Step one – gently crack just the top off of an egg, and pour out the yolk and white – I used a small knife to get it started. It was an imprecise and messy process as I wanted to use both the shell and the egg with minimal damage to either. Shell for my pot, egg for my breakfast!

Step two – clean out the egg residue. I filled each eggshell with water and a drop of Basic H, then gently rubbed the inside with my finger. There is a fairly thick film that lines the inside of the shell which I removed. I don’t know if it needs to be removed, but I did.

Step three – poke a small drainage hole in the bottom of the eggshell with a pin.

Step four – fill the eggshell with dirt/potting soil, plant your seed, and water – a spray bottle with a fine mist does the trick nicely.

Step five – place the eggshell back in the carton and wait.

I set my eggshell pots about and inch below an improvised grow light – a portable work light with a GE 23 Watt CFL Flat Lens PAR38 Floodlight. In a few days I should have little baby bean plants poking through the soil. When the time comes to transplant the beans into my big container box, all I have to do is crumble the bottom of the shell enough to allow the roots to escape easily before I plant the whole thing directly into the soil. In theory, the process should be gentle enough to avoid transplant shock, and as a bonus, the eggshell will add calcium to the soil as it breaks down.

Are you scared yet? I am.

Aside from the health risks, which frankly can not be overstated, there are so many other reasons why this is terrible news. If “superweeds” that are resistant to Roundup have emerged, it is only a matter of time before they become resistant to 2,4-D too. Like any other living organism, weeds have a strong will to live. They also possess the ability to adapt. No matter how toxic you make their home, they will eventually learn how to thrive in that environment. A cornfield really wants to be a prairie, and a prairie loves the grasses, clover, and vetches that we consider weeds. You can only hold the prairie at bay for so long before it will fight back with a vengeance.

From an economic viewpoint, this is a terrible deal for the farmers. New herbicides seem like the perfect fix the first few times they are used, but they quickly become less effective, requiring more frequent applications. Increase the herbicide, increase the expense. Especially over time.

I hope the folks in Washington have enough sense to stop this nightmare before it becomes common practice, but I’m not holding my breath. If you feel inclined to speak out against 2,4-D as I did, please check out the Organic Consumers Association’s email campaign.

May none of us be downwind when some misdirected farmer starts spraying Agent Orange on his cornfield in an effort to feed the masses. No amount of cheap corn is worth the price that our future generations will pay for our gluttonous mistakes.

For each successful planting that transforms from seed to sprout I become more fanatical about growing food. As a result, I have veered from my original neat and tidy square foot planter box design, to a free-for-all guerrilla garden – sneaking plants into the lawn when no one is looking.  Along the backyard fence I dug up some weeds, and put in twenty-three sunflower seeds that I got from Project Mason Bee.  I justified my assault on the grassy backyard by planting only in the holes that had previously been empty or occupied by weeds, thereby doing nothing to harm the lawn.  Hopefully my landlord will agree with my logic.  Of course being slightly mad with the thrill I couldn’t stop there.  Once the first few sunflower babies popped up, I planted a dried bean from my pantry in each of the holes.  A few days later I went back in and placed either an anise or cumin seed from my spice drawer in each of the holes.  Along the fence in the front yard, I planted peas plucked from a live snow pea interspersed with some petunia seeds that I got in the mail.

I have no idea if any of the new seeds will be productive or if the plants could possibly grow in such close proximity if they did all manage to sprout, but at this point I am so amped up that I can’t be bothered to worry about the fine details. My spastic planting has also invaded my container box and four large plastic pots that I got for free from Craigslist.   A few days ago I noticed some buds in one of my pots, and realized that I have no idea what it is.  Only time will tell whether my newest buds will find their way to my dinner table or the compost pile, but either way, I am happy as a clam, just soaking up the Spring.

My new planter is 4 ft long, 2 ft wide, and not quite 3 ft high – the box is 22 inches deep, and there is about a foot of space between the bottom and the ground. The bottom is slatted with 1 in spaces for drainage. Despite some reservations, we opted to line the box with plastic to keep moisture away from the wood, and hopefully prevent it from rotting.

I filled it with a 50/50 mixture of good top soil from City Farmers Nursery, and an inexpensive potting mix from California based Kellogg Garden Products.  For good measure I added in a few scoops of mushroom compost from Mountain Meadow Mushrooms in Escondido.

I was gifted a seedling tomato plant by my friend Bobby – an heirloom variety brought over from Italy by his grandfather, and passed down through the generations of his family. Down the row I planted 3 pepper plants from Lowe’s - a yellow bell, a santa fe grande chili, and a chili red hot pepper. A week or so after my initial planting, I added a booming cilantro and small basil that I picked up at the Mercato.

As an experiment I planted 9 sprouting cloves of garlic from my kitchen, and the green inside of a yellow onion.  As of this morning, five of the nine garlic cloves have poked their delicate green shoots through the surface.  I have developed the habit of running out to check on my plants three or four times a day, and cooing at them as if I were speaking to a baby.  “Aren’t you just the best, most beautiful little garlic…” “You’re doing such a good job growing.”

I have definitely been bitten with the gardening bug, and am looking forward to watching my little babies grow into full size producers.

For those of you already blessed with productive gardens, I would gladly accept and seeds, seedlings, or cuttings that you want to send my way.  The only caveat is that they must be able to withstand life in a container, as I am technically not allowed to plant directly in the ground.

