More seedlings continued to sprout the following day (the visual change just over overnight never fails to amaze me).

Amidst the joy however, it soon became apparent that most of the seedlings looked rather spindly and weak-looking. They didn’t look healthy at all:

I even stuck wooden skewers into the soil, beside the weakest looking seedlings. I did this because many of them were lying horizontally on the soil:

It seemed like the right thing to do, as I remember reading that the stems of tomato plants can be weak, and require support.

Sticking in the skewers didn’t help very much though. Firstly, it wasn’t practical to have one skewer for every seedling. I could only choose to plant skewers beside as many ‘lazy’ seedlings as possible. Secondly, there was no way to keep the seedlings leaning on the skewers. I’d prop them up against the skewers, but every morning they’d lean and stretch away from the skewers and toward the sun. That’s great, except that many of them end up frozen in that steep leaning position, which is perfect for being bombarded back onto the soil when they are being watered. There are two reasons why this was possible. Firstly, my dad insists on helping with the watering every morning. Which is great, except he uses a hose. Yes, a hose. On 6-day old seedlings. On days when I convince him to NOT to hose them, I’d water them personally, using a watering can that was missing a shower cap on the spout. No good reason, I know, but I just took that long to go get a one with a shower cap. During this time, I made do by manually dissipating the water with my free hand before it fell on the seedlings. Neither of these were obviously good ideas, so most of the poor tomato seedlings kept being battered down onto the soil bed every day, save for two or three stronger ones.

Then I read and learnt that tomato seedlings should be transfered into bigger pots when their first true leaves form, and get to lengths of about half-inch long. The leaves on mine looked like they were growing steadily (despite the weak form), so I continued with the brutal watering regime. On hindsight, it was dumb, yes, but I figured that I would transfer them soon, and they looked like they’ll survive till the day.

The day, I decided, came about a week later, on Day 14. Here’s where things got dumber still.

In my infinite newbie wisdom, I dug up all my tomato seedlings, intending to lay them out in a row to find the strongest-looking ones. Growing tomato plants need lots of space to themselves, so i wanted to select the most promising few. Problem was, I really DUG them up. As in, UPROOT.

Big, stupid mistake. But It didn’t occur to me at that moment.

I went happily about the process, being careful to hold the seedlings by their stems (not the leaves, ‘coz I’m obviously a pro) as I loosed the soil around their bases.

Proudly, I laid them out in a row, and proceeded to poke and pick, scrutinizing with the raised brow of a grower with pride.

Finally, I discerned six seedlings worthy of new homes and my continued expert care. I placed them, three by three, into a pot and a transparent tupperware box (there’s a reason why I experimented with this, which I’ll share at the end of this post). I felt real sad about letting go of the others, but I had to shoot for the highest standards. I buried them as fertilizer under their six selected siblings, so that they may all live on in a different form.

I recycled the soil which they shared as seeds, and split them among the pot and the tupperware. You may remember this as the old soil that was offered to me by my mom. As I poured it out and stirred it around, I realized that it was of the clay variety (yes, I had since been reading up in the library too). Real sticky and chunky. I was no expert yet, but I did wonder to myself if it felt anything like a tender, fragile seedling would be comfortable in.

I buried each seedling as deep as it could go without its leaves touching the soil bed. I did this right (again, reasons at the end of this post).

After the transfers were done, a few of the seedlings started looking droopy:

My mom explained that most young leafed plants exhibit this behavior, when they experience trauma – in this case, the uprooting. They should prop up later, if they survive the re-potting. I watered the two pots gently and proceeded to wait.

Four hours later, they didn’t prop up. In fact, they looked worse then before:

In bed that night, I prayed hard that at least one pot would survive. The next morning, each one of the seedlings looked dead or done for. All the leaves were shriveled. The best one of the lot looked like this:

The soil looked like shit too – the surface looked dry and rocky; very apt accompaniment to the shriveled leaves.

It was official. My first batch of tomato plants were dead.

DEAD!

Can’t believe it. I killed them all.

Learning Points:

1) When re-potting seedlings from nursery pots to bigger pots, do not traumatize the roots area, i.e. DO NOT UPROOT them. This is the reason why we commonly see seedlings being re-potted with a clump of their original soil still covering their roots.

2) There are generally six soil types – sandy, silty, clay, loamy, chalky and peaty. Clay soil do not a comfy bed make, at least not for tomato seedlings. To keep things simple, I’m going to try organic potting soil, which is of a peaty consistency. The said organic materials can consist of a mixture of anything from peat moss, decomposed plant material, to manure (usually cow or sheep), or anything else organic, dead and biodegradable.

