Post #1939: We’re now past the winter peak of COVID.

 

Just thought you might want to know.  Because nobody ever bothers to tell you when the news is reasonable, normal, and good.

Per CDC, US weekly new hospitalizations with COVID, for the U.S.:

The timing of the wintertime peaks (the black lines above) in COVID is extremely regular.  All four of those winter peaks are January 1, plus or minus a week or so.

This is both surprising and unsurprising.

It’s surprising in that the winter peak of COVID is far more regular than the similar winter peak in flu hospitalizations.  The peak of winter flu hospitalizations varies quite a bit from year to year.

Source:  CDC flu data.

But if you think about it, it’s not all that surprising.  Flu often has quite a different season from year to year, based on a new mix of strains being prevalent each year, and based on spread from epicenters of infection.  COVID, by contrast, is pretty much the same year after year now, and it’s everywhere.

It’s also unsurprising in that these hospitalizations are almost entirely for the elderly, and hospitalization rates for the elderly, for respiratory infections, peak mid-winter every year.  So that’s going to reinforce any tendency for COVID to peak at mid-winter.

That said, Virginia still tracks lab-determined cases, and the Virginia case-count data show the exactly same winter regularity as the U.S. data.  This, from the Virginia Department of Health:

The peaks are again January 1 of each year, plus or minus a week or so.  So it’s not merely a regularity of hospitalizations for the elderly.

Finally, I was tempted to try to make something out of the other apparently regular peaks on that CDC graph, the ones circled below:

But those are a mish-mosh.  The first one is due to a new strain — delta ? – that was then suppressed by vaccines (and replaced by Omicron).  The second one is more-or-less mid-summer, and so predates return-to-school for that year.  The third peak is in early September.  There’s really nothing to link them that I can see.

Post #1923: Gym use during our normal winter peak of COVID-19 cases.

 

My wife masked up at the gym yesterday.  Not at random — no matter how much fun that might have been — but because several friends of hers have gotten COVID recently.

Gyms are known to be risky places for COVID transmission.  That was clear from epidemiological analysis done during the pandemic.  And that’s unsurprising, given that COVID spreads by airborne transmission, and breathing hard is part of cardio exercise.

This means it’s time to get back in touch with the most recent statistics on COVID cases in Virginia.  So, without putting in a lot of effort, I’m going to get a snapshot of reported COVID cases in Virginia.

Briefly:  This is just the new normal.  We seem to be on track for our regular wintertime peak in COVID-19 cases.  Winter ’23-’24 looks like it’ll be about the same as winter ’22-’23.  Whatever precautions you thought were appropriate at this time last year are probably appropriate now.


Our regular winter COVID 19 peak

The first thing I note is that we’re on track for what has become our normal winter peak in severe COVID-19 cases.  That, based on hospital admissions for COVID, from the CDC, for the past four winters, as marked:

Source:  CDC COVID data tracker.  Annotations are mine.

Separately, Virginia still tracks total lab-reported cases.  These are individuals who were diagnosed by DNA testing done in labs, not by “quick” testing typically done in the home.  Again, we seem to be on track for an early-January peak in total new reported cases.  Same as for the past three years.

 

Source for both of the above, less my annotations:  Virginia Department of Health.

The upshot is that new cases, and new hospitalizations, are roughly where they were this time last year.

Nor has COVID itself gotten any more virulent compared to last year.  The most recent prevalent strain of COVID (JN.1) appears neither more nor less virulent than any of the other recent strains (per CDC). Nothing has come along since Omicron that has motivated the Powers that Be to use up another Greek letter to name a significantly new strain.  So JN.1 is just the worthy descendent of Omicron.

So — same timing as last year, roughly the same incidence as last year, roughly the same virulence as last year. Whatever precautions you were comfortable taking last year at this time, well, you should feel comfortable taking them again, now.  Because this ought to be the peak of new cases, or nearly, if this year is like the past three.

To be clear, new cases are appearing in all age groups.  This, from Virginia, for the past 13 weeks:

Source:  Virginia Department of Health.

But serious cases overwhelmingly occur among the elderly.  Below are the rates of hospitalization, by age group, from mid-December 2023, from the US CDC.

I don’t want to make light of this.  The same CDC data source shows that COVID-19 cases currently occupy about 5% of all staffed hospital inpatient beds in the Virginia.  And COVID-19 deaths account for about 5% of all current deaths in Virginia.

