The Holistic Orchard: My Review at Permaculture Magazine

Perry pears at Oliver's Cider

A bit like Sally Jean Cunningham's Great Garden Companions and Emma Cooper's Alternative Kitchen Garden, I found Michael Phillips' latest book, The Holistic Orchard, to be an intriguing read. My time farming and gardening still seems short in comparison to so many others I meet, but as the seasons roll by I find myself thinking more often that not, "There has to be more to this than what I see here."

Phillips' book, like the other two mentioned above, works on filling in the details I crave while giving me sound advice and instruction on how to work in partnership with those forces to grow good fruit. With the exception of a potted blueberry, I don't grow fruit, but I still found plenty of good information there to apply to my vegetables. Take a look at my review over at Permaculture Magazine to get more of my thoughts on the book, and then pick up a copy. (And consider subscribing to Permaculture Magazine, too. Great stuff there!) Orchard or no orchard, you won't regret it.

Photo Note: Taken during our trip last September to England. We took a day to help pick perry pears at Oliver's Cider after meeting them at the Ludlow Food Festival. What a glorious day it was to be out in real autumn again with friends new and old with a sip or two of perry at the end. 

Footpath Harvest

Confession: I'm cheating a bit here, and back-dating this post. We've been having such a great time exploring England - London to Shropshire to Herefordshire - that I've got more than enough to write about and not enough days to do it in. And I still have some great spots to share that we visited during our bike tour in Hokkaido. Such a difficult life I lead...

England, thankfully, is riddled with footpaths. These ancient rite-of-ways, as a good friend called them during a recent outing, are a real treasure. Not only do they afford a fantastic way to explore the countryside as well as a handy shortcut through the village, but this time of year they overflow with damson plums, black raspberries, sloes, as well as an assortment of apples and pears. So far we've made two fruit crumbles, a.k.a. fruit crisps - one with red and green plums as well as apples, and one with just apples - with another on the menu for tonight. (I think we'll give damsons a go in this one, and see what we get.) Jane made a beautiful batch of damson gin (the drink that started my love affair with that particular fruit and perhaps inspired all the shus I've since made), and we're contemplating damson cheese, too. (The sample we tried at the Ludlow Food Festival proved inspiring, to say the least. Damson cheese is, essentially, a fruit butter poured into a mold and served up in slabs like cheese.) No wonder my pants feel a bit more snug.

Mulberries: Not Just for Silkworms

Spring is giving way to Summer these days, and so many of the blossoms from May are turning to fruit. One great example are the mulberry trees dotting our neighborhood and country by-ways. In Michigan we harvested them from a trees at relatives and friends homes, and I tossed them in with whatever jam bubbled on the stove. Here so far, I'm just nibbling them when out for a walk.

What's in season for foraging where you are?

Plum Blossoms and Tiny Daffodils

One of the traditional "three friends of winter", the plum blossom usually doesn't arrive until some time in February. Until then, plum blossoms are usually depicted using pink and white bits of paper or even colored mochi on bare branches.

This year, though, what seems like somewhat unseasonably warm winter weather encouraged a plum tree at the farm to begin blossoming. The daffodils that line the wall behind the greenhouse are also standing tall these days, and just before New Year's C-Chan cut a few of each for me. The daffodils are now in the compost pile, but the plum branches continue to bloom on our windowsill.

Christmas Yuzu Tree

Much to my delight and surprise, Santa brought a yuzu tree for Christmas this year. At the nursery it held four fruit, but three fell off during the bike ride (I mean, sleigh ride) home. Delivered as a set - one slug and a small white spider - I couldn't be happier. (The bottom photo is the slug trying to escape after I found him on one of the presents.)

I'm thrilled given the popularity of the yuzu ginger marmalade, and for how nice it makes the apartment smell. I can just see it out next to my garden or somewhere else at the farm. I'd have to, of course, talk with the farmers first. I'm also suspicious that it's size might belie it's age. The farmers report that yuzu can take about eighteen years to fruit, although some sites suggest grafter trees can fruit in much less time. Meanwhile, I'll continue figuring out how to care for our newest family member and enjoy its happy presence.

Kaki on the Way!

Last year was the first time I'd ever laid eyes on kaki, a.k.a. persimmon. A strange, thick-skinned orange fruit, the kaki comes in two kinds. A short fat stubby kind as well as a longer kind usually dried and later soaked in sake or eaten in tasty desserts.

Part of the vast variety of fruit trees on the farm (biwa, yuzu, and mikan to name just a few), the two kaki trees stand out in the fields where the crops grow. Both are about 20 feet tall, and provide not only wonderful fruit but welcome shade between chores.

Local Nashi Orchard in Bloom

These blooms are now gone, but were too pretty not to share. The young nashi (pears) are forming under the green leaves that fill out more and more every day. What's interesting about this orchard is that it is near our apartment in Tokyo, and is clearly a remnant of the farms that used to dominate this area. Two old farmhouses still stand just north of the pears with fields in production and an accompanying chestnut orchard. It's also just a block or so away from a bike path with a favorite vegetable stand on it, and a major road. Bees must now wing their way over a small factory, a school, apartment buildings, and houses rather than former fields and forests.

Japanese pears are not as sugary sweet as their American counterparts, nor are they as soft and squishy. About the size of a softball their texture is more like that of an apple. They are lovely alone, in oatmeal, granola, with yogurt, and in salad. I'm also betting they'd make a great jam, which is on the agenda for this fall.