The Heirloom Orchardist

The Beauty of Fruit Production

Why do we grow flowers?  Is it just ‘cause they’re pretty?  No, the reasons are much more complex than that.  I grow Lily-of-the-Valley not just for its drooping dainty bell-blossoms, but because of the boyhood memories that float to my mind when I smell its fragrance.  But it was not always this way for me.  As a young teenager, my first efforts in gardening were centered upon production.  I wanted to grow a bounty of fruit and vegetables for the table, just as the Heirloom Orchardist did!  Food was tangible proof that my gardening was worth the effort.

I don’t seem to have been the only boy with that attitude toward gardening.  Michael Pollan expressed my teenage opinion perfectly in his bestselling book The Botany of Desire.  Speaking of his early gardening efforts, Pollan states:  “I approached gardening as a form of alchemy, a quasi-magical system for transforming seeds and soil and water and sunlight into things of value, and as long as you couldn’t grow toys or LP’s, that more or less meant groceries.” 

But attitudes change as we grow older.  We gain perspective, we gain experience and new ways of appreciation.  We get a bit sentimental.  This transition is natural, and I like it.  I’m sure it happened to the Heirloom Orchardist too.  Take this passage from the May 21, 1853 issue of the New England Farmer:

Old Apples Trees:
   Reading the advice (given in an earlier issue on how) to graft old trees, I thought of some trees in the neighborhood which had undergone that process, and wished the editor had appended to his advice a rap over the knuckles of (the farmers that) follow it so badly.
   Old trees of quite a decent and respectable figure in their native state, are sometimes converted into a mere collection of bare, crooked limbs, with brushes on the ends, perhaps improved in fruit, but an eye-sore and nuisance to all who love to see the fields adorned with fine trees as well as fruit.  There is no need of the trees remaining in this awkward fix…”

This mid-nineteenth century orchardist thought he had written an article on how to properly rejuvenate an orchard, with proper grafting techniques.  But I know better.  Like me, this orchardist was a sentimental old guy.  He simply loved the beauty of orchards.  He didn't know it, but he admitted this clearly, stating that such orchards are “perhaps improved in fruit, but an eye-sore and nuisance to all…”  I'd coax it out of him: Well, you old-timer (I'd say), if growing things is all about production, then to have your trees “improved in fruit” would be the primary desire, right?  “Ah yes,” he’d say, “but not at the expense of their beauty.”

So, What's a Weed?

What’s so wrong with weeds?  Here’s one old-timer’s opinion:

The New England Farmer
May 21, 1853
Vol. VIII, No. 21
WEEDS.
Weeds, it should be recollected, are always more exhausting to soil than either roots or grain crops.  They are indigenous, consequently gross feeders, and abstract from the soil only those elements of fertility which are essentially and indispensably requisite to sustain the more valuable and cultivated crops.  It should ever be a rule with the farmer, to allow no plant to perfect its seed on his premises, that will, in anyway, diminish the productiveness of his soil.

As you know, I have a lot of respect for the old timers' opinions.  But this time, this Heirloom Orchardist disagrees with the above writer, who was probably one of the editors of the New England Farmer.
First, we don’t really know whether the above writer's “weeds” are more exhausting to soil than root or grain crops.  That’s a pretty broad opinion, particularly since we don’t know which weed we’re talking about, and also because both root and grain crops themselves are pretty darn exhausting to soil.
Second, we know that (of course) not all weeds are indigenous.  And many of the worst weeds, the most invasive types, are aliens.
Third, maybe it’s not so bad to “allow plant(s) to perfect their seed(s).”  Maybe that’s part of the surprise of gardening….hmm…it all depends on what you consider to be a weed…

So, what’s a weed?  Well, here’s my definition…and I immodestly take complete credit for this definition, ‘cause I thought it up.  But I understand that it’s so darn obvious, that someone else much smarter than me, probably thought it up first:

A weed is any plant, growing in the wrong place.