So COVID-19 is still serious and costly business.

But so is most of U.S. health care.  And my only real point is that it’s not hugely different from last year at this time.  The current increase in cases, mid-winter, is just the new normal.


The new normal, and a little calculation.

Let me quickly redo my “risk of exposure” calculation for my trips to the gym, based on an incidence of roughly 20 new cases per 100,000 per day, here in Virginia.  As I have done in the past, to arrive at a guess as to how many people are walking around in an infectious state, I multiply the raw incidence by nine, to account for a) under-reporting of new cases and b) the average number of days that an infected person walks around being infectious to others.  So I’m starting with an estimate that about 180 persons per 100,000 (0.18%) are currently walking around in Virginia, actively infectious with COVID.

With 25 people in the cardio room at the gym, the likelihood that:

  • Any one person is infectious:   0.0018
  • Any one person is NOT infectious: 1 – 0.0018 = 0.9982
  • All 25 people are NOT infectious:  (0.9982)^25 = 0.9559 ~=0.96
  • At least one person IS infectious = 1 – 0.96 = 0.04 = 4%

Being in the same room as an actively infectious person is not the same as getting infected.  That said, that’s a non-negligible risk.

I’d say my wife was entirely justified in masking up at the gym (along with several others).  Based on evidence, not anecdotes.

And I was plausibly justified in not doing that.  Based on ignorance.

But now that I know what the odds are, yeah, if the rates don’t peak soon, I’ll probably resume wearing a ventilated 3M N95 to the gym.  At least for now.

Avoidable risks don’t change just because nobody’s taking them seriously.

Post #1860: Heard about the big increase in COVID cases recently?

The question is and isn’t serious.  The answer is no.  The reason is that a lack of trend isn’t click-bait.

But the serious point is that sometimes you have to figure out what’s going on by what’s not being said.  Silence on this issue means it probably went away.  Not just because it’s not clickbait any longer, but also because those who flacked the trend never come back to apologize for making a poor prediction.

Not that it isn’t the right time of the year for it.  Right along with flu. So I think it’s newsworth that we’re not seeing a trend, FWIW.  But I realize I’m the outlier there.

In any case, a few weeks back, you could scarcely open a news website without seeing a reminder that COVID-19 cases were rising.  Then I realized I hadn’t been hearing about that lately.

Sure enough, in Virginia, and maybe in the U.S., COVID appears to have peaked in early September.  For now, at least. Continue reading Post #1860: Heard about the big increase in COVID cases recently?

Post #1849: Virginia still collects COVID-19 case data? Yep, sure does.

 

There is no new big surge of COVID-19 cases in Virginia.  We don’t have to guess about that because Virginia continues to gather the same benchmark PCR test data that it did all throughout the pandemic.

At present, Virginia is showing 10 new cases (new positive COVID-19 PCR tests) per 100K population per day.  That’s up from our normal summertime minimum of around 2 / 100K day. And is a level we saw off and on throughout the pandemic.

But the point is, it’s normal.  In so far as anything about the post-pandemic U.S. can be considered normal. Continue reading Post #1849: Virginia still collects COVID-19 case data? Yep, sure does.

Post #1845: What’s left of COVID information?

 

Yesterday, a friend asked about recent news reports of an uptick in COVID-19 cases.  How serious is this, really?  She is in somewhat fragile health, so it’s not an idle question.

My gut reaction — based on the reporting I had scanned — was, not.  It’s not a big deal.

But my second reaction was, I’m not sure what information is still available.

So that’s what this post is about: The current state of information on COVID-19.  Because COVID, like flu, is seasonal, with an end-of-year peak.  And we will eventually get to the end of 2023.

In a nutshell:  The only remaining consistent and timely information is on inpatient hospitalizations for COVID-19.


Still no shortage of 🐴💩

Weirdly enough, we still have plenty of COVID disinformation and misinformation circulating.  You’d think we’d be over it by now.  But, thanks largely to the Republican presidential candidates, there’s still an active market for being angry about COVID-19.

I recently read about a leading Republican candidate for president railing against  “federal lockdowns” for COVID.  I found this bizarre for two reasons.

