When It Rains, It Blogs

Black Cherry Tomatoes from the Bird Back 40

I really should be working. No -- really -- I should. It's a Saturday afternoon after a nice morning rainstorm and there's lots to do. I could plant garlic! I could pull weeds! I could clean the cat litter boxes! I could clean out the garage! So much to do. Instead, I blog.

No wonder the cats hate me.

There is one gardening project that I did take care of on this fine weekend day. See those nice cherry tomatoes in the top right corner? Those are Black Cherry tomatoes -- some of the best tasting cherry tomatoes I've ever had. And the thing is -- I didn't plant them this year. Like many tomato plants that spring to life in the spring -- the plant that produced these luscious Black Cherry tomatoes were "volunteers" in the Bird Back 40.

Saving Tomato Seed

I don't normally save tomato seed. I shove my plants so close together in the springtime that there's often a chance of cross-pollination. The tomato "experts" claim that cross-pollination among open-pollinated, heirloom tomato varieties is very rare, except I've seen it happen. And it's taken place right here in the Bird Back 40. Saving seed, therefore, simply isn't an option in my book.

But I made an exception with this particular tomato and if you're asking why, be patient, because I'll get to that in a moment. You see, this was one exceptional Black Cherry tomato plant. It produced golf ball sized cherry tomatoes in some cases -- bigger than most Black Cherry plants normally produce. That's a variety worth saving.

Black Cherry Volunteer Among Melon Vines

Secondly, this volunteer sprang to life in a raised gardening bed that had been reserved for melons, carrots, eggplants, bush beans, beets and a smattering of leftover pepper plants. In other words -- there was nary another tomato plant to be found in this bed. All of the other plants were on the other side of the Bird Back 40, reducing the chances of cross-pollination.

Finally, I'm almost positive that this plant sprang from a cherry tomato that I had put into this raised bed a year earlier. I'll be honest with you. The plant I put into the ground last year was nothing to write home about. It caught some sort of funky disease not long after plant out. And while the disease didn't kill it, it did severely limit production and what came off the vine wasn't all that good to be brutally honest.

Black Cherry Tomatoes Ready for Seed Saving

This is one of the challenges that heirloom growers face. Sometimes you get good tomato. Sometimes you don't. This Black Cherry tomato plant wasn't all that great. However, it was planted next to another heirloom variety that churned out buckets of large tomatoes -- one of my best producers last year. Figure that one out. I still haven't figured out why some plants do well -- while others planted two feet away perform horribly.

When I noticed this Black Cherry plant volunteer growing among the many melon seeds I planted -- I resisted the urge to tear it out. I didn't really spot it until I noticed the first ripened offerings to be honest. And they were pretty darn large and pretty darn good in my opinion. Secondly, the volunteer plant was prolific with production. Why tear out a good thing that Mother Nature rewarded you with? To put it short and sweet, you don't. You roll with what Mother Nature gives you.

Fermenting Tomato Seeds in a Windowsill

It's while I was cleaning out this particular bed last weekend did I first notice the golf ball sized offerings it had produced. I've never seen Black Cherry tomatoes so large before. So, I borrowed a page from the Father of the Modern Tomato, Alexander Livingston. He would often spot what he called "sports" in his tomato plantings. It's from these "sports" where he saved and gathered seed. This is how Livingston helped create the tomato as a major food source. Before Livingston's time, tomato plants were considered to be "ornamentals." They were to be admired as flowers and nothing more.

The process of saving seed to be used next year isn't all that difficult. It's a little messy -- but also a lot of fun. You simply cut the tomatoes open -- squeeze that tomato juice, pulp and seed into a plastic cup and top it off with two to three tablespoons of water. I also cover my cup with plastic and make sure to poke holes in the top so it can breathe. The most important part of the process is placing it in a spot where the cat won't fuck with it.

Bacterial Growth After Fermentation Process

I have many cats who like to fuck with things. It's what cats do. That's why my cup of tomato goop and seeds went on a windowsill in the office that I keep closed off to the cats. There's no temptation there if they can't see it, and the cats choose to chase marauding mockingbirds instead.

This process, by the way, is called fermentation. It's an important part of the saving seed process because the fermentation acts to remove diseases and other problems that can destroy tomato seeds. After five or six days in a windowsill, your cup of tomato goop will be covered with a fine layer of bacterial growth.

Good Seeds Sink to Bottom

Yeah -- it looks like Hell but it's the result you're looking for. After five or six days, you're ready for the next step. Simply remove the bacterial goop that's formed at the top of the cup with a spoon and fill the cup with a little more water. The good seeds that you'll want to save will sink to the bottom and stay there. I like to pour off bits of water because it gets the leftover tomato goop out before the seeds can spill out. After four or five rinses, you have clean tomato seed at the bottom of your cup. Better yet -- there's no more tomato goop.

