Help me! My yard has been overtaken by leaves—big leaves, small leaves, brown leaves, red leaves—and I don’t know whether I’ll be able to dig myself out. 

I’m feeling more than a bit overwhelmed by the leaf takeover at my house, and I know I’m not alone. What’s a green gardener to do to keep all those leaves in order?

You could just not rake the leaves and hope they’ll blow away.

They may look lovely, but an abundance of leaves left on the lawn all winter can kill your grass. Mow over the leaves and spread them across the yard so your lawn can reap the benefits of decomposing leaves’ nutrients.  Photo by mksfly/Courtesy Flickr.  

But if you’re like me and you live in an area where your neighbors keep their leaves cleaned up each fall, you might not want to leave them lying around. Plus, leaves can be slippery and dangerous if they collect on sidewalks and in streets. And thick leaves left on the grass all winter can actually harm your yard rather than helping it—trust me, you won’t be pleased if you discover your lawn is dead come spring.

Still, you don’t have to haul your leaves away to the dump. Why would you want to when those leaves are a great source of nutrients for your soil?

The trick is knowing how to take advantage of them.

Depending on how many leaves have fallen, you may be able to simply mow over the leaves. Once they’re chopped up by your mower and spread over the lawn, they likely won’t be an eyesore and can get to work decomposing and sharing their rich nutrients with your soil.

If you have too many leaves to simply mow over them and leave them there, however, there are two great ways to put them to work.

One easy option is to make mulch. Create an enclosure with wire mesh and stakes, and once you’ve raked up your leaves, toss them in the enclosure. This ensures they won’t blow away, and by spring, you’ll have a terrific mulch to layer on the yard and around plants. Or, if you don’t want to make a mesh enclosure, you can simply fill giant yard bags with shredded leaves and stash them in the garage until spring—either way, you’ll end up with the mulch of your dreams. (What? You don’t dream about mulch?)

While you’re at it, use some of those dried leave to improve your compost. I keep a big yard bag full of chopped leaves handy and add handfuls of the leaves to my compost bin here and there—it’s a great “dry” ingredient to keep my kitchen compost from getting too wet over the winter.

Then again, maybe it’s not going to work out for you to make mulch or compost this year. If that’s the case, before you toss those bags of leaves in the dump, check around to see if your community has a yard-waste collection program for composting, so others can benefit from your leaves even if you can’t.

Now, I know some folks still rely on burning to get rid of the leaves. But I don’t burn leaves. For one thing, I can’t because I live in town and there’s a burn ban in place. But, more importantly, burned leaves release pollutants that can irritate the respiratory system. And burning too close to your house can be downright dangerous.

Oh, and one more thing to consider before you finish your fall cleanup: go ahead and jump in a pile of leaves. Really. Do it. For a few precious minutes, you can pretend you’re a kid again. Trust me, it’s worth it.

After you rake your leaves, save them outdoors or in bags until next spring, when the resulting leaf mold makes the perfect mulch.  Photo by shareski/Courtesy Flickr.  

Jalapenos have taken over my countertop. For the first time this year, I decided to grow a jalapeno plant in a pot in front of my house. Whew boy, did it take off—with minimal attention on my part. The explosion of jalapenos I’ve been harvesting over the past month or two is terrific, but it also has me in a quandary. 

A jalapeno harvest is exciting—but it leaves the gardener wondering what to do with all the spicy little peppers once they’re picked. Photo By Julie Collins.

You see, I like a good jalapeno with a Mexican dish here and there. But I don’t eat them religiously. Most of the people I cook for can’t handle the heart-burning effects of peppers.

Still, I don’t want all these jalapenos to go to waste—so I’m looking for some ways to use or save them beyond chopping them up and adding them to recipes pronto.

Jalapenos can be dried, frozen, pickled, preserved in olive oil, or smoked. Of course, making salsa and using them up in recipes are great options too. Photo By Julie Collins.

Here’s what I’m contemplating:

Drying

This looks like it’s a piece of cake. Just wash your jalapenos and let them dry, then place them on a plate or wire rack or string them up and hang them in a well-ventilated room. Wait several weeks and voila, you have dried jalapeno peppers for displaying or grinding.

Freezing

To save some of my crop for later, I might wash them and place them in a freezer in a two-pound freezer bag. You can skin or peel them, roast them, or chop them first if you like. (Odds are, when you thaw them out, they’ll be limp and squishy—but they’ll still taste fine.)

Pickling

I found a handy, relatively easy recipe for pickling jalapeno peppers courtesy of Lesley Cooks. 

