vegetables are boring

- or at least not interesting enough to keep posting photos of them on a regular basis.
The subject of kitchen gardens and sustainable small-scale agriculture, however, is endlessly fascinating.

We have just emerged from an intense two week Plein Air art course run by Diane Olivier from San Francisco. Cooking and cleaning and caring for fourteen Californians. Our potager just came ‘on-stream’ as they arrived, and provided a part of what we cooked – purple and yellow French beans, sweet peas, yellow and green courgettes, lettuce and rocket and spinach, plus a few tomatoes and red onions. The cool wet spring held things back this year.

Running parallel to our small  ‘histoire de potager‘  is Charles and Isabelle’s move away from wine-making to vegetable farming. They have many hectares lying fallow now, having taken the grants for uprooting their vines. Many of these ‘parcelles’ of scattered vineyards are too stoney for anything apart from olives. But their favourite lands at Lazagal are valley-bottom, and are very fertile. What was lacking  was water – or rather, a serious means of  irrigation, since there is a large well right there by the Lazagal stream.

This is the solution he came up with :

It’s a 206 cc Bernard side-valve single cylinder petrol engine, from the 50’s, coupled to an equally elderly pump for emptying wine-vats. It starts with one pull – and at tickover speed will pump 50 gallons per minute.

He has around 150 tomato plants,  perhaps the same of potatoes, plus many peppers, cougettes and aubergines.  It’s all a month behind our stuff – but he sees it as a warm-up for next year when his involvement with the AMAP organisation will bring in some much-needed money.

An association for the preservation of a peasant agriculture ( AMAP) is, in France, a close partnership  between a group of consumers and a local farm, based on a system of weekly distribution of the products of the farm. It is a  contract, based on a financial commitment of the consumers, who pay in advance the totality of their consumption over a period defined by the type of production and the geographical place. This system thus works on the principle of the confidence(trust) and the responsibility of the consumer.

marking time with compost

We’re waiting on Charles and his tractor to plough le grand potager at Sue’s. I’ve boxes and trays of plantlings that need to go in – watermelons and pumpkins, peas and beans, and 25 sweet corn. But with her L-shaped plot, there’s no point in starting a bed or two as the tractor will not be able to navigate around them effectively. And I do want this serious kitchen-garden prepared properly from the outset. It’s sunny and sheltered and has the potential to be our main provider of food.

But in the meantime, there’s always compost to attend to. After two weeks, the initial combustion has cooled to a hand-bearable 30 C. and the bulk has reduced by a third. Time to turn it all and re-stack it, with the dry outer stuff put in the middle, and the damp ashy material around the outer edge – then a spray of water every five forkfulls. The three bins become two, and eventually one. More space for fresh manure!

I like the work – it’s cookery and alchemy and a visit to the bank, all in one.

This is Big Bin No.1 which has been cooking slowly all winter – today I’m barrowing it the 5 minutes walk acoss the village to Sue’s kitchen-garden.

If I keep up this rate of compost-production, the volume of soil will increase dramatically and it might be sensible to move to a raised-bed system now. It’s not something I’ve done before, and it costs money and time. But I’m not entirely convinced of its benefits. Here in the Midi a kind of raised-bed/ridged plantation is commonplace : the ridge is le billon and the trough or path is le sillon. As I write this, I’m checking the internet for spellings and info – and it’s apparent that there’s lots of experience on this in French, and in the French-speaking colonies. A regional term for it is ‘cultivation en ados’ where ados means a ridge or hump (remember: a dosser is someone who’d rather lie on his back, than do work . . . ).

This is particularly relevant to us, since we too have long periods of drought with intermittent flooding. And as I write I’m becoming more convinced that wood-planked raised beds are alien to this kind of clay terrain, and this climate.

The new diggers

The struggle to build a durable irrigation scheme for the kitchen-garden has been brought to a temporary halt . . . by rain. It’s the first we’ve had for many weeks, and should last  for several days it seems. It’s gentle and penetrative, fortunately – rather than violent and productive of floods and red clay mud-slides.

