The unlooked-for winged beans

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Look at the plants growing on this trellis and you just see a mass of leaves, right?

It seems to be the season for second generation plants to have the limelight. Just as I mentioned the growth of our Gen2 winter melon plants, the second generation of winged bean plants also had to step up for a swing at the plate.

For this tale, we have to visit my chaotic trellises. Yes, remember the two A-frame stands that ended up housing the unruly snake gourd vine, angled loofah plant, and the latest jicama vines – all intertwined with each other?

Well, way back in March, I had a pair of winged bean sprouts grown from seeds from the first vines, and I planted them next to the angled loofah plant when the trellises were still new and clear. They weren’t vigorous plants, and when the snake gourd eventually monopolized all the growing area – eventually choking the angled loofah vine to death – I assumed that the winged bean plants had also been strangled off.

A closer look, and you can see the flowers in the top left, one winged bean in the bottom right, and if you peer closer, a second bean hidden below the cluster of flowers. It’s there, take my word for it.

I happened to be out with some friends when I got a picture message from Curious Mama. It was a photo of a young winged bean! When I got back, we went to admire the new bean, and then I noticed the clusters of winged bean flowers forming near the top of the trellis.

Yes, hindsight, I know. Or having a veil lifted from before your eyes and being able to see properly again. Duh.

In case you really wanted to know, the bangkwang or jicama leaves are on the left, and the winged bean leaves on the right. If I were really defensive, I’d also show you a picture comparing the flowers of both plants, that happen to be the same shade of light purple. They are, really! :D

Apparently I haven’t been paying proper attention to the leaves of the different plants on the trellises. Winged bean plants have similar leaves to jicama plants, and because I didn’t pay proper attention to the shapes of the leaves, I just assumed that the groupings of three leaves all belonged to the jicama plants. My mistake. A happy one, though!

© 2012 curiousgardener.com All rights reserved.


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Starting from scratch

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I had such high hopes when I’d first transplanted this Hami melon plant. It had two growing points – the main stem, that was flowering at the time, and a new branch that started growing from the base of the stem just after transplanting it.

I thought I was so smart when I planted out my pumpkin and melon plants to give them a bigger playground to grow in. Well that sure backfired in my face. Between the rainy weather and voracious, sneaky snails, the Australian blue pumpkin, one of the butternut pumpkin and both Hami melon plants didn’t stand a chance. Their leaves were eaten up, then the stems (dashing my hopes of leaves growing out again), and what was left of the stems withered away quickly.

A lone butternut pumpkin plant bravely remains. It was the strongest of all the pumpkin plants, and I hope it retains its vigour and becomes extremely productive. At the moment the first half of the stem is bare of leaves and looks like it is dying off. I’m not panicking yet since the second half appears to still be green and healthy. It is probably taking root along that second half of the vine, which I see as a good thing since these roots will help the plant acclimatize itself to the garden soil. As long as the plant is left unmolested by snails and trampling dogs, I think it stands a good chance of growing well here.

The surviving butternut pumpkin plant – hopefully biding its time and adjusting to the new environment.

Coming back to melons and gourds, I am left to start from scratch. A new lot of winter melon, shark fin melon and Australian okra plants are now saying hello to the world. Hopefully joining them will be more pumpkin, melon and bean plants, depending on my success in germinating the seeds. Lucky for me, I enjoy growing plants from seeds. Or trying to, anyway…

© 2012 curiousgardener.com All rights reserved.


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Plant psychology: The winter melon plant

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I love observing how plants react to changes in their environment. Just last week, I decided to move my winter melon plant from a rather shaded location where it had been independently weaving its way up the neighbouring plants. I also decided to remove it from growing in a pot, and transplanted it to the ground so it could grow on a bigger trellis.

It can’t go up so it decided to start putting out flowers. The first male flower budded at the level of the horizontal bar, with more showing at each subsequent leaf joint.

