October 2011

Planters Punchlines
Men’s Garden Club of Wethersfield
October 2011

Next Meeting - Monday October 24th @ 7:00 p.m.

Our speaker for October 24th will be Nick Pettit, Floriculture Greenhouse Manager at UConn. His topic will be the new floriculture facility and its history in the Plant Science and Landscape Architecture Departments.

Floriculture, or flower farming, is a discipline of horticulture concerned with the cultivation of flowering and ornamental plants for gardens and for floristry, comprising the floral industry.

Mark Your Calendar: Holiday Party
on Monday December 5th

Compostable Matter
By Jim Meehan

I am writing this in early October. My admittedly not totally accurate outdoor dial thermometer reads sixty-plus degrees. The sun is shining brightly through a virtually cloudless, Carolina Blue sky. For a variety of reasons my yard is half bathed in sunshine, half cooled by shade. In that shadiness I, one who would rather be quite hot than even a little bit cool, am comfortable in my short-sleeved tee layered under my L.L. Bean Chamois shirt. Flannel would work also. I am stalking the edges of the cool zone hoping to find a sunny spot within which to do something horticultural.

The trouble is that during this, the best time of year for gardening, there is the least to do. It was not always so.

The weather is similar to that of mid to late March, the other time of year when I am looking to warm my shoulders in the sunlight. Then I am looking under things in hopes of finding tiny green signs of what is to come when the sun becomes stronger and the days become longer.

By October all my dreams of green have gone through their seasonal fruition and, whether they know it or not, are preparing, each in their own way, for their end of year hibernation. My job now is to facilitate the process – not to rush it and have it start too soon nor to ignore it until it is too late, but (as the dictionary says) to make the process easier.

Many years ago, when I first got caught up in this whole gardening cult stuff, I would work in frenzies. On a day such as this if I spotted one resident of a flower bed in a dried-up and colorless condition then I would wreak havoc on the whole lot of them – ripping out the annuals and cutting the perennials to the ground (no matter how green the stem or vibrant the leaves).

This amped-up activity would continue until either I ran out of vegetation to victimize or the sun no longer warmed my shoulders. If it was the latter, then I stopped work and tabled the item for the next perfect fall day. When all of the beds were decimated I would go back into the house and impatiently wait for the leaves to come tumbling down so that I could go outside and work again.

Then I somehow became aware of the fact that birds, which we were attracting to our premises with feeders-full of bagged sunflower and thistle seeds, actually would eat these very same foods if they were presented to them in their natural form. Who would of thought?

So I started leaving my sunflowers etc. up for the taking until they were totally taken.

Then I came across this whole notion of autumn-interest gardens – the idea that the varicolored leaves of no longer blooming plants could provide enough aesthetic enjoyment to justify not only their retention throughout their foliage season. Who knew that in New England, of all places, ground level leaf peeping could be so enjoyable?

So I started laving my late blooming leaf perennials up for the viewing until they were totally spent.

Then I heard that even the non-edible, non-lush-leaved plants should not be cut down in autumn because they will get fooled by an Indian summer into thinking it was spring and therefore would start growing and blooming just in time to be frozen to death. Who knew perennials were dumb enough to get suckered in by a few days of warm weather?

So I started leaving all the remaining perennials up and looking ugly.

Nothing to do now except to wait for the tree foliage to fall – and then look forward to next spring when I can finally cut down all those dead plants that have grown so useless and unattractive over the winter months.

I’ve effectively eliminated one of the four seasons. Unfortunately it isn’t winter.

Horti-Culture Corner

For to garden successfully is achievement of the finest. Call it tonic, sport, science, art, if you will. But do not fail to call it adventure.
Alice T.A. Quackenbush

What Are the Best Perennial Flowers
for the Northeastern US?
By Christina Inge, eHow.com

Perennials should be the foundation of any home's garden. Available to most gardeners in a much wider variety than annuals, perennials can make or break a garden plan, adding plants of solid stature and unique colors. But choosing the right perennials for the cold climate of the

Northeast can be a challenge for many gardeners. Focusing on time-tested cold-hardy vareties can remove the guesswork from picking the right perennial flowers for the northeastern U.S.
Primroses: Believe it or not, primroses are actually a great foundation for a garden. Their early bloom time makes them a must for the Northeast, getting some color into the garden when winter is still hanging on. They are low-growing, so you'll want to plant them up front where you can see them, along walkways, on the edges of flowerbeds, and along rock walls and fences.

Available in stunningly bright colors, such as rich purples and electric yellows, they will not disappoint

Crocuses: Crocuses' early bloom makes them a mainstay in the Northeast. Grown from bulbs, they need to be planted in the fall, with ample fertilizer, to bloom well in the spring. Their color range is limited to white, yellow and purple, but that makes them no less welcome in March and April.

Lupines: Tall and bushy, lupines make a perfect alternative to flowering shrubs in smaller gardens, and are a great bedding plant in larger gardens. They come in a wide range of colors, from yellow to pink, in addition to purple, the most common color found in the wild. They do well in poor-quality soil, making them an even more attractive option for Northeast gardeners.