It means I can return to some websites and blogs I’ve book-marked recently, and grow a few ideas, indoors.

They all seem to centre around a pivotal idea propounded a year or two back  by Jeffrey J. Brown,  an independent petroleum geologist who posts regularly as westexas on TheOilDrum.com.  His ELP Plan in the face of Peak Oil and resource depletion: Economize; Localize & Produce :
Economize
By reducing  expenses now, while you can do it voluntarily, you will at least be better prepared for whatever the future may bring. A key way to Economize is to Localize.
Localize
Try to reduce the distance between work and home to as close to zero as possible and live in smaller, much more energy efficient housing, preferably close to mass transit lines.
Integrate yourself into your local community. Get to know your neighbors. Become involved in local government, etc.
Support local food producers, perhaps via Community Supported Agriculture, and support local manufacturing and businesses.

Produce
Produce  practical and useful items that serve to enhance the first two ideas. Grow as much food as possible. Mend, repair and recycle.

In this context it was interesting to find a fellow-blogger in the region,  posting about the CapitalGrowth initiative in London, in his own admirable blog  Un Jardin Potager en Languedoc .

His subtitle describes it well : Un cahier de semis en ligne pour me simplifier la vie mais aussi des observations sur l’horticulture dans un milieu méditerranéen, un témoignage sur la culture de légumes dans un jardin du Midi qui est, à sa façon, partagé, multi-générationel, semi-bio et même un peu politique …

One of Raphael’s brothers-in-law is involved with this new London scheme. Launched at the beginning of November 2008, the Capital Growth campaign is aiming to create 2,012 new food growing spaces in London by 2012.

Raphael  adds [my translation] :

On this subject [the 'greening' of London], we can speak about it because we are really miraculously lucky people: as newcomers to Montpellier, without the possibility of coming up with the price demanded by estate-agents for “leisure activity land ” and even less to have a house with its own garden in the city, we managed to find – thanks to flyers posted in  letterboxes around the city – somebody keen to help our kitchen-garden project and prepared to share land.
Without this miracle, we would have had to wait to qualify for one of the  few allotments of  Montpellier – or go into debt if we had managed to find something affordable at a real estate agency.

So – Come on : a small change in mentality, fellow citizens and elected officials! A weekend vegetable garden  for everyone! (for all those that want one, of course . . . )

Raphael is a  consultant Ingénieur en Géomatique whose potager is now up from 70 sq. m. to 240 sq.m. His approach is rigorous  :  we both are concerned by questions of water and irrigation – but he has researched the needs of various plants, and the variables in the soil’s ability to retain moisture.  But his anxieties about water remain : our region experiences long hot summers and the prevailing wind, La Tramontane [or Le Cers, as it's known in our corner of Languedoc]  is strong and very drying. Most of the old and therefore successful potagers have tall thick wind-breaks to help combat the desiccation.

Nevertheless his results are impressive – and his photos are good too.

Here are some of mine – taken around our village recently. Every little village has such potagers – and while many are falling into disuse as an older generation retires, some are getting a new lease of life.

This walled garden at the edge of the village was started a few years ago by two middle-aged Moroccan vineyard workers. The pigeonnier is for the present, unoccupied.

Fava beans and artichokes have over-wintered well.

This plot has just been prepared by tractor – it was disused for years. There are two deep wells side-by-side that need cleaning out. And there’s a heavy old pump-engine in a hut that may require more than just a cleaning.

Below is the municipal allotment outside Lezignan,our nearby market town. It was once part of a grand domaine.

Below is the second half of the allotment. It’s mid-morning and all the men are of retirement age. Right next door is a riding school with stables – what luck!

