This is How we Roll

I have long been wanting to get to this subject - the processing of grain directly before eating. There is one grain so soft that you don't have to boil or grind it to make it edible, and that is the oat. And our past garden manager at Ecology Action has the perfect oat tool: a roller.

Industrially speaking, there are vast machines that do this task, putting millions of round cardboard tubes full of stale rolled oats in thousands of grocery stores, but this is different. It fits on your countertop and can be put away in a drawer or cabinet when you are done. It doesn't take a mechanic to service it, and doesn't require anything but your own arms to power it. And it allows you to have fresh rolled oats every day.
For a house-warming gift when we moved to the Golden Rule, Carol got us one, and we have been loving it. It works like this: You pour some oats in the hopper, turn the crank, and the oats get squished by two rollers, landing in the hopper below. When you finish, you brush the rollers off and put it away. Simple and effective.
Of course, it doesn't have to stop there. Margo, being the adventurous spirit she is, postulated that, by soaking other grains we might make them soft enough to roll. So we tried it with barley, triticale, rye, and probably wheat. As you see from the photos, we made it quite a process of soaking and laying out to dry a little, then rolling. All that we eventually found was necessary was putting them in a jar with water at the rate of ¾ cups grain to 1 tablespoon water. Letting them sit over night will soften them sufficiently to roll, then you go for it!
Where does one get this magic tool? The same place we get many other great magic tools: the Lehman's Catalog. It's where you can find the next topic of conversation, too.
Not long after arriving at Ecology Action my attention was drawn to the funny contraption in the corner of the cooking area. White enamel, a pedestal, a wheel and a crank. A hand-powered grain mill, specifically the Country Living Grain Mill, which makes all dreams come true. Soon after uncovering it we were grinding all of our grains fresh for bread, biscuits, tortillas, cookies, cakes, polenta, all that stuff. It takes elbow grease, it's true, but after a few months of using that every time you need flour, it gets much easier. For three loaves of bread I would grind 16 cups of flour once a week or so. We'd put it through twice for a finer grind, and that would mean 40 minutes of work, which I could do continuously by the time we left.
Upon moving down here we started using the available mill, which is called the "Magic Mill". For pictures and a great explanation you can check out this blog on food storage. The long and short is that it takes half the time and infinitely less physical work, but the stones don't get as close so you don't have as fine a flour (unless you sift it). Plus you don't have the satisfaction of doing it yourself. And no, I'm not being sarcastic.
I came up with a few methods of making the hand-mill easier, which ended up being a lot more work to figure out and much less helpful than just buckling down and doing it - one involved taking a hacksaw to a child's bicycle. I bet it would have been better if I knew how to weld...
One might ask, why bother when you can buy flour at the store? The short answer is that we like bothering. The longer answer, from which I will not spare you, involves simple seed anatomy. All seeds, grain included, come with a fibery husk, which surrounds and protects a big starchy endosperm and a small germ. The germ is the embryo of the plant, and the starch is the energy to help that plant develop. Which part is most devoid of vitamins and minerals, do you suppose? Now hold that thought.
The germ contains, among other things, oils, and oils that are stored correctly keep from going rancid. One of the incorrect ways of storing oils is mixing them up in flour and putting them on a shelf for weeks, months, or years. On the other hand, that is a great way to get rancid oil that makes your flour taste bad.
In the early half of the 1900's industry came up with the roller mill, which enabled them to pulverize the endosperm while sifting out the husk (bran) and the germ. Also known as the fiber and the minerals. The end result is a beautiful but nutritionally bereft white powder, which is then further bleached and then enriched. All the oils (in the germ) have been removed, and can be sold separately, like the bran, to consumers. Nice for the seller, and convenient for the buyer. But not good for the buyer, since the bread now lacks all that fiber (as well as its indigenous vitamins and minerals). Sound like colon trouble?
So we cut to the chase, growing some grain and buying the rest bulk in 25 or 50 pound bags from the local health food store. That gives us the nutrition in an easily stored form, and saves us a lot of money. It has been an educational and satisfying transition.

Lemon Tree, Very Pretty

Walnut Grove in Lake County

A disclaimer: some of the following images may be offensive to arborists or horticulturists. Children may be able to identify them as somewhat Seuss-esque.

