Extension News: March 2006 Archives
Despite the rock-hard ground outside, the sun’s strength optimistically
proclaims the official return of spring. So today, I scooch into the attic
in search of my seed-starting equipment.
After saturating the “soilless” soil mix with water and spooning it into little plastic cells, I divvy up the seed packets, assigning each to the indoor neighbors it will have as it grows in the flats for the next two months.
I regard with awe the various forms of my seeds: teensie round balls, wispy threads, papery amorphous particles. The tiny black seeds that will grow into aromatic and lush basil—about the size of the period at the end of this sentence—store much information: the size and shape its root, stem, and leaves will take; instructions for manufacturing the phytocompounds that combine to deliver the taste I know as “basil.”
Somehow, every year, these minute dots transform themselves into the flavor of summer: basil on fresh tomatoes and a bit of mozzarella, basil leaves tucked into sandwiches, pesto atop veggie burgers, tossed with pasta, dolloped atop a strip of salmon, grilled with chicken and vegetables. Mmm.
I move to the next packet and the next and the next. Each year I try something new, an experiment or different variety. A three-dollar packet of seeds yields twelve or fifteen, fifty or even a hundred healthy plants, a good deal.
Last year I explored the world of amaranth, planting five different varieties and creating a somewhat messy, but vibrant veggie garden. Amaranth grows into gorgeous five-foot tall plumes of vibrant magenta and golden flowers. The Mayans grew it as a wonder food, serving the leaves as a tasty and nutritious vegetable, with the nutty-flavored grain providing much of their nutrient needs.
Once the Mayans were “conquered,” the Spanish invaders banned growing amaranth and the grain all but disappeared. Now, thanks to heirloom seed collectors, amaranth is available again. I haven’t yet figured out how to separate the grain from the chaff, and much of last year’s harvest sits in a big tub in an unheated storeroom. However, I’ve already chosen a spot for this year’s crop.
Broccoli heads my list of challenges for 2006, as I plan to guard that vegetable with vengeance. From the groundhog. Last year, I bought a six-pack at my favorite garden store. Within a week, it had been nibbled to the ground. I bought another six-pack to replace the damaged plants. Soon, twelve broccoli plants grew. Again, Grover moved in and pruned them. They began growing again.
Working from home allows me to monitor the site a bit. How many phone calls did I handle while sitting in front of Grover’s bunker, seething and throwing pebbles. We had lengthy conversations, as he sat within a wall of boulders I am unable and unwilling to disassemble. He had found a heavenly home, safe and near a great, replenishing food source.
I tried a primal growling-shouting-flailing of arms, stewed up and sprayed a nasty mixture of cayenne and other spices. I tried jumping-jack firecrackers. We bought a Havahart trap. Gil marked the territory as his. We even set up our solar-powered radio near Grover’s hole, hoping that news of the world would chase him away.
Making the site undesirable seemed the best thing to do in this situation. We tried. But mostly we shared. Still, from our 12 plants, we did manage to harvest a little broccoli; in fact two baggies sit in the freezer still, right next to that pesto. This year the broccoli will grow in an undisclosed location. Shh.
I plant tomatoes in containers, each with a fragrant, yellow marigold and a spindly shadowed dill plant. I find that companion planting makes an amazing difference. Since including a dill plant, I haven’t seen an evil tomato hornworm. As I sprinkle tomato seeds into the planting cells, I think about the yummy dehydrated tomatoes in stir-fries, salads, and pasta dishes. I glow when I look at the jars filled with last year’s tomatoes stewed and sitting on the pantry shelves—sixteen quarts left at the end of March.
I move on, sowing flats of cilantro and parley, celery, dill, fennel, cumin, angelica, feverfew, chamomile, and Swiss chard. I’ll sow many more vegetables directly into the garden once the soil thaws.
Today, I finish with a whole flat of cosmos. These pert and cheery flowers are my favorites; they grow readily in the soil outside and I’ll toss another few packets of seed there when the soil warms. However, I don’t want to wait for their dainty grace until midsummer. I want them blooming as early as possible.
With more than 300 seeds now germinating, I feel optimistic about spring. Each year my garden expands into different spots on our property, as well as into a wider variety of containers. Despite my concerns of the loss of local control over many of our food sources, I feel empowered by producing food for my family.
And I appreciate the way my garden connects me to the earth and its creatures
- yeah, even to Grover and his relatives.