Echinaceas: A relative of daisies, echinacea is a medicinal plant that also produces stunning, bold pink flowers, in late summer-early fall, and can grow to be over 3 feet tall. Echinaceas do best in dry soil, and are in fact, quite able to withstand very dry weather, so they are ideal to grow in areas where outdoor water use is strictly regulated.

Asters: Also from the daisy family, asters bloom a bit later than echinaceas in the fall---often hanging on even after light frost. They are found in shades of purple, with a bright electric purple being the most commonly available in garden centers. Pale lavender asters grow in the wild throughout the Northeast.

Sedum: A succulent that grows well into the end of the growing season, sedum extends the season for many Northeast gardeners. It can withstand light frost, especially in a sheltered location, and produces small flowers, generally red or yellow. Its foliage is also attractive.

How to Plant Spring-Flowering Bulbs
Follow these simple tips in fall for beautiful results in spring.
(www.bhg.com)

Plant hardy bulbs anytime in fall before the soil freezes, but it's best to plant them early enough so the root systems can grow before extremely cold weather arrives. In some climates, you can plant until Thanksgiving, even Christmas. Late-planted bulbs will develop roots in spring and may bloom later than normal; they'll get back on schedule the following year. Water the bulbs after planting to stimulate the roots to grow.

Positioning bulbs at their proper depth helps ensure their longevity. Generally bulbs should be planted so the bottom rests at a depth that's two-and-a-half times the bulb's diameter. In well-drained or sandy soil, plant an inch or two deeper to increase longevity and discourage rodents.

Because bulbs look best planted in groups, you are better off using a garden spade instead of a bulb planter, which encourages you to plant bulbs singly. A spade makes it easier to set bulbs side by side in large groups. Plant groups of bulbs in holes no smaller than a dinner plate, or dig wide, curving trenches and position the bulbs in the bottom.
Layer different types of bulbs from bottom to top in the same hole to create companion plantings or a succession of bloom in a given location. For example, dig a 6-inch-deep hole and place several Dutch hyacinths in the bottom, lightly cover them with soil, then plant a handful of grape hyacinths at a 5-inch depth. The two types of hyacinths bloom at the same time in spring.

The grape hyacinths create a softening skirt beneath the more massive Dutch hyacinths. As another benefit, the leaves of the grape hyacinth bulbs appear in autumn and remain all winter, providing a marker for the dormant Dutch hyacinth bulbs, so you won't inadvertently plant on top of the hyacinths or dig them up.

Interplanting provides maximum flowers in the smallest space and eliminates bare spots where bulbs go dormant. To create a succession of bloom and foliage, plant perennials around the bulb holes. As the bulb foliage dwindles, the perennials will grow up, camouflaging the bulbs' yellowing leaves. This interplanting technique works in both formal and informal gardens.

The Crocus Bank
by Kathy Purdy (www.coldclimatgardening.com)

“There ya’ go, lady. All’s ya gotta do is sprinkle some grass seed and you’re all set.” I smiled and thanked the hard-hatted foreman of the highway crew, and then turned to survey the damage.

Early that autumn morning the foreman had knocked on my door, informing me that they wanted to regrade our dirt driveway so that it tipped slightly to the south and funneled water into the ditch at the side of the road instead of directly into the road. During the freeze/thaw cycle of mud season, the runoff collected in a puddle in the middle of the road and froze, creating a traffic hazard. I had no desire to see an automobile spin out of control in front of my house, so I readily agreed. Unbeknownst to me, however, they decided to do me a “favor” and regrade the southern bank of the driveway, moderating the slope so it would be easier to mow. I could see that the slope was now much shallower, but I could also see that no grass would grow there without a serious investment of work and money. The topsoil had been completely scraped away, and a few roots from the venerable maple tree growing in that corner of the property poked through. Horticulturally, it was a disaster.

The first thing I did was–nothing. We had just funneled all our financial resources into replacing our completely inadequate septic tank, and there was no money for the kind of soil renovation needed to make seeding grass worthwhile. And with a four-month-old baby plus six other children aged eleven and under to get ready for my sister’s wedding, I didn’t exactly have a lot of spare time in which to tackle the project. I was curious to see what would grow there on its own, and I was hoping the fallen leaves from the maple would make a start on the road back to fertility. I also thought that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to grow grass there. It wouldn’t hurt to think it over during the winter.

Can you see me writing to the question-and-answer column of a gardening magazine: “Dear Horticultural Expert, please tell me what plants will grow in clay subsoil. Yours truly, Incredibly Naive.” At least I knew enough to know that I didn’t know much. I read garden books and magazines voraciously while breastfeeding and throughout each winter, hoping to find the magic solution. In the meantime, the weeds grew and the leaves fell in their season, and the mown weeds and the fallen leaves were left in place to enrich the soil.

Finally, an article from the May 1990 issue of Fine Gardening about growing small bulbs in a buffalo grass lawn inspired me. Crocus, it seems, originally grew on the arid steppes of Asia. They expect drought in the summer and they don’t need fertile soil to survive. Well, why not, I thought. I’d certainly felt the need for more spring color, and the White Flower Farm catalog had the most seductive photos. Their prices were rather less seductive, however, and I decided to imitate their blue and white crocus collection by purchasing the bulbs from a more reasonably priced merchant. In 1994 I bought 70 Princess Beatrix, 35 Violet Queen, 48 Snowbunting (fragrant), 30 Queen of the Blues, 30 Snowstorm and 45 Striped Beauty for a total of 258 bulbs.