Water

Every week around Wednesday on The Oil Drum.com the editors invite a guest to propose a topic that addresses some practical aspect of the Peak Oil situation. This week it was a guest post from Sharon Astyk (TOD reader jewishfarmer). She is the author of one current book : ‘Depletion and Abundance: Life On the New Home Front.’ and two forthcoming books.
Her essay this week was about the issues involved in adapting to the Long Emergency – it’s about adjusting to a different type of ‘city’ and lifestyle than we are currently used to.

Mary and I have tried to get our friends to take a look at what TheOilDrum.com and TheAutomaticEarth.blogspot.com have to say about our present predicament – but they don’t, and they won’t, and that is that.

One of the central points in her essay, picked up by several commenters – and of particular interest to me this winter – is the key role that water-supply will play.

Here’s a taste of the discussion:-

jewishfarmer on The Oil Drum February 4, 2009
My own feeling is that where we may end up may well come down mostly to water in the next few decades. Soil yes, but water first and foremost.

Ron Broberg on February 6, 2009
As I survey my 1/3 acre domain, it becomes quickly apparent that water is my limiting factor (Colorado Front Range).
I was telling this to my wife a couple of weeks ago when, literally the next day, a water main burst and we are on boiled water for the rest of the week.

KingPing on February 6, 2009
I guess, as I survey my small “suburban” lot I have the exact same concern–water.

Will Stewart on February 5, 2009
Richard Seager, et al, Model Projections of an Imminent Transition to a More Arid Climate in Southwestern North America, Science 25 May 2007: Vol. 316. no. 5828, pp. 1181 – 1184 DOI: 10.1126/science.1139601
“there is a broad consensus among climate models that this region will dry in the 21st century and that the transition to a more arid climate should already be under way. If these models are correct, the levels of aridity of the recent multiyear drought or the Dust Bowl and the 1950s droughts will become the new climatology of the American Southwest within a time frame of years to decades.”

wrighttracks on February 5, 2009
Future water availability was mentioned and truly this will be an issue. It is already an issue. All areas with large populations and anticipated water problems are suspect as being viable.

nelsone on February 5, 2009
It’s all about the water, isn’t it? Food shortages can be dealt with by slow, steady shipments of nonperishables, but how much water can you tanker in to Atlanta or LA?

Richie Gunn on February 6, 2009
Rainwater in the Southeast is the new liquid gold and it should be treasured so. We all should collect rainwater from our roof tops at the least.

Here in the Languedoc region of SW France, water has always been a major factor in rural life. There is either a drought – or a deluge. The last major flood, in 1999, killed 21 people in our immediate area. Hosepipe restrictions are a regular factor each summer. Higher up in the Corbières Hills a friend lost her vigorous little stream for several months: her isolated small-holding depended on a temporary [and illegal] pit being excavated in the stream-bed.

There is water in this valley – fed by the snow melt from the Pyrenees and a myriad of other tributaries. Little is taken out for industry – there is none. But each village is experiencing a decades-long North-South drift, and this region is expanding where others are shrinking. The water-demands of bulk wine and little suburban developments is taking its toll.

Our village, with its new station in 1856, was set to be a new market-town mid-way between Narbonne and Carcassonne. But while each big house had its own wells [we have two], and the ‘ordinary villagers’  had a constantly running fountain/horse-troughs/public pumps – this was the limit of our village’s water supply. The market town was built 7 km. away in the valley bottom. Where the floods of  ‘99 hit hardest.

Our huge house has just survived the most violent wind since ‘99 – Tempête Claus – with roof intact and two trees down; quite minor. The water table [ la nappe phréatique ] is high again for the first time in years, and my fears for our kitchen-garden abate a little. The house well holds ten cubic meters of sweet water and the ‘grand bassin’ holds another seven. The swimming pool contains 80 cubic metres – but when the Economic Collapse occurs we won’t  be worrying about our ArtHoliday guests objecting to pondweed and oxygenators. The Black Swan still circles our little corner.