This year's pruning time has come and gone. I almost missed out on most of the action because of my high ideals: I believe that pruning fruit trees requires long-term vision, and the owner of the tree should either 1) be the sole pruner or 2) always have it pruned by the same person. The rationale is that fruit trees can live productive decades if taken care of, but can take years to train in a certain direction. A surrogate pruner might cut off a two-year-old branch for which the owner had high hopes.
But I enjoy the art of pruning, so until I have trees of my own I'll prune any trees for which the owner hasn't created a plan. Step one was our visit to a friends' place in Portland, OR. They have a recently acquired property with a few fruit trees, two of them over 50 years old, maybe over 60. That leaves plenty of time for mismanagement. The pear was probably at least 30 feet tall, water-sprouts and all. A little high for easy harvest. At 10' the main trunk split into two 8" trunks which were racing each other to the heavens. At 20' both of these trunks had been cut to stubs, each of which had a dozen or more branches reaching out. To make a long story short I was aggressive, perhaps overly. I wish I had pictures. With the advice of an arborist who lived across the street I cut one of the two competing trunks halfway down. (The idea is to end up with a tree half the height of the current one, but such a change has to happen over a long period of time with such an old tree.)
The other old tree was an apple, which was less out of shape. It is a shorter story. Essentially, it is said, your fruit tree can be a fruit tree or a shade tree, but not both. So it got thinned mercilessly. Again, the pictures would be great. You'll have to use your imagination after seeing the lemons.
So that was step one. Step two was that, upon our return, Garden Manager Ellen started talking about the lemon trees in the greenhouse needing pruned soon. She always lets interns prune those, because she says they come back beautifully from anything. So last week I went for them.
Not ignorantly, of course. I looked up articles on the internet.
I read an amusing quote recently by the Rev. Dr. Francis H. Wade which goes "The Bible is like a person, and if you torture it long enough, you can get it to say almost anything you'd like it to say."
The internet is like an amiable genius on LSD. If you listen long enough it will run the gamut from the insightful to the utterly incomprehensible. But, like the Bible, it is most easily misinterpreted when you step into the middle of the monologue, not knowing what came directly before or after (and not taking the time to find out).
So I found two main thoughts on pruning lemons, and citrus trees in general. The first is that everything thinner than a pencil should be taken off every year, and you can prune it all off back to main branches. In "the industry" they sometimes cut them back to trunks. The second is that citrus trees don't need to be pruned. They'll take care of themselves.
I disregarded the second because 1) the trees are in a greenhouse and are already touching the ceiling without encouragement and 2) it isn't any fun. So I started pruning, then went back to the internet to check because the tree started to seem a little gaunt. Emboldened by what I re-read, I forged ahead. I took pictures this time.
With the first tree I followed the advice thoroughly. As you can see, the number of leaves left on the tree could be counted on two hands. We had a family of friends visiting about this time, and they were glad to come out to the greenhouse to help tame the wild lemons with me. I'm leaving their names out to protect them. If I get hauled away for tree mutilation I want them to be safe. I'll take responsibility for this one, guys.
They were in charge of two of the other trees, setting a more moderate example for me when it came down to the final two.
Now time for a little educational piece. You might or might not wonder what I did with all the prunings. In Grow Biointensive we try to keep everything in the system, so tree prunings generally either get used as mature material in a compost pile or as the rough material upon which we build the pile. These tree are different, though. I don't know if this is true for lemons as a whole, but Meyer Lemons (the variety we have) produce a bonus crop on their branches: 1-2" thorns that are sharp enough to slice as well as pierce. We handle our compost often enough to not want surprises like this inside.
Last year's prunings got tossed out the back of the greenhouse and ignored.
This year I was going to do the same, but further away. I wanted to provide wildlife habitat, but preferably not right up next to the greenhouse. We have enough rodent problems. I started by moving the earlier pile, which had been increased by weeds tossed on top. Underneath the pile was some very nice compost. Now my plan is to make the new pile further away from the greenhouse, yes, but not to ignore it. Every bit of organic matter is a big help.
Here are some of the tools I used. The Felco pruners at top left and the pruning saw are both indispensable, but the next tool to the right is also very nice. It has pruning shears at the business end, which is on a long, adjustable aluminum pole with a hand-trigger at the other end. Very, very nice. The last tool is powerful but wicked. It has a lopper on the business end of its pole and a long rope. Pulling the rope levers the lopper closed on the branch of choice, but you have to pull hard. This is where it gets wicked. Where do you put the butt-end of the pole to brace it against the pressure? I tried my rib cage last year, but only once. The shock of the successful lopping bruised one of my ribs, so now I steer clear of the thing completely.