By Laura Richardson, UNH Cooperative Extension Master Gardener
For more information call the UNH Cooperative Extension's Family, Home & Garden Center's Info-line (toll free) at 1-877-398-4769 or send us an email. Volunteers are available to answer your questions Monday through Friday 9:00am to 2:00 p.m.
3/24/06
A dead tree? Your impulse is to cut it down and remove it. Branches on the ground, brush from pruning your shrubs? Gather ‘em up and take ‘em to the transfer station or to the curb for pick-up.
But wait! The mammals, birds, and other animals would appreciate less clean-up in your woods.
Leaving dead or dying trees where they stand is one way to help your local wildlife. Some people are concerned that these “snags” are a sign of forest ill health. This is rarely the case. Instead, snags are part of the natural forest life cycle that provides habitat for animals and then returns nutrients stored in the tree to the soil.
Snags provide food, shelter, and nesting places for many birds, mammals and other animals. Many species of birds in New Hampshire nest in holes made or found in snags. Mammals, amphibians and reptiles also use these cavities as shelters, nests, or food storage bins.
A woodpecker fashions a hole in a snag and uses it for nesting. If the location is right, chickadees, owls, titmice, wrens, swallows—even bluebirds—may use the cavity when the woodpecker is done. Bluebirds like snags at the edge of fields.
Snags provide insect-eating birds, such as nuthatches and woodpeckers, with a reliable food source. These birds also eat insects in the surrounding area. Another insect-eater, the bat, seeks shelter under the loose bark of snags.
While bigger is better, a snag at least three inches in diameter at breast height (referred to as dbh) and at least six feet tall has value for wildlife. Ideally, you’ll have snags from several species of trees located at a distance from another, with at least three of them 12 inches dbh or more. Different animals will use varying sizes.
Particularly good locations for snags include field edges, clear-cuts, wildlife openings, and spots within 100 feet of a wetland, stream, or body of water. Of course, snags eventually fall down and thus could pose a safety hazard if left standing near a building, trail, or road.
Snags provide food and shelter for insects and other invertebrates. Squirrels and other small mammals store winter food in snags. They nourish lichens and fungi. Snags next to streams and water bodies often fall into the water, improving habitat for young fish. Snags may provide places for turtles to sunbathe next to the stream.
A brush pile is a pile of logs, sticks and brush. While you can simply collect in one place branches you’ve pruned or found on the ground, a constructed brush pile will provide a better shelter for animals. The National Wildlife Federation Web site describes the goal as a “topography of nooks and crannies, a fortress of crevices and interlocking branches to provide hiding places for dozens of animal species.”
A brush pile has two layers, a base and a top. The base should provide easy access for animals seeking shelter. Construct the base of logs, large rocks, or piles of stones. If you use logs, you’ll need about a dozen, four to six inches in diameter and six to 10 feet long Arrange half the logs about 10 inches apart as the first layer. Then put a second layer at right angles to the first. Alternatively, you could use four to six large rocks or piles of stones as a base instead of logs.
After the base, add smaller branches and brush to provide shelter. Including some evergreen branches will increase the pile’s value as a winter shelter. The ideal brush pile is four to eight feet tall and 10 to 20 feet in diameter.
Where should you construct your brush pile? The edges of fields or in the woods within 10 feet of a field or open area make good locations. Near a stream or water body is also good, so long as the site is well-drained. At least half of the pile should get daily sun. The animals will appreciate our locating the brush pile close to food sources such as viburnum or other native fruit-bearing shrubs.
It’s better to build several small brush piles than one large one, ideally at least four piles per acre placed at least 100 feet apart.
Do keep your piles away from buildings and children’s play areas, to minimize confrontations with the animals that may choose to live in your brush pile.
To learn more about improving wildlife habitat see “Wildlife
Habitat Improvement - Woodlands and Wildlife” and “Protecting
and Enhancing Shorelands for Wildlife”. Click here for
other information, including a diagram of a brush pile, check.
By Honey Hastings, UNH Cooperative Extension Coverts Cooperator
For more information call the UNH Cooperative Extension's Family, Home & Garden Center's Info-line (toll free) at 1-877-398-4769 or send us an email. Volunteers are available to answer your questions Monday through Friday 9:00am to 2:00 p.m.
3/15/06
Unfortunately, the science of pruning remains a mystery to most of us.
As a result many gardeners either neglect the task of pruning trees and
shrubs entirely, or, exhilarated by the first breath of spring, haul
out the shears and indiscriminately hack away at everything in the landscape.