After pouring off the rest of the water, while using a fat finger to stop the seeds from spilling out, place your freshly cleaned and fermented seeds on a paper plate or better yet -- a paper towel. Spread them out -- separating each seed if possible (easier said than done). Place your paper plate or paper towel containing seeds in a room or a place where marauding cats can't get to it, and in a week to ten days you have tomato seed for the following spring.

Black Cherry Seeds for Next Year's Garden

It means next year's tomato garden WILL have a Black Cherry tomato plant. Better yet -- you can also trade seed with other growers and try out new varieties.

There's a strange satisfaction that comes from saving your own tomato seed. I can't explain it. I can only tell you that it's there. There's a strange sort of pride that develops when you witness the seeds that you saved from the previous year suddenly spring to life the next spring. I can't put my finger on it, except to tell you that it does exist.

I suppose it's another one of those guilty pleasures derived from gardening. Whatever it is, I like it.

So You Wanna Grow MINT, Do Ya?

MINT! Look good? Take me home!

MINT! It's an herb. Not just any herb mind you. No -- mint would have to classified as the Harry Callahan of herb fame. As in, "Go Ahead, Make My Day" fame. As in, "Do You Feel Lucky, Punk?" That starter plant of mint at your local big box store beckons. "Take me home," it whispers softly into your gardening ears. "Plant me with other herbs so I can have friends," it says.

My friends -- I'm here today to tell you this: Don't believe a word. Mint is lying to you. Oh sure -- you can plant mint in a tiny or a big herb garden. Do you know what the result will be exactly one year later? You'll have an herb bed consisting entirely of nothing but bright, green mint. And it will cast a longing eye at that bed you've set aside for tomato plants and other veggies.

Mint Overtakes Raised Gardening Bed-Bird Back 40

"You don't mind if I move right in, do you," mint asks. And before you can say "no," it's too late. Because mint has already moved in and made itself right at home. That cute little starter plant you brought home a year ago from your favorite big box store has turned into a monster that threatens to overwhelm your yard.

And it will.

That's why I was somewhat amused to read the blog posting printed in the Home and Garden section of today's Sacramento Bee. It contained a paragraph of a post from the blogger behind "Chic Little House," where the author revealed plans to plant her first vegetable garden. And the star of that garden? In the author's own words: "Yesterday, I saw mint and peppermint chocolate, I just have to grow both!"

Mint Gone Wild-Bird Back 40

Uh oh...

My friends, I'm here today to tell you this. If you do not control mint, it will control you. I know this from experience. The pictures above and the pictures below are pictures of the current state of the Bird Back 40. There's mint growing out of the walkways around my raised gardening beds. Mint has already invaded one bed. It's threatening to invade another, and will.

Mint will take over an entire garden in no time flat. It's the most invasive herb of any herb found in the herb family. It will take that oregano plant that you planted next to it and drop-kick it into the neighbor's backyard -- and then mint will grow into your neighbor's yard as well. It will choke out anything and everything in its path and keep right on going.

Mint From the Neighbor's Yard

Believe it or not, I know what you're thinking. If I knew mint was this bad and this invasive, why in HADES did I plant it anywhere in the Bird Back 40, especially near my raised gardening beds? That's a good question. The short answer is I didn't. My neighbor did. And before he knew it -- it took over the small patch he'd set aside for gardening, grew right underneath the fence and right into my backyard.

Thank you neighbor. That's mighty neighborly of you.

Evil, EVIL, Mint!

Once mint gets a foothold? It's nearly impossible to stop. The mint you see pictured here has an upcoming date with Roundup herbicide. It's either that -- or a blowtorch. And a blowtorch will just set my raised gardening beds on fire. Not a good idea.

As for the mint now slowly advancing through one of the raised beds -- that's even tougher. I'll be forced to remove every last inch of gardening soil, dig down into the clay below and eradicate every last mint root runner that I can find. I will get most of them. Unfortunately, I will not get all of them. The Roundup herbicide it will soon be soaked with will knock it down, but it won't knock it out.

The Monster in a Raised Bed for Tomato Plants

Mint is one tough customer.

So my friends -- please do me this little favor. Either don't listen to that starter plant of mint whispering to you from the garden area of your big box store -- or buy yourself a pot with small draining holes only and plant your mint there. If you make the mistake of placing this pot on the soil -- the mint roots will eventually grow right into the soil and you've released the monster.

Better keep that pot on concrete instead.

Sorry Kid -- Better Luck Next Time!

Return of the V for Venus Planter Bed

Welcome friends -- to another outdoor adventure in the Bird Back 40! I'm jazzed! It's raining outside! The Back 40 is one big pile of mud! Why am I so happy? Mud means water! And it's finally beginning to fall in sheets here in Northern California. The parched ground has finally soaked in enough moisture where small puddles are starting to form. And small puddles mean big lakes if we can get enough rain.

