Moss and Meteor

In the winter, when we finally get some rain, the mosses explode in our patio. It happens every year. They are beautiful little creatures that deserve some recognition; how is it that such an ancient, unsophisticated plant returns in this spot year after year?

Mosses are Bryophytes - land plants that have no vascular system, which means they have no xylem and phloem conducting water and nutrients around the plant tissues. The other difference is in the way they reproduce - mosses reproduce by spores rather than seed, therefore, they produce no flowers. They also don’t grow true roots; rather, they have rhizoids, little root-like hairs that anchor the plant and conduct water.

There are nearly 25,000 named species of bryophytes. Only ferns and flowering plants have more species. They also exist on all continents, including Antartica. Bryophytes are ancient, one of our earliest known plants, and have a long evolutionary history that originates with algae. They do photosynthesize nutrients and have evolved to live in many habitats.

I’m speculating that the moss returns to our patio cracks because it has released enough spores in that space to grow new plants each year, similar to a persistent seedbank. The environment is absolutely right; the deep cracks protect the spores (and possibly the rhizoids) over the hot summer, and enough moisture lives there, even in the hottest months, to keep everything in a sort of ‘holding’ pattern. Then the rains come, the temperatures drop, and the moss flourishes, to repeat the cycle.

It’s really quite a lovely plant and softens the hard lines of the patio with it’s feathery sporophytes (those little white things that look like flowers on top). I can’t believe I used to kill it every winter. There is an insidious and effective marketing campaign to eradicate anything that grows out of place, or at least what we consider out of place, and I used to buy into that. It takes a conscious shift to realize that nature provides a gracious covering over almost any surface; it’s designed to be that way, and there’s a purpose for it. Because it photosynthesizes, if nothing else, it’s providing oxygen for us to breathe. But I have come to welcome the winter moss and enjoy it’s bright green presence in the grey months.

image credit: NBC news

Last night, as Kate and I were driving to an appointment right after sunset, we saw this in the sky. From where we were, it was much bigger, and the sky was much darker - it looked like a golden lasso in the night sky, very close to us indeed. Kate thought it was just a trick of clouds and light, but I wondered … and then later that night, the question was answered for me. It was the smoky trail of a meteor which had struck about 30 miles up in space over the Pacific ocean, burning into our atmosphere. This is something I never even considered and I think it’s quite magical. Scott Manley, one of our favorite space-and-science-guys, made a YouTube video about it which I have copied below. Just one more reminder that we are living in a universe that contains infinite mystery.

They're Everywhere!

Not actual mantids actually; they are all long dead and gone for the year. This picture was taken in August when the mantids were all super busy hunting in my flowers. But now that the trees are bare, I’m finding evidence that they lived well here. And I’m finding it everywhere!

That evidence is egg cases. Every time we go outside, we seem to find a new one. This one is on the plum tree, the same exact tree in the top photo.

I’m really unsure whether I have the California mantids (Stegmomantis californica) or the Carolina mantids (Stegmomantis carolina). My guess is Carolina, because they are really the more common mantids around here, unfortunately. Some of the egg cases, like the one above, look very Carolina. But some of them, like the one below, looks more like California.

This one is from the oak tree. A large branch came down in the wind, and when I was cleaning it up, I noticed the egg case. I decided to put it in my butterfly cage and leave it on the front porch over the winter; in spring I hope to catch lots of babies emerging.

The mantid egg cases or sacs are called ootheca. Soon after mating, in late summer or fall, the female mantis lays her eggs in a mass (sometimes dozens, often hundreds at a time in that mass) on a nearby branch. Then she secretes a foamy substance from her abdomen to cover it. Over time, this substance hardens into a styrofoam-like consistency, able to withstand predators and the elements. The female may produce just one egg case or several after mating just once. The ootheca protects the babies by keeping them insulated over the winter. In the spring, the nymphs hatch from the eggs while still in the case, then make their way out and immediately go in search of food.

The nymphs look like tiny little mantids - there are no stages of growth or instars. They just grow bigger!

