June is a month when we’re really able to start eating from the garden.
The asparagus is delicious. It never even reaches the kitchen before I’ve eaten what I picked that day. The peas tower over the trellis. And near the end of the month I realize that I over-planted them, so that I need to use heavy twine to keep the thick wall of vines and flowers and peas from collapsing forward in a heap during a windy day. But the shells and peas are fat and juicy. The broccoli starts have mostly bolted. Jonathon suggests to wait until after the solstice and then plant them more as a winter and overwinter/spring crop.
I’m eating nice fat beet roots, as well as turnips, rutabagas and kohlrabi. Almost all of the tomatoes (greenhouse and outside) are full of green tomatoes. The earliest producers appear to be Sophie’s Choice, Muscovich, and Golden Nugget, but many others appear only a week or so behind. We’ll have to see which ripen earliest.
I pulled out the monster kale plants that were left over from last winter, and I transplanted them, along with old chicory, a clump of perennial arugula and radicchio starts into a back garden plot that is often over-run with morning glory. By the end of June, these are all well established. And the kale has gone to seed, and is dropping its pods. I plan to keep ahead of the morning glory until these plants have a chance to take charge, but it’s dangerous to bet against morning glory.
Near the end of the month I plant four more flats of seeds for the winter garden, along with other seeds to replenish greens, peas and beans as they die out or bolt through the summer heat. My planned winter crop includes: pac choi and other Chinese greens, kale, lettuce, red orach, chicory, swiss chard, three varieties of beets, cabbage, leeks, corn salad, kohlrabi, turnips, carrots, parsley and some varieties of snow peas that are supposed to survive into the early winter months.
I pulled out the monster kale plants that were left over from last winter, and I transplanted them, along with old chicory, a clump of perennial arugula and radicchio starts into a back garden plot that is often over-run with morning glory. By the end of June, these are all well established. And the kale has gone to seed, and is dropping its pods. I plan to keep ahead of the morning glory until these plants have a chance to take charge, but it’s dangerous to bet against morning glory.
Near the end of the month I plant four more flats of seeds for the winter garden, along with other seeds to replenish greens, peas and beans as they die out or bolt through the summer heat. My planned winter crop includes: pac choi and other Chinese greens, kale, lettuce, red orach, chicory, swiss chard, three varieties of beets, cabbage, leeks, corn salad, kohlrabi, turnips, carrots, parsley and some varieties of snow peas that are supposed to survive into the early winter months.
The cherries on the new trees were looking amazing. However, word got out to the deer population and they have done a lot of damage to the fruit and leaves. Fortunately it doesn’t appear that they have chewed on the bark. So what options do I have? I can just let it happen and hope that the trees survive to become tall enough that most of their branches are beyond the reach of deer. I can try the suggested method of placing stakes around an area, then string a thin fishing line at their nose height. Apparently they will bump into the line, unable to see the thin filament, and become frustrated and leave. Another option is to shoot a deer out of season, and then put the meat in my freezer. I’m sure that is what past homesteaders did, while giving thanks for the delivery of meat to their back door. I’m not sure what present laws have to say about shooting an animal to protect your garden. I doubt that the Conservation Officer would be happy. I will have to look into that. It certainly would be easier than making a long and expensive hunting trip back out to T. Island in the fall when deer hunting season opens.
About hunting. By June 1, I started to hike more often in the evenings, carrying a rifle and looking for bear sign. On three occasions I encountered sows with cubs – not legal or proper to shoot at them. On one of those trips, I was able to back away without being noticed. On the other two occasions, the mother sent her cubs up a giant Douglas fir tree. It is amazing to watch these little round clubs fly up the branchless trunk, a hundred feet or more in only a few seconds.
The sow then stood just out of sight from me, tearing at the ground, growling and huffing and snorting and groaning. During the second stand-off, the bear was far enough off the trail that I risked walking past her as she snorted and complained. I was getting tired of having the trail blocked to the area where I had seen a large lone bear in the trees a few weeks earlier.
About hunting. By June 1, I started to hike more often in the evenings, carrying a rifle and looking for bear sign. On three occasions I encountered sows with cubs – not legal or proper to shoot at them. On one of those trips, I was able to back away without being noticed. On the other two occasions, the mother sent her cubs up a giant Douglas fir tree. It is amazing to watch these little round clubs fly up the branchless trunk, a hundred feet or more in only a few seconds.
The sow then stood just out of sight from me, tearing at the ground, growling and huffing and snorting and groaning. During the second stand-off, the bear was far enough off the trail that I risked walking past her as she snorted and complained. I was getting tired of having the trail blocked to the area where I had seen a large lone bear in the trees a few weeks earlier.
I came close to having a shot on a few other hikes, but finally, on June 5th, while hiking high up on a trail along the Bunster Hills, I finally shot and killed a lone bear. I will write more about that in a separate post. It definitely affected me in many ways. I don’t think that I will ever get to the point where it isn’t a difficult and profound act – one full of questions, rituals, conflicts, doubts and rewards.
At this time, I will say only that three days later when I ate the first part of the meat in a marinated stew, the food was much more than just meat without context or meaning. With the first bite, I was overwhelmed – not only with memories and images, but also with gratitude for what I was eating and sharing.
June has been tough and fast and so much still to go. I wonder if this ever slows. I wonder if finally I come to learn enough that the garden and land can be more carefree and obvious. The same questions with hunting, and with preserving food.
Certainly some of the equipment and skills will be in place. And now, my landshare partners have all agreed to move ahead with legally establishing the land title. That will help settle some of my monthly financial struggles. Big projects like the microhydro generation and a larger greenhouse will be complete in the next year or two. But does it just keep growing? Is it like so much of our modern economies and expectations? Or do I reach a point when I say that this enough, that this is wealth and luxury already, and that now is the time to enjoy what I have, to share food with others, play music, write, and to temper some of that ambition that has carried me this far?
At this time, I will say only that three days later when I ate the first part of the meat in a marinated stew, the food was much more than just meat without context or meaning. With the first bite, I was overwhelmed – not only with memories and images, but also with gratitude for what I was eating and sharing.
June has been tough and fast and so much still to go. I wonder if this ever slows. I wonder if finally I come to learn enough that the garden and land can be more carefree and obvious. The same questions with hunting, and with preserving food.
Certainly some of the equipment and skills will be in place. And now, my landshare partners have all agreed to move ahead with legally establishing the land title. That will help settle some of my monthly financial struggles. Big projects like the microhydro generation and a larger greenhouse will be complete in the next year or two. But does it just keep growing? Is it like so much of our modern economies and expectations? Or do I reach a point when I say that this enough, that this is wealth and luxury already, and that now is the time to enjoy what I have, to share food with others, play music, write, and to temper some of that ambition that has carried me this far?