As for “federal”, this appears to appeal to the collective amnesia of Republican voters, who apparently have forgotten that restrictions on commerce were imposed by the Governors of the States.  For example, restrictions in Florida were imposed by … wait for it … the then-governor of Florida. Who is currently running for President.  In part, by railing against those “lockdowns” … wait for it … that he himself imposed.

As for “lockdowns”, I can’t speak for other states, but here, I was always free to go about “essential” business, such as going to work, buying groceries, and so on.  The list of essential businesses open to the public was long.  None of which were ever shut, here in Virginia, during the pandemic.  I find it hard to characterize what happened here as “lockdown” when I could run out to the liquor store for a fifth of Jack any time I chose.  (As opposed to what happened in Communist China, for example.  They had real lockdowns.)

That isn’t to say that there weren’t restrictions.  But to my eye, they were, by and large, rational, and as fact-based as possible.  In many states, bars were the first thing to close, and the last thing to re-open.  In Virginia, bans on large public gatherings essentially shut down in-person church service, for those churches who obeyed those bans.  (Near as I can tell, nothing happened to churches who ignored that).  And, after a few well-documented super-spreader events in church services, somehow, passing on large church gatherings for the duration seemed reasonable.  Particularly in the pre-vaccine portion of the pandemic.

Meanwhile, the Surgeon General of Florida has gone from recommending that healthy children not get a COVID-19 vaccine (reference, 2022),  to outright Looney Tunes claims that getting a COVID-19 vaccination causes you to contract  COVID-19 (reference, of a sort, 2023).

In short, even now, the horseshit keeps flying.

So, is there any hard data on COVID-19 any more?  Or do the political opportunists and the crazies now own the field entirely?


News Flash:  Temperatures are falling …

… as we move toward winter.  That means that the incidence of new COVID-19 cases should start rising.

Source:  Potential impact of seasonal forcing on a SARS-CoV-2 pandemic DOI: https://doi.org/10.4414/smw.2020.20224 Publication Date: 16.03.2020 Swiss Med Wkly. 2020;150:w20224 Neher Richard A., Dyrdak Robert, Druelle Valentin, Hodcroft Emma B. Albert J.

Cases for most coronaviruses reach a minimum sometime mid-summer.  This was known well before COVID-19, and is shown in the graph above for Stockholm, Sweden.

I have many prior posts looking at seasonality of COVID-19, but the gist of it is, COVID-19 does the same thing.  It’s not quite so clear, as the rapid mutation of during the pandemic, plus the introduction of vaccines, gave peaks and lulls that were not related to the seasons.

But abstracting from those, COVID-19 does the same thing as most other coronaviruses.  There were some oddities early on, such as a mid-summer peak the first year, in very hot-climate states, suggesting that the move into indoor air-conditioned spaces lead to greater spread.

But once things had settled down, the pattern was mid-summer low, year-end peak.  Which is, for that matter, the same as most acute respirator illnesses, such as flu.

After the mid-summer minimum, well, what do you think minimum means?  Cases will rise.  Reporting on the fact that COVID-19 cases were rising is not exactly the worst of journalism, but certainly in the neighborhood of that.

Upshot:  We should expect COVID-19 cases to be rising now.  And they’ll probably continue to rise, right on into the new year.  So the mere fact that they are rising is hardly a news flash.


Do we have adequate information to detect a big winter surge?

Information on the number of COVID-19 cases never was much good.

A good chunk of cases (call it 16%) were asymptomatic.  (Roughly the same proportion as for flu, in a typical season).  So those individuals themselves didn’t even know they had it.

A good chunk of cases (half) were never reported, because individuals were not formally tested with a PCR (DNA) test.  Back when the CDC still tracked this via testing blood draws (a sample of convenience), the ratio of likely true cases, to officially-reported cases, was about 2 to 1.

As over-the-counter (antigen-based) testing became widespread, a large fraction of cases was not officially reported because there was no way to report positive antigen tests.  At some point, the ratio of likely true cases, to officially-reported cases, rose to about 3 to 1.

As vaccines were introduced, the severity of contracting COVID-19 dropped precipitously.  Instead of being a near-death-sentence for older, frailer individuals, likelihood of death was reduced roughly 10- to 20-fold by vaccination.  So the count of cases in the post-vaccine era reflected far less burden of serious illness compared to the count in the pre-vaccine era.