This definition allows me multiple options on what to do with that weed…that plant…that thing growing in my garden that I know I didn’t put there.  Not all weeds need to be pulled up, and placed in the sun to desiccate.  I can transplant a weed!  I can leave it alone!  It’s up to me.  Here, take a look at my patch of Bleeding Heart (Dicentra spectabilis):

This early spring bloomer always cheers me up in May.  Sure, it disappears in mid summer, and might leave a void in the garden. But there are so many other things going on by that time, that I hardly notice.  Look closely at the ground in front of my Bleeding Hearts….what’s all that green fuzz?  Those are seedlings.  Weed seedlings?  Maybe, I didn’t plant them.  And they’re just the right size to get with my hoe.

But I’m not gonna get them with my hoe.  I’m gonna let them stay.  There’s a good chance these seedlings are little volunteer Bleeding Hearts .  We shall see.  If not, well then, I’ll declare them to be “gross feeders” taking from my soil “those elements of fertility which are essentially and indispensably requisite to sustain the more valuable and cultivated crops.”  And those more valuable and cultivated crops would not be weeds, of course, they’d be my Bleeding Hearts.

Protecting Fruit Trees from Mice

This time of year, after the snow has receded, The Heirloom Orchardist will sometimes discover damage caused by mice at the base of his/her fruit trees.  The little critters seem to enjoy the nice juicy cambium layer, where all the active growth takes place.  Often the damage completely encircles the trunk, girdling it.  To avoid this devastation, The Heirloom Orchardist needs to place protection around his/her trees before the winter sets in.  What should be used?  Here’s some advice from an Orchardist who signed his name “H.”

The Genesee Farmer
Rochester, Saturday, April 14, 1832
Vol. II, No. 15
In the season when bark peels easily, I took the bark from forest trees of equal size with the fruit trees, as nearly as possible, by splitting it upon one side and turning it off whole, or in one piece, about two and a half or three feet in length.  These pieces I preserved until the millers, worms, &c. had disappeared, (that they might not seek shelter behind my barks) and then I applied them round the trunks of the trees to be preserved.  The tougher kinds of bark will usually spring so as to pass them round the tree.  The lower end, being square will come fully down to the ground, and a little earth raised outside of it will exclude the mice.  The bark should be tied so as to draw the opening together, and in this way I avoided he depredations of that mischievous little animal. 

There you have it:  Go into the woods when bark slips easily and remove it from existing trees to use as tree guards.  This seems like a lot of effort to protect ones fruit trees.  Couldn’t The Heirloom Orchardist have wrapped his trees with something else?  Somethimg more readily available?  Well, let’s think of what else this Orchardist had at his disposal in 1832.
Newspaper?  Perhaps, but it wasn’t very plentiful.  In 1832, paper was high quality, expensive stuff made from cotton (often recycled cotton rags).  It wasn’t the cheap acid-rich wood pulp stuff that’s so ubiquitous today.  If an Orchardist was fortunate enough to subscribe to some sort of periodical, such as the Genessee Farmer, the issues were often saved, then sent to the local bookbinder at the end of the year.
Rags?   Nope.  These were much too valuable than to wrap your fruit trees with.  Any fabric was saved, used for mending, making rugs or other domestic articles.  Plus, I’m sure a cozy rag would attract the mice.
Leather?  Much too expensive.  And leather articles were used, repaired, used and repaired, year after year.  Unless the Orchardist lived near a tannery, there wasn’t going to be much leather scrap available.
Anything else?  It’s an interesting question.  Put yourself in the shoes (or boots) of the 1832 Orchardist, and ponder this a moment.  Leave a comment below with any ideas you may have, ‘cause I’d enjoy pondering with you.  And while you ponder, get tree guards made from plastic.  Get them now, while mice damage is fresh on your mind, and you won’t be scrambling this fall.