3) When re-potting a tomato seedling, bury it deeper than before, but only as deep as it can go without its leaves touching the soil bed. The former action encourages the tiny hairs on its stem to grow into more roots, which will make the plant more stable when it matures (tomato plants naturally need to lean, though not creep, as what I formerly thought). The latter prevents the leaves from rotting when they get wet from watering and stick to the soil bed.

4) I decided to experiment with a transparent tupperware box after experience with the first kangkong and parsley crops, which were grown in big styrofoam boxes. At the seed / newly germinated stage, the angled morning and evening sun rays could not reach the ones along the edges of the boxes, because of how high they were. Only those in the center got some good sun. It didn’t get better in the middle of the day either, when the sun was shining straight down. This was because there was no spot along my corridor to catch such sun. The only thing I could possibly do was to erect a big platform on the balcony that would either hang ten storeys over the streets below or block half the walkway for my neighbors. Thus, I had the idea of splitting my crops into smaller boxes which could sit snugly on the balcony. To further eliminate any issues of lack of sunlight, the box will be transparent.

5) I should use common sense: water fragile young seedlings using a spritzer bottle.

I’ve seen for myself how fast kangkong grows. Here’s what happened since we last saw them here:

There’s a story behind that missing chunk off the side of the box. If you look closely, you’ll also notice that the kangkong looks very messy.

One morning, I was awoken by the sounds of a cleaner washing our corridor. I hurried out to move my crops when I heard him fire up the jet hose at my neighbor’s doorstep. If you don’t move your stuff – shoes, plants, anything out in your corridor – everything gets wet (or blasted).

I was glad to make it to my kangkang as he neared our side of the corridor. Just as I grabbed the edges of the styrofoam box to quickly hoist it over to a safe spot, the cleaner called out to me. I stopped mid-action, unable to make out what he was trying to say his foreign accent. “What?” I yelled back to him over the din of his jet hose, my fingers still grabbing on tightly to the edges of the box.

Again, all I heard was jibberish. I was started to feel silly about standing there when I felt the right side of the box give way, and my precious box of kangkong crashed to the floor on my toes with a loud, dull thud.

I was flabbergasted!

I squatted down over the box, staring at my messed up crop with eyes wide in disbelief. I must have been quite a sight, ‘coz the cleaner switched off his jet hose and actually came to squat down next to me. For the first time, I could hear legible English as he tried suggesting that it was alright, that the exposed roots could be reset in the soil. Fiddling with my dislodged kangkong, I answered loudly, obviously very upset, “How to put back?”

I think I must have been there quite awhile. Either that, or he concluded that his presence was very unwelcome, as when I looked up, he was gone and the corridor was silent. I let out the pent-up anger with a loud shout that echoed down the stairwell, followed by a slightly more suppressed volley of swear words.

I was surprised by how affected I was. I guess I had grown more attached to my crop than I had thought, waking up excitedly every morning to check them for pests, and chasing the sun for them to the last possible minute before leaving for work. I really thought the bulk of them was going to die. I know it may look pretty decent in the photo to some people, but it didn’t when I was there. The before and after was quite drastic, with soil spilled all over the floor, roots and gauze showing, and plants lying on their sides. I felt so helpless that I screamed a few more times and had to text a few good friends to share what happened.

As it went, my kangkong did survive, and went on to thrive, save for three or four of the smaller plants that yellowed and died. They’re actually quite hardy. But to a new, first-time noob farmer like me, it was already one plant too many, and one trauma too big.

On the supposed harvest date, the kangkong still didn’t look very mature, as compared to those that I see at the market. In fact, the majority still looked pretty tender. So I decided to let them grow some more, just to see how far they might go:

At this point, the kangkong had been growing for as good as two months. The taller stalks look impressive from here, but they were actually still pretty thin and tender looking. But despite being three weeks past harvest time, it didn’t look to me like they were going to get any thicker or bigger. They did, however, start to twirl:

I’ve never seen this in any kangkong on sale at the market. Just what species of kangkong have I been growing?

Anyway, under the collective wisdom of my mom and myself, we decided that it’s about time I harvest them – which I did in excitement tinged with poignancy.

This was the thickest that the stems ever got:

Looks decent right? However, the majority were much thinner than this.

Later in the evening of Day 57:

Ingredients: home-grown kangkong, chopped garlic, cooking oil. Feeds 1, LOL.

It may have been tiny, but boy, it was the best serving of kangkong I’ve ever tasted Armed with this encouragement and some simple insights I gained from the process, I went on to my second batch really quick. I’ll share about that here very soon.

