I don't have optimal soil or sun conditions, and a really full garden, so my space for a veggie bed is limited. A few years ago, I started growing vegetables in containers, sneaking them into sunny spots between perennials and shrubs, here and there throughout the garden. I've discovered many vegetables grow well in containers--tomatoes, peppers, zucchini, eggplant, carrots, beets, turnips, squash, and even potatoes. Actually, especially potatoes! Here's how to do it.

First you need potatoes, ideally small ones which are better suited to the confined space of a container.  I select smaller varieties and grow them to maturity (harvesting about a week after the foliage has died back). Another option is to grow full-size potatoes but harvest them early as baby potatoes before they reach full size (about a week or two after flowers form).

Last year I grew 'Bintje' (above). This year I'm growing 'German Butterball,' 'Purple Peruvian,' and 'Red Norland,' all purchased as seed potatoes (the first three from Landreth, the latter from locally-owned Downtown Home and Garden).

Seed potatoes are not actual seeds; they're mature potatoes that we cut up and plant. If you get your seed potatoes a month or so before planting, store them in a cool, dry, dark place at about 50 degrees. (If you're storing potatoes throughout the winter, requirements are different. I'll write about that in fall.)

Some people purposefully wait for their seed potatoes to sprout before planting them. This is called chitting and is achieved by storing the potatoes in a dry place at room temperature a week or two before planting. Chitting shortens the amount of time it takes the potatoes to sprout and mature. Some of my potatoes chitted accidentally because my storage area wasn't cool enough. I found it a bit difficult to handle and cut the potatoes without breaking off some of the sprouts.

Whether or not your eyes have sprouted, cut the seed potatoes into pieces so there are three eyes (or buds) per piece. Note: Dark potatoes like this 'Purple Peruvian' will stain your fingers, but it washes off easily.

You can use any large container, provided you drill drainage holes into the bottom. I use plastic storage bins because they're lightweight and inexpensive. They're on sale now for back to school and will be again after the holidays. I got the one shown here at a big box for $4 after Christmas.

My bin is 18" deep, 18" wide, and 25" long, and I wouldn't go any smaller than that, especially not in depth. I drilled holes (7/32" bit) along the bottom edges and in parallel rows, lengthwise. You do not need the lid. I move mine around the garden as a weed suppressant.:)

For filler, I like a 70/30 combo of compost and a good soil mix. The City of Ann Arbor gives out free compost in spring, so I load up there. You can adjust the ratio for your own needs. Potatoes don't need rich soil, but I think they grow much better in a container with it.

Fill your container about a third with your soil/compost mix. Plant each potato piece so it's sitting about an inch from the bottom of the tub and is covered in the rest of the soil. Plant so a cut edge is facing down and the eyes are facing up. I want to tell you I planted the pieces 6 inches apart, but it was likely more like 3 inches. I varied the planting depth a little, to create more space.

Potatoes like full sun, so if you have it, great! If you don't, don't worry. Potatoes are forgiving. Once my trees leaf out, my bin only gets four to six hours of a sun a day and the potatoes did fine.

Here is the bin with the potato pieces planted. This year, I also planted in a potato sack, which my mother wasn't using. The instructions are the same, except you don't need to drill holes because the material is porous, and not as many potatoes fit into it. Otherwise, results were the same.

In-ground potatoes can be planted when soil temperatures reach 45F. I plant mine in the bins at the end of April here is southeastern Michigan, where the last frost date is mid-May.

I water my potatoes once a day, like I would any container. Don't worry if your potatoes don't grow evenly at first. The shorter foliage will catch up in a few weeks.

The heights have evened out now at about 8 inches tall. At this stage, you want to add more soil into the bin, which is the same concept as mounding soil around a plant growing in the ground. Add about 2 inches of soil mix, being careful not to break the stalks.

As the potato stalks grow, keep adding more soil into the bin in stages. This is not an exact science; I add 2 inches each time the foliage gets to be about 8 inches over the soil line. When you've added enough soil to be about 2 inches from the top of the bin, stop filling it. You need at least that amount of clearance so that water has a place to collect without overflowing in heavy rainfalls.

Eventually the potatoes flower (these are 'Peruvian Purple'), bees pollinate, and the potatoes grow.

After about three months, you'll notice that much foliage is still growing, but some has died back. Potatoes are ready to harvest a week or two after the foliage is dried out!

Carefully dig in the areas where foliage has died, leaving the remaining stalks intact. There's nothing I like more than sticking my arm elbow deep in warm earthy compost and rooting around for potatoes. And it's so much easier than digging.

Ta da! My first potato of 2011, a 'Red Norland,' harvested on July 27. They are so good eaten right after harvesting--I ate this one raw, like an apple.

I'm going to do a second planting in the next few days, as soon as I harvest everything currently in the bin. I'm not sure if there's enough time for a second harvest, but I'm going to see what happens. Three months from now will be Halloween. Since potatoes can handle some cold, I'm hoping they will finish by then. I'll let you know.