Don’t forget that at the peak, COVID-19 increased U.S. deaths about a million a year, from roughly 2.6M to 3.6M deaths per year.  It was the largest increase in deaths — and largest reduction in estimated U.S. lifespan — since the 1918 Spanish flu.  It was, in certain months, the leading cause of death, and for the entire year, I believe it was the second leading cause of death.  (And people who naysay that have no clue how death certificates are filled out.)

Finally, the widespread presence of re-infections means that it’s hard to count much of anything at all.  But those re-infected are like those vaccinated — the likely health consequences per case are much reduced from what they were at the start of the pandemic.

The only remaining consistent and timely information is on inpatient hospitalizations. 

If there’s a big surge in cases in the community, how will we know?  Conversely, if the news media are making a mountain out of a molehill, how can we tell that, objectively.

I’ve seen a lot of conflicting, shoot-from-the-lip opinions about that, so I decided to do something this morning to set myself apart from the Average American.  I’m going to take a few minutes to do my homework before I form a firm opinion about this issue.

Rather than go through the TL;DR detail, you’ll have to trust my judgment on this.  Near as I can tell, we probably do have enough information to be able to spot any truly large surge in cases.  But that’s based almost entirely on the rate of inpatient hospitalizations.

Short answer on the COVID information that is still available:

  • Deaths:  Good, not timely.
  • Inpatient hospitalizations:  Good, timely.
  • Outpatient hospital visits:  Not clear.
  • Test positivity:  Not clear.
  • Total cases:  Probably not.

The real eye-opener to me is that, while you still see case count data from the states, you have to read the fine print.  For example, Virginia continues to maintain case count data, based on reported tests.  But … it’s possible, based on the wording of the footnotes to the data, that they only do that when they track cases for public health purposes, e.g., for outbreaks in prisons, schools, and whatnot.

That said, the Federal government continues to require hospitals to report admissions with COVID-19.  In prior posts, I already worked out that this is almost entirely admissions for COVID-19.  That is, the vast majority of cases included in those counts were in fact hospitalized for symptoms of severe respiratory infection.  And then there is a small minority of cases hospitalized for something else, and found to have COVID upon testing.  I cannot be sure, but I’d bet that cases hospitalized for respiratory infection are all still tested for COVID-19, just as they would test for any other common pathogen.

The upshot is that we’ll know, in a timely manner, that there is a surge in cases, when we see that occur in the data on daily new COVID-19 hospitalizations.  The time lag there is short, and the severity of illness is roughly constant over time (e.g., sick enough to require an inpatient standard of care).

Source:  CDC COVID data tracker, annotations mine.

The downside is that this is almost entirely the oldest old.

Luckily — from a data perspective — any broad-based surge in cases in the community will likely kill off a lot of old folks.  (Which is why, in part, that failing to vaccinate children in the heart of the pandemic was not very smart.)  And those folks will get hospitalized on their path toward death.  Thus giving us timely warning that there is a surge in cases.

In any case, if you’re worried about a resurgence in cases this winter, keep your eye on the hospitalization numbers.  It’s not like that’s ideal.  It’s more like that’s all we’ve really got.  But that should be enough to raise a red flag if there really is a big surge in COVID-19.

Post#1784: Nearly 2% of attendees known to have been infected

 

With new COVID-19 case counts below prior minimums, and weekly risk-of-death now similar to that of flu during a typical flu season, I felt a little self-conscious, masking up for a local theater performance a couple of days ago.

I mean, COVID-19 infections are so last year, already.

Except for today, when the CDC announced that 35 people caught COVID at a recent CDC conference attended by about 2000.  Doing the math, that’s a known infection rate of 1.75% of the persons attending.

In hindsight, I’m not feeling quite so stupid about masking up in that crowded theatrical performance.

The thing that gets lost, in any COVID-versus-flu comparison, is that COVID is vastly more infectious than flu.  And the infections are vastly more clustered than flu.

If you can recall R-nought, the basic measure of infectiousness, the R-nought for season flu is somewhere around 1.5.  On average, absent vaccines, precautions, or prior immunity, every person infected during flu season goes on to infect 1.5 others.

The last estimate of R-nought for COVID, by contrast, put it in the the mid-20s.  That is, absent vaccines, precautions, or natural immunity, each person infected goes on to infect an average of 20-some others.

