Ultimate Local: Planting Peas

Nothing could possibly be more local than food you grow yourself. I'm an avid gardener, and I coordinate the vegetable garden for my community, Cambridge Cohousing. I'm not going to explain cohousing here, but I should explain that this is not your typical community garden. While only a few people work in the garden, everyone in our community is encouraged to come and partake of the harvest. If you think that's unfair, realize that I never, ever have to mow the lawn. Someone else who enjoys mowing does that, and someone else manages cleaning the common spaces, and someone else makes up the trash rotation, etc. We all help out as best we can, and right now, what I can best contribute is gardening.

This year, I have a nearly full time job, so I called a meeting of the usual gardening suspects and a few eager newcomers and got everyone to take on a plot or two. For myself, I reserved peas, lettuce, and strawberries. Traditionally in the Boston area, peas are planted on St. Patrick's Day, but I was working Tuesday, so I didn't get around to planting until yesterday. At least three of my neighbors stopped and asked, "Planting already?" Yes, indeed. They're called snow peas for a reason. Peas are a cold weather crop. They're the first crop planted in the spring and among the first harvested. Peas can handle an occasional frost or even snowfall.

I picked out a bed that has hosted eggplants and tomatoes for far too long and needs a good nitrogen boost. I would have liked to add compost, but our compost isn't quite ready yet, and I'm not getting any delivered until April 5th. Instead, I lightly amended with Cockadoodle-doo, which is to say, composted chicken poop. It's organic and safe even for my almost-two-year-old to handle. We raked the straw off the bed and sprinkled our doo all over. Then I set up the fences, and my elder daughter and I got to work planting peas.

I suddenly remembered that the squirrels had eaten all the sugar snap peas last spring before they had a chance to sprout. We took a break for lunch, and when I came out later, I brought onion skins with me. I don't know if they mask the scent of the pea or if the squirrels just don't like them, but it keeps them away from my tulip bulbs, so I'm hoping the skins will also protect my peas. One of the community kids came out to help me plant, and we finished up and covered the newly planted peas with straw.

Along the way, I notice a couple of little green spears poking up, and I actually dug up a small onion bulb at the end of one pea fence. Oh, no! Did I forget where I had a neighbor plant the Egyptian walking onions last fall? A quick web search when I got home confirms that they look just like those spears when they sprout. Well, this shouldn't be a problem. The onions shouldn't be ready until June or July, when the peas are already gone. And perhaps the onions will ensure that the squirrels leave the peas alone. We shall see... and this means I have a spare plot for the parsnips after all!

Next weekend: lettuce.