Preserving with olive oil

I wouldn’t have thought to do this until I stumbled on the Jalapeno Madness website. You can preserve your spicy little friends by roasting the jalapenos in a broiler until the skins are bubbly and blackened, skinning them, cutting the flesh into strips, and adding the strips to a clean jar with enough olive oil to cover. If you make sure the lid is airtight and refrigerate them immediately, they should last for a week or more.

Smoking

Mother Earth News has a great story on how you can smoke jalapeno peppers in your own backyard. Why not try it this weekend?

Then again, maybe I’ll just head to the farmer’s market to round up the ingredients for salsa and make a few jars of it to share with family and friends. I’m also dying to try this Bacon Wrapped Jalapeno Thingies recipe from The Pioneer Woman. Maybe now’s the time, even if I am the only one in the family who will eat them?

What’s your favorite way to use your jalapeno harvest? I’d love some suggestions!

Warning: Remember to be careful when handling jalapeno peppers, because the oils in the peppers can burn your skin. Wear plastic gloves and, if your hands do touch the peppers, wash them immediately with soap and water.

I was optimistic about my garden’s tomato outlook at the beginning of this growing season. I planted cherry and Roma in pots in front of my house, plus a Big Boy and two heirloom varieties in the ground down the street at my honey’s parents’ house. Then, long after these plants were busy growing, I rescued two tiny, limp heirloom plants from the greenhouse (practically free!) and planted them in big buckets in front of our house with the other potted plants.

While the tomatoes began growing, I dreamt of the overabundance I was certain I’d harvest in no time. I’d have more than I could handle for caprese salads, BLTs and homemade sauces. I’d pass along bags of beautiful, ripe, juicy orbs to friends and family to share the love. I’d even try my hand at canning a few. 

But then what is usually the beginning of a long, fruitful tomato season passed with nary a red tomato in sight. I lamented the fact I was an inexperienced grower who had botched my tomato gardening.

Only it wasn’t just my plants—long-time tomato growers in the area experienced the same plight, and even the pickin’s at the farmer’s market were slim. Those tomatoes that did appear on people’s vines tended to be a bit mushy, tinier than usual, and not nearly as tasty as a fresh-from-the-vine fruit is supposed to be. 

Part of the problem in our parts: this summer’s weather. I did a bit of research to try to figure out why it affected my tomato harvest this year: 

Late blooming  

We had a few weeks of ridiculously hot temperatures early in the summer, and then cooler temps and a lot of rain at the time when the tomatoes really should have taken off. Long after plants around here should have been heavily laden with tomatoes, very few had even formed. This may be because lower night temperatures (below 55 degrees Fahrenheit) or high day temperatures (above 95 degree Fahrenheit) mean tomatoes do not set and flowers drop.

Although they look healthy, these tomatoes likely won’t taste as great as similar fruits in years past because they are taking so long to ripen. Photo By Julie Collins.

Slow growing  

Even when the tomatoes did set, they grew incredibly slowly and took forever to show color. According to the University of Illinois Extension, tomatoes are highest quality when they ripen on healthy vines and daily summer temperatures average about 75 degrees Fahrenheit. With cool temperatures and way too much rain, colorful tomatoes were tardy. 

Slow-growing tomatoes are a problem in many parts of Illinois this year, due to weather fluctuations and wet conditions. Photo By Julie Collins.

Blossom end rot  

The bottom of most of my Romas turned black and mushy early this season and continue to do so now. The problem, according to the Colorado Extension (which offers a handy chart for identifying the cause of your tomato troubles, by the way), is blossom end rot, which occurs due to a combination of cold temps or excessive heat during blossom set, plus fluctuations in water supply. This leads to a calcium deficiency within the plants.

Many of the Roma tomatoes on this plant were afflicted with blossom end rot due to temperature and water supply inconsistencies. Some of the tomatoes, however, were not affected. (And made for a tasty garden-fresh pasta sauce.) Photo By Julie Collins.

Yellowing leaves

Fusarium wilt and Fusarium crown rot are two possible causes of yellowing leaves. With Fusarium crown rot, older leaves yellow then often turn brown or black and wilt. With Fusarium wilt, the yellow leaves turn down and droop. Some of my tomato plants in pots are experiencing what looks like Fusarium wilt, but it may be my watering practices—over- and under-watering can mimic such disease symptoms.

The first tomato of the season is cause to celebrate—and this gardener looks forward to many more slices before the summer is out, despite early growing trouble. Photo By Julie Collins.

Despite these troubles, my tomatoes are coming around. I harvested quite a few of them last weekend and plan to pick more today. Sadly, they aren’t nearly as tasty as the tomatoes I ate all last season (when sometimes they didn’t make it past the cutting board before I devoured them). 

But I’m not quite ready to chalk this tomato season up to a loss yet. 