The other way in which the two diseases differ is in their “kappa”.  Few individuals with COVID actually go on to spread it.  But those who do tend to spread it a lot.  And so, unlike flu, which seems to settle across the entire population, COVID perpetuates itself via outbreaks.

Just as it did at this recent CDC conference.

I suspect that I will continue to mask up in higher-risk situations. Given that the use of a high-filtration mask is more-or-less free, and reasonably effective, in light of what just happened, it still seems like a prudent thing to do.

 

 

Post #1783: COVID milestone, reported new case rate finally reaches prior pandemic low

 

Source:  CDC COVID data tracker, accessed 5/1/2023

This brief note to mark what I hope is a final footnote to the COVID-19 pandemic.  The COVID-19 new case rate, as-reported, has finally fallen below its prior pandemic low.

As you probably (don’t) recall, we got a little respite from COVID-19 in the summer of 2021 (e.g. , Post #1163).  For those of us who keep score, that was the brief period post-vaccine, pre- Delta and Omicron.

Ever since that — what with new variants and all that — that new cases rate has remained above that level.

Until now.  As shown above, as of this week, reported new U.S. cases are as low as they were in the summer of 2021.  And new case rates still appear to be falling.

Source:  Our World in Data, accessed 5/1/2023

Around the world, all is quiet with the possible exception of Australia and New Zealand.  It’s worth noting that they are in late fall there, equivalent of November 1 in the Northern Hemisphere, and that coronavirus cases of all sorts tend to peak in the winter.

The COVID-19 death rate is around 1,000 COVID-19 per week (not shown).  That’s half of what it was back at the prior low in the summer of 2021.  More to the point, on a per-week basis, risk of death from COVID-19 is now lower than risk of death from flu, in a typical flu season.  Putting aside issues such as long COVID, we’ve reached the point where COVID-19 now poses no more than flu-like risks to the U.S. population, in terms of mortality risk.  As you can see from the “deaths” column below, 1000/week would be mid-range for a typical 20 to 30-week flu season.

Source:  Calculated from CDC illness burden of flu web page.

The practical upshot of all this, for me, is that I’ve long since stopped wearing a mask in all but higher-risk situations.  I don’t wear one while shopping, for example, figuring that risk of infection is almost negligible in that situation.  Low new-case rate, large space, few encounters, and brief encounters with other people.

But I still mask up in some situations.   Yesterday my wife and I attended a community theater performance.  I figure the auditorium held about 100 people.  Based on my calculation below, there was about a 3 percent chance that somebody in that crowd was actively infectious with COVID-19.  We were going to share that relatively small room with that crowd for a couple of hours.  It was a comedy, so you’d expect people to be laughing, which is likely to result in increased emission of airborne droplets, similar to coughing or singing.

So we masked up.  Why not.  I now have what would I’m guessing is a more-than-lifetime supply of high-filtration masks.

It was a matinee performance, so there was a lot of gray hair in the audience.  Best guess, I’d say that maybe one-in-fifteen in that crowd was masked.

Not with a bang but with a whimper.  I think that’s the right quote for ending this.

Post #1718: Final COVID update, approaching normal.

 

The U.S. is now down to about 8 newly reported COVID-19 cases per 100K population per day, based on the latest figures as reported by the New York Times.  That’s down from about 10, two weeks ago, continuing the long, slow decline that began right around Christmas 2022.

That’s still not quite down to the lows that occurred in the summer of 2021.  But we seem to be getting there.  Fairfax County (where I live) currently reports about 4 cases per 100K, compared to fewer than 2 in June 2021 (Post #1163).  Along with that, you’d probably have to figure in less complete reporting now, due to the widespread availability of over-the-counter COVID tests.

The US CDC reports a corresponding continuing decline in COVID-related hospitalizations and COVID as cause-of-death.  Again, taking Virginia as an example, we seem to have between one and three COVID-19 deaths per day (reference).  That’s in a population of about of about 8.7 million.

For me, I think that the U.S. 2022 mortality rate is the last major statistic I’d like to see.  Unfortunately, we won’t see the official U.S. deaths data for 2022 for another month and a half yet.  Arguably the biggest surprise of the pandemic is that the U.S. COVID-19 mortality rate didn’t fall in 2021, but was kept high first by the deadliness of the Delta variant, then by the huge number of cases in the initial ramp-up of the Omicron wave.

Source:  underlying data from the Government of Michigan.

