Fall 1999

The last week in August was harvest time at my demo garden on Skåldö island in southern Finland. The camera crew from Finnish Public TV showed up one last time to tape our great harvest feast. Thanks to the warmest summer in 50 years, the tomatoes, corn, beans and other hot-weather lovers were ripe and bountiful. My 4 different varieties of yellow Finnish potatoes looked and tasted great.

I had invited all the people who had helped me out in one way or another with the garden project since the beginning in early April, when the ground was still covered with 2 feet of snow. Present were the farmer whose tractor got stuck three times in the wet soil in April and early May while trying his best to plow the old farmfield which was overgrown with birch brush after laying fallow for seven years; the sawmill owner who delivered the 10 foot long 4 x 4 posts (all 46 of them) for the moose fence; the backhoe operator who dug my well in late June when it was becoming apparent that we were experiencing the drought of the century; the wealthy aristocrat couple who had been entertained by stopping by from time to time during the past 5 months to watch my stubborn fight against the elements; the local Harley-Davidson guru with his wife and two blond daughters (ages 7 and 9) who had invited me over for a late dinner several times during the summer as I was bicycling by his house on my way home, often close to midnight. My daughter Linnea had also invited several of her friends from the village.

The menu consisted of vegetable and seafood stir-fry and barbecued corn. Since we had no electricity at the garden, everything had to be cooked on propane. I had not been able to find a wok suitable for propane hookup, but this problem was resolved by the village association's chairman who happily offered the community pancake pan, a huge 16" diameter contraption normally used just once a year to make Viking-size pancakes at the ancient pagan fall celebration. So I lit the propane burner, put some oil in the pan and while the pan was heating, Linnea and I picked the ingredients from the garden as the camera was rolling. I was concerned whether the pan was hot enough, and while expressing this concern on camera I added the ingredients to the pan. Immediately, a huge cloud of the steam rose from the pan which must have been several hundred degrees hot, and the camera crew was about to run for their lives. Fortunately, the camera operator kept rolling, and I must admit that the resulting TV-show which was viewed by almost 10% of the entire population of the country did indeed constitute my public slapstick debut.

On next year's agenda for my Finnish garden project is the construction of a garden house. This is something you see in community gardens all over Europe: garden plots 2000-5000 square foot is size with small garden houses on them, no larger than 300 square feet. Many community gardeners in Europe live in their garden houses the whole growing season. My garden house will be built according to a minimum-impact principle, using only non-toxic and recyclable materials. There will be no utility hookups. Instead, I'll install solar panels, a wind generator, a composting toilet, and a manually operated shower. I hope to break ground next May.

My return to Seattle was somewhat of a culture shock. I had been forewarned by E-mail before my return that emotions were overheating at Picardo Farm. The object of people's rage/affection was supposedly a piece of art which had been installed at the garden. I have to say that from the perspective of my garden in the Finnish countryside, where I lived and worked among very hard-working, honest, handy and down-to-earth people, the Picardo art controversy seemed like a city-folk neurosis, and the locals in Finland sarcastically provided me with helpful tips on making bikinis for the Picardo lady. One on the funniest rumors circulating upon my return to Seattle was that I had supposedly brought the sculpture with me from Finland (in the overhead bin). I personally feel that the new three-story buildings presently being constructed 10 feet from Picardo pose a much greater threat to the quality of gardening. However, I must state here how privileged I am to be able to garden on two continents at the same time and still maintain a sane front. I am eternally grateful to Barbara Donnette, who back in 1991 picked me straight out of the graduating Master Gardener class and appointed me Master Gardener Advisor at Picardo Farm. Barbara Donnette and Nancy Allen were the two super women who ran the entire P-Patch program back then. Both are still active P-Patchers, and seeing them together at this year's Harvest Potluck almost gave the impression that this was still 1991.

People are telling me that this past summer was a miserable one here in Seattle. I guess it was a bit cooler than average, but based on the sweetness of my grapes in my yard in Ballard and the plentiful harvest of tomatoes, cucumbers and corn it must not have been too bad.

A great advantage of living in Seattle is the possibility for winter gardening. I stopped by Interbay P-Patch the other day and was truly impressed by all the lettuces, chard, kale and broccoli which will provide their growers with fresh produce through much of the winter. The plants won't grow much from November through February, but they'll keep fresh in the garden until needed. If severe cold snaps threaten, it is a good idea to build a cloche of PVC pipes and plastic sheeting, or mulch the plants heavily with leaves or straw. Winter broccoli always benefits from a cloche, because excessive rainfall tends to make the centers of the broccoli heads rot. Make sure to open the cloches partially on sunny winter days to avoid excessive heat build-up.