It sounded like a lot of bulbs to me, and I was sure they would cover the bank, so I dutifully planted them 2 to 3 inches apart, as recommended by yet another bulb catalog.

Much to my chagrin, when I was all done only a third of the slope was planted. I had never even attempted calculating the square footage of the area I wanted to cover. Having learned my lesson, I tried to come up with an approximate square footage for the irregularly shaped area, and in 1996 I planted 200 mixed crocus, 50 Bluebird, 100 Prinses Beatrix,100 Miss Vain (fragrant), 100 Violet Queen for a total of 550 more bulbs. This time I also planted 50 bulbs of Tulipa bakeri ‘Lilac Wonder,’ which I thought would also do well and would extend the season. I have to admit, I did kind of fall for the White Flower Farm catalog copy, which described this tulip as looking like “a sweetly pink Crocus that arrived too late to the party.”

But, once again, I didn’t buy it from them. I am so cheap (frugal? thrifty?). It was that same character trait which prompted me to buy the mixed color crocuses. Per bulb, they were much less expensive than the named varieties, and I figured I could dig the yellow ones out and replant them elsewhere, and still come out ahead. In the end, I decided to keep them there. The blues and the whites tend to disappear against the background of dormant vegetation, but the little zings of golden yellow grab your attention and focus it on the whole planting.

Planting these little bulbs was definitely a labor of love. I could only plant after a good soaking rain, otherwise the subsoil was impossible to penetrate. I used a sturdy dibble and bore down on it with my weight while rotating it to drill a hole. Ironically, I was delighted to come across small rocks; they actually made the job easier. I would take one of those forked dandelion weeders and pry the rock out, and use the cavity as my planting hole. Once I dropped a corm in, I stuck my thumb in the hole and made a “C” with my thumb and forefinger. Where my index finger landed, that’s where I planted the next one. Six hundred bulbs, one at a time. It did get tedious. What kept me going was not wanting to waste the money I’d spent (frugality rears its ugly head once again), and the memories of cabin fevers past. And, of course, with the second batch, I had the vision of how nice the first 250 flowers looked to urge me on. I also harbored the secret hope that someday a total stranger would pull over on the side of the road and tell me how much they appreciated them.

If you are familiar with crocus varieties you will know that I planted both the earlier blooming species crocus and the larger but later Dutch crocus. At peak bloom most of both kinds are blooming (this might not be so further south with a longer spring) and the effect is glorious. On a warm day you can catch a tantalizing whiff of the fragrant varieties and the bees are ecstatically buzzing from blossom to blossom. In late afternoon they are backlit by the sun and especially enchanting.

The crocuses have been a good start, but at this point I don’t feel that the problem of the slope has been solved. It has filled in, on its own, with grass and weeds to point that it resembles the rest of what passes for a lawn in these rural parts. I am at a crossroads: I have to decide if I just want my big display of crocus and then maintain it as part of the lawn, or if I want it planted with something more decorative all the time. Right now I have a foot in both camps, and the results look as ambivalent as I feel. The ‘Lilac Wonders’ are pretty, but they bloom so much later than the crocus that the grass has grown up six inches around them, and you can’t see them when they’re blooming. And then you have to wait for the foliage to die down before you mow. If
I’m going to keep them there, I should get rid of all the grass and plant the slope intensively with ornamentals, otherwise it’s going to look unkempt for at least as long as it looks terrific.

On the other hand, I read an article by Brian Bixley (“The Search For a Mowable Ground Cover,” Horticulture May ’99, pp. 64-66) on his approach to taming a difficult-to-mow area. He planted a combination of colchicums with Geranium himalayense and G. endressii. The groundcovering geraniums provided bloom and foliage generous enough to hide the dying colchicum leaves. In late summer he mowed down the geranium foliage so that the display of colchicum blossoms was unobstructed. The geranium foliage grew back as the colchicum flowers died off. I tried sticking some rooted pieces of Geranium sanguineum in a few places on the slope as an experiment. They hung around for one growing season, maybe two, and then disappeared from sight. I am not sure if the lawnmower got them, or drought, or if they just got choked out by the surrounding vegetation. (Bixley killed off all his grass with Roundup before planting his geranium seedlings, but I didn’t have the courage to do that. Also, he has free-draining soil versus my clay subsoil, so I’m not sure what would be the best geranium for my situation.) I had plenty of surplus colchicums on hand, and I interplanted them with autumn flowering Crocus speciosus in one spot.

Much to my surprise, the crocuses bloom after the colchicums, but they both looked mighty cheerful in the fall. I love the idea of the whole slope spangled with the lavender-pink colchicum blooms in the fall, but colchicum leaves take even longer to die down in spring than the tulip leaves, so I’m back to the problem of an unmown bank for all of spring and a good part of summer unless I can figure out how to get the geraniums to grow. I’m back to the modus operandi that I started with in the beginning: until I’m certain what I want to do, I’ll do nothing.