Last summer, my first as a gardener, I started a container garden in my front yard. I learned the basics of planning and planting in containers through a bit of careful research and plenty of trial and error.

Once my plants got growing, I discovered my work was just beginning. To reap the rewards of a great harvest (and keep my container plants healthy and happy all summer long), my pots needed:

The right amount of water

To make certain my fledgling plants had enough water, I gave them a hearty drink from my watering can each day—but was careful not to drown them. Installing a drip irrigation system (yep, they work with pots) would have saved time, but I enjoy watering by hand and prefer to use water from my rain barrel. To help your pots hold in moisture, consider topping the soil with compost, straw, or grass clippings.

Frequent, deep watering keeps potted plants healthy. Use a watering can rather than a hose to conserve water. Photo By Julie Collins.

Great light

How much light do the plants you picked need each day to thrive? Figure that out from the get-go, so you can position your pots appropriately. Pots are portable, of course, but trust me: Once that tomato takes off, it’s going to be a pain to lug around. That’s why I situated all of my pots right in front of the house—where they get plenty of direct sun most of the day—and let them be.

Nutrients

I didn’t fertilize like a madwoman. In fact, I hardly fertilized at all, aside from the addition of a purchased organic fertilizer halfway through the summer.

This lack of attention to my container garden’s soil probably explains a few of last year’s lackluster plants. My big boys, yellow tomatoes, and green peppers were awfully shrimpy. Although my cucumber plant blossomed like it had potential, eventually it faltered. Much to my chagrin, none of the cucs ever made it past their tiny, spiky stage.

Because nutrients escape from the soil every time you water your plants, it’s important to fertilize your containers every couple of weeks. Photo By Julie Collins.

To avoid my plant problems, try natural fertilizers that provide the nitrogen, potassium, phosphorous, and micronutrients your plants need—compost tea, worm castings, liquid organic fertilizers, fish emulsion, and kelp meal all work. Heck, you can even dump some used coffee grounds on the soil to up its nitrogen content.

Pest control

When I started my container garden last summer, I knew I didn’t want to use chemical pesticides. That led me to a natural gardening technique I call “watch and wait.” In other words, I didn’t do much aside from picking off bugs and trimming any infected portions of my plants.

Placing pots of marigolds and other companion plants next to potted veggies can help ward off pests naturally. Photo By Julie Collins.

One reason this hands-off approach worked: Prevention was my friend. I began with healthy, organic soil, kept an eye out for weak and infected plants (and removed them when necessary), and planted a variety of crops so pests couldn’t spread easily.

Another trick: When I watered, I avoided watering the foliage and concentrated on the base of the plants. Wet leaves attract insects and may cause fungal damage—neither of which are any fun.

If pests are problematic, there are easy, natural steps you can take to remedy the situation. Try introducing beneficial insects to do the pest control work for you. Or spray a nontoxic, homemade remedy customized to the pest problem you’re facing. Traps and barriers are other options, depending on the pests you’re dealing with. Learn more about safely pest-proofing your garden.

Harvest appreciation

When it came time, I harvested the fruits of my labor and enjoyed cooking fresh from my container garden. My eggplant was a workhorse and produced big, beautiful purple fruits for a good portion of the summer. My lettuces and herbs grew fast and furious. Although, as I mentioned above, a few of my plants struggled due to lack of nutrients, all in all I was happy with my first year’s attempt at container gardening.

Follow the pointers above, and hopefully you will be too!

A trusted friend had invited me to speak at an event she was hosting on vegan eating and alternative living at a local theatre. We both agreed that it would be a perfect opportunity to educate others on Guerrilla Gardening and Urban Planting. From it I would gain two most valued troops. 

I only had a week to prepare and it was not nearly enough time! The morning of the talk I had to move some compost, erect a fence and construct a vertical planter to use as a visual aide for the talk. Though the construction turned out to be easy, transportation was somewhat problematic as I created it using a recessed window frame and salvaged twp-by-eights, and that sucker was heavy As time was short that morning, I had to settle for presenting it without the burlap backing required to keep the growing medium in the wooden slots. The comedy is that, after putting all that work in, I mainly used the visual aide as something to hide behind while publicly speaking! 

Arriving at the venue, I crossed the busy street with my lumbering encumbrance bumbling all the way. Luckily, a random person offered to help me up the stairs because the elevator was out of service. I finally got up the stairs and settled down to read The Decadent Gardener by Medlar Lucan and Durian Gray while I waited for my time to speak. Meanwhile, a line was assembling at the superfood smoothie kiosk across the way. Time passed and I kept looking up at the line until I thought, “What the hell,” and decided to try out one of the concoctions made from goji berries and cacao. The decision would prove most advantageous (beyond whatever metabolic benefits the superfoodies boasted). This decision introduced me to my friends The Stone Man and his Lady Taylor. 

