The Heirloom Orchardist

The Wrong Time to Spread Manure

It’s well into February, and like every good Heirloom Orchardist, I’m thinking about the most important stuff on this wonderful earth: Manure.

Not too long ago, manure was the lifeblood of the farm.  It still is on many farms (thankfully).  But due to synthetic fertilizers, it isn’t the absolutely necessary material that it used to be.  Furthermore, thanks to Mr. Ford (and the ubiquitous internal combustion machine), there just isn’t as much of the stuff being produced.

Think about this for a moment:  to the Heirloom Orchardist, manure wasn’t just some wonderful material that was spread on the field whenever it was convenient to spread.  No, this stuff had to be managed.  Try putting that on your “to do” list for the month.

And the cold, slow winter month of February was a month during which manure management was pretty important, because by now the crap was really starting to pile up.  It’s no wonder that when we look through the old farming papers, there’s all sorts of discussions about manure…ways of covering it...how to best use it…whether it’s better aged, or fresh…when to apply it...

“Often in February there are many days when there is little or no snow on the frozen ground. This is a good time, then, for spreading manure which will be soaked in by later snows.”

I came upon the above statement in a February 1917 issue of The Countryside, and it got me thinking about a comment made by one of my college professors (many years ago).  He said that it was not uncommon for old-time farmers to spread manure during the winter months.  This was a seemingly productive way to get it out of the barnyard, and on the fields.  By February, it was accumulating in the yard.  Since the fields were frozen, it was easy to run the manure spreader over the ground.  Then, the melting snow would leach the nutrients into the soil.

But in many areas, this is flat-out wrong.  The problem is that in cold climates, February is probably one of the worst times to spread manure, because the nutrients don’t efficiently leach into the soil.  The soil’s frozen!  The snow melt, or late winter rains aren’t very affective in drawing the nutrients (or “life giving properties” as the Heirloom Orchardist would say) into the soil.  The nutrients just wash downslope…off into the brooks and streams.

So, we should continue to respect the old farming methods, and the greater use of organic fertilizers over synthetic ones.  But apply some modern sensibilities too.

An Heirloom Rose for Valentine's Day

Cupid's making a delivery to some lucky lover.  Just look at this huge cart of roses!  It's pretty impressive, even to this old practical (and cheap) Heirloom Orchardist.  Does Cupid have any idea that these gorgeous cut roses will look like compost an a few days?

I have no idea what your sweetheart likes.  But I'll go out on a limb, and suggest that on Valentine's day, instead of cut roses, consider giving a living one.  There's plenty of time to order.  I suggest a perfectly pure white heirloom variety:  Blanc Double de Coubert.  Here's what Gertrude Jekyll said about it in her 1902 book, Roses for English Gardens:

"The beautiful white Blanc Double de Coubert - whitest Rose of any known - has for purity of colour eclipsed the older, duller white Madame Georges Bruant, though this is still indispensable.  Blanc Double de Coubert is one of the best Roses, for it blooms the whole summer through and well into autumn.  Its rich, deep green foliage, highly polished though heavily reticulated, persisting till late in the year, gives it that look of perfect health and vigour that the leafage of so many Roses lacks late in the summer."

Of course, the reality is that this new rose will not be in full fragrant bloom on February 14.  I understand that.  You're sweetheart will also understand.

But here's another idea: Next year, force the rose into blossom.  This is, apparently, "a very pleasing occupation."  Mr. Podbury (a somewhat unpleasing name) gave these instructions in the April 1, 1871 issue of The Small Fruit Recorder and Cottage Gardener:

"To grow roses in pots for window culture is a very pleasing occupation.  To grow them successfully, choose young, vigorous plants, say in April or May, either on own roots or on Manetti stock.  Repot them in six inch pots and plunge them in the ground to the rim of the pot.  Keep them well supplied with water and occasionally a little manure water.  Keep all the flowers pinched off until the middle or the end of September.  You will then have a plant with six to eight well ripened shoots."

