Part Two in a Series
TELLURIDE – Living at 8,750 feet doesn’t mean you can’t raise food. With a little forethought, determination and attention, at least some of the food on our tables can be produced locally.
Today, a host of green-thumbed residents of the Telluride region grow their own – and done right, it’s a whole lot fresher and healthier than what lines the supermarket shelves.
For those who commit themselves to growing more of their food, the next step may be a greenhouse extension or a season-extending growing dome, often referred to as “grow-domes.” Growing domes are sold by Growing Spaces in Pagosa Springs. Designed by Udgar Parsons following his experience with Windstar Foundation in Snowmass, the domes are based on geodesic dome principles “to create an affordable dome greenhouse for backyard gardeners,” according to Growing Spaces’ website.
The domes range from 12 feet to 52 feet in diameter, with a cost range of $4,350 up to just over $40,000 installed. They come with a host of features like water tanks for thermal mass, glazing, north wall insulation, and automatic vents that make them very user-friendly.
Ben Hamburger is an enthusiastic grow-dome owner, in spite of some trials and tribulations. “I wish I had gotten a bigger dome,” he says of his 22-foot grow-dome, installed close to two years ago “I think in hindsight I would go one size larger.”
Even so, the inside of his dome space is lush. A couple of citrus trees pop up through leafy greens and tomatoes. The space smells fresh and luxurious. The temperature is comfortable, even though harsh spring winds rage outside. Nearby, solar panels silently convert sunlight into energy for his house, and enable his dome to function flawlessly. Everything here is off the grid. “The temperature has never gone below 32 degrees, even in cloudy weather,” he notes. With water in the 1,000-gallon tank to soak up sunlight and heat the space, the dome is constantly warmed. When the sun angle changes in the summer, the sun’s rays are blocked by opaque panels above the tanks, enabling the water-filled containers to moderate the temperature in the dome.
“I’ve struggled since the beginning of this past winter,” he says. “I thought I had it figured out, but there was a whole new learning curve.” For instance, he planted some things that grew well, but weren’t exactly what he expected – or liked to eat. The greens flourished but were bitter, overpowering. Hamburger had relied on a friend’s recommendations of what would grow well in the space. But their communication didn’t cover personal preference.
“I was trying some different stuff, but I didn’t know that I didn’t like what I grew,” he acknowledged. He ended up experimenting with some “bitter scraggly stuff” that didn’t meet his needs.
Last winter’s many cloudy days also presented a challenge. “It was warm enough to grow, but not warm enough to germinate new seedlings,” he says. Plus, he planted a number of seeds late in the fall – too late to enable them to take hold before the short cold days set in.
And then there were the mice in the spring. “Nothing had sprouted, because they were nibbling the seedlings when they came out of the ground,” he explained, calling them “two of the healthiest mice, being organically fed and looking totally happy” when he caught up with them in the mouse trap.
Dome-growers often struggle with mice, which love the warm lush space. It’s a Garden of Eden for them, with its rich resplendent mix of vegetables.
Still, Hamburger has no regrets. As he learns, his enthusiasm for what is possible is infectious. With fruit trees planted on the edge of his Hastings Mesa land, and a test plot of quinoa nearby, he keeps tinkering with the mix. Quinoa grows well at altitude and isn’t particularly fussy. That early miners grew it successfully is a testament to its hardiness.
And it provides variety to the crop mix. “I chose quinoa because I wanted to try something for protein, and the citrus trees in the dome are an experiment, just something I like,” Hamburger explains. Fruit trees also enable him to diversify his crops and diet, maybe giving him something to trade with his neighbors, some of whom have suggested hunted meat for fresh fruits and veggies.
“I’m now fairly self-sufficient,” he says as he surveys the green and growing environment in his dome. “Ideally, I’d like to get to 100 percent, but I’m not there. And besides, I like going to Honga’s,” he laughs. Ultimately he hopes to be replanting about one-third of the dome at any given time so that his food supply is continuous.
“The world is uncertain and existing systems may not be reliable,” says Hamburger, pointing to oil prices at $140 a barrel. “Food prices going through the roof, with increases continuing for years to come.” With government agricultural subsidies pushing farmers into corn for ethanol and less land going into food crops, some surmise food cost increases are only beginning. And even if he’s wrong: “I’ll have organic food here.”