The thing is, the vine was already rather long, at about three metres, and instead of having to grow and climb its way up, it was long enough to be draped over the top of the trellis and stretched across the horizontal supports. I had to do a little creative winding of the stem around some of the supports, and encourage the tendrils to hold on to the new trellis.

The new offshoot growing along the main stem. This means we’re going to have a more lush plant than the first!

It took about three days for the plant to settle in, during which it shed some of the older leaves that were also covered with some powdery mildew, and secured tendrils without further help from me.

I also noticed the apex of the vine getting its spacial orientation. It wanted to grow upwards, but as it is in the middle of the horizontal section of the trellis and there is nothing to climb up onto, it seemed to pause for thought. Now, it appears that it has decided it’s time to start budding.

I don’t know how plants instinctively know when to do what, but I love observing how they behave so that I will be able to have more success with the following generations.

The plant has also decided that the main stem is too bare after shedding the older leaves, and has started growing a new offshoot near the top of the vertical part of the main stem. This gives me hope that this plant will be stronger than my first one that grew just the one main stem and single fruit before dying off.

Generation 2A – one of the new sprouts grown from seeds harvested from our first (and only) home-grown winter melon. The first Gen2 plant is the transplanted vine mentioned in this post.

To be safe (and typically Singaporean kiasu), I have started a few more new plants from the seeds of our harvested fruit. Five months later, they are still very viable, germinating within just three days. I hope I have learnt enough to nurture these vines into being as fruitful as possible!

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The trellis recycled

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Same metal structure, different trellis attachments. Let’s see how the bittergourd (left) and winter melon (right) plants manage to co-exist here.

The winged bean plants finally gave up the ghost, and we stripped away their withered remains from the old structure that we were using for a trellis. It happened that there was a new bittergourd plant looking for a new home at the time, so that got planted out there, with a new ladder-like trellis that I not only grounded securely, but also attached to one of the horizontal bars.

You may recognize the design from my impromptu cucumber trellis of several months ago. It worked well so I decided to include it in my gardening repertoire.

Looking at the bittergourd plant happily working its way up the “ladder”, I realized that this structure would actually be perfect for my next generation of winter melon plants. It’s stronger than anything I can readily throw together, and was waiting, like a blank slate, to be used. I decided to use it.

My tying skills seem to improve with each new trellis attempt. Here, the vertical stands are lashed to the horizontal bar, then the zig-zag string is put in. Then, the horizontal supports are laid out and also lashed to the two perpendicular bars. I may add a few more horizontal poles to the winter melon side of the trellis. Anticipating the heavy fruits, I’ve used the strongest bars that I have. I hope they’ll be enough.

The next winter melon plant, potted, was already growing in a shady spot and winding its way up the neighbouring plants. I felt it was worth the risk of shocking the plant in doing a transplant to the ground – a measure that I hope will result in bigger winter melons in the near future. The vine was already about three metres long, and I realized that the shade didn’t suit it because the lower leaves were spotted with powdery mildew. I disentangled the tendrils and managed the transplant on a nice cool evening – the time of day chosen so as to cause less stress to the plant. I made a similar “ladder” for the winter melon plant and was impressed when the vine not only stretched all the way up to the to horizontal bar, but also almost across the quadrant that was assigned to it. I was forced to add more horizontal poles for it immediately – something that the bittergourd plant won’t need for perhaps another week. I watered it heavily with a strong dose of seaweed solution, which I’d read helps to tamp down transplant shock, and left it to rest in its new home.

The day following the transplant, I was rewarded with the sight of the newest tendrils at the apex of the vine already curling around the supports. I guess that means the vine will survive. I hope it does!

And so the trellis will now start a new cycle, with new plants. In just a few weeks, it will be covered with growing vines and leaves, followed by male and female flowers, after which will come the fruits. I am especially looking forward to seeing the winter melons growing voraciously, and if I can project my thoughts onto the plants, it will be a bountiful harvest indeed!

© 2012 curiousgardener.com All rights reserved.


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