Except, of course, to enjoy the crocuses this spring.

Cold Hardy Perennial Flowers
By Kelly Andersson, eHow.com

Hardy perennials, which, by definition, return year after year, will survive harsh winters---some even without mulch or other protections. The downside, according to Clemson University Extension Service, is that many winter-tough perennials won't thrive in long, hot summers.

Choosing hardy perennials well suited to your conditions will increase chances of long-lived blooming plants in your yard.

Groundcovers: Many groundcover perennials will survive hard winters and spread each year.
Alpine rock cress grows 6 to 12 inches high with early-spring, pinkish-white blooms; it does best in full sun. Excellent for rock gardens, rock cress complements a planting of spring bulbs.

Creeping phlox is low growing and blooms in mats of flowers early in the spring. A rapidly spreading perennial, creeping phlox is available in a range of colors. Tiarella, also known as foam flower, prefers shady spots and puts up spikes of pink blooms in late spring.

Shrubs/Foliage Plants: One of the best known hardy perennials, basket-of-gold is a shrubby yellow perennial sometimes called gold dust. It grows up to 12 inches and blooms from mid-spring through early summer. It needs full sun and dry, well drained soil; according to the North Dakota State Extension Service, many hardy perennials are subject to root rot in poorly drained soil. Another sun-loving perennial, blue dogbane, blooms in early summer, with light blue flowers on 3-foot plants.

For shady areas, the large-leafed ligularia, also known as golden groundsel, blooms with daisy-like flowers in leafy clumps. Another hardy perennial, sea holly blooms with blue and grey-green flowers beginning in mid-summer. Sea holly can grow up to 4 feet, with large, attractive leaves; it prefers full sun. Gayfeather, also known as liatris, attracts butterflies and bees; it has grassy foliage and flowers in late summer with feathery spikes of pink, purple or white blooms.

Shade-Tolerant Hardy Perennials: In shady gardens, astilbe blooms in early summer and will grow from 1 to 4 feet tall. A small and pretty hardy perennial that will grow just about anywhere is yarrow---it grows wild in many areas of the country and will bloom and re-bloom in the harshest conditions. Another classic perennial, the bleeding heart is far more hardy than its delicate blooms would suggest. It does well in shaded areas and survives for years if well established. Penstemon, popular in many northern gardens, is available in many colors and varieties---check for shade tolerance for the varieties you choose.

Tall Bloomers: Veronica, sometimes called speedwell, blooms in early summer and is available in several varieties. Another blue perennial with notable hardiness is May Night salvia; it grows up to 3 feet and blooms all summer. If you love foxgloves but they won't survive in your area, try monkshood---it puts up tall spires late in the summer with deep blue flowers that attract butterflies and bees.

Horti-Culture Corner (Bonus)

It should be said, though without any intention of adding to the world’s already adequate store of guilt, that the average gardener is surprisingly lazy and, not to split hairs about it, pig-headed.
Henry Mitchell

One Bad Gardening Joke….

Two friars are having trouble paying off the belfry, so they open a florist shop.
Everyone wants to buy flowers from the men of God so business is quickly booming.
The florist across town sees a huge drop in sales and asks the two friars to close their shop, but they refuse.
A month later the florist begs the friars to close because he’s having trouble feeding his family.
Again, they refuse, so the florist hires Hugh McTaggert.
Hugh is the roughest, toughest thug in town and is hired to “persuade” the friars to close.
Hugh asks the friars to close their florist shop.
When they refuse, he threatens to beat the crap out of them and wreck their shop every day they remain open, so they close.
This proves once again that Hugh and only Hugh can prevent florist friars. ~

…deserves another

I left packet a of seeds in my pocket and my coat turned into a Chia jacket.

September 2011

Planters Punchlines
Men’s Garden Club of Wethersfield
September 2011
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Garden Club Kicks off 2011-12 Season
Monday Sept. 26 @ 7:00 p.m. Pitkin Community Center

No agenda or speaker. Traditionally the Sept. meeting is to get reacquainted, talk over summer happenings, and discuss plans for the upcoming year. Let the arguing begin.

2011-2012 Club Officers

President: Tony Sanders
Vice President: John Swingen Jr.
Secretary: Fred Odell
Treasurer: Richard Prentice

Please welcome prospective club member Ben Nichols. Ben recently moved to Newington from the Syracuse, NY area where he was a member of the Men’s Garden Club of Syracuse.

Compostable Matter
By Jim Meehan

The bees seem to be getting really fat on our Phlox pollen this year. Really, really fat! Hindenbee fat! Supersize me fat! Heavy enough to bend the plant ninety degrees fat! Able to hang on to a fragile petal in twenty miles per hour wind fat!

This summer, for various reasons, I have spent more time looking out our front family room windows than I usually do. The view out into our yard is partially obscured by several pink Phloxes that have lived there with varying degrees of success for the past decade or so.

