Getting Fresh

Starting seeds indoors is one of the areas where gardeners can easily save money. Avoid buying peat pots or plastic flats by reusing common items you probably already have in your home.

• Plastic food containers, egg cartons, and the like: Seedlings don’t need a glamorous first home. Save greenbucks by sprouting multiple seeds in reused food containers. Small containers require less soilless mix (one of the priciest gardening supplies) and, if you plant in an egg carton, you can simply divide it up and pop the seedlings — carton and all — into larger pots, once the seedlings require more space.
• Newspaper: For “potting up” growing seedlings, plantable peat pots are great for adding nutrients to your container garden and minimizing transplant shock, but there is an easy and inexpensive alternative. Fold single sheets of newspaper into small flower pots using an origami method that has worked for me. The newspaper pots are surprisingly sturdy on their own, even when exposed to water repeatedly. Once your seedlings are ready for larger containers, simple plant them, newspaper and all. The paper will allow roots through and will soon break down in the soil, adding usable carbon to your containers in the process.
• Shoeboxes and aluminum foil: Tomato, pepper, and squash seeds benefit hugely from extra warmth and sunshine early in the growing process. To make an inexpensive seedling grow-box, line a shoebox with a slightly larger sheet of aluminum foil, allowing an inch or two to extend up beyond the boxes’ sides. Then fill it with potting soil, poke drainage holes in the bottom, and plant your seedlings. The foil reflects the sun and provides some extra insulation.
  
• Laundry detergent container: Compost tea is a natural and dirt-cheap alternative to commercial fertilizer that can be “brewed” in any sealed, opaque container — an empty detergent container fits the bill perfectly. Rinse it out thoroughly and economically beforehand by pouring a cup or so of white vinegar into it and setting it in the shower for a week or so. Read further instructions on making compost tea in this cheap and convenient container.

I’ve mentioned before that I’m an inconsistent composter, just because my family and I have yet to agree on a suitable in-home composting method for our condo. Looking at it this morning, it sure sounds like the NatureMill Classic composter would take care of several potential problems: it promises to be odor-free, for example, and so would be suitable for indoors — especially where space is at a premium, because it’s very compact.

It does use electricity, so it’s in the same vein as an AeroGarden or PowerPlant compact hydroponic unit — which is to say, weigh what you’ll be putting into it against what you’ll get out of it, and decide if it’s worthwhile for you. The electricity usage does sound like it’s minimal.

Honestly, I think I’ll try vermi-composting first*, but the Naturemill is just the kind of in-kitchen or balcony composter I would buy if I were living with a couple of roommates who wanted to split the cost. If you’re game, NatureMill is currently offering a Web exclusive of $199 on the stripped-down, “Classic” unit.

*…Because commercial worm bins are usually cheaper and, actually, fairly simple to construct; because neither a lot of worms nor a little odor makes me squeamish; and because I’m fairly certain I could keep the bin in the storage area downstairs, to satisfy my fiancé, who’s a little more reticent; and, finally, because it wouldn’t require a lick of electricity.

Recently, as the terms “eco-friendly” and “green” become over-used and misused, “sustainable” is taking over where they left off, but I find the term even more amorphous. That’s because defining sustainable is peculiarly personal, and depends on one’s own evaluations of the information that’s out there. What one gardener determines to be a sustainable practice, another shuns. It’s all about what you think the earth can sustain for the long term — and that, I think, leaves a lot of room for practices that don’t improve the environmental situation at all. Using peat in the garden is one example.

So we can probably all agree that cultivating a self-sustaining garden is an admirable goal, and one that’s pretty elusive. And maybe we can all also agree that producing your own compost is a big piece of the equation. What we do not eat (vegetable peels, coffee grounds, eggshells), we throw onto the heap; a season or so of active gardening later, and we’re essentially eating food grown from everyday leftovers. How sustaining!
But, if you’re like me, and your compost heap is across town — or if you’re still debating the merits of hosting worms in your apartment or on your precious balcony space — you need every extra motivation. So here’s another good reason to compost, compost, compost: there’s growing concern that vegetables fertilized with uncomposted animal manure can pick up trace amounts of antibiotics. The cumulative effect of ingesting this stuff — and of antibiotics pervading the foodstream, in general — is unknown, but it’s probably not pretty. Researchers have already found, though, that composting fresh manure reduced the amounts of antibiotics by 99 percent.

The take-away: Put your own personal kitchen waste to work. And, if you buy compost, buy composted manure. And, if you purchase any sort of fresh manure, throw it on the heap for good measure. In this last case, I guess I could play on words just a little more by saying, “Let patience sustain you!”

A word to the wise for adventurous composters: Food containers made from PLA, also known as corn plastic, will not degrade in a home compost heap. Even those labeled “100% compostable” usually require specialized conditions to even begin breaking down — correct amounts of added nitrogen, for example, and temperatures that well exceed 100 degrees for days on end.
Where can you subject your take-out container to such conditions? Only at a commercial compost facility, if it even accepts residential waste. Alternatively, some grocery stores and chains will collect PLA containers and bring them to a commercial facility for you.

But in your backyard, they’re not going to do anything but take up space.

This article that predicts a widespread seed shortage hasn’t left my thoughts since I first read it weeks ago. It hadn’t occurred to me that the home gardening boom could go anywhere but forward, but Sharon Astyk’s article really makes me think more critically about producing my own food.

I’m as guilty as (guiltier than) anyone, when it comes to jumping on the green bandwagon, preferring anything with an organic classification, and following trends that, upon closer examination, are case studies of marketing savvy rather than environmental responsibility. In my eager hands, a little knowledge is truly dangerous.

When it comes to gardening, in particular, I like to learn by doing. I remain convinced that it’s the best way to learn, given that growing conditions seem to differ from one inch to the next. Lately, however, I have been reconsidering what it means, exactly, to learn by doing. Enthusiasm is one thing, and commitment is something entirely different. I’m in this gardening thing for the long haul, and, given the current state of the economy and the environment, that means I have the opportunity to do something profoundly meaningful for myself and my family, here, as long as I keep my critical capacities about me.

In short, I don’t want there to be more “doing” going on than “learning.”

What this means — concretely, right now — is that I’m choosing seeds more judiciously. I love to eat salad, so I’m going to grow more greens than glamorous crops that I don’t actually enjoy eating very much. And I love the economy, self-reliance, and (let’s face it) nurturing aspect of saving seeds, so I’m seeking out vegetable varieties that can literally last lifetimes.

And, boy, would I love to figure out a better system of collecting and producing compost than taking multiple cross-town trips with a tiny, stinking can.

Enthusiasm, meet commitment.