by Jane Dwinell

I just picked and ate my first radish. Really. No, I'm not that good at all-season gardening in Vermont — though I have managed to have fresh greens eight months of the year with a little work, the right weather, and cold frames. I'm in New Orleans, where I am starting anew on another urban homestead. (This blog is still local, don't worry: Common Sense's other half, my daughter Dana, is staying in Vermont.)

Here there is no snow, only periodic rain and thunderstorms (in some cases enough to flood the streets — I paddled my kayak around the block a couple of weeks ago rescuing people and bringing them home). Daytime temperatures are in the 60s, 70s, and 80s; nighttime in the 50s and 60s. Ahhh.

The first thing we did upon arrival was to plant a garden. It was a shock to get out the seeds for summer squash, mesclun mix, lettuce, spinach, carrots, beets, and radishes, and plant them — on October 1st. But they're all up and growing. Radishes now, greens soon, carrots and beets by December. It's a little strange, but I'm getting used to it. After the vegetables came up, we purchased a lemon tree, a grapefruit tree, and a satsuma (a sweet, little citrus fruit much like clementines or mandarins) tree and added them to our garden. I'm starting to gather up herbs at this point — and have run into basil plants as tall as blueberry bushes.

Our friends just finished their sweet potato harvest and shared their bounty with us. Sweet potatoes need to be cured for a week or two in high heat and high humidity to make them sweet. And sweet they are — a food I never expected to eat locally! I've know some long-time Vermont vegetable farmers who have had moderate success with sweet potatoes, but not like here where they grow like weeds.

The farmer's market offers fall tomatoes, sweet and hot peppers, okra, watermelon, winter squash, summer squash, eggplant, kale, collards, green onions, sweet potatoes, "Irish" potatoes, apples, and satsumas . And that's just the produce — there are also shrimp, crabs, and crayfish along with beef, pork, and goat meat. There isn't much dairy production in these parts, but you can get cow's milk, goat's milk, and soft goat cheeses like chevre and feta. (As much as we're trying to eat locally in this new place, I have to confess that we make periodic trips to Wal-Mart for Cabot cheddar — why is it that people think cheddar cheese needs to be orange?)

As much as New Orleanians are passionate about good food, we have not found a bakery anywhere. A pale imitation of French bread is made in the city for its famous "po-boys" — hearty sandwiches made on a chunk of this bread, which resembles Wonder bread more than anything. It's even hard to find ingredients to bake our own bread. . . how we miss fresh, tasty, and high-quality bread right out of the woodstove oven or off the shelves of the co-op. If any of you have ever harbored fantasies about opening your own bakery, New Orleans is the place to do it.

The greatest food and gardening challenge so far has been dealing with the fire ants. Fire ants plague the south: they are vicious, tiny, red ants that hustle and bustle more than any other ant I've ever seen and sting like mad whenever you cross paths with them. They live in lawns — and gardens — and you can't even walk through a park without having to watch your step so you don't accidently find yourself in the middle of a fire ant colony. We've learned to use calendula and jewelweed to soothe the initial burn and the subsequent itch when the bites blister up the next day (and last for a week or more).

So, I did some research on fire ants. Is it possible to kill them? Well, yes and no. You can use some heavy-duty poisons and kill them — and everything else around. You can use various solutions from garlic to urine to convince them to move elsewhere. Or you can learn to live with them. You can capitalize on their viciousness: they will clear your yard of fleas, ticks, chiggers, and insects that attack your vegetables, like tomato hornworm. We once dropped a slug into the middle of a nest and watched thousands of fire ants descend on the poor creature and devour it. So much for gardening barefoot — I've learned to wear work boots and long pants!

Because there are no (or rare) frosts here, insects, bacteria, viruses, and fungi are more of a problem in the garden. Because the rain tends to come in downpours, you can find yourself either having to water or watching your new seedlings drown. Because of the high humidity, garden diseases multiply rapidly and can devastate a crop within a day or two (and this gardener doesn't really want to work in high humidity either!).

North or south, it is possible to live in harmony with your environment. It just takes a little research, a little education, and a little experimentation. I'm learning — and I'll let y'all know how it goes. In the meantime, stay warm.

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About Common Sense
Common Sense is written by Jane Dwinell and Dana Dwinell-Yardley, a mother-daughter blog team. After homesteading in Vermont for over 25 years, Jane now splits her time between a small canal boat in France and a friendly neighborhood in New Orleans. Dana, inspired by her upbringing, resides in a container-garden-and-housemate-crazy Montpelier home. Send Jane and Dana your questions and comments about food, fuel, family, or financial independence! Write to mountaingirl at vtlink dot net. You can also check out some of their other writings at their website: Spirit of Life Publishing.