Grow organic vegetables with a little help
By Mary Ann McFadden

I just had the pleasure of spending a day consulting and working with organic farmer Pedro Ramírez Juárez, a member of Vida Verde, the group fighting against the introduction of genetically modified corn into San Miguel.

Pedro has spent his life growing organic corn and produce on his own land. Even when the other farmers in his village turned to chemical pesticides and fertilizers, he stuck to the old ways. “The soil gives you everything,” he says, speaking from his heart. “Man should take care of the earth that has been so generous with us. Every animal needs the earth. Each one has its place.”

As we walk around my 10-by-10 meter three-year-old organic garden, Ramírez stoops to feel the soil, rubbing it between his fingers, smelling it. “Yes, this is good soil,” he says. I beam with pride, as if I’d done it myself. True, I’ve been composting and planting organic and heritage seeds I send for, but I’m a beginner and I’ve made so many mistakes. Still, the garden seems to do pretty well in spite of my inexperience. The warm, vine-ripened tomatoes are to die for.

Ramírez inspects my completed compost and says it’s good, but he notices there are far too many sow bugs, and not enough worms. He explains that I am using too much water. I’ve probably read 50 articles on how to make compost and I’ve chosen the one that is the least work. I’m not in a hurry. Ramírez points out that the compost is actually more nutritious and balanced if it works faster, at a higher heat. He recommends fresh goat droppings rather than the rare dried burro poop I’ve been using, and recommends covering it with a black plastic tarp to preserve the moisture. I’ve been leaving it open and watering it every day. He offers to bring the fresh goat droppings when he comes next time. And he’ll reconstruct my compost pile, showing exactly what he does to make perfect, nutrient-rich compost in about a month. I must admit, the very plentiful sow bugs have been devouring some of my plants, especially when they are young and tender. I hope that won’t happen any more.

Another problem I’ve been having is that the lettuces and basil, especially, seem to go to seed before I have time to eat them all. I know there’s too much sun, but was planning to get shade cloth, despite its odious plastic appearance. This is my only yard, after all, and I want it to look reasonably attractive. I also was planning to put the lettuces on the other side of the garden among the flowers, where there’s more shade. But Ramírez says he can build a little roof over the sunny growing areas using some posts and some carrizo—a kind of bamboo. He says the spacing of the carrizo overhead will give the plants plenty of sun all day, but not so much as to encourage them to bolt. Very nice, very rústico, he assures me. Rustic is good. I agree to a carrizo canopy over a small part of the garden and if it isn’t too rustic for my taste, we’ll go on from there.

From across the yard, Ramírez focuses in on my struggling tangerine tree. He walks over to it and caresses the branches. Very bad plaga, he says, sadly, as if I had a dying child. “I know,” I say guiltily, “but it’s better than it was.” I had finally sprayed it with a soap and water mix and then stood, sweating for hours, rubbing off—leaf by leaf—the icky black stuff that had been accumulating on the leaves and stems and stunting the tree’s growth. I had discovered what it probably was via the internet and found the most likely non-chemical solution. But it was a tedious process that had to be repeated and the darned tree has a whole lot of leaves. Okay, I’m lazy. Ramírez knows the best kind of soap to use. He has a good atomizer. He’ll do it for me.

I hate to admit it, but my beautiful fig tree failed because of too much compost and water. Figs like rocky ground and little water. Now a new baby fig will thrive with Ramírez’s help.

I want another tree in the opposite corner and Ramírez suggests a peach tree. I pointed out that in the States, peach trees are hard to grow. Peach leaf curl, I add, knowledgeably buffing my nails. “But these trees,” he says kindly, “are exactly right for this climate and they do well here.” He adds that he has 28 peach trees on his ranch, all healthy.

He is on a mission to teach people about organic gardening. He also knows the medicinal plants and would like to build his own medicine garden with every single medicinal plant available for use, instruction and transplanting. He teaches courses in the neighboring ranchos and, of course, warns the farmers (those who are left) about the dangers of genetically modified corn for the survival of native corn species here. He’s a hero.

If you’d like to eat organic vegetables from your own garden, rooftop or window ledge, Ramírez can design, build and start the seeds for it. You can care for it yourself, or he’ll help as much as you want him to, even harvesting the vegetables for you and placing them in a basket on your kitchen counter. He charges 100 pesos per hour, but it’s less expensive in the long run to have things done right the first time. You can contact Pedro Ramírez Juárez at 044 (415) 113-9220.