WINNEMUCCA - Lindsey and I were sitting at the patio table, drinking hot tea and talking about school shopping. Lindsey will start high school this year, so we've been negotiating the budget.
"Oh," I sighed. "You grew up so fast. Seems like only yesterday I sent you off to kindergarten with a box of crayons and a pair of blunt scissors in your little backpack. Now I'm going to have to spring for a graphing calculator."
"Mom, you're choking up!"
Children can be so precious. "No," I said, trying not to sound tragic. "It's just the steam form my tea fogging up my reading glasses."
But Lindsey wasn't listening. She was over at the raised bed where the artichokes are - and sure enough, almost every one of them had a little choke or two on it.
This is my first year growing artichokes - successfully, that is. I tried them a few years ago, but they didn't thrive. I think it had to do with my irrigation system. When I first discovered drip tubing with pre-spaced emitters, I went through a phase where I thought I could put one plant at each emitter, so I planted them along tubing with two-foot spacing. My soil is sandy, and the little bit of water wasn't enough for the artichokes. I had no idea how fast they should grow, and by the time I realized my mistake, it was too late to salvage the crop.
Artichokes, I found out, like plenty of moisture and lots to eat. So this year, I transplanted them into a raised bed well amended with manure. The drip system gives the bed plenty of moisture, and the artichokes are mulched with three inches of sawdust.
They're a perennial, typically growing in frost-free zones. They can't take heavy frosts. I'll cover them up with a thick layer of mulch this fall, hoping to winter them over, but I will be very surprised if it works.
I've generally found that water and manure are sufficient for most crops, but artichokes need a little extra judo. They bear the first crop the second year of their life, but in this country, that second year doesn't come. So you have to fool your artichokes into thinking they're a year older than they are.
I was prepared to bake a cupcake for each of them, and sing them "Happy Birthday," but Lindsey explained there was a better way. She had me plant the seeds indoors in February. The best light for plants at my house falls on my bed, so I spent the spring hot-sheeting it with a tray full of artichokes.
After spending its first "summer" (my late winter and early spring) lolling around in bed, my artichokes went out to the garden in mid-May. They can tolerate cool nights, and in fact they need quite a bit of time at temperatures below fifty degrees. Nevada spring temperatures are perfect for forcing artichokes; cool nights typically persist at least all spring. I did make provisions to cover them in case of a hard frost.
In mid-July, the chokes appeared. I haven't tried them yet, but artichokes would actually prefer a cooler summer than we have here. The heat supposedly makes the choke tough and woody. But, as my father always said when the cut of meat was less than choice: "It might be tough, but it would be a lot tougher without it."
Although I have read that you can force any variety of artichoke, Imperial Star is supposed to be the easiest to force. They're available from many seed catalogs, as is cardoon. Cardoon is a close relative of the artichoke, although instead of eating the "choke" or flower bud, you eat the stem.
Any artichoke-specific pest or disease would have to pack its little valise for a long trip away from their customary haunts in order to find my few little plants. Some generic pests will eat them; aphids and slugs were mentioned in the literature. I have not noticed any around my artichokes so far, although Lindsey occasionally looks at them with a calculating eye.
When Teresa Howell isn't worrying about her daughter falling and hurting herself with expensive school supplies, she teaches English at Great Basin College.
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