This is the skeleton of the water pump on our workshop barn. The other photos show the remains of wind-driven well-pumps in villages around.

wells and water restrictions

our house, the village and Alaric Mountain

We live in an arid landscape. This is our village huddled at the foot of the biggest of the Corbieres Hills. It has just a small stream running through it, but many wells. Our house is the big building at the bottom.

After the reading and the talking and the thinking – one has to act. Put the Peak Oil theory aside and get going. So I have begun to make an inventory of what we have here on our property, and what is out there around the village. However, the list soon span out of control : water, fuel, power, shelter, tools and equipment, protection and defense. I needed to slow down and concentrate on what was immediately practical.

As it happened, the matter was decided for me : just a few weeks ago the Mairie announced over the village tannoy system [I don't know if all villages still have one - this remnant of the Nazi Occupation] that a restriction on water-use was now in force throughout the departement of the Aude. No hose-pipes to be used around house or garden, from 8 to 8. We not only needed to get up early to water the kitchen-garden, we needed to have a reserve in case this hot dry summer continued and the ban became total. I had better take stock of our water supply.

We have a house-well that is six metres below ground-level and when recently measured was just two metres deep (it’s usually 3) – but it’s clean and cool. At the time it provided for the needs of the family that built this place in 1860. We have used it occasionally – four years ago when water ran low in the region and I drained it when topping up the swimming-pool – and I imagine it would keep the two of us going for domestic use the year round. But it is inadequate for a serious potager (kitchen-garden).

There is another well – same stone construction, same depth – at the bottom of the garden. But this one has always been closed over. It is foul and sulferous-smelling, and is probably too close to the run-off from the wine-makers when they wash out their vats. It once must have filled this bassin , which is now ornamental ( though the koi and the frog who live there would call it Home ).

bassin at the bottom of the garden

frog in le bassin

In the garden of the house next-door is a modern well [un forage] dug at great expense by a neighbour who only occasionally visits his holiday-home. I should add that he grew up in the village, remembers the Germans, and like every good Frenchman always only desired a house to retire to – after a career as an oil-man in Paris – in his own village. He was out there in his garden today – fit at nearly 80 – pottering about his quarter-acre of largely unproductive trees and ornamental shrubs. He has offered us the use of his water, should we ever need it.

Then there’s the pool itself – a luxury in the eyes of many, but a business necessity if you’re running a holiday guest-house/art centre. It’s big by some standards, at 12 x 5 m.

poster for artholiday.com

It’s a constant problem to maintain and the costs are high in chemicals and electricity and my pool-boy-hours. I’d be glad to see it with its kerb-stones removed, filled with oxygenating plants and capable of supporting small insect life and large ducks. For the present it remains a sterile but necessary business asset. It may also play a crucial role as a ‘battery’ storing wind-generated electrical heat, to be used in conjunction with a heat pump. The subject of wind-power (in which the region is bountifully provided ) will be dealt with in a later post.

So one of my projects this summer has been to refurbish le grand bassin hidden away in the clump of trees that was once le parc, and is now the Jungle. (More about formal French parcs and English wildlife gardens in a later post)

Richard tiling le grand bassin

The water for this pre-World War 2 proto-swimming pool (built by the previous owner for his children) arrived via a lead pipe from the sweet-water well in his neighbour’s potager . It may well flow again.

Here I am tiling the top row with tiles we painted and fired for a mosaic that didn’t happen. It will give the bassin a non-lavatorial look. The tiles below will all get covered with pond-weed. The odd lines of tile were from a previous attempt to make this thing hold water. 90% of these tiles are redundant – I just don’t know which 10% actually cover the serious cracks.

This part of Le Languedoc has erratic weather: pushed by the Mediterranean and pulled by the Atlantic weather systems, we are caught between drought and flood. But we do have two growing seasons, spring and autumn and a heatwave in the middle when almost everything grinds to a halt (except the courgettes, aubergines and tomatoes).

All we need is water.