June, 2022
In which we take a look in the water, and engage in a little Garden Criticism
First, a programming note: During the Month of June, we are reducing our open hours at the nursery to just Saturdays 8am-2pm, and will not be open on Fridays. Also, we will be leaving town for a bit at the end of the month and will be closed June 25th - July 17. That is all, thanks.
Well, it’s June, and time for another newsletter. This one is written in much more of a crunch, and as such I’ve not included so many links, or latin binomials for every species mentioned.1 I’ve also decided to lean into the fact that a monthly newsletter must necessarily be mostly about the previous rather than the following month (i.e. the June issue is pretty much all about stuff we did and saw in May). It is what it is. So, with those disclaimers (admissions?) in place, we may proceed:
We live in Holy Cross, in the lower 9, and so every day I walk at least twice (on my way to, and then from, Too Tall) across the St. Claude bridge over the Industrial Canal. Off to the side of the canal, just before the bridge on the downriver side, swirls a sort of tide pool. Because it is somewhat protected from the barges’ wakes, and because it is just upstream of where the canal meets the Mississippi, the water there is relatively still.
Over the course of the month, as we have shifted undeniably to summer (by any metric worth using), i’ve been observing this tide pool, and the persistent abundance of life (despite the swirling garbage, leaked oil and the constant noise and vibration of heavy traffic, both terrestrial and aquatic) therein.
I’ve seen HELLA snakes (the only one I got near enough to positively identify from my vantage on the levee was a Diamond-backed Water Snake. I was however told by an old timer I met on the levee that one snake was a “boney constrictor,” and would “grab [my] ass and pull [me] in the river"), mostly in the first half of the month, interestingly. I even saw one get snatched from the water by a bird (an egret?) and carried off. I saw what I assume to be a snapping turtle (couldn't see their face), the size of a manhole cover, sunning itself and then swimming away remarkably fast. I’ve seen a whole pallet of cabinet-grade plywood, fallen from a barge presumably, bloating, warping and dispersing day to day. There are still a few sheets in the pool today, and a few more washed up on the levee's bank.
But we've seen cool stuff on the land too: we saw a massive swarm of honeybees drooping from a tree of heaven high above the “pond” at Too Tall (more on that a little later, in Maggie's Bee Report); of course we saw the termites who swarm every mothers day; there were the plants who bloomed this month: the gomphrena, the turmeric, chaste trees, corn, brugmansia, rudbeckia, marigolds, Mimosa spp., cukes, the Hopi dye sunflowers, tithonia, elderberry and spilanthes, oh and the orchids (again, more later)! There’s the plants who have surprised us by going on, strong as ever (lookin at you, Indian lettuce!); a wild looking spotted cat (civet?) living on the dashboard of a camper van; lo moth caterpillars on the blackberry vines; and some more Chocolate Tube Slime on one of the picnic tables.
And then there’s the less-fun stuff that comes with summertime: the brassicae have all been totally obliterated by insect damage. The tomato fruits have been mostly ruined by leaf footed and other types of sap-sucking bugs. Many things have bolted (cilantro, celery, dill, lettuce, the basil that wasn't kept out of the sun). Mealy bugs on the peppers and the greens. Vine borers in the runtier, more susceptible squash vines.
Lastly there are things that are neither good nor bad, just a part of the cycles of time-in-the-garden (see last month's newsletter). There are the plants that are returning voluntarily: turmeric and ginger and galangal and rootbeer plants by rhizome, sweet potato by tuber, bananas and taro by corm, squashes and gourds and malabar spinach by seed. There’s the june bugs (a couple days early). And we got the shade cloth up on the greenhouse. Maybe that’s all good stuff actually (dont really care one way or the other on the june bugs).
Hermeneutics of a Vegetable Garden
by Jacob
Standing in our Garden, we are well positioned to engage in some deep contemplation of the Universe and its Systems. Many of the same forces and processes that inform affairs on the most dramatic scales (Politics, Culture, Natural Environment, Love, Sex, Death, the Orbits of Astronomical Bodies) can be witnessed also in microcosm among the many goings-on of any healthy (or, should we say, “active”) Garden. Processes can be tracked and forecasted along a hundred billion threads, each one tugging at all the rest if ever we should pull it.
The central project of Modernism, culminating some time in the middle of the 20th century, was one of uncovering the deep structures of Reality from beneath the accumulated layers of metaphor, symbology, superstitions and assumptions of millennia past. Just as Darwin had recently done for Biology, and Hegel for History, so too did Marx and Freud seek to reveal the hidden mechanisms of Economy and the Mind, respectively. They believed that they could sweep away the detritus of generations — all those signs and symbols and language and ideology — and look squarely at their chosen problem, and that they would then see clearly the ticking gears beneath. And they were right.