]]> http://plantmyveggies.wordpress.com/2010/09/12/1stbatchkangkong/feed/ 2 elfonse Day 06 DSC_0112 Day 07 DSC_0072-1 Day 08 DSC_0072-1 Day 10 DSC_0002-1 copy Day 12 DSC_0004-1 Day 18 DSC_0003 Day 27 DSC_0009 DSC_0004 Day 38 IMG_0691 Day 49 DSC_0028 Day 57 DSC_0038 IMG_0724 IMG_0727 IMG_0754 Day 57 823pm DSC_0013 Day 57 824pm DSC_0013 Day 57 826pm DSC_0013 Day 57 827pm DSC_0028 http://plantmyveggies.wordpress.com/2010/09/02/is-this-blog-dead-and-thoughts-on-priorities/ http://plantmyveggies.wordpress.com/2010/09/02/is-this-blog-dead-and-thoughts-on-priorities/#comments Thu, 02 Sep 2010 01:26:52 +0000 the HDB Farmer https://plantmyveggies.wordpress.com/2010/09/02/is-this-blog-dead-and-thoughts-on-priorities/ ]]> I’ve asked myself this question a couple of times during this long period of absence. So have you, I bet, if you’ve been supportively following my first posts. Some of my friends have also asked me this directly.

The answer, I think, is a resounding “NO!”

I say so, not because I’m crafted this post which you are now reading, but because I am still keeping my humble little veggie garden. I’ve been keeping records, but haven’t been updating here. Much has changed, as you’d expect; plants pause for no blogs. I’ve also made additions to my crops, which I will share here really soon.

For my friends who had been asking – and for my own records – the lapse here started with the launch of Starcraft 2. Yeah, I’m a gamer, and a fan of the franchise. Many nights were spent on competitive matches online with a couple of fellow gamer friends. Following this, the pace at work kicked into high gear, and my late-night gaming gave way to the need for sleep. I know it took a toll when it can actually turn me away from a new game.

Just as I was thinking that I could use the break-away to turn back to this blog, a bombshell dropped. The father of a dear friend suddenly passed away. In fact, I was there when the news first reached my friend. It was a major blow to the family, and of course, to my friend, in whose company I diverted some time to. The tragedy is not mine to share here, but suffice to say, there was regret about the state of the relationship with the father.

Having the chance to witness first-hand the effects of their bereavement provoked a lot of questions regarding priorities in my head. As I watched the mourning and did my best to comfort, I got reminded of what I had been – or rather, what I could be doing more – for my own parents. My dad is of the same age as the departed father. That was a bleak thought for me. How much longer do I wanna wait to give him my best?

I realized I had been leaving my dad alone in front of the TV for enough nights as it is. Even when I make it home early, I hole myself up in my room with my computer. After a day of talking, noise and people, my priority is my ‘me time’ – doing what I wanna do, undisturbed. I guard this nightly period so jealously that my folks have learnt not to attempt to penetrate this space of mine once my door is shut.

Witnessing the bereavement made me re-consider what constitutes “priority” to me. Entertainment? Career? Hobbies? Relationships? I think my answers will shift with the different seasons of life, but I narrowed it down to this: Is it do-able only within a limited time? Would I still care about it after it’s gone? If so, chances are it should be priority for me. And after spending an intensive couple weeks’ worth of evenings with my folks and people I love, I think it’s a guideline that works for me.

I can’t guarantee this blog will be consistently updated, but I know I’ll keep on growing. In every sense of the word.

That’s until I started reading An Omnivore’s Dilemma, by Michael Pollan.

The book was recommended to me by Alvin, of 21 Dragons, a friend whom I look up to for how he writes well as much as how he reads well. Seeing I was interested in food and its related issues, he recommended me a book which he claimed was a must-read for anyone in my position.

The writing style wasn’t my favorite till date, but the information presented by the author was intriguing. Without any intent on ripping off the author, here is an excerpt from An Omnivore’s Dilemma, by Michael Pollan:

… McNuggets have come in for a lot of criticism lately, which might explain the reformulation. Ruling in 2003 in a lawsuit brought against McDonald’s by a group of obese teenagers, a federal judge in New York had defamed the McNugget even as he dismissed the suit. “Rather than being merely chicken fried in a pan,” he wrote in his decision, McNuggets “are a McFrankensteinian creation of various elements not utilized by the home cook.” After cataloging the thirty-eight ingredients in a McNugget, Judge Sweet suggested tat McDonald’s marketing bordered on deceptive, since the dish is not what it purports to be – that is, a piece of chicken simply fried – and, contrary to what a consumer might reasonably expect, actually contains more fat and total calories than a cheeseburger. Since the lawsuit, McDonald’s has reformulated the nugget with white meat, and begun handing out “A Full Serving of Nutritional Facts.” According to the flyer, a serving of six nuggets now has precisely ten fewer calories than a cheeseburger. Chalk up another achievement for food science.

