” I confront a hard lesson learned: you can’t PDCA your way out of a bad strategy.”

By George Taninecz, VP of Research, The MPI Group

I have been surrounded by seed catalogs, picking out vegetable and flower seeds for the year to come. Among the dozen or more catalogs I receive, I focus on three or four standbys, companies that have taken the Safe Seed Pledge (they don’t knowingly buy or sell genetically engineered seeds or plants) and that offer a large variety of organic seeds.

I enjoy the “plan” phase of the gardening PDCA (plan/do/check/act) cycle — it’s certainly less work than hand-tilling a garden. A Toyota leader once told me that the PDCA cycle really starts with A (act): Your plan is based on actions already taken, either intentionally or by chance. A plan is rarely created in a vacuum. As I select seeds for 2017, I review notes of what I bought and planted in 2016, and how the plants fared.

This year’s planning process has a lot of actions to review. With my dog-eared, cardboard-covered journal in hand, I turn to the pages for 2016 and search for insights: Did seeds sprout reliably, either indoors under grow lights, or directly in the garden? Did plants weather Ohio’s unpredictable growing season of 2016, which was a rollercoaster of hot and cool, then dry and wet? Did plants bear tasty fruit, in adequate quantities? I was tempted by exotic varieties last year, but my results were mixed. For example, I grew a bright blue-and-yellow cherry tomato — stunning to look, but unpleasant to taste.

An especially important annual assessment is to review the effects of disease and predators on plants.  Many heirloom varieties — of which I planted many last year — have not been bred to resist mildew, fungus, and other common problems. And there are other problems that are difficult for plants to overcome, if not impossible for them to tolerate.

When I started planting at my current home, there was nothing resembling a garden: on a two-acre plot surrounded by trees, the only vegetation was a well-gnawed yew near the front door. Deer run rampant in the area, and even the hardiest of “deer-proof” plants — shrubs, trees, and perennials — receive their share of grazing, if unprotected. So I planted a raised vegetable garden surrounded by an eight-foot impenetrable fence.

A decade later, there are two raised gardens: the first has been gradually overtaken by shade and infiltrated by juglone, a chemical exuded by a nearby walnut tree. Juglone is deadly for plants in the nightshade family, such as tomatoes, peppers, and eggplants. One day they look fine, and the next they look as if they’ve never been watered. There is no way to save them.

To avoid the juglone and continue growing tomatoes, I planted the second enclosed garden, in the sunny middle of the yard, a safe 40 feet from the walnut. I also put peppers and eggplants in large containers on a sun-filled deck. Both actions initially solved my problem.

Just as my tomatoes were reaching four feet in height and showing fruit last year, those on the walnut side began to wither. It took me a week to realize that the dreaded juglone was at work again. It turns out the toxin can spread two to three times the distance of a tree’s drip line — more than I believed possible. In addition, many of the heirloom tomatoes untouched by juglone were hit by wilts and viruses.

My mid-winter analysis has forced me to experiment with new ideas in 2017:

  • More tomatoes in containers and, therefore, at least one compact bush variety.
  • More greens and members of the cabbage family, planted where tomatoes failed in 2016.
  • More tomatoes bred for disease-resistance (although some heirlooms and unique varieties, such as Green Zebra, will always get a spot, thanks to their superb flavor).

Lastly, I am reconsidering my overall garden strategy — or lack thereof — given that that I now have two gardens nearly incapable of growing tomatoes, peppers, and eggplants. A core gardening objective always has been an abundant, varied supply of tomatoes. With my current vegetable beds, that will be difficult — if not impossible.

As I order seeds for 2017, I confront a hard lesson learned: you can’t PDCA your way out of a bad strategy.

© 2017 The MPI Group