Marsha uses the growth of these tall perennials as an indoor guide to the passage of the gardening season. In early summer they make their first annual appearance barely peeking over the top of the widow sill. Then week-by-week they climb past the two white horizontal lines formed by the frames inside the windows panes. Finally they shoot up into the upper windows and sway calmly in the light warm weather breeze.

I didn’t really notice the bees until late July. They were, at that time I thought, larger than I remembered from years before. And now they seem to be considerably larger still.

Now granted “considerably larger” in a bee is a relative concept. According to www.bees-online.com the average size of a bumblebee is from 12 to 16 millimeters (1/2” to 5/8”) and their standard weight is one tenth of a gram or four one hundredths of a ounce. For comparison one M&M candy (regardless of color) is ten times heavier at 1.13 grams/ .04 ounce.

Periodically one or two of the little honey-makers sneaks inside our family room and hangs out at these self same windows looking longingly at these self same Phlox. This breach in our security has been going on for several years and Marsha and I have yet to figure out where the point of entry is. In any event the bees are quite passive – either hovering lazily alongside the glass or taking a break on the windowsill. My job is to capture our visitors in some paper product, usually a napkin, and (without crushing them) to transport them back to their native outdoor habitat. The wood pulp cocoon feels weightless and if it were not for the gentle vibrations I can feel in my hands I would have no idea whether I was carrying anything or not.

Once outside I open up the swaddle like a magician releasing a dove and the bee floats away into the ether. The audience in my family room politely applauds.

Still, in spite of their gravity-free state, the little humming insects seem to me to be transitioning from being quite easily seen, to extremely noticeable, to blocking-out-the-son enormous. So I decided to carefully observe what was happening in my family room garden. Here, combined with some supporting information that I gleaned from the Internet, are my findings.

All morning the Phlox is in the shade. There is absolutely zero bee activity.

At noon the sun begins to warm the tall pink perennials and shortly thereafter the bees, mid-sized and agile, arrive by the dozen. For about an hour they dart from flower to flower, somehow avoiding mid-air collisions. Then the majority (presumably younger guys with other things to do) leave. Two of them, whom I’ve named Cliff Clavin and Norm, settle in for the afternoon.

By two p.m. Cliff and Norm have attached themselves firmly to their favorite barstools and are growing both larger and logier as their bodies and brains become progressively more encased in nectar. This increase in size and lethargy continues throughout the afternoon until, fully satiated, they drag themselves slowly away from their afternoon hangout and head home where they are hailed as heroes and gently stripped of their temporary sweet outer skins by their fellow hive mates. Then, after sleeping it off, they come back the next day for another round, or two, or three.

Not every worker bee is cut out for it – witness all of the less experienced early afternoon dropouts. But if it is what you are meant to be, it’s probably not that bad a life being a “regular”.

Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name,
And they're always glad you came;
You want to be where you can see,
Our troubles are all the same;
You want to be where everybody knows your name.

Vertical Farming:Does it Really Stack Up? The Economist

Agriculture: Growing crops in vertical farms in the heart of cities is said to be a greener way to produce food. But the idea is still unproven

WHEN you run out of land in a crowded city, the solution is obvious: build upwards. This simple trick makes it possible to pack huge numbers of homes and offices into a limited space such as Hong Kong, Manhattan or the City of London. Mankind now faces a similar problem on a global scale. The world’s population is expected to increase to 9.1 billion by 2050, according to the UN.

Feeding all those people will mean increasing food production by 70%, according to the UN’s Food and Agriculture Organisation, through a combination of higher crop yields and an expansion of the area under cultivation. But the additional land available for cultivation is unevenly distributed, and much of it is suitable for growing only a few crops. So why not create more agricultural land by building upwards?

Such is the thinking behind vertical farming. The idea is that skyscrapers filled with floor upon floor of orchards and fields, producing crops all year round, will sprout in cities across the world. As well as creating more farmable land out of thin air, this would slash the transport costs and carbon-dioxide emissions associated with moving food over long distances. It would also reduce the spoilage that inevitably occurs along the way, says Dickson Despommier, a professor of public and environmental health at Columbia University in New York who is widely regarded as the progenitor of vertical farming, and whose recently published book, “The Vertical Farm”, is a manifesto for the idea. According to the UN’s Population Division, by 2050 around 70% of the world’s population will be living in urban areas. So it just makes sense, he says, to move farms closer to where everyone will be living.

Better still, says Dr Despommier, the use of pesticides, herbicides and fungicides can be kept to a bare minimum by growing plants indoors in a controlled environment. Soil erosion will not be a problem because the food will be grown hydroponically—in other words, in a solution of minerals dissolved in water. Clever recycling techniques will ensure that only a fraction of the amount of water and nutrients will be needed compared with conventional farming, and there will no problem with agricultural run-off.

A wide variety of designs for vertical farms have been created by architectural firms. (The idea can arguably be traced back as far as the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, built around 600BC.) So far, however, the idea remains firmly on the drawing board. Would it really work?

“Without artificial lighting the result will be an uneven crop, as plants closest to the windows are exposed to more sunlight and grow more quickly.”