As I’ve said before, the mantids are a non-selective predator, meaning they’ll eat anything they come across whether we consider it a good guy or pest. But balance in the garden depends on predators, and we can’t be picky about which ones show up. I welcome these mantids into the garden to eat up anything from flies to aphids to termites to bees. I’m actually hoping they will help me control the early yellow jacket queens as they emerge from their underground nests in the spring.

Winter Bounty

Today I uncovered the beds, as we have temps in the 50’s and rain is coming. When the row covers are on, I can’t really see how the plants are doing. When I need something, I undo a small portion of the cover and pick it - some kale, say, or some romaine lettuce (and with this romaine recall, it sure has been nice to have our own supply!). So I don’t really get to see the big picture until they are all uncovered, and then whoa. I realize they’ve grown and look beautiful!

Last year we didn’t use row covers because we did that cover crop of winter wheat. I’d forgotten what a pain it is to cover and uncover the beds. I can uncover them by myself, but I need a friend to cover them properly again. So it’s all a juggle, really. Most of the time the nighttime temps are in the 30’s so the beds have to stay covered. It’s rare that I get to open them, so it’s not like I’m doing it every day, and thank goodness. You know, probably most of what I’m growing can be out in the 30’s as well. Not the potatoes - but brassicas, carrots, beets, leeks, parsnips - all of it can withstand temps just above freezing. I guess I’m just acting with an abundance of caution.

Winter greens are so pretty, with their varying shades of green and highlights of purple. I have discovered that the chickens prefer their greens torn into small pieces. They don’t particularly like it when I throw them whole leaves. Though one clever hen has figured out how to step on one end and tear pieces off the other.

Over time, I have learned that anything that doesn’t get eaten by the chickens, will get eaten by nighttime creatures. The opossum that lives under Adam’s train shed likes rotting things. If the leftovers don’t get eaten, I collect them and put them in the compost pile at the corner of the chicken run. Nothing is wasted.

I found a bag of jalapeños in the freezer and defrosted them, then roasted them. Today I am drying them in the dehydrator to make dried chipotles for a gift. They smell really good as they dry! I am glad I thought ahead to freeze a bunch as well as hang many strings in our house to dry over time. We use them all. A classmate just gave me some seeds for a perennial hot pepper; I’m anxious to try them in the summer. I’ll plant them in pots, so I can put them in the greenhouse over the winter. Honestly I’ve read that you can do this with any pepper - they are all perennial if cut back severely and kept in a warm place during the cold months. Right now, all I have in the greenhouse is a brugmansia and some portalucas that I decided to start for the pallet planter. The brugmansia is one I originally planted in a pot, then into the ground. It freezes every winter and has to start again in the spring, so I never get blooms. This year I decided, on the advice of yet another classmate, to cut off a large portion of the stem, stick it in dirt, put in the greenhouse, and it would root and be ready to plant out in the spring. We shall see! It’s looking promising! The portalucas (moss roses) will be great in the pallet planter because they require great drainage.

Competing with the spicy roasted pepper smell are these cookies. Adam asked for white chocolate/macadamia nut cookies, which I’ve never made before - and may I say - YUM. They are truly delicious. I love wintertime baking. :)

I’d love to hear about your baking and cooking adventures, as well as what you’re harvesting out of your gardens. Do you use cold frames? Low tunnels? Greenhouses? or do you let the ground rest over the wintertime?

Yeah, That's Me

A classmate shared this with me. When I showed it to my family, they howled. I have to confess: Yeah. That’s me. One time when I was ID’ing plants during a walk Kate said, exasperatedly, “Ok, Mom, we all know you’re really smart.” Ouch. I try hard not to do it anymore, at least not out loud, but of course it happens in my head.

Can you see my not-so-little friend below?

An adult Cooper’s Hawk, checking out the chickens. Or, more likely, checking out the little sparrows that search for the chicken’s leftovers. Cooper’s Hawks are magnificent raptors and keep the ‘LBB’s’ (Little Brown Birds) in check. I have nothing against the LBB’s. I love them. But it’s that old predator/prey balance that is so important.