… The ingredients listed in the flyer suggests a lot of thought goes into a nugget, that and a lot of corn. Of the thirty-eight ingredient it takes to make a McNugget, I counted thirteen that can be derived from corn: the corn-fed chicken itself; modified cornstarch (to bind the pulverized chicken meat); mono-, tri-, and diglycerides (emulsifiers, which keep the fats and water from separating); dextrose; lecithin (another emulsifier); chicken broth (to restore some of the flavor that processing leaches out); yellow corn flour and more modified cornstarch (for the batter); cornstarch (a filler); vegetable shortening; partially hydrogenated corn oil; and citric acid as a preservative. A couple of other plants take part in the nugget: There’s some wheat in the batter, and on any given day the hydrogenated oil could come from soybeans, canola, or cotton rather than corn, depending on market price and availability.

According to the handout, McNuggets also contain several completely synthetic ingredients, quasi-edible substances that ultimately come not from a corn or soybean field, but from a petroleum refinery or chemical plant. These chemicals are what make modern processed foods possible, by keeping the organic materials in them from going bad or looking strange after months in the freezer or on the road. Listed first are the “leavening agents”: sodium aluminium phosphate, mono-calcium phosphate, sodium acid pyrophosphate, and calcium lactate. These are antioxidants added to keep the various animal and vegetable fast involved in a nugget from turning rancid. Then there are “anti-foaming agents” like dimethylpolysiloxene, added to the cooking oil to keep the starches from binding to air molecules, so as to produce foam during the fry. The problem is evidently grave enough to warrant adding a toxic chemical to the food: According to theHandbook of Food Additives, dimethylpolysiloxene is a suspected carcinogen and an established mutagen, tumorigen, and reproductive effector; it’s also flammable. But perhaps the most alarming ingredient in a Chicken McNugget is tertiary butylhydroquinone, or TBHQ, an antioxidant derived from petroleum that is either sprayed directly on the nugget or the inside of the box it comes in to “help preserve freshness”. According to A Consumer’s Dictionary of Food Additives, TBHQ is a form of butane (i.e., lighter fluid) the FDA allows processors to use sparingly in our food: It can comprise no more than 0.02 percent of the oil in a nugget. Which is probably just as well, considering that ingesting a single gram of TBHQ can cause “nausea, vomiting, ringing in the ears, delirium, a sense of suffocation, and collapse.” Ingesting five grams of TBHQ can kill.

…. What is it about fast food? Not only is it served in a flash, but more often than not it’s eaten that way too: We finished our meal in under ten minutes… Perhaps the reason you eat this food quickly is because it doesn’t bear savoring. The more you concentrate on how it tastes, the less like anything it tastes. I said before that McDonald’s serves a kind of comfort good, but after a few bites I’m more inclined to think they’re selling something more schematic than that – something more like a signifier of comfort food. So you eat more and eat more quickly, hoping somehow to catch up to the orginal idea of a cheeseburger or French fry as it retreats over the horizon. And so it goes, bite after bite, until you feel not satisfied exactly, but simply, regrettably, full.

Aren’t they beautiful, these little babies? They look kinda proud to have made it out of the ground, ahead of all the others.

For the past couple of days, I gave only cursory glances at the tomato pot, as my attention was on the growing kangkong seedlings. Their greens are starting to show, and the soil bed is beginning to look busy with life:

I like the sight of the little brown caps (the seed jackets) that are clinging on the tips of the leaves. It’s symbolic of the plants, shedding their former selves into something completely different.

Having spotted a new plant in the tomato pot, I turned to the parsley box, where there was still nothing but a bare soil bed. Is this normal, I thought? Granted, I was told that they’ll take 2 – 3 months… but the tomatoes supposedly take the same time, and yet they’re out already.

They couldn’t have ‘drowned’ from the watering, ‘coz I have enlarged some of the drainage holes on both the boxes, and I’ve seen water draining out well. I started to suspect the lack of direct sunlight. I know that parsley can do with indirect sunlight and part-shade, but as I’ve been sharing, the days have all been largely rainy or very shady ever since they were planted. Before going to the office each morning, I have been shifting the crops around the corridor in order to catch what direct sunlight I can.

And that got me thinking: was it the seeds or the seedlings that really needed sunlight? I know that plants, ‘catch’ sunlight with their leaves in order to make food for themselves. But what about seeds?

image from blog.usa.gov

Seeds don’t have leaves. At least not yet. So, does this mean that they don’t need the sun yet? Does this mean that I can stop worrying about chasing the sun for awhile, at least,  for the parsley? What I recalled from my primary school science textbooks was that the seeds required sunlight to grow up into plants, but they’ve never specifically stated if it was the seed or seedling that really required it. You see, I worry ‘coz though I scattered the parsley seeds on the soil when I first planted them, I did till them around gently until they were lightly covered by soil (‘coz I didn’t want birds or insects carrying them off). However, after a few days of watering, the soil had compounded, and most of the seeds have disappeared from the surface.

