Projo Garden Blog

Before I worked at the Journal I worked at a paper on the Jersey Shore.

I lived on a barrier island a few feet above sea level, with little grass and no trees — and no alcohol, the legacy of its days as a vacation Bible colony.

When the weather was bad, I cursed the waves that broke over my Volkswagen as I drove down the causeway to the mainland, and the seagulls that dropped hard-shell clams on the hood of my car to crack them on the sand-drifted streets.

When the weather was good I cursed the heat and the shoobies who took all the parking spaces in the Tabernacle neighborhood, and whose boats forced the raising of the drawbridges and made me late for work almost as many times as I said it did.

Exiled from my beloved leafy East Side, and my treetop bedroom in my family home, I was lost.

I was in a second-story brick apartment. No balcony. Not even much in the way of windowsills. I wanted something that smelled green, and not like asphalt and funnel cake. What could I do?

Steps. Everything starts with steps.

I started with a few pansies in pots. And I placed them on the rickety, sun-baked exterior staircase leading to my apartment. Then a few more.

Then more ambitious flowers. Some leftover soil thrown into a plastic bin on the small deck started a compost rot pile.

I can’t remember at what point I decided to try vegetables.

I chose little golf ball size carrots, peas that grew up a trellis made of sticks and twine, lettuces in a mix of colors in a long terra cotta trough, and a few herbs. Not in huge numbers, but I could make a few salads, or have a handful of my own produce for dinner. A farmer with a view of the Boardwalk ferris wheels.

(I work for a living. I like plants that earn their keep too. If they don’t flower or smell nice or I can’t eat them, I don’t waste my time.)

I had plenty of sun in the alley, which is essential for growing most vegetables.

Getting soil right is key too. Containers are at a risk of drying out. The smaller the container, the faster it dries out. But you don’t want your containers to get so heavy they don’t drain well, or collapse your deck. So a mix of potting soil lightened with Perlite and/or sphagnum peat is good. Not too light though, or a big plant has nothing to grab onto and will fall over. Stake larger plants, or tie them to a trellis or railing, if it's handy.

You definitely need to make sure there are holes drilled in the bottom of your containers. Big holes so the water doesn’t pool on the bottom. You may even need to set the pot on stones, pot feet or a little gravel to make sure.

I then chose plant varieties that were suited for containers. This may be specified on the packet or catalog, or you can ask someone who really knows his or her veg.

For example, suitable tomatoes are often described as “bush” or “patio” type. I am not a tomato fan, but I have heard the cherry tomato Sweet 100s praised.

But with a big enough container, you can grow peppers (hot or sweet), cucumbers, beets, radishes, or various greens like chard and arugula — use your imagination. If the results amuse you nobody can say it's a bad idea.

You can grow from seed or buy small plants. Since you don't need huge numbers the cost isn't prohibitive.

A big enemy of would-be vegetable gardeners is ambition. They start too big, plan too much, it gets too hard, too complicated, too long a commitment. Their little plot becomes overtaken with weeds, bakes in the sun and they feel like a failure.

A few containers may be the perfect way to have some fun, grow some food and have a successful experience you can learn from.

It's good for you in a lot of ways.

For advice about growing other plants in containers, see the Home section of The Providence Sunday Journal.

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