"36"" Tree Bark Protectors"

Blackberries in the Orchard

In 1884, F.S.K. of Annapolis, Md. proposed an affective method to rid your fields and orchards of Blackberries:

The Cultivator and Country Gentleman
March 27, 1884, Albany, NY
Vol.   XLIX, No.   162

Blackberries in Maryland.
     EDs. COUNTRY GENTLEMAN - The roots of the blackberry plant are in demand, as they are used by wholesale druggists in making up cholera medicine, and for other purposes. When I was seeding wheat last fall, as the plows turned up these long, horizontal roots, I pulled them out, and was surprised to find so many roots to one blackberry bush. I followed after the hands and gathered up what they left. I do not expect many of those roots are left, and feel confident that the wheat will not be choked by them to any extent.
     The best way to rid fields of the blackberry, and the cheapest way, according to my own experience, is to let hogs root them up. They are very fond of the bark of the root, although to my taste it is intensely bitter and astringent. Some of my neighbors lost many of their hogs during the past fall by cholera. I lost none, and none were sick in any way, which I attribute to their eating the roots of the blackberry. It may be well for others to try this remedy when their hogs are attacked by cholera.
F. K. S. Annapolis, Md.

Cholera was a serious disease in the days of the Heirloom Orchardist.  It wasn’t just hogs that were affected, people died from cholera.  An intestinal disease, it’s caused by the bacteria Vibrio cholerae, which was unintentionally ingested through contaminated food and water.  Modern organic gardeners should not think that the Heirloom Orchardist’s days were generally healthier due to the organic farming techniques used back then.  (Such as using hogs instead of an herbicide.)  Nope, the Heirloom Orchardist rarely had a proper sewage disposal system on his farm.  And he rarely thought about what was happening downstream of his farm.

The Heirloom Orchardist was very familiar with Blackberries.  Although a prolific fruit producer, the Blackberry plant was not often grown deliberately.  It was (still is) a plant that could be relied upon to appear voluntarily at the edge of the orchard or field (in F.K.S.’s case, a wheat field).  Think back to what you may have learned about forest succession in an old biology class.  Remember the “pioneer” plants that arrive in the early stages of the field’s transition back to a climax forest?  The Blackberry plant is one of those pioneer plants, and one that the Heirloom Orchardist was constantly battling without the help of modern chemicals.

But Blackberries do have a redeeming quality: delicious juicy fruit.  If you are interested in growing one, I recommend a thornless variety, the Chester Thornless, available here.

Renovating Old Orchards (part 3), Scion Wood.

We continue with the last part of EVELYN’s advice on renovating an old orchard:

The New England Farmer and Boston Rambler
Boston, Saturday, March 29, 1851
Vol.  VI, No.  13

Renovating Old Orchards (part 3).
     MR.  COLE: - We have resuscitated a few old trees by another method, which to some may appear more favorable, and where only one or two are going to decay, may perhaps be more convenient.  It is simply this.  After relieving the tree of the rough old bark and useless branches, take a load of any productive soil and spread it evenly under the tree.  If lime ashes or chip manure are mixed with it, so much the better; but if nothing else can conveniently be had, take the soil alone.  It will kill the grass, nearly or quite, for a year or two, but the branches of the tree will start in new growth, the leaves will be broader and healthier, and the fruit be increased both in quantity and quality.  An easy experiment; who will try it?
     Again, farmers are disappointed after grafting their old trees by not getting the varieties they expected.  We have suffered none at all in this way ourselves; but we have heard, from more than one individual, great complaints in this matter, especially where traveling grafters have been employed, even where the desired varieties were obtained for them, and they were paid at the same rate as when they furnished scions.  Yet we suppose that if apple trees would speak with men's tongues and teach in men's language, there are many in Massachusetts that would tell that their ancient heads were taken off simply to be restored by scions from their own sprouts.  That such occurrences do take place; we must believe on the principle that in the mouth of two or three witnesses every word shall be established, for we have certainly heard more than three say that they had been duped in just such ways.  How vexatious it must be, after paying a liberal compensation for grafting, and waiting in hope and patient expectation until the first blossom appeared, and then watched the swelling fruit until the joyful harvest time, and then find that the graft produces the like in every respect as the parent tree!  We presume that all traveling orchard renovators do not practice such degrading frauds; and that some should, may not perhaps be strange.  But in order to be on the safe side we would advise farmers and fruit growers to get their scions from responsible sources, and then set them themselves, or if age or infirmity forbid this, employ those who will be found somewhere in the regions of responsibility, if there is any failure in the matter.
Yours, &c.,  EVELYN

