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- Stumbling through a bare root nursery
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Hello Reader,
This year, I decided to be the type of person who grows fruit in my backyard. No need for overalls, just the ability to harvest some raspberries to adorn the top of a chocolate cheesecake. Exclaiming at a dinner party to friends how the raspberries were “from the garden.” An important distinguisher from the slightly fetid and mushy raspberries from the grocery store. Certainly, no one would know the difference, but there is power in an origin story. The guests at this future party would no doubt appreciate the effort that went into procuring only the freshest of berries for their dessert.
When I’m not fantasizing about being Martha Stewart incarnate, you might find me holding down a spot at the local bar. I’ve started to get recognized at my local dive bar, as there is not much to do in Wisconsin aside from drink the winter away. It’s not something I am necessarily proud of, but on Wednesday’s you can get free drinks if the bartender thinks you are cute. Thankfully, the bartender has low standards. As I sat in this dimly lit bar that was slowly sliding back towards the street corner, I realized I was nearing the vague precipice that is “middle age.” One Krombacher at a time.
Most people find meaning through kids, religion, or ambitious work, but I’ve dodged the bullet on all three. So, it’s only natural that I would find my way into the garden. It was either that or hard drugs, and I really don’t have a stomach for them. The garden is a place where I can toil away and feel accomplished at the end of the day. It keeps my hands busy and my mind at ease. There is also a joy that comes with observation of the natural world. Seeing the buds swell on plants and bees visiting flowers that you planted just last spring. Keeping a garden feels like meaning, at least to me.
That’s how I ended up in the bare root plant nursery down the hill from my 60’s ranch house. I discovered this section of the nursery about a year ago, and I like to go there on occasion because it is quiet and air conditioned. Your typical outdoor nursery has a more upbeat tone where Midwest sunshine moms load carts with all different types of plants, as long as they are Asters. This side of the nursery felt more like a morgue, with different fruit trees and privacy shrubs bundled into crates with peat moss around their roots. It felt almost awkward, like you’d walked in on the plants changing.
The bare root Raspberry canes. I picked up one bundle.
The employee in this section of the nursery, a young round boy with fig colored hair, went on break as soon as he saw me coming. So, I perused the collection of fruit trees, privacy shrubs, and berry canes in the company of another customer. He was an older man dressed like an undertaker in a bowlers hat with a floor length leather coat and hard black shoes. We made eye contact briefly, but instead of looking at me he seemed to look through me, sending a chill down my spine.
The bare root plants had instructions next to them. Soak for an hour in water before planting and dig a hole twice as wide as the roots. Build a little mound in the hole to drape the roots over and plant to the same depth as it was at the nursery. I purchased 5 Heritage Fall Bearing Raspberries by plucking them from their bed of peat moss. They came as a bundle of 5 canes for around $30, short twigs with signs of bud growth and wiry little roots. They seemed hardy and capable of surviving the cold snap forecast for the night.
I’d decided not to talk to the other ominous customer, but I yearned to brag to someone about how I was planting raspberries today. “Oh, but isn't it early?” they would say. “It’s okay, they are bare root.” I would reply, implying I knew what I was doing. With nobody to regale with stories of the fabulous raspberry themed dinner parties I’d be hosting when the plants grew to maturity, I made a pit stop on the way home.
With the canes drying out slowly in the back seat, I went out of my way to go to the liquor store where the cashiers are always a bit chatty. I needed to pick up some German beer anyways, and it would be a good chance to insert raspberries into a conversation. “How is your day going?” Asked the store attendant. “It’s going well. I just picked up some raspberry canes to plant.” I said with a newfound air of dignity. “That’s so wholesome. Cash or card?” he asked. “Card.” I said, brimming with the joy that comes from true acknowledgement.
I dug up a portion of grass by the back fence and planted them soundly in the ground. Following almost none of the instructions from the sign in the nursery. It will likely be 2 years before they start to get bigger with ample harvests, but when they do, you can know one thing for sure. Everyone at the party will know exactly where the raspberries in the dessert came from.
Field Notes:
Last week was Bird Week! Did you miss it? If you did, then you can read it below.
Aside from planting some bare root plants this week, I spent some time digging out a bunch of turf grass to plant the veggie garden, with even more time hovering over my bulbs to see if they would flower faster if I watched them.
Plotter’s Commons:
Today, we are hosting a little giveaway and you have until 4/15 To Enter. The winner will get a copy of The Heirloom Gardener and two stickers! To be eligible to win, you just need to use the referral system below. You can copy and paste your link into a social media post, or copy your code below and forward to a friend. It someone signs up through your referral link, then you will be placed in the drawing! Winner will be pulled the evening of 4/15. One entry per person. All paid subscribers are entered automatically.
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Ready to Grow Better? Let’s dig in. Burda Growing Better helps you grow the gardens you’ve been dreaming about in Madison, Wisconsin and surrounding communities. Led by founder and head garden coach Jessica Burda Leslie, our boutique small business provides personalized garden coaching, kitchen/ cottage garden design, education, and maintenance for busy people and families. We value natural and organic methods for growing edible gardens and strive to incorporate biodiversity and native species in our education and gardens. Visit www.burdagrowingbetter.com to get started. (And tell her Ken sent you!)
Don’t live in Madison? You can ask Jess general gardening questions on her Instagram.
Written for 518 tipsy gardeners. 💌
Until next Thursday,
Ken Welch
Ken Welch is a garden writer with a very serious degree in Horticulture. When his city lacked a community garden, he helped build one. He teaches new gardeners how to grow their own food.
Cibus Est Imperium | Food is Power