In other words, there may have been good reason why Uncle Chen told me that the parsley seeds need not be buried, only scattered on. In fact, I’m wondering if he meant that they must not be buried… because they needed direct contact with sunlight.

That was a dreadful thought. Now I’m really worried.

Not being smarter than a fifth-grader, I went online to do some research. I needed some assurance so that I’ll know what I can do for my parsley seeds.

The first site I hit was a curricular study site. It had a flow chart that said seeds (beans) needed the right amount of water and sun to grow. It goes on to state why the seed needed nutrients, and why it needed water, but doesn’t state why the seeds needed sunlight. Only at the bottom of the chart does it state that when it begins to shoot, it’ll need sunlight to make food (link here).

The second site I went to was more intriguing. To the question “Why Do Seeds Need Sunlight”, a few answers were contributed. The answer voted ‘Best’ (I noted that it was one single vote) says that it depends on the type of seeds. Some seeds, like bean seeds, have enough stored energy within, so they simply need water in order to grow out of the soil. Some seeds may be so tiny that they don’t have as much stored energy, and therefore need to lie on the soil surface where they can get energy directly from the sun. The next answer listed further down (contributed by a supposed biology instructor of 40 years) says that while some seeds require sunlight to activate enzymes, most seeds do not require sunlight to germinate.  The next contributor after this has a supportive answer (or opinion), flatly stating that seeds do not require sunlight; it’s plant that do (link here).

That was enough to get me to Google “do parsley seeds need sunlight”. What I got to this specific question was stuff like, “Six or more hours of sun are needed to do well”, which I already knew; this refers to the seedling / plant stage.

I also got “Parsley seeds can be planted in direct sunlight or in light shade.” Can? Okay, I assume this means “not a must”? (link here)

Finally, a gardening site writes, “Like most herbs, both varieties of parsley grow best in areas receiving full sunlight anywhere from 6 to 8 hours although light shade is also tolerated. The more important consideration is soil conditions, which ideally should have pH levels of 6.0 to 7.0 and should be well drained… But take note that the stems may be on the spindly side due to lower levels of sunlight.” (link here)

Alas, that last part may jolly well refer to my parsley. I also took note to look into this pH levels issue, which I’ve heard about before. Then, in the next paragraph, I spotted something else:

“It is best to start parsley cultivation through seeds although it is more difficult because of the uncertain germination period. Just place the seeds directly into the ground, cover with 1/8-inch soil and lightly water… Again, germination time is difficult to determine although 3-4 weeks is the average period.”

Though this was certainly comforting information to me, and was what I wanted to find, I was also rationally satisfied; the answers and information I found corroborated to the notion that I can stop worrying about my parsley seeds, for now. I guess we’ll find out if I’m right in a few more days’ time.

It’s wonderful to have learnt something new about the relationship between seeds and sunlight – something that I’ve previously taken for granted. To be honest, I’m already beginning to feel a little out of my league by this episode. I’ve dived head-first into this without a hint of knowledge for vegetable gardening. To get somewhere with this, I need to learn.

“To learn is to grow. What is alive, keeps growing. What is not growing, is dead. Keep learning.” - paraphrased from a wise person.

Do you know what they are? Is it a centipedes? Their sharp little ends, as they burrow into the soil with their many scurrying legs, remind me of silverfish, which I loathe. This was why I was hesitant to use the soil. I have yet to sight any visual benefits of having them in my tomato pot, but they have indeed been friendly so far. I counted at least five of them. In the morning, I’d usually find two of them lying motionless on the soil bed; sometimes beside my seedlings. They look like they’re dead ‘coz they might not move even if I pushed them a little. It’s only when I start watering the soil that they start crawling into the soil. I wonder if they were they sleeping or something?

What’s even more amusing is this one fellow who, for three days in a row, crawled up to the brim of the pot, and started an epic journey round and round the circumference of the pot (like what you see in the pictures above). It never stops. I wonder if it knows what’s going on. Then, when it’s finally satisfied, it crawls back down into the soil again:

Bemusing little family. Until I verify it, I do hope they continue to leave my tomato seedlings alone. If you have an idea of what they are, I’d appreciate it if you could drop me a mail or a comment at this post.

It’s a joyful sight. Things are suddenly moving fast… it’s only Day 03! And all these little fellas are cracking open and ready to stretch up and out, and into the sky!

However, the joy I felt was stopped when I wanted to shift my crops into the sun.

There was no sun.

