More articles coming soon...

First gleaned from a Kennebec plum thicket.

On a beautiful September morn, Crystal Stewart of Minnehaha County Extension offered me a choice: stay inside to answer plant questions over the phone (my weekly summer volunteer position) or travel east of Sioux Falls to check out the peach trees at Gerhardt and Phyllis Schmeichel's acreage.



Half an hour later Gerhardt led us into his backyard as knowledge flowed from his eight decades of gardening, material for a dozen stories. He pointed out a Liberty apple tree, cloned from George Washington's original. "An apple a day keeps the doctor away," he said. "Their roots mine nutrients from the soil; that's why they are so good for you." Beyond the apple, he described the large cistern beneath our feet that collects rainwater runoff, stored irrigation water for the gardens and lawn. Sensible organic gardening tips abounded.



There is sensitivity and sensibility to support the strict organic gardening he practices. After World War II, Gerhrardt Schmeichel worked at S.D. State University, testing new post war farm chemicals, herbicides and pesticides. After being hospitalized with symptoms of chemical poisoning, he committed to centuries old and safer organic practices and became one of South Dakota's first certified organic gardeners.



On this autumn day, we continued down to the garden as sweet redolence wafted overhead and reminded us of our true mission. Fragrance alone was enough to announce the peach trees. Thousands of ripe and heavy peaches weighed down gangly branches. Their iridescence in morning sunshine was like that of hand blown Christmas kugels. Covered in pale pink down, the firm fruit fell into our palms with barely a touch or gentle tug. They were slightly smaller than those available in the grocery store; a pair was a handful. Among our small group, there was some fuss about the fuzz, and some proceeded to peeling, while I was slurping through my second and third sample.



Juice drizzled down my chin from delicate white flesh plucked directly from a peach tree growing in South Dakota; it seemed exotic to a South Dakotan. And such pleasure is not forbidden? For a moment, I imagined serpents. Wasn't another nutritious and delicious fruit once blamed for humans' fall from grace ... (or did woman get the blame?)



The story of the Schmeichels' peach trees began 30 or so years ago when Gerhardt, an ever-curious amateur rock and fossil hound, was hunting specimens along the Cheyenne River in western South Dakota. During a lunch stop in Kennebec he made a different discovery. Was peach pie on the menu? Perhaps. But it was the fresh peaches passed around by another customer that piqued his interest.



Gerhardt's antennae were acutely attuned to the unusual fruit, for later that day he spotted unfamiliar small trees interspersed in a wild plum thicket. Surprisingly, partially eaten peaches, perhaps browsed by deer, were clinging to the branches. He saved seven seeds from the peaches, storing them in an empty pill container he carried for such purposes. But he and his wife had children to raise, and then grandchildren and other responsibilities. The peaches were put aside.



Seven years ago, after the passing of twenty-plus seasons, Gerhardt Schmeichel finally planted the seven seeds. He was well versed in disturbing seed dormancy, and first, he soaked them in water and nutrients. He also knew that most perennial plants, including trees and shrubs, often require a moist, cold treatment to germinate, so they were planted late in the year. Christmas Eve wasn't too late if the ground had been kept from freezing with a thick blanket of mulch or leaf cover. Imagine the surprise when seven tiny cotyledons emerged the following spring and by the end of that summer, grew to a bushy four feet. Three seasons after that, they began to bear fruit.



The name Schmeichel means "to lift up" or "look for good." Gerhardt was always inquisitive about things, he tells us. Growing up in a German-speaking household, he heard adults say, "Das jung fragt zuviel," (the boy questions too much), and from then on he was called the "questioning boy." Whether curiosity feeds his enthusiasm or enthusiasm feeds his curiosity, he has thoughts on how gardening could, maybe should, be practiced, and he passes along trivia for serious gardeners. For example, asparagus will survive in high salt soils along roadways, our native box elder trees provide the coolest shade and indigenous quartzite dust is rich in minerals and can stop armyworms.



Still savoring the luscious peaches, we continued through the abundant organic garden. Gerhardt pointed out more plants -- a double wild rose dug from the prairie where mostly single-flower roses grow and a knee-high patch of strawberries. A hummingbird reunion was underway in the garden.



When the Schmeichels moved here a few decades ago, the soil beneath their yard and garden was a stubborn clay loam. Now it is resilient from years of composting. The lawn predominantly grows fescue, which has deeper roots than Kentucky bluegrass and doesn't require as much watering. Gerhardt suggested alfalfa hay and soybean straw as excellent mulches and compost ingredients that can be purchased in bales. When using soybean meal, another excellent soil amendment, check the ingredients to assure it contains no sodium or calcium. Remember the salt licks farmers put out for cattle? Sodium now is often added directly to their feed, and he warned against adding it to garden soil. Every piece of organic refuse, including all the weeds, ends up as compost. Six-foot tall 'Early Girl' tomatoes grew above a buried network of PVC pipe through which he irrigates with compost tea, water that has percolated through the compost. For organic fertilizers besides the compost tea, he recommended Neptune as the best fish emulsion, and he instructed us to look for the ingredient, kelp, in other natural fertilizers.



As we came back around once more to behold the peach trees, we understood why it is tempting to romanticize rare peaches in this era and in this place. Life seeks to replicate itself, and with loving caretakers like the Schmeichels, almost anything is possible - even prairie peaches.



About the author -- Mary Ellen Connelly of Sioux Falls is an artist, writer and master gardener. She operated Perennial Passions, a specialty seed shop, and wrote a book, "How Our Garden Grows." She was also supported efforts to restore the Japanese Gardens in Sioux Falls.

Buy the September-October 2007 issue of South Dakota Magazine to get this article with all photos and other stories in this issue.

Call (800) 456-5117