Oh, boy!  If “apple trees would speak with men's tongues and teach in men's language,” there are a lot of other topics I’d like to discuss with those old trees, than where their scion wood came from!

Renovating Old Orchards (part 2).

Would you like to consider organic orchard care?  Low impact, sustainable fruit culture?  Try renovating your orchard the mid nineteenth century way!  Scrub your trees with lye, as Evelyn suggests.  That should do it.  We continue with his advice:

The New England Farmer and Boston Rambler
Boston, Saturday, March 29, 1851
Vol.  VI, No.  13

Renovating Old Orchards (part 2).
     MR.  COLE: - First, we will take the old orchard, which very likely from mismanagement has fallen into a premature old age.  There are many such in all parts of the country, and many of these are now-a-days having their rough trunks cleaned and their moss grown branches taken off to be newly grafted, with the expectation that when this is done, there is no more to do.  Perfect success is the boon which the owners of such orchards claim, and chill disappointment is often the realization of their hopes.  The young scion set in these old rough-barked, moss-grown trees, that have probably had their foliage harvested by the canker-worm for a quarter of a century, - we say scions set in these may live and have a sluggish growth for a year or perhaps for several years, but they will be sure to inherit the disease of the tree and in the end perish by them.
     If old trees are to be grafted, they should be subjected to the washing and scrubbing operation for a year or two before it is performed.  That is, the old rough bark and moss should all be scraped off, and two or three washings of strong lye be given each season to impart healthfulness and destroy insects.  Then another thing may need attention.  The trees may stand in grass land and the old turf may have become so thoroughly sodded that the air and the dews, the sunshine and the storm, those great elixirs of vegetable health, have but little influence upon the roots.  Tillage may be necessary to insure healthful vitality to the tree.  We once took half a dozen trees, which had nearly given over bearing, and after a thorough ploughing, planted the land to potatoes two successive years.  In 1842, this ground was thoroughly stocked, and that year and each successive one those trees have borne liberally, and yet there was no manure applied on this ground.  The change was all effected by a judicious pruning and cleansing of the trees and thorough working the soil.  Every particle of turf there and every bunch of moss that had driven the turf away from home, became manure, and told in connection with the deep tillage its efficiency.Yours, &c.,  EVELYN

It would seem to me that two or three washings of strong lye would use up a lot of the stuff to renovate even a small orchard.  Since lye is what the old orchardist’s wife used to make soap, this could mean that renovating an orchard could result in a lack of soap, and a pretty stinky orchardist family.

Renovating Old Orchards (part 1):

While providing advice on renovating old orchards, this writer to the New England Farmer gives more documentation that old orchards were not always made up of (what we call today) named “heirloom” varieties.  Sure, 19th century orchardists weren’t all growing Red Delicious and Granny Smith.  And yes, they were growing some interesting tasty fruit.  But it wasn’t always a known, named variety.  As we’ve found in other documents, seedling orchards were still prevalent as late as the mid 1800’s (and later?).  It wasn’t until the temperance movement garnered strength (reducing the call for cider), that named varieties increased in value and popularity.

Most likely, today’s old orchards that are in need of renovation, are comprised of old named varieties.  And it’s fun to figure out what you may have.  But this advice from “Evelyn” on renovating an old orchard (ca. March 1851) still applies, even though it was directed toward seedling trees.  We provide it in three parts:

The New England Farmer and Boston Rambler
Boston, Saturday, March 29, 1851
Vol.  VI, No.  13

Renovating Old Orchards (part 1).