What Modernism got wrong, however, was the belief that by uncovering these systems they were revealing things as they really are —Reality itself, unencumbered by human folly or those persistent lenses of ideology and symbology. They did not yet know that their newfound systems were of course human constructions themselves. Beneath the mask of symbols and language were only more symbols, and it seems in fact to be Turtles All The Way Down.
Because of course those mechanisms that they exposed were themselves newly minted constructs. Natural Selection, Dialectics, Historical Materialism and Psychoanalysis (to name only a few such projects) say nothing of how things actually are or actually happen, they are only new (in the wide scheme of humanity) myths we tell eachother and ourselves to make human sense of things. They are systems for interpreting an unknowable reality. This is not to say that they aren’t true — so far as anything is true.
What I am saying is that there isn’t any objective reality underneath these signs and signifiers, just more of the same. What I am saying is that it’s Turtles All the Way Down.
Now, this could be taken as bad news. Many do take it that way, and all kinds of wars and other atrocities are waged by those who can’t handle it. But I would like to propose here that it isn’t such a bad thing at all. It is in fact liberatory. If all that will ever be available to us are human concepts and symbols, then we are free to do just what humans do best: Interpretation and Criticism. We are all in a sense Literary Critics, with the sum of the Universe as our text. Everything is a text, and is ripe for analysis as such2. This, however, is a Gardening Newsletter.
Our garden is no less a collection of signs and symbols than is anything else. There are many paths that we might take here. We may approach it as a text authored by biological forces, or by human culture, the progress and development of agriculture, microorganisms, entropy, chemical processes, the domestication-of-plants-by-humans, the domestication-of-humans-by-plants, power, capital, good and/or evil, love, hate, time, God, mathematics or aesthetics. One is no less true than another, because they never purport to be “truths” in the first place — only lenses of analysis.
When my tomato crop fails, I may view that as a passage in the novel of this particular piece of land, informed by all its long history, all of its crops, both failures and successes; of its history on a geological scale, how its minerals and chemicals came to be so composed; of its initial enclosure and transformation into property; of the first time it was clear-cut and graded with river sand and oyster shells; of the houses that were built here (two, as far as we can tell); of evictions; of Katrina; of all the gardens and gardeners who have graced it in the years since.
The story of those tomatoes may be told as the story of the River, the Lake, or both; of the Gulf. It is the story of Bulbancha; of the French, the Spanish, and the French again; of America; slavery; poverty; industry.
It may also be told as a chapter in the book of climate change, or of gentrification. It could be told as the story of the insect or bacterium that ultimately took my tomato crop out. It could be the story of tomatoes altogether.
We could tell (or read) the story of all the gardens in New Orleans, or the Gulf South, or all of the world. Or how about the story of all the gardeners worldwide, re-engaging with the earth; the story of hunger and despondence and how they shrank away from us as we freed ourselves and eachother, and tended our gardens and shared our meals.
We tend naturally to take it is the story of ourselves, the gardeners, and this is certainly one line of critique — but it’s played out, if you ask me.3
I’ve been told the story of mirlitons in New Orleans, how, because they must be sprouted from ripened fruit, the population was obliterated after Katrina, and how there’s a handful of little old ladies keeping those old mirliton lineages going. I’ve been told also about coastal Louisiana’s mangrove forests and how they too were obliterated, in this case by a series of freak cold snaps in the 80s, and how the coastal landscape stands drastically altered to this day. Who are the heroes in these stories? Who are the villains?
Party to this is the idea that all things have such stories, even those we would consider more “dull” or “inanimate.” This shovel, for example, is not only a fellow traveler in countless other stories, it is the protagonist in stories of its own — stories of whence it’s come and where it’s going:
the blade was pressed into its shape, and, before that, its component metals were combined into their present configuration, having been taken from where they were separately embedded in the earth, and before that even, those metals were formed by enormous violence of heat and energy, and before that, and before that…
don’t even get me started on the wood of its handle.
All of these things (my self, my garden, my shovel) may be seen in a much grander story also, seen to be spinning and hurdling through space at a ridiculous clip.
These stories could have one or many authors. Many are authored by ideas and abstractions, but some are by people, or insects, or heavy machinery.
Now, what does all this mean? That’s literary criticism, baby — you tell me.