 

Of course, this puts the official kibosh on outdoor projects for the weekend -- which is fine by me. Because, let's face it people: Bill Bird needs the rest. For this post could also be entitled: "How to Build a Pear Orchard in 49 Easy Steps." I don't just plant fruit trees during bare root season. Oh no, people. Bill Bird puts on a production!

 

Bare Root Pear Trees

Of course, I've also learned through trial and MULTIPLE errors that these things have to be done right, otherwise that project that was supposedly "finished," suddenly ropes you back in. This particular project two weekends ago? Install a pear orchard for three bare root pear trees. Not just any pear trees people -- but the most delicious of selections from our fine friends at Dave Wilson Nursery. These people don't produce fruit trees. They produce heaven on a branch.

 

But before those pear selections could find a permanent home in the Bird Back 40 -- several steps had to be undertaken. Pear trees require good soil for one. This is something sadly lacking in the Bird Back 40. The dirt consists of clay that turns into a muddy mess in the winter and concrete in the summer. It's great for growing Roundup-resistant weeds that contain root systems made of iron, but little else. If I want a plant or tree to grow and thrive in the Bird Back 40, I've got to give it good soil.

 

The Great PVC Project

Ah -- but that's just part of the rub. Fruit trees demand more than just great soils. They also appreciate a drink of water every now and then. And the spot I had selected from them was a good country mile from the nearest, buried, PVC line. Know what that means people? It means digging in the dirt to find that buried PVC line, hacking into it, and then trenching a country mile with my handy dandy trenching shovel.

 

Oh -- my aching back!

 

Fortunately, I had a pretty good idea of where the nearest buried PVC line was. Another raised bed used for growing summer produce like heirloom tomatoes and melons wasn't all that far off. While I knew where the line came up inside the bed, I'd forgotten which course I took six years ago to extend that line into this particular bed.

 

Trenching a new PVC Irrigation Line

My hope was that I'd extended that line outside the bed, and then made a sharp right turn into the bed itself. It still meant that I would have to dig, but I knew I wouldn't be forced to dig very far -- maybe six inches. But if that line ran under the raised gardening bed itself? I would be forced to dig through a foot or more of composted soil, before I could reach the clay below.

 

That's one big hole to dig, people. And one mighty sore back to boot. Plus -- if accessing and hacking into a PVC line that is buried six inches deep is difficult, imagine the pain of trying to access and work with a line that's buried under two feet of composted soil and clay.

 

Digging Out a Raised Gardening Bed

As I began to dig and poke around outside that raised bed on that particular Saturday, my buoyant hopes ever so slowly started to deflate. Two or three test holes told me there was no buried PVC line outside the bed. Would I begin to realize my worst fears that the buried line was inside the planter bed? Do I make mistakes, people?

 

And so, after coming up snake eyes on that third test hole, I knew what had to be done. I at least knew where the PVC line was located inside that 8X8 raised bed. I would be forced to remove half of the soil from that bed so I could access that PVC line coming straight out of the ground, and then dig into the clay below.

 

PVC Lines at CRAZY Angles

Because the Bird Back 40 resembles a pie-shaped lot -- there are no straight lines to follow. The fencing separating my yard from others runs at crazy 90 degree angles. This makes the installation of PVC irrigation lines quite difficult. While 3/4 inch, Schedule 40 PVC lines are flexible, they also don't bend at 90 degree angles. This meant when I was installing the main lines all those years ago, many of them were extended at crazy angles instead of a straight line.

 

It was the only way to get the PVC line where it needed to go -- so crazy angles it was all those years ago. I would come to discover that the PVC line I'd extended into this particular raised bed was at a rather crazy angle alright. It ran directly underneath the bed and connected to a main irrigation line I had installed next to the fence. Thank God I wasn't required to trench all the way to that fence, as I would have been required to tunnel underneath a concrete walkway that I'd installed two years earlier.

 

Hello Down There!

There's a rather special kind of back pain that develops when you're reaching into and dealing with a PVC line that is buried two feet beneath the soil line. It sort of screams at you. It's even tougher to cut into and glue a PVC T into place. But if I wanted pears? It had to be done. And I wasn't about to return my prized pear trees.

 

It wasn't long before my hands were stained purple from PVC primer and sticking together from spilled PVC glue -- but that PVC T was finally glued into place. With the hard part finally accomplished? The rest was child's play. A little glue on this 90 degree connector -- a little more glue on this PVC line -- and lots more glue on my hands. I find it rather amazing that I didn't glue myself into that trench line -- but skin tears easily. And, hopefully it will grow back. Someday.

 

This Won't Hurt -- Promise!

Where does this special PVC line lead? That -- people -- comes in Part II of the compelling story of how to plant a pear orchard in 49 easy steps! But first -- the joys of back surgery!

 

I'm kidding peeps. The back is fine. Sorta.