Doesn’t my garden look wintery with it’s white covers? Almost like snow. It has been chilly but not that chilly thank goodness. We’ve had a brief spate of something called ‘Tule Fog’ which is fog that comes, not from the Pacific, but from the Sacramento River Delta, though not usually this far west. It happens in the rainy season, when the ground is wet and the air cools rapidly at night - a radiation fog. It’s due to a temperature inversion which is something I hope to learn more about when I take my weather classes for my Environmental Studies degree.

On these chilly days, the chickens move with the light. Can you see them huddled in the corner of their coop, in that little patch of sun? It seems to me that we all crave the sun, on cold days even more. We get about an egg a week, how I wish I had ordered new chickens in the fall like I meant to. It’ll have to wait until spring, now, and I plan to get four more point-of-lay chickens, or slightly younger.

This is my final week for this term and also in the Horticulture department. It’s bittersweet. I’ve really loved learning from my professors and getting to know my fellow students. But I’m looking forward to powering through the other classes I need, so I can transfer to the local CSU in 2020. It’s been a little confusing, given my school history. Let me just say it’s been very handy to have a college administrator in the house. It makes me appreciate how hard it must be for folks who don’t have that resource. It’s not as straightforward as you’d think it might be. Thank heavens for good school counselors and advisors.

apparently Kate’s not too old to make snowflakes!

Concert season is in full swing and we’ve been to see several of Adam’s performances at the Conservatory and several at his school, as well as a church concert my Dad participated in. We have one more lined up, I think. Nothing says ‘holiday’ to me like music, so it’s been super fun (though busy!).

I’m curious to know what sorts of garden supplies/tools are on your holiday wish list. I have seeds on mine (natch) but also a hula hoe. Have you ever used one? I fell in love with it when I had to weed the greenhouses during my internship at school. It really works and doesn’t disturb the soil. Let me know what you are asking Santa for!

Pressing Fresh Cider

My friend Nils invited us over this past weekend, to press fresh apples in his cider press and taste the resulting juice. This was a very interesting experience!

First, Nils had to cut out any wormy bits. He collects apples from his own trees, from neighbor’s trees, and also buys some from the farmers market. This full steel pot of apples (probably 8-ish gallons?) made about 1 gallon of juice.

The next step is to feed the apples into the grinder, which is operated by someone turning a sideways wheel quite fast. The inner cylinder with sharp teeth makes short work of the apples, turning them into pulp below in a lined wooden basket.

Then a wooden disc is applied to the apple mash and the top screw is turned, to press the juice. It runs out the bottom into a tray, and then into the bowl of your choice.

The bowl is emptied several times during the pressing, and the screw is turned ever tighter, pressing the mash further down into the basket. The leftover mash is ideal for the compost bin (or livestock), and the juice is either drunk straightaway or warmed up for hot cider. Or, of course, you could freeze it, can it, or ferment it for hard cider (and then again for vinegar). We just tasted the fresh, cold juice, and let me tell you - it was one of the best things I’ve ever had.

I don’t know why, but it tastes completely different from what you can buy in the store. It’s lighter somehow, and very refreshing. Unpasteurized of course. And I suppose the flavor changes depending on what kind of apples you press. We pressed mostly Granny Smith, and it was so incredibly tasty. I could have drunk a pitcher by myself.

So of course on the way home Tom and I were angling for a press - how could we get one of our own? Nils had found his on Craigslist or some such, and refurbished it. I looked online and found new ones for about $300 or so. That’s too pricey for something we won’t use often. But I’m thinking that maybe we could rent Nils’ for an afternoon next year. We have neighbors who always bring us lots of apples and I’m sure we could find more. It would be great to pay a fee for an afternoon’s press use, and have our own cider to do with as we pleased. Something like the ‘village mill’ that would grind everyone’s grains, or the ‘village bakery’ which would bake everyone’s bread. I love this idea.

Something about this process was very familiar, and it made me wonder if I had done this as a child back in Maryland.

Do any of you own a press, or know someone who does? Is this a tradition in your house? If so, I’d love to hear your stories about it.