Like many gardeners who have tended a sizeable garden for a long time, I occasionally contemplate the prospect of relocating to a smaller, more manageable space. And I ponder ways for fitting the plants I love to grow into a limited area.
Little exercises in space saving each year nudge me further into the idea of starting afresh in a smaller site. I routinely do the usual things 鈥� tucking lettuces into spots beside larger plantings like peas, squash and tomatoes; fitting fast-growing greens like spinach into spaces between newly emerging rows of longer-term plantings like corn; replanting spaces just vacated, as in out with the peas and in with late-season and winter greens.
But the most personally satisfying and potentially innovative space-efficient projects involve growing upward, specifically on the various lengths of tall, sturdy wire that I found on the property when I moved here. Set along plot edges and secured against green-painted metal 鈥淭-posts,鈥� they hold out endless planting opportunities.
I arranged the shortest piece of wire, just 274 cm in length, in a broad, slight arc shape at an end of a vegetable plot, leaving about 45 cm between the centre of the arc and the plot edge.
Around the outside of the wire, I听planted sweet peas. Cucumber and climbing zucchini grow against the inside curve. Triangular spaces at the two plot end corners house white alyssum and orange calendulas. The 45-cm wide space left free along the outside edge of the plot is now a row of bush beans. Inside the curve of the arc are potato plants. That鈥檚 all in a space just 120 cm by 240 cm (four by eight feet).
Next year, I may grow pole beans and morning glory vines on the outside, sweet peas on the inner side of the arc,听peppers along the plot edge and a听zucchini bush within the arc.
Even in a small space, wire supports could create a sort of walled garden with flowering and fruiting vines and听canes, and tree fruits trained in espalier, fan, or cordon form, all growing against the wire to form living walls of greenery, flowers, and fruit.
Imagining a new garden is a pleasurably thought-provoking enterprise, but longtime gardeners also know how difficult it can be to contemplate leaving a听garden built and cared for over several decades.
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Fig time. As summer moves along, tomatoes ripen, peppers swell and take on luscious hues of red, yellow and orange, and fragrant melons call out to听be harvested and enjoyed. Figs rest heavily on the branches of my tree, beside a听rampaging kiwi vine loaded with developing fuzzy fruit. The kiwi and fig stems tend to become intertwined, especially in a year like this one. The useable outdoor season started so late that much of the routine pruning was left undone.
As we approach fig picking time, I鈥檓听looking forward to using fully ripe, fresh figs in a tart that I鈥檝e made several times over the winter and spring using rehydrated, frozen fig halves that I dried last summer. The garden鈥檚 bulb onions, approaching maturity now, will partner with the figs听in the tart.
It鈥檚 a simple affair, especially if you can find a bakery or bakery section in a supermarket that will sell you sheets of puff pastry. Otherwise, the purchased frozen pastry will have to be rolled out into a rectangle.
Cut two large onions into thin slices and cook golden in a little butter and oil with 1 tsp sugar and fresh herbs, if you like. Rosemary is nice, as are thyme and basil. Stir the onions into a blend of one egg and 4 Tbsp milk and spread over a sheet of puff pastry. The sheets I听buy are 28 by 35 cm. Leave a narrow edge free for forming a lip to hold the filling in. Brush the pastry edges with some of the egg mix. Arrange around two cups of halved figs in rows over the onions.
Bake the tart as is, or add a few favourite toppings. I often add chunks of feta, a scattering of sweet red pepper pieces, and a light dusting of听parmesan. Walnuts, pine nuts, artichoke hearts and black olives are more possible additions. Bake at 375 F for 30听minutes or until the pastry is golden.