Debra Hynes has a 26-foot dome in downtown Ridgway. Installed last August, it’s been planted and producing vegetables ever since.
As a “mostly vegetarian, I wanted to grow my own stuff and eat the way I wanted to eat,” she explains. The dome gives her stability and food security. Hynes had never grown vegetables inside, and has also experienced a learning curve.
“I’ve learned to plant the next crop,” to ensure that there’s a constant source of food, she says. “I also had aphids and learned how to take care of [pests]. What to grow, how often to turn the soil, when to add compost.”
Hynes’s growing dome is filled with peppers, beets, kale, and tomatoes, all growing strong as summer days lengthen.
The mother of all growing domes is in Colona. There, Breigh Peterson tends to Buckhorn Gardens’ 52-foot dome, constructed in November 2006. The space is brimming with herbs, fruits, cucumbers, tomatoes, and edible flowers. Outside, another two acres produce food sold through their CSA and at farmers markets (including the one in Telluride).
Upon entering, you’re swallowed up by the cavernous airy space rising above. This expanse accommodates hanging baskets of cherry tomatoes, trellis-trained vines like cucumbers. “It’s a challenge to use vertical space, although grapes would work well, and so would growing trees like figs, lemons or oranges,” Peterson notes. “Last year we had melons,” adding that one actually bonked a friend’s head when it fell.
“We use grow tubes, too, to use up the vertical space,” she explains. Radishes, heads of lettuce and other sprouts stretch their leaves skyward, taking advantage of the extra room.
So effective are the two large water tanks that dominate the northern part of the dome, that in Colona’s milder winters, the water maintains sizable heat. “The design collects heat as soon as the sun comes out,” she notes, with winter temperatures inside hovering around 60 to 70 degrees. But cloudy winters like earlier this year proved challenging, and Peterson had to use supplemental heat to ensure a steady crop of vegetables.
Still, the tanks are a great place to start seeds, being the warmest place in the dome. “Things come up faster on top of the tanks,” says Peterson. In summer, the tanks keep the place cool.
Peterson is experimenting with mushrooms, too. The moist environment near the tanks should accommodate them, although so far there’s nothing to harvest.
Buckhorn relies heavily on the growing dome for winter production, things like spinach, broccoli, radishes, turnips, and other cool season crops. During the summer, most of the growing action is outside, but the space inside extends the garden’s season, enabling Peterson and her crew to start their plantings early in the spring. Near the beginning of June, they had already been picking and eating tomatoes for three weeks. Eggplants blossomed nearby.
Part of Buckhorn’s growing dome success comes from its bedding system, which snakes through the space with a whimsical flair. “I built the beds out of stucco over the winter,” explains Peterson. Filled with sandbags and covered with chicken wire, they provide good thermal mass, keeping the space “warm in winter and cool in summer.”
Filled with bedding soil – “hard to come by here” notes Peterson, pointing to the nearby adobe hills – her soil-building includes a regimen of worms and organic matter, chopped alfalfa, to boost the soil’s texture and nutrients. All gardeners have to tend their soil because it’s a living environment, needing organic material to support growth.
Peterson and crew also do inter-plantings, alternating herbs and flowers, to attract beneficial insects and deter pests. “We put ladybugs and lace wings in as well to help out with whiteflies,” she says. The doors to Buckhorn’s dome stay open in warm weather to entice pollinators inside. With sweet-scented dill and other things to attract them, pollinators like lacewings and bees often wander in, enabling tomatoes and cucumbers to thrive. Without them, no crops would ripen.
Buckhorn considers their produce “more-ganic,” growing their crops “above and beyond organic standards.” While not officially certified organic, inside the growing dome and outside in their fields, they eschew pesticides, chemicals and other substances that compromise the integrity and healthiness of their products.
Looking around the spacious growing dome, one can’t help but wonder how it might work on a neighborhood level. This particular dome would cost about $40,000 to install. “The domes are expensive, but on a community level with six families, for instance, it makes it more affordable,” says Peterson. With the cost of transportation, the amount of fossil fuel it takes to get food to their table, she believes “more people should be thinking about that and not just, ‘I can’t afford that.’”
Knowing how your food is grown is a critical part of the equation. Being able to provide for yourself and your family, not having to rely on the whims of weather, semi-trucks or conventional agriculture, knowing that your food is safe, free from harmful chemicals, and fresh and tasty has to count for something.
©2008 Amy R. Levek
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