I tend to analyze and process things through my own pet lenses — capital, language, freedom and oppression, ecology etc. — but one could just as easily read them as stories of paranoia, xenophobia, animus, anxiety, of “fairness” and of “getting what’s mine.” This is why we have got to remember that, because it is turtles all the way down, because there is no magical “real” underneath our interpretations and understandings, we must choose what story we are reading (or telling). Before anything else — before logic or ethics or divination or scientific rigor — we have no choice but to simply make up, out of thin air, what type of stories we are most interested in. Mostly we are told, explicitly or implicitly, the way that things are and what book we are living, and it is genuinely difficult to discard or move beyond that reading.
It can however be done. We do it in fact every single time we change our mind about anything. We are changing the universe. So, I guess what I want to say here is that you have my permission to change your mind — about everything — and I hope that you will give yourself and others the same.
This is a gardening newsletter.
A Greener New Orleans
By Maggie
For more than two years, I’ve been part of an incredible coalition developing an urban agriculture policy campaign, made up of folks from Sprout, New Orleans Food Policy Action Council (FPAC), and the Greater New Orleans Growers Alliance (GNOGA), all meeting on a regular basis to lay the groundwork for a campaign that addresses some of the most crucial needs of farmers and gardeners in New Orleans. This team has done what I think is a great job of understanding and taking to heart growers’ concerns, though I am 100% biased. In addition to hearing from growers, we’ve also done a ton of research about the benefits of urban agriculture, how it improves the overall health of our communities, how it helps mitigate the effects of climate change, improves air quality, reduces the city temperatures–or the “heat island effect”–and helps manage stormwater runoff and flooding. Plus, farming, and specifically composting, helps reduce organic waste matter and puts it toward something truly incredible: growing food and medicine and increasing the biodiversity of our city.
Creating this campaign has also required us to take a hard look at where the city can step up and encourage, rather than hinder, urban agriculture and the greening of New Orleans. Many growers have struggled to navigate the city’s programs, utilities, and bureaucratic processes, hitting roadblocks that can potentially shut them down (like not being able to access affordable irrigation). So this policy campaign asks City Concil and New Orleans Redevelopment Authority (NORA) for the following:
Growing Green and NORA Lease Changes
Publishing the steps of the process with clear timelines and additional resources Harmonizing the lease restrictions with what’s allowed under the CZO
Allowing the lease payments to be subtracted from the sale price
Decision matrix for
Continuation of leases
Application acceptance
Allowing the leases to be recorded legally
Allowing appraisal of property value as an agriculture use rather than the highest and best use Clarifying the process for blight citations and violations
Accessible process for getting agricultural water meters installed
Having a clear and consistent way to speak to SWB about agricultural meters Training SWB staff on the process of putting in and billing for an agricultural water meter. Having public documentation for the process, including a step-by-step form for getting a dedicated meter
Alter the process for reporting and citing blight to understand the needs of growers and how gardens look during different seasons
Relying on relationship with Urban Agriculture Liaison to help inform when a property is genuinely causing blight or when it looks different than city officials are used to (i.e., cover cropping) Creating a more fair and transparent process for requiring the removal of blight from urban farms
Creating an appointed volunteer Urban Agriculture Liaison position - with access across City Government
Allowing access for one person to ask questions directly, create recommendations and attend meetings with city officials (such as blight hearings)
This person can be a point of contact for both growers or the city.
This is only the beginning of what could be possible as far as urban ag policy goes, but Too Tall could stand to benefit from each plank, as could so many farms and growing spaces across the city that all truly hold important places in their communities. At the end of June, on June 28th, there will be an event at Press St. Gardens to celebrate the campaign and the growers of this city. It will be a chance to connect and learn from those that have been paving a way for us and for future farmers & gardeners in New Orleans. RSVP here.
Bee Update
Also by Maggie
As of June, three hives remain at Too Tall. Colin, the ultimate bee tender, has taken the swarm box down from the trees, mostly because it had tilted on the branch it sat on and they didn’t want to let the bees build out comb that mimicked the tilt. Another swarm did appear on the farm mid-month, but it was too high up in a tree and over the “pond”, a precarious hole on the farm, so we weren’t able to catch it, though a friend, Stevie Ray, did bring over a swarm box in the off chance they felt like inhabiting it.