The necessary technology already exists. The glasshouse industry has more than a century’s experience of growing crops indoors in large quantities, says Gene Giacomelli, director of the Controlled Environment Agriculture Centre at the University of Arizona in Tucson. It is now possible to tailor the temperature, humidity, lighting, airflow and nutrient conditions to get the best productivity out of plants year round, anywhere in the world, he says. The technology of hydroponics allows almost any kind of plant to be grown in nutrient-rich water, from root crops like radishes and potatoes to fruit such as melons and even cereals like maize.

There are a number of ways to do it, but essentially hydroponics involves suspending plants in a medium—such as gravel, wool or a form of volcanic glass known as perlite—while the roots are immersed in a solution of nutrient-rich water. A constant flow of air keeps the plants bathed in carbon dioxide. Any nutrients and water that are not taken up by the roots can be recycled, rather than being lost into the soil. “You can grow anything with hydroponics,” says Dr Giacomelli.

He and his colleagues have created the South Pole Food Growth Chamber, which has been in operation since 2004. This semi-automated hydroponic facility in Antarctica is used to provide each of the 65 staff of the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station with at least one fresh salad a day during the winter months, when supply flights to the station are extremely limited. The chamber has a floor area of 22 square metres and produces a wide range of fruit and vegetables with little more than the occasional topping up of water and nutrients. It does, however, require artificial lighting because the station is without natural daylight for most of the winter.

And that highlights a big potential stumbling-block for vertical farming. In the Antarctic the need to provide artificial light is a small price to pay for fresh food, given the cost of importing it.

But elsewhere the cost of powering artificial lights will make indoor farming prohibitively expensive. Even though crops growing in a glass skyscraper will get some natural sunlight during the day, it won’t be enough. Without artificial lighting the result will be an uneven crop, as the plants closest to the windows are exposed to more sunlight and grow more quickly, says Peter Head, global leader of planning and sustainable development at Arup, a British engineering firm. “Light has to be very tightly controlled to get uniform production of very high-quality food,” he says.

Indeed, even in today’s single-storey glasshouses, artificial lighting is needed to enable year-round production. Thanet Earth, a 90-hectare facility which opened in Kent in 2008 and is the largest such site in Britain—it provides 15% of the British salad crop—requires its own mini power-station to provide its plants with light for 15 hours a day during the winter months. This rather undermines the notion that vertical farming will save energy and cut carbon emissions, notes Mr Head, who has carried out several studies of the idea. Vertical farming will need cheap, renewable energy if it is to work, he says.

Some researchers, such as Ted Caplow, an environmental engineer and founder of New York Sun Works, a non-profit group, argue that even using renewable energy the numbers do not add up. Between 2006 and 2009 Dr Caplow and his colleagues operated the Science Barge, a floating hydroponic greenhouse moored in Manhattan (it has since moved to Yonkers). “It was to investigate what we could do to grow food in the heart of the city with minimal resource-consumption and maximum resource-efficiency,” says Dr Caplow.

The barge used one-tenth as much water as a comparable field farm. There was no agricultural run-off, and chemical pesticides were replaced with natural predators such as ladybirds. Operating all year round, the barge could grow 20 times more than could have been produced by a field of the same size, says Dr Caplow.

Solar panels and wind turbines on the barge meant that it could produce food with near-zero net carbon emissions. But the greenhouses on the barge were only one storey high, so there was not much need for artificial lighting. As soon as you start trying to stack greenhouses on top of each other you run into problems, says Dr Caplow. Based on his experience with the Science Barge, he has devised a rule of thumb: generating enough electricity using solar panels requires an area about 20 times larger than the area being illuminated. For a skyscraper-sized hydroponic farm, that is clearly impractical. Vertical farming will work only if it makes use of natural light, Dr Caplow concludes.

One idea, developed by Valcent, a vertical-farming firm based in Texas, Vancouver and Cornwall, is to use vertically stacked hydroponic trays that move on rails, to ensure that all plants get an even amount of sunlight. The company already has a 100-square-metre working prototype at Paignton Zoo in Devon, producing rapid-cycle leaf vegetable crops, such as lettuce, for the zoo’s animals. The VerticCrop system (pictured) ensures an even distribution of light and air flow, says Dan Caiger-Smith of Valcent. Using energy equivalent to running a desktop computer for ten hours a day it can produce 500,000 lettuces a year, he says. Growing the same crop in fields would require seven times more energy and up to 20 times more land and water.

But VertiCrop uses multiple layers of stacked trays that operate within a single-storey greenhouse, where natural light enters from above, as well as from the sides. So although this boosts productivity, it doesn’t help with multi-storey vertical farms. Even if each floor rotates its crops past the windows so that all plants receive an equal amount of natural light, overall they would get less light, and so produce less biomass, says Dr Caplow. He prefers the idea of the “vertically integrated greenhouse”. This idea involves the integration of vertical farms into buildings and offices, with plants growing around the edges of the building, sandwiched between two glass layers and rotating on a conveyor. Shrouding buildings with plants solves the natural-light problem for agriculture, acts as a passive form of climate control for the buildings and makes for a nice view. But the area available is much smaller.