Omicron actually peaked at the end of January 2022, so we can expect the 2022 mortality rate to remain somewhat above the historical average.  The interesting question will be, by how much?  And did the U.S. mortality rate finally return to the long-term average by the end of 2022?  Based on the preliminary data through September 30, 2022, the answer is no.  Mortality rates appear to be coming down, compared to 2020.  But even at that point, the crude mortality rate of 9.2/1000 remained well above the prior long-term average of around 8.2/1000.

Source:  CDC, annotations in red are mine.

As of Q2 2022, COVID-19 accounted for an average of about 3000 deaths per week.  Doing the math, those COVID deaths, by themselves, if they were all “additional” deaths (people who would not have died at that time, absent COVID) would have raised the U.S. mortality rate by five percent, or (on the chart above) by about 0.5.  Thus, the COVID deaths themselves account for only about half the excess mortality that appears to remain, relative to historical trend, as of Q3 2022.

I don’t think this will be worth revisiting once the full-year 2022 mortality data are released.   Thanks in part to the peak of the Omicron wave occurring in 2022, it’s a given that the 2022 mortality rate will exceed the prior historical average of about 8.2/1000.  And it will be another six months before we have any information at all on 2023.

Accordingly, until something changes materially, this will be my last post on COVID-19.

Finally, here’s my “COVID-19 odds” table, updated for the low rates of incidence that we are seeing at present.  Even with that few cases in circulation, if you regularly attend any sort of large group meeting, the odds are that you’re going to be sharing a room with an actively infectious person at some point over the course of a year.

If you come across someone who is still masking up in public, be kind.  They’re not crazy.  Risk of infection is low, but it’s not zero.  They just have a different level of risk aversion from the average.

Post G23-004: Garden plan, 2023, step 2: When you come to a fork in the road, take it.

 

People say the ancients constructed their calendars to keep track of religious holidays, based on astronomical events.  Possibly true.  But a nice side benefit of their religion is that it gave them a clear idea of when to plant their crops in the spring.

In the modern world, of course, we eschew such religion-based planting rituals.  Thus my potatoes will go in the ground on St. Patrick’s day, and no sooner.  Because that’s Science.

If left to my own devices, I would undoubtedly plant too early.  Hence the need for my quasi-religious planting ritual.  Here in Vienna VA, today’s high is expected to be near 80.  Which definitely gets me in a gardening frame of mind.  But tomorrow’s low is well below freezing.  We’re still six weeks from our likely last-frost date.

Without getting into whys and wherefores of our ever-wackier weather, this post  presents my vegetable garden plan for the year.  It takes the form of three questions:

  • Why?
  • What?
  • How?

A brief recap

I started my current round of gardening in order to have something to do during the pit of the COVID-19 pandemic.  If nothing else, shoveling around a few tons of dirt to create raised beds provided much-needed exercise (Post G05).

Many people did the same, leading to shortages of everything gardening-related in 2020.  Starting with empty seed racks at my local hardware stores (Post #G02, April 21, 2020) and ending with a long-lasting shortage of canning jar lids (Post #G21, August 2020).

Gardening was a much nicer experience then than now.  The cessation of much local and long-distance travel meant that the air was cleaner, the skies were blue-er (Post #614, Post #618) , and neighborhoods were a lot quieter.  So quiet I could hear the hum of the bees at work in the garden (Post #G11), a sound I have not heard since.  A big bed of sunflowers, just outside my bedroom window, provided much-needed cheer during what was otherwise a fairly dark time.

But now, the air once again stinks of diesel exhaust, the Northern Virginia summer sky has returned to its traditional smog-white, the constant noise of traffic and construction smothers sound of the bees, and gyms are open for business.

In other words, things are back to normal.


1:  Why?  It’s now my hobby.

When I distill it down, I’m going to continue to garden for four reasons.

One, it gives me a physical activity that actually has a purpose.  Sure, I can go to the gym, and get exercise for exercise’s sake.  I can walk around the neighborhood, for the sake of walking around the neighborhood.  Gardening is a way to get non-pointless exercise.

Two, I really like growing plants.  I guess I can come out and say that.  Mostly food.  But flowers are OK, in moderation.

Third, I’m cheap.  As hobbies go, annual costs don’t get much cheaper than a few pounds of potatoes and a few packets of seeds.  I’m not convinced that my gardening pays for itself in the value of produce.  But the fact that I get anything at all useful out of a hobby is a bonus in and of itself.