A good compost pile needs a few simple things to thrive – inputs of nitrogen and carbon from green and brown plant matter, water, oxygen from the air to keep the pile aerobic instead of anaerobic (which can make it prone to stinking), and lot’s of microorganisms. Heat will make the process go faster, and will be created naturally as the microorganisms feverishly break things down. Usually in a low maintenance, no budget pile, the microorganisms come from the soil/compost that gets mixed in during the building process, and from the ground underneath it. Since my box was already full of old potting soil and other dirt, I assumed it must be full of helpful little critters just waiting to eat my yard and kitchen waste. We all know what happens when we assume things.

In mid December, a few weeks after I buried my first batch of vegetable scraps, I decided to check on the decomposition progress. I was disappointed to discover that the veggie peelings were in perfect condition, as if they had been living in my refrigerator for the last three weeks. The dirt in the box was cool to the touch but I knew that the temperature would work itself out given some time – winter does get chilly in San Diego, especially in the shade. It also seemed too dry so I dutifully began adding the nightly rinse water from our dishes (we use non-toxic, biodegradable, gray water system safe soap), until the moisture content seemed better.

By the time I returned home from my Christmas vacation in Pennsylvania, the scraps had been buried for five or six weeks, and yet there was still no sign of rot. I was miffed.

I decided to try a test that I learned during my workshop at La Milpa Organica. During a demonstration on soil health, Barry poured a bit of peroxide on a soil sample from a newly dug bed, and a second sample from his compost pile, explaining that the test indicates whether or not you have living soil. Like a homemade volcano, the piles bubbled and fizzed, pulsing with life and energy. Especially the compost.

I poured a tablespoon of peroxide on a sample of dirt from the backyard, and watched as it began fizzing and spitting – not much, but it was clearly doing something. When I did the same with a sample from my compost pile, it just sat there, bubbled slightly, then fizzled out. Ugh. My kitchen scraps weren’t decomposing because my soil was dead, i.e. no little critters to break them down. No critters, no rot, no compost.

At this point I could have gone to a gardening store and bought a package of microorganisms to put in my pile, but I’m frugal and figured that with a little time, patience, and effort, I could turn my dead pile of dirt into a teaming pile of hungry, compost-creating life. First I added a few scoops of dirt from my yard – it may not have had a lot of fizz, but it had more than my box. Second, I dug up some worms from my yard and threw them into the box.

Throughout January I regularly fed, watered, and aerated the pile by turning it once a week or so. In addition to kitchen scraps, I began adding lawn clippings, which I spread out until they turned from green to brown, before mixing them into the pile. We were blessed with some fantastic rainstorms that month, which both thoroughly soaked the pile, and provided an opportunity for some easy critter picking. I added every worm I found wriggling on the pavement after the rain, along with several more cups of dirt and at least a few more worms courtesy of the pocket gopher that has taken up residence in our backyard.

It’s now the middle of February, and I am happy to report that, while the processes is still taking it’s grand old time, I have successfully created an environment conducive to rot – a condition which I long ago mastered in my kitchen – but which took me a good three months to produce intentionally in my compost pile. Go figure.

The East Parking Lot of Mission Valley Mall, tucked behind Macy’s and Bed Bath & Beyond, and between Bennigan’s and Bank of America, is hardly a place I expected to find a farmers’ market, but there it was.  In a sea of big box stores, it appeared like an oasis of freshness.  True the market is mostly prepared foods (which smelled heavenly), and craft vendors, but the few growers that were there provided a nice variety.  For those who are drawn in by the prepared food, the market has set out a number chairs and tables for eating, people watching, or flipping through the latest edition of Edible San Diego – which had a prominent display on one of the tables.  Due to size and location, this wouldn’t be my first choice of a market to attend, but in a pinch, it is a nice break from the otherwise largely commercial scenery of Mission Valley.

Now some of you may be questioning whether I have lost my marbles, or become a kleptomaniac.  I assure you that the answer to each is a resounding no.  Foraging is hardly a new concept, by any means.  It is what the gather of hunter/gatherer is all about.  If I were out in the forest and I stumbled upon some wild blueberry bushes, would I be mad to pick them for a treat?  I think not.  As for the question of stealing… I had been casing this particular lemon tree for some time, watching as more and more fruit was felled by wind, and left for the birds.  I desperately wanted to reach in to the yard and collect the precious fruit, but refrained from doing so as it would certainly be considered trespassing.  However, as fortune should provide, on a fair San Diego morning, two perfect sunny orbs happened to escape the yard/sidewalk barrier and station themselves just south of the curb, squarely in the street.  Public street equals public lemons, and I am most certainly part of the public.

While in my mind I didn’t technically do anything wrong, I’m sure there are plenty of regular foragers who are groaning at my ineptitude.  I couldn’t find any laws specific to gleaning in San Diego, but the code of ethics provided by Portland based Urban Edibles would lead me to believe I broke a cardinal rule of urban foragers – Always Ask Permission.  I have heard (but not been able to verify) that under California law, you are allowed to harvest what is within arms reach if it overhangs public property.  However, in the interest of not acquiring a bad reputation for myself and others, I will be asking first from now on.

I have already had one positive experience using the ask permission rule.  I have a student whose family has a multitude of citrus trees in their yard, and I mentioned that I would love to take some fruit off of their hands if they ever had any extra.  Moments later – thrilled that I was interested and willing, both mother and daughter were running around in the dark with a flashlight pulling fruit off of their trees.  I left that evening with a whole bag of oranges and eight lemons!

More Info Coming Soon…

Having been only to the Friday Market, I can not attest to the quality of the Sunday.  As for the Friday, it is small.  The Village Square setting is very pretty, but the contents of the market were mostly crafts – Tupperware, jewelry, handbags.  At my visit, there were only five food vendors, and one of those was selling prepared BBQ.