Or at least, that’s what it could might as well have been. The amount of visible sunlight was dismal, at best. I mean, look at this:

This was around 8am in the morning. By now, bright sunlight should have started streaming into the corridor. But no. The light was soft. It was a remarkably fair sky, the sort that I normally would have embellished. Nice, muted light, and cool gentle air.

But not today. I didn’t like it one bit. I was worried about my crops. I wondered if I might have picked one of the possibly worst seasons to start growing my vegetables. Wait a minute, you might ask. Seasons? In tropical, year-round sunny Singapore? Yes, if you knew a little about the climate of Singapore, you might be puzzled.

Technically, we do not enjoy the four seasons, but we do have a monsoon (a.k.a “rainy”) season near the end of the year. Yes, some countries get fluffy snow at Christmas, we get cool, rainy days with chilly breezes at best. That’s what I grew up knowing.  But somewhere between 2008 – 2009, it seemed as though our monsoon season shifted forward in the year. If memory serves me right, we started getting frequent heavy rains and cool weather in June of 2008. In 2009, it started trickling in as early as end-April. I’m not referring to professional met-data as I write this, but I definitely recall this early onset of what looks and feels like a Singaporean monsoon season. Why? ‘Coz I’m actually a big, big fan of rainy days. I know, normal people hate it, or sleep in on these days. But me, I get inspired and very energetic. The good mood I wake up to on rainy days is distinct for me. The heavier and colder, the better I like it (so ironic now).

Back to the present moment, when I’m trying to raise vegetable crops. The same bleak, rainy signs have been on nearly every morning for the past month. And the rains just seemed to get heavier and heavier. Guess what happened next, on 16 June 2010? We got flash floods, downtown! (hit the pictures below for more photos and reports)

Yes, Singapore has had a handful of flash floods in recent history, but mind you, this happened at the swanky, glitzy Orchard Road area – the shopping haven for tourists that Singapore is very proud of. And we’ve always had a good record of building and maintaining public infrastructure, especially in high-profile areas like these. For many young adults and teens, this came as a shock (or disaster comedy, depending on how boring you think Singapore is). The Singapore government have directed questions concerning drainage efficiency at the Public Utilities Board, but there are some – like myself – who gesture toward climate change. Or climate fluctuations, at least, if you happened to be one of those who still don’t believe in climate change.

So there, this is the time when I decided to plunge head-first into vegetable growing…. in a HDB flat corridor, at that. Was this a mistake?

Related information:

Stomp

Singapore Social And Political Thoughts

FTP (Fit to Post)

Jakarta Globe

]]> http://plantmyveggies.wordpress.com/2010/07/13/day03-1st-adventure/feed/ 0 elfonse DSC_0075 DSC_0082 DSC_0079 http://plantmyveggies.wordpress.com/2010/07/10/day02-germination/ http://plantmyveggies.wordpress.com/2010/07/10/day02-germination/#comments Sat, 10 Jul 2010 03:46:44 +0000 the HDB Farmer http://plantmyveggies.wordpress.com/?p=141 ]]> Near the end of office hours, my mom sent me a text in Chinese: “你的kangkong发芽了” (translation: “Your kangkong have germinated”).

WOAH! Really? That was fast! This was only Day 02!

True enough, when I reached home, I saw this one single darling of a seed on the dark soil bed:

It wasn’t dramatic or anything, but I did feel moved by the sight of this little fella… the wonders of nature, so miraculously wrought by the Maker! Strangely, I don’t recall having the same emotions when I planted bean sprouts on cotton for my science lessons back in primary school.

No wonder Uncle Chen said they’ll take just 4 – 5 weeks for harvest.

Woohoo! This is awesome Grow, my babies!

Ha ha, yeah, I don’t know what I was expecting to see either – the styrofoam boxes full of green leafy plants? I wished, but it’s not happening so soon. I guess the feeling’s akin to getting a new toy or a new pet. You wanna go out and see that it’s there, and feel good that it’s yours.

Anyway, as expected, my babies were pretty much how I left them yesterday. However, I did notice that the sun was coming in – and it didn’t seem to be in the sunbathed corner that I anticipated. Suddenly, I appreciated why my folks used to move their potted plants here and there to catch the sun. I immediately went to work.

There, much better! Then, I gave them a good morning watering, making sure that I gave enough to make the soil moist throughout. I stood there for awhile, waiting to see if the water would drain. I didn’t see any. Hrmm… were the holes big enough? I did make quite a number of holes, even if they were a tad small individually. I was also concerned about the angle of the sunlight; there seemed to be quite a bit of shadowed areas on the soil. I did my best to counter that by using the old planks from under the boxes to tilt them up at an angle. I hope that helped.

I bid my seeds goodbye and went off to the office. Grow well, my babies!