Another advantage to growing in a bin is you don't have to worry about crop rotation. I dump the compost/soil mix onto my veggie bed at the end of the season, wash the container with a solution of 9 parts water to 1 part bleach, and fill it with fresh soil next year. I can use the same container over and over again, and I save some potatoes to start next year, too.

I can't believe it's July already, but here we are. And time for another SeedGROW post! A month ago, I had just sowed the basil and lettuce seeds, and the marigold seedlings had just come up.

Today, the basil 'Italian Cameo' is doing really well.

You can almost smell it!

The lettuce 'Garden Babies' is not quite as lush. I'm starting to think I should have planted it in a smaller container, as it's a variety created especially for small spaces.

I sowed several other varieties of lettuce on the same day as the 'Garden Babies' into some drawers I got through freecycle. Both seed mixes are also from Renee's Garden, and I've already been harvesting from both. 'Cut and Come Again' (foreground) is a mix of baby and mesclun lettuces, and 'Farmers Market Lettuce Blend' (background) is a mix of sweet green and red lettuces. Both mixes will regrow after being cut.

I've planted the marigolds at the edge of my vegetable bed, because I was struck by an urge to go old school. They haven't flowered yet, probably because I only planted them in the ground a few days ago, and their roots needed to expand from their cell packs! I'm sure I'll have flowers to show you next month.

Have a super holiday weekend, everyone! I'm watching the 2011 FIFA Women's World Cup, which runs through July 17. Go Team USA and Go Team Germany! Deutschland Vor! Noch ein Tor!

I'm growing with the SeedGROW project. Thanks to Renee's Garden for the seeds.

My garden has seemed a bit too big for a while now. Things that were initially mere blips on the garden radar have lately felt overwhelming and insurmountable. A very hot summer kept me inside a lot, and weeds have taken over. My tomatoes were a big bust this year due to marauding raccoons and suboptimal sunlight. There's so much to plant and transplant yet this fall, which I normally look forward to but which this year feels defeating.

Today I planned to dig out seven overgrown junipers that need to go to make room for other things I like more, which have been waiting to get in the ground since June. Five of the junipers are 4' tall x 6' wide, the other two are 5' x 8' feet, though I'd trimmed those back considerably already.

I normally like digging out shrubs--it's hard work but it's gratifying when it's done and it's a good way to get out aggression! First I cut off the branches of the first shrub, which filled two yard waste bags, so I could see where I was digging. Then I dug. This was extremely arduous because the soil is so dry and the roots are far down. I barely reached them at all. I get rashes if I touch certain evergreens and even though I was wearing long sleeves, long pants, socks and closed shoes, I could feel my neck and the back of my legs start to itch. The underside of my foot where you push on the shovel was a little sore. An hour and a lot of digging passed, but still no progress even finding the roots, and the base trunks were not loosening even an eeny beeny tiny bit!

To say I was getting frustrated would be inaccurate. I was swearing at random things (yes out loud), and even called a squirrel (my favorite wildlife friend!) an expression favored by residents of Deadwood. In a fit of fury I jumped down on the spade too hard, onto soil that was too hard, lost my balance, and toppled onto the adjacent juniper in a big flailing heap.

Before I mention what happened next I have to tell you that gardening has been my passion for many years and I have gardened in many different settings. I'm very much a roll-up-your-sleeves-and-get-stuck-in kind of person, a modern-day Rosie the Riveter. My arms, my energy, my determination, and my will are strong. I'm not afraid of hard work and I've always done my own heavy lifting. And, let's face it, I'm so goddamn stubborn that a whole army of buckthorn is no real match.

That being said, we return to me face down in a juniper (which would have been pretty funny if I hadn't been in a mood). I wasn't hurt, but I found myself balled up in a fetal position crying like a baby kitten who can't find its mama. Well, OK, not really crying because I think the sweating dehydrated my ability to produce tears, but that's not the point.

The point is, I cursed my garden, listing all its failings and all its demands, and everything I had ever done for it, and for what? What had it done for me? Huh?! I used a lot of sentences involving "you always" and "you never" and finally told it to get the hell out of my life, only in much more colorful language.

I squeezed my eyes shut, crossed my arms, and pouted, waiting for it to beat a hasty retreat or at least apologize. I fantasized about doing a major ecological burn and thoroughly enjoyed imagining certain things engulfed in flames. I envisioned an alternate garden, a kwoot widdle patio garden, so sweet and demure.

Feeling a lot better, I opened my eyes and was greeted by wonderful color. My garden gave me flowers, clearly as an apology and peace offering. Embarrassed, I apologized also and asked it to take me back. It smiled and said, "I'm not going anywhere."

