower garden. Where the Russian crab, below, will be in bloom in a month or two.Russian Crabapple

Also in this picture: horseradish, Chinese forget-me-not, valarian, calendula and day lilies – all the robust volunteers of early spring.

Seize the (warm and windless) day.

Sunday, March 8th, 2009

The Seckel Pear, early March

The Seckel Pear, early March

I had an unexpected afternoon at home today and the temperature hit 45 F, which is an opportunity to spray the fruit trees. Today I used 10 Tbs Bonide’s All Orchard Dormant Oil with about a quarter cup of Crocker’s Fish Oil per gallon, as the trees are still in full dormancy. Crocker’s makes everything stick better (so beware getting it on your work area, hands, sprayer, etc.), provides a little pre-foliar nourishment and discourages the deer. As a person who has a dozen or so fruit trees and is away from home an average of 8 hours,  7 days a week, I can’t tell you how much of an advantage it is to spray dormant oil. It is non-toxic and works by smothering larvae and eggs laid by the previous generation of insect pests last fall. It’s fairly easy to get out to the trees right now (well, I did get cold and wet wading through the hip deep snow in places but at least there were no mosquitoes) and with the branches bare it’s easy to see pruning issues and winter damage.  An early season spray session is a great excuse to get out there and have a conversation with the trees.  And if you have the sort of family that doesn’t mind you mixing up fermented fish concentrate and mentholated oil in the kitchen sink, so much the better.

The Seckel pear tree in the photo is 7 years old and produced about 2 bushels of fruit last summer. That’s a lot of tiny pears. I plant standard trees because on an island in Maine the climate and the soil (what soil?) will themselves keep growth to a minimum. They’re all pruned to 10′ to 12′ feet because I like to be able to prune and pick fruit without a ladder. That Seckel pear could go to 60′ in a nice spot in Connecticut. Here, it produces as many pears as I can use at 10′ – which is a good thing because it’s growing directly under the power lines to the house.

Being away from the house so much each day, I tend to spend every hour possible in the garden when I’m home. In June, that means I can be out until 9 p.m. before gardening is called on account of darkness.

“Bye bye, Muma” my son will say as I head out the door in April.  “See you in October!”.  Sad but true. . .