The immediate opportunity may simply be to take advantage of the space available on urban rooftops, says Mr Head, and to pursue urban farming rather than vertical farming. BrightFarms Systems, a commercial offshoot of NYSW, is working with Gotham Greens, another company to emerge from the Science Barge, to create the world’s first commercial urban hydroponic farm in Brooklyn. When it opens in 2011, the 15,000 square-foot rooftop facility will produce 30 tonnes of vegetables a year which will be sold in local stores under the Gotham Greens brand name.

Although this is urban hydroponics, not vertical farming, it is a step in the right direction, says Mr Head. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we saw large retailers with greenhouses on their roofs growing produce for sale in the shop,” he says. A few examples of this have already sprung up. BrightFarms, for example, together with a firm called Better Food Solutions, began constructing a large single-storey glasshouse on the roof of a big supermarket in October. The supermarket agrees to buy the produce and owns the farm, while Better Food Solutions builds it and runs it.

The first fruit and vegetables are expected to go on sale in early 2011.

It is unclear how competitive this will be. Rooftop farming may not be able to compete with other suppliers in a global market unless people are prepared to pay a premium for fresh, local food, says Mr Head. And it is much less glamorous than the grand vision of crops being produced in soaring green towers of glass. But, for the time being, this more down-to-earth approach is much more realistic than the sci-fi dream of fields in the sky.

Grow food in winter without heated greenhouses
by Ian Aldrich (www.chelseagreen.com)

For more than 30 years, Eliot Coleman of Harborside, Maine, has successfully grown food in winter without heated greenhouses. Think outside your zone. Each winter, his gardens head south, to Georgia, without moving an inch.

How? For every layer of protection--a cold frame, for example--the growing environment shifts 500 miles. By doubling up, says Coleman, winter farmers never have to contend with frozen soil, not even when the mercury drops well below zero. "You might get a little surface freezing, but by 10 a.m. it will be unfrozen," he says. "The minute the sun comes out, all of a sudden it's 50 degrees in there. We've never had a day when we couldn't put seeds in the greenhouse beds."

For more on winter gardening, go to: Four Season Farm @ http//fourseasonfarm.com

Hoop Houses: Coleman says you can find simple, inexpensive options out there to protect your plants. If you're already using a cold frame, he recommends getting six unused 2x4s and building an A-frame around the structure, then wrapping the new enclosure in greenhouse plastic.

No cold frame? No problem. Coleman is also a big fan of "hoop houses," small enclosures made from semicircle- shaped strips of metal or plastic piping covered in plastic. "I've been doing this a long time, and I'm still like a little kid when I go in there and see what's happening," he says. "It's amazing that it just works."

Begin in August: Coleman's winter planting begins in early August and extends through mid-September, a period he likes to refer to as a "second spring." "You have to get the plants established while the growing season still has something left to it," he says.

Spinach for Winter: For all would-be winter gardeners, Coleman suggests going with spinach, which can be harvested four times, growing well into February. "It keeps renewing itself," he says.

No Weeds, No Watering: Unlike summer warmth, colder temperatures mean that pests and even weeds are nearly eliminated. Even better: Between November and February, says Coleman, gardeners don't have to water their plants. "The water table is higher," he says, "and because the sun is so low, there isn't much evaporation."

Baby Lettuce is Better: It's true, says Coleman: Small really is better when it comes to winter gardening. Baby leaf greens are not only hardier, they're tastier. "A full-size lettuce will freeze two or three times and turn to mush," he says. "A three-inch-tall baby lettuce leaf will freeze and thaw all winter long and recover each day."

Salad Every Night:Newbie winter gardeners can do just fine--and eat really well, too--with a simple 5-by-10-foot planting space. "With baby greens, if you plant them right--and you can put rows as close as two inches apart--you can have a salad every night all winter long."

Fall flowers and grasses for show-stopping color
www.flower-gardening-made-easy.com

Fall flowers - a lot of gardeners seem to miss out on them. As August comes to the perennial garden, they're ready to throw in the towel. It's a shame: for northern gardeners the growing season is short enough, so why not extend the flower show well into fall with some lovely late-bloomers and ornamental grasses?

Perennials and grasses star in the late season: I'm enchanted with the autumnal look pioneered by garden designers Wolfgang Oehme and James van Sweden in the United States, and Piet Oudolf, in Holland.I've designed my own garden to be at its peak in late summer because I adore fall flowers and the ornamental grasses that look so good with them. For the most part, plants that bloom in late summer and fall are tough, drought tolerant and many of them grow tall and dramatic. Another interesting thing about many of these fall flowers is how many of them are North American natives, which probably accounts for their toughness: they shrug off the drought, heat and humidity of our summers because that's the very climate that shaped their evolution.

Best fall flowers for the perennial garden:

ASTER: With their clouds of daisy-like flowers in pink, rosy-lilac or deep purple, asters are classic fall flowers. Robust and hardy, many garden hybrids stem from the native New England and New York asters. Old favorite taller varieties growing 3 to 4 feet tall include the glowing salmon-pink 'Alma Potschke' and the lavender-blue Aster frikartii 'Mönch'. The more recently introduced 'Purple Dome' grows a compact 18 inches tall. Asters thrive in full sun in moist, rich soil, but can look a little weedy during the growing season, so tuck them in among other earlier-flowering perennials. In late June, pinch or prune stems back by half to prevent floppiness and stake taller varieties. Keep asters vigorous by dividing in spring every two or three years. Some of the older varieties were plagued by mildew, but newer ones are resistant: look for Aster laevis 'Bluebird', with single violet blue flowers, Aster lateriflorus 'Prince', which has unusual dusky plum-purple foliage and tiny white star-like flowers with a raspberry colored eye, and Aster oblongifolius 'October Skies', which has blue flowers in September to October.

