I’ve been a professional horticulturist and home gardener for twenty years. Early on, I learned that the only certainty is you will never stop learning from growing plants. No two seasons will ever be the same. Gardening is the opposite of Groundhog Day, which is why it is such a special way to spend your time. You will fall in and out of love with different plants over the years as your life and garden change. You will have more or less time to devote as your journey ebbs and flows, but I encourage you to experiment with new plants as often as possible and treasure the simple moments spent in your paradise.
If someone had told me even five years ago that I would be investing my time and energy into writing a book on grains I would have explained that “No, I am a woody ornamental propagator,” and walked away. But then one day you wake up and try something new and your world gets that much bigger.
That is what Gardening with Grains is aiming to achieve. I hope you will consider things you haven’t thought of before and challenge your creativity as a gardener. I want you to dream big, beyond your home and neighborhood and imagine the impact that we can all have on shaping and nourishing our communities. But most of all, I wish to whet your curiosity and invite you to grow something new, in a different context – and enjoy the process along the way.
~ Brie ~
One
My Grain Journey
Like most home growers, I started as a L traditional flower enthusiast. Now, twenty years into my life as a gardener, my approach has evolved. Most importantly, I want my act of gardening to improve the environment in which I live. To do that, I have had to re-evaluate my use of fertilizers, herbicides and pesticides and prioritize soil improvement above all else. It was through these studies that I first became aware of grains and how valuable they could be for making my garden flourish, naturally.
To start this story I have to first explain how I came to be “the Crazy Grain Lady,” with an 850-square-foot area of my front lawn turned into a grain bed. It didn’t start off that way. In fact, when I was drawing plans for that initial (non-grain) garden installation in my front yard, I simply sited a few favorite small trees in a sweeping line to mimic the contour of the foundation landscape. I had seen this technique used to create a screen and divide a lawn into two defined zones, one viewed from the street and the other a private area near the house. Considering that our suburban lot is deep and rather narrow, this seemed a logical way to maximize planting space without eliminating too much turf.
When we broke ground on the garden in January, 2011, the trees were planted as individual specimens, free standing and not connected by a bed. After a few months of trying to maintain the constantly spreading centipede grass around them, my husband, David, and I decided it would be smarter to connect the tree wells with a small bed of native ornamental grasses, namely, Muhlenbergia capillaris, aka pink muhly grass. This would look beautiful and reduce our efforts to keep the turf from invading the roots of the newly planted trees. Plus, it was a native grass, so it would thrive, right? But first, we would need to dig up a lot of the invasive sod to make room for our muhly grass.
Pink muhly grass thrives in my dry landscape beds.
NOTE: Not every landscape endeavor is meant to be a DIY project! In this case, we hired a landscaper with a turf cutter who expertly removed the sod in perfect sections, ready to be transplanted elsewhere. Sure, it cost money, but it was done correctly and completed in one day. Honestly, the turf would still be there if we had decided to make this a do-it-yourself project. Having worked in the landscape industry for a number of years, I have learned a few things about working smart instead of hard. I cannot stress this enough: Hire a professional for the jobs that seem too big for you to do yourself. There are a number of reasons for this – namely, professionals have access to the correct equipment for the job at hand, and they know how to use these tools and complete a job quickly.
Aidan helped me measure the beds so they could be drawn to scale.
Once the sod was removed, I was left with a blank slate of bare sand. Have I mentioned I garden in a former tobacco field? Yes, I live on the sandy side of North Carolina, which has its benefits and drawbacks. One thing I never expected was how wet it would be living on sand. Sure, logically you think sand will drain fast, and yes that is true, unless you live where the water table is very high. Here, we live with the opposite of gravity, known as hydrologic pressure, meaning water comes from below. When the water table is saturated, the soil is too. It makes sense that all of the surrounding cities have the word “spring” in their name, as after a heavy rainstorm water will literally spring out of the ground.
This reality led to many plant deaths, because for too long I was trying to use my conventional wisdom about drainage. Of course, from failures come insights, even when it takes longer than it should, and I am an expert at doing things the wrong way! That first spring after planting the pink muhly grass, I watched in dismay as each plant went dormant and never returned to life. Upon closer inspection, the roots had simply rotted and my dream of a showy fall border faded away. But I still had my specimen trees in my otherwise empty bed. It needed something beautiful to complete the design, something that would survive the realities of my soil. What to do next?
ALWAYS HAVE A PLAN B: That may have been the first time in my gardening life that I felt like I had a black thumb. Now, I hate that term and I try to never use it, but the truth is, when you spend your hard-earned money on plants that die, you feel like a failure. I struggled to come up with a plan B, until a chance meeting with Ros Creasy, my longtime role model and edible gardening guru. She was the first person to ever mention the idea of seasonal grains – and what a brilliant idea it was, although I didn’t know it at the time. That came later, when my friend Chip Hope, a senior lecturer at Appalachian State University and Director of the ASU Sustainable Development Farm, handed me a bag of wheat seed and challenged me to grow it.
I have never looked back.
Chip Hope introduced me to grains by sharing a bag of wheat seed.
I discover wheat
As a child growing up in the Midwest, I recall the faint shade of green in fields as the snow would melt, revealing the winter wheat that farmers had sown the prior autumn. It was a sign that spring would arrive – sometimes sooner than later. But beyond that insignificant observation, I never had to think about what came next.
Cheerios, Rice Krispies and oatmeal were staples for breakfast, and while I was amused by the cartoon mascots, I never once considered what I was eating or where it was grown. Like most people, I took for granted that grains were a part of my daily diet, filling me up and providing