Our introduction was quite comical. I was in front of him in line for the smoothies and he accidentally stepped on the back of my heel. I turned and gave him a snide look before returning to my book. Fortunately, after my talk—meant to offer inspiration on reclaiming blighted urban land for food cultivation and instruction on building vertical planters made from discarded tires—The Stone Man and Lady Taylor approached me to seek more information. They were genuinely interested in joining the cause and rolling up their sleeves to get to work. Naturally I felt like a fool and apologized profusely for my rude initial reception. Chalk it up to lessons learned.

This would be a most advantageous reward from Kismet, as they later not only assisted with the breaking of earth, but also introduced me to a media contact at a most desperate time. But that again is a tale for another day…

We push past sheets of rusting corrugated sheet metal and improperly stowed two-by-fours with rusted nails jutting out. Later I would learn that allegedly the very man who stowed this urban flotsam and jetsam also cut the hole in the fence to the highway. He would also one day attempt to destroy the idea I was about to conceive from this wondrous view of sparkling lights.

“Watch your step,” Kitty calls back to me. “It's a slippery slope up here.”  How true her words would prove to be.

I step out onto the steep 45-degree grade above the 670 highway in downtown Kansas City and am dumbstruck by the sheer beauty of our city.

“Pretty amazing, right?”  She smiles up from a makeshift bench made by resting a two-by-six on two cinderblocks. “Now wave to the Feds!”  She waves across the highway while sparking two cigarettes. Handing me one, she takes a long, deep drag and exhales. “See the F.B.I. building across the highway?”

I cast my eyes to the ominous white building across the highway. My mother told me that there were once houses there where families she knew lived. Developers and bureaucrats moved in and bulldozed the area in the name of progress and security. I then cast my eyes down in disdain, but suddenly I see a new hope under our feet. LAND!

How could I have missed it?  The vast expanse of land running parallel to the highway—in need of only terracing and cultivation!

“Kitty,” I look to her with both calm and elation. “I think I know where we can put that garden.”

“Really?  Where?”

“Right here, under our feet. I mean look at this place!” I take off without a word, running downstairs, outside, then in a large figure eight across the stretch of green like an excited dog after a long car trip. I finish my figure eight and excitedly exhale, “Right here!” 

I started to ponder the use of public land. I decide I’m justified in using the land only if the lion's share of the yield was given to the less fortunate. Later I would decide that 100 percent would have to be given to the less fortunate. 

This would take planning, of course. I had access to some stone I could use to terrace the slope. I would have to procure a land catch to prevent the stone from rolling down onto the highway. I knew I could use some of the many plants I already had growing under the fluorescents. The only thing I was lacking was extra hands to help make my idea a reality. That would take time and sowing a different type of seed.

To our wonderful readership: Thank you for your interest in our Robin Hoodian mischief. Here is the tale of what put me on this magazine's radar. It is a tale of love, adventure, war, petty squabble and the destruction squabble begets.  However, without giving too much away, there is dawn on the horizon. 

Now I give you the first installment of what I have dubbed “Operation Slippery Slope.” 

This is a love story. 

It was March. I had not seen Kitty in months, not since I ran into her on 18th Street when I was with my brother while he shopped for Christmas gifts. Her kiss was still burning my lips from that cold December day on this precipitous March evening. We had met at the bar and played catch up. Her life had been her usual ebb and flow; jobs, lovers and living situations in constant flux. Same Kitty. Then it was my turn. 

“I'm a neophyte urban agrarian,” I say, pointing down to the books I had been carrying with me: Organic Growers Encyclopedia, The Herb Bible, Peacock Manure and Marigolds. “I have about 65 tomatoes, 20 odd eggplants and 50 various peppers started at my house under fluorescents. My brother Alexander gave me permission to turn the house into a homestead. The neighbors are already giving some grief. One of them actually asked, ‘Can you do that?’ to which I replied, ‘Are you gonna try to stop me?’” 

We laugh. We drink. I hope this ends well. 

She tells me she and her roommate were planning a garden in the backyard and asks if I'd like to check it out. I'm thinking this is a clever way of inviting me back to her place, but the energy I would expend that night would be mental, and not physical. So much the better. 

After arriving at her place, she shows me to the back. Just as my kiss would fail to be planted on her lips that night, anything planted in this yard would fail. It is riddled with trash accumulated through the years by a packrat landlord. The trees are overgrown and the soil is rocky. Not even weeds thrive here.

“I'm sorry,” I tell her, “but unless you are a Druid, no fruit-bearing plant will thrive in this environment.”

“No worries,” she says, distracted. “Come here, I want to show you the view!” 

And what a view this would be. From it, I could see the future…