Finally, it leaves nothing permanent.  What isn’t eaten turns to compost.  So, unlike (say) woodworking, this doesn’t produce yet-more-clutter, during a period of my life when I’m doing my best to get rid of stuff


2:  What? Only stuff we like to eat.

In an intellectual breakthrough this year, I’ve decided on the following guidelines:

  1. Only plant stuff that we actually like to eat.
  2. Don’t plant stuff that the deer like to eat
  3. Don’t  plant stuff that the bugs like to eat.
  4. Don’t plant stuff susceptible to diseases common in my garden.

Being the kind of guy I am, I of course formalized that with a spreadsheet.  But it doesn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.

Yellow:  Certain herbs and herb-like plants rank highly here because they are extremely easy to grow, take up little room and cost an arm and a leg at the store.  So, dill and rosemary, which I already grow, and ginger and turmeric, which are apparently easy to grow from grocery-store-purchased product.

Light blue:  Potatoes, sweet potatoes, and winter squash. These all provide a lot of calories per square foot and (so far) have been both extremely easy to grow and highly productive in my garden.  Plus, we like to eat them.

Red:  Tomatoes and sweet peppers.  Easy to grow, we like to eat them.  Say no more.

Dark blue:  The entire garlic and onion clan.  I’ve had such spotty luck with these over the years, I’m going to skip them this year.  Plus, my yields have been lousy.

Green:  Peas, beans, lettuce, okra.  We like to eat them just fine, but all require significant fuss.  And, except for green beans, in a good year, yields are modest at best.  But peas and lettuce can go in when it’s cold, and my wife likes green beans.  So these are definitely going to get planted.  Some.  Not a lot.

Purple:  Cucumbers and summer squash.  I’ve had such a bad time with insect pests that I’m skipping those this year.


3:  How?  When you come to a fork in the road, take it.

After three years in the Virginia climate, my temporary raised beds are “showing their age”.  Which is a nice way of saying “falling apart”.  I put up a set of temporary raised beds during the pandemic, recycling some yard signs, bamboo, and other materials around the yard.  Their temporary nature is now showing pretty badly.

I did that to minimize my investment.  I figured that if gardening didn’t work out, I could just tear them apart, spread the dirt on the low spots on the lawn, and plant grass.  Nothing wasted.  Nothing headed for the landfill that wasn’t already headed there before I tried gardening.

So I’ve reached a fork in the road.  Either I do what I had planned on originally, take the beds down, use the dirt to even out the lawn, and be done with gardening.  Or kick it up a notch.

Separately, things snowballed beyond the mere construction of the beds.  In addition to the beds, I now have irrigation line, various types of row cover and insect netting, trellising material, tomato cages, deer deterrent devices, and so on.  Not a huge dollar investment, as these things go.  But it’s a lot of stuff that serves no purpose outside of gardening.

The upshot is that I’m now going to go back and do this right.   But only as a last resort.  The patchwork of temporary beds of varying depths, oriented along the low spots of the lawn, will be replaced by a single long bed oriented east-west, with a permanent trellis along the back.  This will simplify everything from irrigation to protection against deer, and dovetail with the remaining in-ground beds that are now devoted to cane fruits.

I quite like the coroplast (yard sign) sides, and as I have several long sheets of that around, the new bed is going to be coroplast-and-post as well.  I see no reason to import materials if I have durable materials on hand that would otherwise be trash.

As an extra added bonus, this allows me to re-shovel the multiple tons of dirt that I ordered in the first place.  Much better than wasting my time at the gym.  And see how my hugelculture experiment turned out.  There are trash pieces of wood at the bottoms of all these beds, and I’ll get to see what happened to them after three years in the soil.

The goal is to have a single, well-constructed bed of uniform depth, with trellising, deer protection, and irrigation built in.  We’ll see how close I come to that ideal.


 Conclusion

After three years of seat-of-the-pants gardening in temporary raised beds, I have reached a fork in the road.  I’m going to take what I learned in the past three years, and move forward with a single permanent bed incorporating everything I think I need to grow a bit of vegetables and flowers in my back yard.  And at that point, I’ll focus on a few things that we really like to eat fresh out of the garden and that seem to grow well in this climate.  And hope for the best.