Of the two options, the first is preferable. Most trees and shrubs will
attain their natural size and shape with very little pruning. But proper
pruning can do a lot for your landscape:
Remove dead, broken, diseased and dying wood. Prune as soon
as you detect damage, regardless of the time of year. The most common damage
seen after a long winter is breakage, the result of windstorms and the weight
of snow and ice on branches.
Dieback at the tips of branches is another familiar sight. It can happen
after a sudden, hard frost during a prolonged, too-warm autumn, or when
a late spring frost occurs after tender, new growth has begun.
Left dangling, dead or broken branches can become hazards. They also
provide prime points of entry for insect pests and diseases.
Prevent trouble. The friction created by rubbing limbs or
crossed branches can tear bark and cause serious wounds. The solution
is to remove the least desirable of the two limbs rubbing against each
other. Remove either the smallest or the least attractive of the two limbs. A
V-shaped crotch presents another source of potential trouble; it may split
apart during a storm. Either eliminate V-shaped crotches or support them
with cables.
Balance the ratio of branches to roots. When you transplant
a tree or shrub, you’ll leave many roots behind, no matter how much care
you take. To make up for this inevitable root loss, you may need to shorten
or thin branches by about a third. Use this as a general rule of thumb, not
a necessity.
Rejuvenate. Yellow- or red-twigged dogwoods valued for their
colored stems are examples of plants that require regular pruning. The
new spring growth provides the brightest color. When plants are well established
(after three years or so), cut a third of the oldest canes to the ground
early each spring before new growth resumes.
Forsythia, lilac and weigela also require renewal, but not for the same
reason. These shrubs will bloom better and be more shapely and manageable
if a third of the oldest wood is cut to the ground at three-year intervals. In
the case of lilacs, thinning also helps keep these flowering shrubs free
of pests. The oldest wood of lilacs is more susceptible to infestations
of borers and scale insects.
Maintain or develop desired size and shape. You can minimize
the need for pruning by giving trees and shrubs enough space to start with.
Before you buy a tree or shrub, check the growth habit and ultimate size to
make sure the mature plants will fit the space in your landscape you’ve
planned for it.
The most beautiful woody plants are those encouraged to develop to their
full potential. This is done by providing the right space and then
pruning selectively to preserve the natural form. A too-big plant in
a too-small spot will always look restricted and uncomfortable, no
matter how much pruning is done.
The reasons for pruning often dictate the timing. However, most trees
and shrubs can be pruned whenever it is convenient for the pruner. Maples
and birches are notable exceptions to this rule. They "bleed" profusely
from bark wounds when pruned in February and March. If possible, delay
all but emergency pruning for them until late spring or early summer.
Try not to prune in late summer, as this often stimulates tender growth
which can be killed by early fall frosts.
Because pruning can be done more quickly and efficiently if there is
no foliage to obstruct your vision, early spring before the leaves
unfold is a good time to prune most deciduous plants.
For specific information on pruning trees and shrubs, check out these fact sheets on the UNH Cooperative Extension Web site:
- Pruning Deciduous Shrubs in the Landscape
- Pruning Evergreens in the Landscape
- Pruning Shade Trees in the Landscape
By Margaret Hagen, UNH Cooperative Extension Agricultural Resources
Educator
For more information call the UNH Cooperative Extension's Family, Home & Garden
Center's Info-line (toll free) at 1-877-398-4769 or send us an email.
Volunteers are available to answer your questions Monday through Friday
9:00am to 2:00 p.m.
3/9/06
Bone-dry stuff, statistics.
Ever since humans started making little wedge-shaped marks on soft clay
tablets, people have been keeping records. During the early days of agriculture
and animal husbandry, I like to think the scribe-in-charge heard, saw,
smelled, and tasted the dust of the cattle as they passed by for accounting.
He knew the marks he made were more than just numbers. They represented
the physical presence of sheep, cattle or bushels of wheat, spelt, and
emmer; all reassuring safeguards against a constant threat of famine.
Leap ahead several millennia to our current Information Age. Too often
it seems the numbers are all. Type it in, it exists. But what are we
missing?
For forecasting, planning, and other purposes, the modern day scribes
at New England Agricultural Statistics do a great job of compiling records
about our farm economy. Throughout the year they collect data from surveys
and reports completed by the farmers themselves, agri-business consultants,
and other in-the-field types.
What follows is a brief sampling of their 2005 report on New England
Agriculture. As you read it, remember that each plant was started from
seed, someone picked every apple from every fruiting tree, and every
milk cow began as a newborn calf needing care.