JOE PYE WEED (Eupatorium maculatum or E. purpureum ): Another plant I wouldn't be without has the unfortunate common name, Joe Pye weed.
But this North American native is not the least weedy. Its botanical name Eupatorium is much more gracious, just like the plant. Tall (in the 4 to 5 foot range) and stately, it's a real butterfly magnet for almost six weeks in late summer when its large heads of tiny, dusky pink flowers bloom. A widely available cultivar is 'Gateway'. For gardeners looking for more compact versions, a recent cultivar, 'Phantom', is supposed to grow only 3 feet tall. This perennials makes a terrific accent plant and mixes well with other late season stars, such as Echinacea, Rudbeckia 'Goldstrum', Sedum 'Autumn Joy' or 'Matrona' and ornamental grasses.

HELENIUM: For show-stopping daisy-like flowers in hot colors, try hybrids of the North American native, Helen's Flower (Helenium autumnale). 'Bruno', a Bressingham selection from England has crimson-mahogany flowers; 'Red and Gold' produces brick red and gold yellow flowers; 'Butterpat' has deep yellow flowers and 'Moerheim Beauty' bright, reddish-orange blooms. About 3 to 4 feet tall, heleniums complement autumn's palette of golds, crimsons and oranges. These late summer to fall flowers thrive in full sun in moist humus-rich soil. Regular moisture is important, so don't let them dry out in summer.

CROWN OF RAYS GOLDENROD (Solidago 'Crown of Rays'): The is one of the new generation of goldenrods that I hope will help gardeners overcome the prejudice against these plants as mere roadside weeds. Goldenrod is unfairly blamed for causing hay fever. Ragweed, which blooms at the same time, is the real culprit. 'Crown of Rays' is clump-forming goldenrod hybrid with many tiny, bright yellow flowers on dense, horizontal, plume-like panicles. This late summer to fall flowering perennial thrives in full sun and well-drained soil and grows about 24 inches tall. Plants may need to be divided every 2 to 3 years to control growth.

RUSSIAN SAGE (Perovskia atriplicifolia): Russian sage is a fall flower with a very long bloom time. The plant grows upright and has attractive lacy-looking greyish leaves that smell like sage. Violet-blue flower spikes appear in mid-summer and continue well into fall. This drought-tolerant perennial grows well in sunny, hot, dry sites. It is a good butterfly plant, and deer-resistant. Grows about 3 feet tall and 24 to 30 inches wide. Don't cut back in fall; wait until spring and then cut to 6 inches from the ground. More growing information on Russian sage.

PINK CULVER'S-ROOT (Veronicastrum virginicum 'Fascination': This is a lovely selection of a North American native wildflower. Growing tall - about 4 to 5 feet, but with strong stems that usually don't require staking - the plant bears large branching spikes of lilac-mauve flowers in mid to late summer and continue into early fall. The flowers arch gracefully at the tips - they look a bit like mermaid's tails - and make good cut flowers. Also attractive to butterflies, and deer-resistant. Adaptable to most soils; grow in full sun.

JAPANESE ANEMONE (Anemone x hybrida, A. hupehensis var. japonica)
For shadier spots in the garden, consider delicate-looking fall-flowering Japanese anemones. Growing 2-1/2 to 3 feet tall, these fall flowers grow on slender, branching stalks, and spread to form a large patch. Lobed leaves form attractive mounds of foliage, and the flowers look poppy-like. Favorite cultivars are silvery-pink 'September Charm', light pink 'Queen Charlotte' and glowing white 'Honorine Jobert'.
Plant Japanese anemones in rich, moist, well-drained soil, where they'll have afternoon shade. Anemones benefit from a winter mulch and regular deep watering in dry weather.
Add more fall interest with ornamental grasses: If you have a sunny garden, ornamental grasses are another great way to extend the season of interest into the late fall. Look for well-behaved clump-forming perennial types. The following are some of my favorites, and they all mix well with fall flowers:
* Dramatic and upright-growing Karl Forester feather reed grass (Calamagrostis x acutiflora 'Karl Forester').
* The white and green variegated Morning Light miscanthus (Miscanthus sinensis 'Morning Light').
* Tall airy cultivars of purple moor grass (Molina caerulea) seem always to be in motion. Look for cultivars 'Transparent', 'Skyracer', or 'Windspiel', German for "wind play" - a terrific description of the wonderful dance of grasses on the breeze.
* Dallas Blues switch grass (Panicum virgatum 'Dallas Blues') and North Wind upright switch grass (Panicum virgatum 'Northwind') are two more excellent choices.

Horti-Culture Corner September (Excerpt) by Helen Hunt Jackson

The golden-rod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.