     MR. COLE: - The fruit growing business is undoubtedly, under careful attention, to be henceforth a prominent employment of the New England farmer.  We infer this from the fact that the healthfulness and luxury of the choice varieties are much better understood now than they were a few years since, when our apple orchards, for the most part, bore natural and very ordinary specimens, when not one garden in half a dozen furnished a single pear tree, and these in the main produced worthless insipid affairs; - when a cherry tree, unless it were some of the old varieties, of moderate and scrubby growth, producing when they produced at all, a small inferior fruit.

     Then, in many places, the farmer who could sell his Seek-No-Furthers and Greenings for 12 ½ cents and 17 cents a bushel in autumn, thought he was doing a pretty fair business.  Now he can sell the same varieties at the same season for fifty cents a bushel.

     It is no wonder, then, that fruit culture is becoming more popular than it once was, and that many old orchards are undergoing a remodeling by grafting, and that many young trees are being set.  Nor is it strange at all that in this grafting of old trees and setting out new, that many are in the end disappointed in their realizations.  There are doubtless approximate causes for these failures in success which are so often realized.
Yours, &c.,  EVELYN

I love that statement:  “when not one garden in half a dozen furnished a single pear tree, and these in the main produced worthless insipid affairs.”  Statements like that remind us not to over glorify the old orcharding days of our farming ancestors.  Well, not too much, at least.

Grow Big Red, Get it to the Right Market, Make Money

Today, we speak of apples by their varietal names; the ubiquitous grocery store Red Delicious, or McIntosh.  Even heirloom orchard enthusiasts speak of Ashmead’s Kernal, or Bellflower.  But I think a subtle aspect of old orcharding was that many old orchards were comprised of just seedling apple trees.  These orchards not only provided the material for cider, they were also the source of the special varieties we love today.  Every once-in-awhile, in these seedling orchards, a really special apple would show up and be noticed.  We continue with Mr. French's advice: 

The New England Farmer and Boston Rambler
Boston, Saturday, March 8, 1851
Some Facts about Orchards in New England.
By Henry P. French, of Exeter, N. H.

     Now, there are scattered all over New England, orchards of natural fruit, which is either fed to swine, or made into cider.  As food for swine, sour apples are little better than nothing.  I have given hundreds of bushels to my swine, which seemed to find at least a rational amusement in eating them.  Indeed, for store pigs, they do tolerably well, but for fattening animals, I should adopt the principle laid down in the good woman's recipe for making sawdust bread, "the less sawdust the better the bread.”  Sweet apples are worth, perhaps, one-sixth as much per bushel, as food for animals, as Indian corn, and this will just about pay for gathering them.

     As to cider, we estimate that eight bushels of apples will make one barrel of cider, worth one dollar and fifty cents, which will not pay a man who has anything else to do, for his labor in making it, if you give him the fruit on the trees.  The natural fruit, then, is of no value, and the facts before stated show how readily the useless trees which produce it may be made valuable.

     No portion of the world is better, and I think none so well adapted to this fruit as New England.  Our Baldwin Apple is in perfection about the middle of January, and our Russets are in eating until June.  Indeed, we often see the old year’s fruit of our orchards, side by side with that of the new year.  So, after the apples of more Southern orchards have decayed, we have the market to ourselves.  Steam navigation renders exportation to the whole world easy for us, and the home consumption, as well as foreign, must increase beyond the supply, for a generation to come, at least.

Clearly, Mr. French had the right idea.  Grow a nice marketable apple, and get it to the market that doesn’t have apples.  Then the orchardist gets the best price, right?  I think it’s interesting that he uses the Baldwin as his example.  Baldwin is a big, red, durable winter apple.  The mid 1800’s was about the time when the “big red apple” was just becoming the signature of the industry.