Dry hay
Putting up baled hay is chancy work, given our ever-shifting weather
patterns. That’s why concrete bunk silage and plastic-wrapped “baylage” has
become so popular.
Even so, we harvested an amazing 609,000 acres of hay in our six-state
New England region in 2005, on a ton-to-acre basis a little less than
2004, no doubt a reflection of the growing season. Total production tipped
the scales at a bit over a million tons, which figures out to a lot of
bales if you happened to be one of the folks loading them.
Apples
Orchardists had a difficult year. Limiting factors of record included “very
cold May, light bloom, poor pollination, apple scab, two frosts in May,
and an enormous amount of rain, making harvest difficult” (kind
of makes you wonder how they do any harvesting at all). But, 2.8 million
bushels still came in (figure 42 pounds to a bushel), 30 percent less
than in 2004.
Wild blueberries
These are the sort-of-wild, low-bush types. Although we pick a fair amount
of them in New Hampshire, only Maine keeps exacting records. Last year
Maine recorded an increase of 27 percent over 2004, weighing in at
58+ million pounds. An early snow cover kept winter kill to a minimum,
and better blossoming helped them out. Makes one wonder what we’ll
see after this relatively open winter.
Potatoes
Maine also gets first prize for taters, with 57,000 acres planted in ‘05.
I’m told Coös County was once known as “Little Aroostook
County” because of its past potato production history. I’m
therefore cautiously optimistic we’ll soon see a tremendous spike
in these stats following last spring’s UNH Cooperative Extension
classes on “Fresh-Market Potatoes.”
Tobacco
What, you didn’t know New England grows tobacco? Maybe this will
win you a wager: Last year, Connecticut River Valley farms in Massachusetts
and Connecticut produced four million pounds of broadleaf tobacco, mostly
used as wrappers for cigars.
Turkeys
While on the T’s, let’s talk turkey. Turkeys are familiar
backyard livestock on many small New Hampshire farms. We raise about
4,000 a year. New England farms collectively raised 120,000 turkeys in
2004, with Massachusetts and Vermont the top producers.
Grain (barley and oats)
Although we don’t usually consider New England a grain-growing
region, until the Midwestern plains opened up, our farmers produced considerable
quantities of wheat, barley, and oats. I have some letters from the early
1800s that mention grain shipments out of Portsmouth, probably destined
for European markets.
Maine farmers sowed 55,000 acres of barley and oats for grain last year.
These grasses work well in a rotation with potatoes to break the life-cycles
of various potato diseases. The resulting grains feed dairy and beef
animals; the straw’s a good mulch for strawberries.
Of course, many vegetable growers still plant grassy-grains—oats,
rye, millet—to plow down as a green manure.
Sweet Corn
We think of corn as a veggie, but it’s a grass/grain too. I’m
guessing ripening fields of sweet corn and pumpkins in early autumn are
what most people picture when you say “a New England farm.” Despite
a cold start and uncertain weather, we harvested 1.15 million cwts (hundred-weights)
from 15,500 acres. A long fall and no major frosts until October helped
get it in.
“Cow” Corn
The greatest portion of our corn land—186,000 acres— gets
planted to varieties that will be chopped at a grainier stage of development
than sweet corn. This chopped is stored as corn silage to feed dairy
cattle in winter. The ancient Romans get the credit for inventing silage:
a compressed, fermented, air-excluded fodder. Without the silage that
fed the vast animal trains required by their advancing armies, Europe
might never have been “Romanized.” Of course, what we call “corn,” is
a New World crop unknown to the Romans. Their “corn” was
actually barley and wheat.
Milk
Milk is certainly the region’s most economically important food
crop. Profitable dairy farming keeps a lot of land open. Nationwide this
industry has shifted far westwards. Considering inherent water resource
limitations in the western dairy-producing regions, I have wondered about
its long-term viability there.
We still produce an incredible volume of milk in New England, more than
a billion pounds in the last quarter of 2005 alone. And it all came from
roughly 227,000 head of milk cows. All the region’s milk doesn’t
go to the fresh, bottled milk market, of course. A lot of it gets made
into cheese, butter, yogurt, and ice cream.
Our region produced six and a half million pounds of mozzarella and other Italian-style cheeses in November, just in time for football’s bowl games. Got Cheese Pizza?
by Steve Turaj, Extension Educator, Agricultural Resources
3/02/06