"Prune them back, and shake them clear out of the old soil and repot them, using a compost of good loam and well rotted manure – about two thirds of the former to one of the latter - with sufficient sand to keep from packing hard.  Soak the newly potted plant well with water, and plunge it again in a sunny spot.  By the end of October you will have the pot full of young and vigorous roots.  Introduce (it) to the window, and by the time the frost has killed the roses out of doors, this will be ready to succeed them, and give you a supply of roses without a great expense of fire heat."

You won't need the fire.  This Valentine's day,there'll be plenty heat in the bedroom.

 

 

Purchase an heirloom

Blanc Double de Coubert Rose

Gathering and Packing Fruit (ca. 1836)

It's too easy for us heirloom fruit enthusiasts to speak with distain about contemporary fruit varieties.  "They're bred only to survive the rigours of travel," we'll frequently say.  "There's no respect for flavor."

Well truthfully, there is something to be said for having your fruit survive the rigours of travel.  This was a major concern to the Heirloom Orchardist.  A responsible orchardist didn't want his order of apples to arrive at its destination as a mass of fetid applesauce.  Which, by the way, happened too often.

So, when I come upon an old farmer who really took pride in his packing, I have great repect.  It gives me a new perspective on what it was like to grow and sell fruit during the days of the Heirloom Orchardist. The following comes from The Farmers' Cabinet, and American Herd-book, Volume 11, Nov 16, 1846:

"About the autumn of the year 1836 or '37, I had some thirty or forty barrels of apples to pick. In the orchard with some other fruit trees were some Newtown pippin trees...It was a "bearing year," as farmers call it, and there was a great crop of apples; and I had very few wormy ones."

"We picked the apples by hand, and did not pour them from one basket to another without putting soft hay or oat straw between them. While pouring them we put straw on the floor of the room in which they were stored; there was also straw put on the bottom of each basket, and on the bottom of the cart we carried them in; all this was done to keep them from bruising."

"After they were all housed, we set to work to sort them, rejecting all which had any defects, and if damp, wiping off the moisture. We next took each apple and rolled it in coarse clean paper. The paper had this effect—it keeps the apples from rubbing each other, and keeps them at a certain degree of moisture, not allowing them to evaporate or receive damp. In the bottom, and around the sides of the barrels, a small quantity of straw was placed, and the apples laid in, one at a time, and as close to each other as they possibly could be, without jamming them. When the barrel was filled, a little more straw was put on the top, and the head of the barrel put in, with an inside lining hoop, to keep the head from being knocked in, by accident. These apples were put up to order, and were to go to Sheffield, in England."

"After taking all these precautions, I wrote a direction to this effect:  'These barrels of apples are not to be rolled or tumbled about; if carted, or sent any way by land, something is to be put on the floor of the cart or wagon, so as to keep them from being bruised, rattled, or jolted.'"

"The apples when packed in this way, were tight in the barrels, and could not be made to rattle with common usage.  M. C. W., who ordered them, informed me that they arrived at the destined place, and were all sound to an apple, and much admired by the consignee for their preservation and manner of putting up."

"People may talk as much as they have a mind to about the heat and damp of ships, and so on, being the cause of the apples rotting; but who could expect that an apple, or any other fruit or vegetable could be kept from it, if jammed or bruised constantly."

Unfortunately, this orchardist's account in The Farmer's Cabinet doesn't mention how large his orchard was.  I'm guessing some of his colleagues may have said "sure friend, you can go to all that trouble with only 30 to 40 barrels of fruit....but last year I packed 200 barrels.  I can't spend that much time packing."

And this orchardist would have politely replied: "you may want to hire a few more good men, or reduce the size of your orchard."

Just prior to the turn of the century, the use of barrels for transporting fruit started to wain.  Promoted by the US Dept. of Agriculture, orchardists began using a new-fangled method of packing apples in boxes.  This improved the packing process, and the quality of the fruit upon reaching its destination.  It seems that apple growers started to take more pride in their product.  The development of colorful fruit labels showed-up on the crates.  Today, these labels are highly sought-after for their decorative quality.

(Apple picking images courtesy of the National Apple Museum)