Sometimes Just Wait a Day

I'm still learning the rhythms of the farm. I think my lesson lately centers on not forcing things. Yesterday when I saw the several snapped grafts, I simply could not deal with it then. Too much frustration at the puppies, too much fatigue to go and search for the tape to mark new varieties and gather the various tools and supplies needed.

But today I was ready and eager. I have been so impressed with the Liberty apples, both in vigor and shapeliness, so from now on, any grafts that fail, I'm planning to replace with Liberty. Also, after trying freezer tape to seal my grafts (which looks like masking tape but is water impermeable), I bought a roll of 4" wide Parafilm online. I like it much better. Useful for sealing tops and wrapping the graft union, it will gradually breakdown and not require slitting, as the electrical tape does. It has a nice feel, a nice stretch: it's a happy product to work with. I redid the two grafts broken by puppies, and then I redid two that I hadn't wrapped sufficiently (somehow the tape had gaped at the top, exposing the cut portions of the graft to drying out).

One or two of the scions are fully leafed out. That is very fun, but it also makes me just a bit nervous. If those two are doing so well, what's happening with the other 265 that aren't leafed out?

Waiting has never been my strong point.

At the grafting class some weeks ago, I learned that certain trees with taproots don't transplant very well. But there are special "tree pots," extra tall containers, that can help nurse a baby tree along for a year or so. I had no idea. Where to order? I was surprised how hard it was for my to find any online, but I finally found Stuewe and Sons. It took a bit to decide that, yes, I really did want to order these special pots (a case is 360, and that's a lot of pots!), but they arrived today, and I started to play.

My 40 jujubes have had taproots growing out the bottom of their flats for a week or two. I put 24 of them into tree pots. A few of the soil blocks disintegrated on me, utterly snapping almost all the brittle white roots. I'm not sure how those ones will end up, but I planted them into pots anyway. After 24, though, my nerves were done for the day.

It sure is handy to have so many bulb crates around. The pots taper slightly at the bottom, and cannot stand up alone. Bulb crates appear to be specially designed to hold exactly 24 pots. I haven't tried to move a crate yet: once they're planted, they stay where they are.

Joe and I went to work in the greenhouse next. As Phil and I have talked about it, the greenhouse is absolutely out of control. Although much of the growth is volunteer "green manure" (mostly clover and vetch), the growth of grasses and these green manures make hand weeding out of the question. Some of the plants are almost two feet high: hoeing is supposed to happen when weeds are only a day or two old.

So what to do? Phil suggested tilling. I hate that tilling kills worms and burns up carbon. On the other hand, I hate weeding for hours: a few hours working, not weeding, and I could buy enough worms to well populate the entire greenhouse. We'll till.

But before we can till, we need to deal with the transplanted brambles. To my surprise, the raspberries have done almost nothing. In fact, many of the more vibrant raspberries, transplanted last fall, have died. (While the raspberries in the market garden area keep sending out runners and more runners.) The blackberries, for the most part, overwintered just fine, but they are only about 6" tall on average. The wild blackberries are in bloom already.

Clearly, the brambles are not happy in the greenhouse. And, truthfully, I'm not thrilled with them in there.

But where to put them? We don't really have a spot that's screaming: "Blackberries should come here!" Ideally, I'd have a charming little patch, neatly trellised and established. But that hasn't happened yet.

Enter: tree pots. I dug up 24 plants, pulled the weeds around the roots, and did my best to let their roots fit in the pots. Will they live? They certainly wouldn't live in the greenhouse while being tilled; these dear blackberries, now in their third location around the farm.

When I say I dug up 24 plants, that is true. But as part of my pacing, I'm learning to do what I can, and when I no longer enjoy it, to wait. I had finished about 14 plants when I was just done. Thoroughly. So I made dinner, and at some point after dinner, the blackberries called, so I finished. That felt good. But it also felt good not to push through with a task until it became drudgery.

I won't expect blackberry production this year either. I am hoping, though, that some of the plums that hang with such promise will be good to eat.