I don't know if you can identify with me, but I often find that shortly after I do something new, which I thought I had read enough on, I stumble upon something else enlightening on the subject. So one of the books I later looked at on a whim mentioned that lemons store most of their fruiting energy in their leaves. Hm.

Early Spring

This may seem a little out of place for a post on "Early Spring," but I can explain. This is the main photo on the Bountiful Gardens seed catalog (which sells specifically open-pollinated, non-treated seeds), and what gardener isn't being inundated with all of their favorite seed catalogs right now? It is bliss, with a bitter twist: you can't try all the new varieties you want. Few of us have that much space. This photo is of the crew in late summer 2008- Dan, Ellen, David, Sandika, Margo and Philip. David and Philip were from (and are doing great work now in) Kenya. Sandika was from Sri Lanka.
What has Margo been up to while I have been toying with grains? She has been devising the garden plan for our coming season. It is based on a diet she planned during our 6-month course in 2006, and has been altered as we found we could not eat so much of some things and wanted more of others. Margo talks about this process as a movement toward a sustainable diet from both ends: a diet design that will provide more of what we actually eat, and a diet closer to what we can actually grow (hopefully someday we will meet in the middle of the two). The purpose of the diet exercise is to figure out how to meet one's caloric and nutritional needs in the smallest area, while growing enough biomass crops to supply the garden with its fertility through compost. In essence, this is the GROW BIOINTENSIVE method. You can see her previous plan, worked up in a 5-Bed Unit, on Ecology Action's website.
This deserves a new paragraph: Margo has also managed to create a crop rotation for the 4000 square feet we are currently managing. It will span something like 16 years, since the area is divided into that many beds, and few of those beds are one entire crop. A few are all flour corn or all potatoes, but not many. This is much more incredible than I can make it sound, not having spent the hours on it like she has. I'll try to come up with some graphic representation for a future post.
I'd like to stick a before-and-after set in here from the willow beds I am working on. As has happened in a few other spots in the garden, someone in the past has removed a bunch of rocks and dumped them all in one area, around a perennial or at the end of a bed. The logic, I think, was that they would make weeding easier and hold water better. Unfortunately, when there is a layer of rocks around something like basket-willow plants (which are only given attention once a year at harvest) the grass grows higher and people forget to water them. And willow needs water. Plus, once you do want to get in and harvest the willow the rocks interfere and mess with the pruners. And need I say rocks, in large numbers, are heavy? Better to put them in a pile somewhere you won't want to move them. Or on your [gravel] driveway. On the left you see a cleaned up bed, with almost imperceptible willow stumps.

Margo and Ellen spent some time two weeks ago pulling up the dead asparagus tops, gathering them into piles, and moving them to a dry spot for use in composting later. Here is the stash...

One last little bit for this post. This being a learning garden, and us all being observant and interested, we keep record of our daily temperatures. Though it might be easier and more informative to have a data-logger hooked up to a computer charting hourly temperature fluctuations, we would need the hundreds of dollars to buy it and would probably never look at the results anyway. Our (relatively) cheap solution to this is a standard min-max thermometer. It is a mercury thermometer shaped like a U, where when temperatures are rising, the mercury on the right raises, and when the temperature drops the mercury level on the left raises. Fun! There are little blue pins inside the glass column, and the mercury pushes them. Where it stops, they stick. A magnet is used to reset the pins, which you do by drawing them both down to the current mercury levels. We check them once a day in the morning, after the low has been reached and the temperature is rising. This thermometer reads a 24-hour high of ~74° F and low of 38° F. The high/low are then recorded on a 6-month data sheet, seen at the left here.

Thus we have records of yearly and monthly averages, highs and lows, nights above 60° F, and anything else we could hope for. Except hourly fluctuations...
Coming up next, the reasons I didn't post this last week!