I started with seeds from Ban Lee Huat Seed, which I read, was quite comprehensive in their stock of seeds, with a helpful storekeeper ‘uncle’ to round it off. True to what our online friends shared, both accounts were true when I visited the shop. Being a wholesale supplier, it was stocked with the seeds of vegetables that are commonly grown on farms in the local climate. If you were raised in any way like me, you might be fascinated to see the seeds of so many of the familiar vegetables we eat for the first time. I knew I was. Uncle Chen, the storekeeper, was patient and indulged my questions at every point.

Seeds I bought from Ban Lee Huat

I ended up buying the seeds of kangkong, parsley (some of us may know it as chinese parsley) and tomato, three of my favorite vegetables. Of the three, I was actually the most excited about the kangkong and the parsley. The kangkong, because it’ll supposedly be ready for harvest within 4 – 5 weeks, and the parsley, because I’ve recently fallen in love with it as a main ingredient for pasta. Most people know it only as a garnish, but it actually kicks-ass well on its own. I’ll share more about this in my future posts.

Kangkong seeds up close

The kangkong seeds look like little pebbles. That’s Uncle Chen’s Chinese-calligraphic hand-writing, which I complimented him on. Behind the bag are information from him which I scribbled on in the shop.

Parsley seeds up close

The parsley seeds were much finer in comparison. These little babies will supposedly take 2 – 3 months to harvest (gulp). But Uncle Chen pointed out that they’re mostly ready to eat when they have sprouted. They don’t have to be ‘mature’.

As for the tomato seeds, well, I’m sure most of us know what they look like, so I’ll skip the mugshot.

For planting containers, I got some used styrofoam boxes from the vegetable vendors at the wet market. Of all the sort of pots and containers I saw other folks use, I like these coz’ they’re zero-cost and recycling-friendly. I also liked the size of the crop I visualized on their surface area.

Used styrofoam boxes from the wet market

You can use pretty much any sort of sturdy container, as long as they have holes at the bottom to allow water to drain out after they move downwards through the soil. Water logged plants are very unhappy plants. So, I proceeded to make holes at the bottom of my boxes:

Made holes at the bottom of the boxes for water to drain out

I did this using a philips screwdriver. I didn’t know how big a hole I needed, so I went and made many holes. Trust my kiasu Singaporean blood!

Next, I lined the bottom of the boxes with gauze to prevent the soil from falling out – or worse, clogging up – the holes. I remember seeing this as a kid on the numerous occasions when my folks were gardening. Oh, the gauze doesn’t have to be one whole piece; overlaps from several pieces are fine, as the soil will weigh them down later.

Gauze to hold in the soil

I had originally intended to follow some of the soil blends shared by the online gardeners, but I ended up feeling a little confused as to which I should follow. Some compositions sounded straight-forward and logical, while others bordered on the arcane, for a newbie like me. In the end, I chose to follow the corresponding advice of Uncle Chen and my folks – I used ‘ordinary’ potting soil bought from a nursery. These, my folks had in storage, and kindly sponsored me their usage. I can always attempt another batch using the more sophisticated soil blends next time.

Pour in the soil

For now, I made sure that I had about 2 – 3 inches of soil depth in each of my boxes. I then tilled them lightly with the claw of my hand. Ah, the good earth. I channeled Wang Lung as I did this for the next couple of minutes.

At first, I had the grand, green notion that I’ll fertilize my crops using kitchen refuse like vegetable trimmings and egg shells. In fact, just a couple of weeks before, I was still dropping cauliflower trimmings from my cooking into my parents’ flower pots. Then my mother informed me that this may not always be good, as she had bad experiences with this when the trimmings supposedly became a breeding ground for parasites that practically destroyed whole plants. I guess, the correct way might be to bury the trimmings well under the soil, so external parasites can’t reach them easily.

Fertilizers; I mixed the green one in with my soil

I didn’t want to risk this issue this with my babies, so I used what Uncle Chen recommended me. I mixed in a moderate amount of the green-colored fertilizer with my potting soil. Uncle Chen called it “NPK fertilizer”; I thought it was some Asian brand until I realized that it stood for Nitrogen, Phosphorus and Potassium, three important nutrients for plant growth. The blue one is for when the tomato starts to bear fruit. When you’re fertilizing, remember that too much of it can actually ‘poison’ the seedling (local-bred Singaporeans, I’m talking to you, haha). A light scattering should do just fine.

The seeds went in next. At last, the single most symbolic act of this endeavor!

Time to plant the seeds!