At the last bee check-up we did with Colin, we observed that the original hive had chosen/nominated a new queen and was actively building out new comb on the empty frames we placed in it after the split. The split hive has a smaller population and Colin considered adding a few frames from a hive at their house with plentiful nursery cells, but ultimately decided not to. As we enter June/the summer, the bee’s activity slows down a bit as they are not as actively swarming and as they turn their work inward, building up stores of honey and sealing the hive in propolis. We won’t need to check on them as frequently, as long as they have empty frames to work with, which, as Colin says, is “helpful and kind to them”. Colin also shared the following about propolis in their Bee Updates email:
“The bees put in alot of work and time to sealing their hive with propolis. This bee medicine is made up of tree and plant resins, pollen, beeswax, and other "unidentifiable"(by scientists) compounds. The bees will coat everything in their hive in it, seal gaps with it, and use it like glue for any building they need to do. They've even been known to mummify intruders, like mice, with propolis, to keep them from rotting in their hive. This last bit speaks well to the antimicrobial properties of the propolis. By coating their hive with propolis and sealing it well, they're creating and environment in their hive where the air is medicinal, as well as making a place where they can control the temperature and humidity for what they need. Every time we open the hive up, we are altering that environment, letting all that air out, as well as setting them up for more work, to reseal the hive afterwards. We can do things to make this easier, or less bothersome to them, but at the end of it, sometimes its more considerate to leave them alone, and make our observations from the outside, or when we know theres things that need tending.”
If that isn’t some cool ass magic, then get the heck outta here! Something else I learned from Colin was the importance of the Chinese Tallow (Triadica sebifera) tree, especially right now, with its long catkins of flowers blooming. I usually call tallow trees “trash trees,” due to them being non-native and rather invasive. But I’ve developed a soft spot for this tree because the blooms are beloved by bees and it's one of the major honey crops in Louisiana!
Last minute addition: Cat, our best garden volunteer, has a swarm at the top of her grapefruit tree!
Orchid Corner
Not much to report on the Orchid Front, just regular old boring plant stuff…
…
. .
JUST KIDDING!
Brassocattleya Richard Mueller × Cattleya purpurata
Oncidium Jamie Sutton × Oncidium Honolulu
How about those friggin blooms??
June Plant List:
Veggies:
Cucumber, Straight Eight
Cucumber, Mideast Peace
Eggplant, Ping Tung Long
Eggplant, Poamoho Dark Long
Eggplant, Louisiana Long Green
Eggplant, Rosita
Ground Cherry, Pineapple
Luffa
Malabar Spinach
Okra, Clemson Spineless
Okra, Annie Oakley
Okra, Hill Country Red
Molokhia
Peanut, Tennesee Red Valencia
Pepper, Ostra Cyklon Paprika
Pepper, Mini Belle
Pepper, Fatalli
Pepper, Aji Golden
Pepper, Aji Dulce
Pepper, Thai Dragon
Pepper, Big Yellow Mama
Pepper, Jimmy Nardello
Pigeon Pea
Pumpkin, Seminole
Squash, Cushaw
Squash, Cucuzza
Sweet Potato Slips
Tomato, Homestead
Herbs (culinary & medicinal):
Ashwagandha
Basil, Genovese
Basil, Thai
Catnip
Chives
Comfrey
Echinacea
Epazote
Fennel, Bronze
Feverfew
Lemon Balm
Lemongrass
Mexican Tarragon
Mint
Mullein
Oregano
Rosemary
Rue
Sage
Skullcap
Spilanthes
Thyme
Tulsi/Holy Basil
Valerian
Yarrow
Flowers/Natives/Other:
Bee Balm, Spotted
Calendula, Flashback
Celosia, pink
Galangal
Ginger
Gomphrena, pink
Hibiscus, Roselle
Hibiscus, Cranberry
Marigolds, Crackerjack
Nasturtium, Jewel
Swamp Sunflower
Turmeric, Black
Turmeric, Red
NEW HOURS
June Hours:
Fridays: CLOSED
Saturdays, June 4th, 11th, 18th: 8am - 2pm
Thursday Farmers Market on Lafitte Greenway, June 2nd, 9th, 16th: 3-7pm
Sunday Farmers Markets @ Tad Gormley Stadium, June 5, 12th, 19th: 8am - 12 pm
Closed June 25 - July 17
Maggie’s June Jams:
Zines/Resources available at Too Tall
(chicory.) plant zines #1 & #2
Dirt Nerd: pink, green, yellow, blue
Not Our Farm’s Worker Zine
Lobelia Common’s Earthbound Farmers Almanac 2022 & 2021
LSU Extension’s mail-in soil tests (not for lead/heavy metals)
You’re welcome. Also I just donr know animals so much as plants, and there’s a lot of animals in this issue.
This is what we mean when we say “my truth” or “your truth” etc. This is not to say that all Truths are equally resonant or deserving of our attention: many are nothing more than bad or uninspired Criticism.
Which I know you didn’t.
Great heckin gardening newsletter!