Which is all very fine and good and smile smile smile happy, but... I still have one partway dug out juniper and six to go and, honestly, I'm tired. I don't know what the solution is. I don't know how to make a large garden smaller (I'm not ever going to convert beds to lawn and my plants are already low care, I never water!) or how to keep up with it more or how to regain some of the enthusiasm I once had.

I suspect it would help to do just a little bit every day, rather than feeling like I have to do perform big miracles all at once. And I think I just need to get back to work. Right after I have lunch.

P.S. My favorite ass-kickin' companion suggests 1) I learn to focus the camera and 2) to intimidate the problem out of existence! Easy peasy.

Added 9/18: Photo update. Three of the five shrubs in the first bed are dug out. Even though my BIL has a pickup and could probably get those chains for me, there isn't a clear path for a vehicle to access that bed. I found digging as far as I can and then soaking the hole for a few hours makes it possible to get at the deepest roots. A second bed has two really big ones and access to the street. I may ask my BIL for help but he has so many projects that I don't like to bother him if I can do it myself.

Out on the Streets: Sparkly Festive Edition
I'm excited to participate in Veg Plotting's Out on the Streets: Sparkly Festive Edition — first as a reader and now as a poster.

On December 9, my friend Carole and I met Mr. Brown Thumb in downtown Chicago at the German Christmas market (Christkindlmarkt) (more on that excursion in a separate entry in the next few days). In the meantime, here are some cool holiday decorations we saw out on the streets of Chicago:

Art Institute of Chicago. Check out the lighted garlands, the decorative pots, and of course the wreaths around the necks of the lions. Mr Brown Thumb thought they were the colors used in the city's bid to host the Olympics.

Evergreen boughs and red-twig dogwood edge the planting beds in Millennium Park.

Blue lights on trees and Seussian-looking horns adorn Macy's, on State Street.

Chicago's Christmas tree, in Daley Plaza. This is one single tree, donated by the Weivoda Family of Palos Heights, Illinois. In previous years, the tree was made of 113 smaller trees. It looked more full, but imho, less realistically tree-like. I do miss the ornaments from last year, though.

This lobby decoration of a bank caught my attention as I was passing, so I went in off the streets and took the photo. (And, OK, I'm just going to say it: I love revolving doors! I went through them all at least twice!)

Evergreens in a widow box really brighten up the business section of downtown. I love how the big fluffy flakes of snow look in the photo, too.

On the walk back to Union Station, we passed more blue lights, this time really set off against the dark backdrop.

On Sunday, I went with my friend Julia to Greenfield Village, in Dearborn, Michigan.

En route, I got photos of the nicely decorated Bryant Branch of the Dearborn Public Library...

a gas station (those are real greens!)...

and Dearborn City Hall.

Greenfield Village is an outdoor collection of historic buildings that recreates life in the 18th and 19th centuries. Most buildings were brought to the village from different locations, most allow entry, and a few have historic gardens. Costumed interpreters demonstrate cooking, candle making, glass blowing, typesetting, pottery making, and tin- and blacksmithing, among other things.

Wright Brothers Cyclery on Main Street. It's not so obvious but the lamp posts are wrapped in garland, and lights are stung between lamps.

I love the sleigh and tree on Robert Frost's house. He lived in this house, which was moved from Ann Arbor, during his teaching fellowship at the University of Michigan in the 1920s.

On my way home, I stopped in Ypsilanti and got these two photos:

Haab's Restaurant on Michigan Avenue.

Sidetrack Bar & Grill on Cross Street in Depot Town.

I also swung by downtown Ann Arbor before heading home:

Wonderful window art at Conor O'Neill's Irish Pub.

Window display at Prickly Pear restaurant.

Lights on Main Street, and lighted tree atop the First National Bank Building.

Now it's your turn! Get out and show us photos of public spaces in your area, decorated for the holidays.

And the Winner Is...
In my last post, I promised a prize for anyone who could guess my favorite sculpture at Meijer Gardens and tell me where "Caw! I guess it was alive!" comes from. The main clue about my fave (Aria by Alexander Liberman) was that I showed three photos of it, more than of any other sculpture. And I'm wild about orange, though maybe I haven't been so vocal about that online. The quote is from Mounted Animal Nature Trail by the Arrogant Worms. I've seen them live twice and really enjoy their quirky humor.

The last time I checked, four intrepid, clever garden bloggers came up with the correct answer: Frances at Fairegarden, Jessica at The Magical Mundane, Kylee at Our Little Acre, and Liz at Nutty Gnome. So I did a drawing, diligently supervised by my cats (meaning James pawed around the slips of paper to shuffle them)... and I pulled out... Liz's name.

So, Liz, soon on the way to you will be "The Painted Garden: A Year in Words and Watercolors" by Mary Wootin. If you should happen to already own this book, don't be shy: I can pull another from Monica's Marvelous Bookshelf (tm). And please email me your mailing address.