While Uncle Chen was measuring out the kangkong seeds for me at the shop, I asked him how much space each seed required. Like, how far apart should I plant the seeds. He laughed and revealed that I need do no such thing. Kangkong – and parsley – seeds should be scattered on the soil. And if my seedlings thrived, I should get a messy, crowded boxful of kangkong. I dispelled the images of padi-planting, where the farmer bent down and put each plant one by one into the muddy field.

So, I scattered a palm-full of each seed across the surface of their soil. Then I went in with my fingers again and tilled them so they were very lightly covered. And in case you’re wondering if I’ve forgotten about my tomatoes, they’re in a brown pot which was recently filled with new soil by my mother, but ended up unused. She even pointed out to me tiny caterpillar-like creatures in the soil, which she claimed were sorta ‘good insects’, which helped to loosen and aerate the soil, not unlike earthworms. I immediately wanted to throw out the soil, ‘coz they looked more like silverfish to me (and I absolutely HATE silverfish, those creepy, disgusting freaks of nature). But upon her assurance, I went ahead and used it. I mean, she did successfully bring up more plants than I’ve planted seeds. I’ll see if I can include some pictures of them in my later posts. Maybe you guys can identify them for me.

Fertilizers sitting over the spot where my tomato seeds are buried

For my tomato seeds, I buried them about an inch under the soil, as advised by Uncle Chen. When I spot the seedlings coming up, I’ll put in a sturdy stick beside them for their latching on. My tomatoes will supposedly take 2 – 3 months before the harvest, just like my parsley. It’s starting to sound like a real long time. I might try singing to the seeds to see if they’ll push up any faster.

At this point, I started unraveling material for my genius of an idea – protection from butterflies!

Believe it or not, my plan was to build simple four-sided cages using wire mesh, and put them around each of my boxes like closed fence; a big piece of the green gauze (used for lining the pots) will be stretched over the top of each cage, forming an impenetrable fortresses against evil, caterpillar-spawning butterflies! This way, I can totally lay back and watch my seedlings grow!

I gave up the idea after half an hour of cutting, bending, and shaping the mesh. It looked like shit, though it might have worked. The mesh simply refused to stay in shape, no matter how delicately I manipulated or cajoled it. And because of this improper state, it looked like it could topple over. I couldn’t accept this. Actually, I think it was the shitty look that I couldn’t accept. I’m such a sucker for appearance presentation. So I abandoned the idea. For now. I’ll take the option of daily inspections on my seedlings. It’s something that many gardeners normally do. We’ll see how I fare on that.

Right. No more stupid cages. My planted crops looked ready to get wet and sunbathed…

No. Wait, there’s one more thing left…

LABELS!

Everyone gets a label!

Ah. Now we can move on to greater things! Each crop clearly labelled and dated, and looking very decent indeed (I told you I was a sucker for appearances presentation). I invited my mom to do do the honor of writing the chinese names for each of the crop (actually it was because I didn’t know to write the characters for two of them). In the end, she couldn’t remember how to write one of them either, as it was quite a complicated character to write – the character pronounced “weng“, the chinese name for kangkong. We settled for the laymen’s name, which directly translates into “empty core vegetable” – an apt description of the key characteristic of kangkong.

Lastly, placement. With advice from the mother, I assigned spots to my crops to live. This is according to the estimated amount of sunlight our corridor receives every day, where and for how long. The kangkong got a spot in front of the door…

… while the parsley and tomato got another supposedly sunbathed spot, literally around the corner:

What you see under the boxes are old wooden planks from my childhood bed, which my dad had the foresight to saw up and store up. I placed two under each box, so that the water could drain. Then, I gave them their inaugural watering. I made sure that the watering was just enough to leave the soil nice and moist. Though I had the holes in the boxes, I didn’t dare water them too much, as I wasn’t sure how effective my holes were yet. I was also anxious to see how the sunlight would work out, as it had been some time since we got some really strong and lasting rays. Lack of sunlight will produce only weak, weepy looking plants. I also wasn’t so sure how organic I could get my crops to be; in the course of writing this post, I read that the NPK fertilizer I used was inorganic. In other words, artificial. I’ll need to read up and ask around more about this issue if I’m gonna get any organic veggies growing at all.

It felt really good to see the soil and fertilizer blend as they turned dark and damp with water. After a fair bit of physical effort, I had started my first adventure into HDB flat vegetable gardening. Personally, I felt that I had spent quite a bit of psychological effort in asking, listening to, and ultimately taking the advice of other people, because I knew squat about gardening. While I felt helpless and embarrassed at a number of junctures, it did feel good to exercise the letting go and the trusting that is often required in learning something new. And the Lord knows how increasingly difficult it can get to let go and trust, the older we grow. This whole thing may turn out healthy for me in more ways than one.

I’m terribly anxious to see how my seeds will turn out. Are you? Let’s see what happens on Day 02…