The Land is Ready, Are We? Part 2

By Maria Sherow

Confessions of a Lazy Gardener: Starting with Scraps

After years of watching food prices rise and knowing my meals depended on barges to reach the island, I started thinking about sustainability and choice. The problem was that I kept believing I didn’t have a green thumb, even though I’d never actually tried to find out if that story was true.

That was when it hit me. In Puna, the plants that survive are the ones that do not need me to be perfect. And the best way to start growing food is not with a tractor and a ten-year plan. It is with the scraps I was going to throw away.

So, if my last article felt heavy, this one has training wheels. We are starting cheap and nearly unkillable because the land is ready, and so are the green onions.

Why Green Onions Are the Gateway Drug to Gardening

Green onions, also known as scallions, are one of those ingredients that pull double duty. They work raw and cooked. As a fresh garnish, they can be sprinkled on practically everything. You can even use the thicker stalks as a natural, biodegradable straw.

Green onions are basically the golden retriever of plants. They just want to make you happy, and they are hard to mess up.

They are perfect for beginners because you get instant gratification. You can see new growth in less than a week. There is no “is it dead or just being dramatic” waiting game like you get with tomatoes. They are also free food from scraps. You were going to throw those white root ends away. Now they can be your first crop.

Because they are not picky about real estate, you do not need a yard to grow them. A mug on your windowsill or the lava rock out back works perfectly, especially since you cannot overwater them in Puna. 

With our rain, most plants drown and file a complaint. Green onions just say mahalo and keep growing. Best of all, one purchase equals an endless supply. Buy one bunch at the farmer’s market and replant the roots. They will keep growing until there’s a long drought and you forget to water them.

Getting Started

Buy a bunch at the farmer’s market for $2 and use the green tops for your pōke or stir fry. Save one or two inches of the white bottom with the roots still on and stick it in the dirt.

A pair of scissors is a tool worth keeping nearby. Scissors are the best way to harvest green onions because they let you snip just what you need without uprooting the whole plant.

The plant always stays in the dirt, and the roots keep growing. Snip from the top, leave a few inches above the soil, and the onion does the rest.

In the kitchen, a knife on a cutting board works, but you end up washing the board for three scallions. With scissors, you can cut straight into the bowl or pot.

If I can do it while forgetting to water them for a week, so can you.

Do not be afraid to make mistakes.

Here is the truth nobody puts on the seed packets. You are going to kill stuff. In fact, you should plan on it. Consider it tuition.

I babied a few basil plants. I built them cute little soil mounds. I whispered encouragement. Then Puna’s heavy rain drowned babied them to death in three days. They turned to black mush, and I took it personally. Green onions never judged me like that. They just kept growing while I was grieving the basil.

And that is the point.

Every plant I have killed taught me more than the ones that lived. The basil taught me drainage matters. The mint taught me to use a pot, or it will eat the yard. The tomatoes taught me that some plants are just divas. And the ones that lived fed me. So, my failure rate is still delicious.

Now it’s your turn. Grab those green onion scraps tonight. Stick them in dirt or that cracked coffee mug. If you kill it, you are out a couple of dollars, and you have a story for the next potluck. If it lives, you just beat the shipping chain with a scallion.

You do not need a green thumb in Puna. You need a compost bucket and low expectations.

The barges will still come, but now you don’t have to hope they brought green onions. Because the land is ready, and so are they. 

Next up: How my compost started growing tomatoes without asking me, and why my papayas only thrive on neglect.