Garden

Flowers, Cats & Weeds

June 23, 2015

Bouquets in my house are cyclical: snowball viburnums (my favorite), followed by lilacs (my favorite), then peonies (my favorite)… and then there is a lull. I’m in the lull. I cobble together whatever I can make look good. I’ve got a couple borage blossoms with some immature hydrangeas (my favorite), Lady’s Mantle (my favorite) and two stems of peonies that — if you bump — will fall apart because they are pretty much almost dead. After this, I’ll hope for lots of sunflowers (my favorite). But, as summer progresses, I’m less good about cutting flowers. Not sure why. I always regret it when they are gone.

Anyway, on to another subject: I’m done picking the asparagus. It was a good run. I was toying with the idea of replanting some new crowns, since mine are almost 20 years old now and seem to be slowing down. But seriously. I give 7/8ths of it away. My asparagus could get a whole lot worse than it is now and I’d still have enough to force on the UPS man. So that items gets ~~crossed off the list~~.

I love crossing things off the list.

I think I might have mentioned weeding the asparagus in the last post. Something to the effect that I would weed after the next significant rain. Since it has rain significantly just about every other day in the past month, I really have no excuse.

I began the process this weekend.

This is not weeding for the faint-of-heart. It requires digging and lifting and shaking and swearing. Lots of swearing. Cuz that’s what you do when the weed breaks off instead of: slowly… slowly… giving way as you pull… pull… it’s coming… uhhhhh…. slowly… YES!

[That’s what successful weeding should sound like in your head.]

When it sounds like this: slowly… slowly… giving way… it’s coming… SNAP. Then you yell, “SHIT.” And wipe your dripping face off with a muddy glove (so it looks like you are reeeeally working hard when your Dave comes out to see what you are doing).

I didn’t finish all the beds because we had a grad party in another time zone to blast off to.

I don't know if it makes any difference, but I don't throw weeds in the compost. I let it rain into the wheelbarrow, then wait for them to start to decompose, then wheel them into the woods. Why don't I do it right away? — I don’t know if it makes any difference, but I don’t throw weeds in the compost. I let it rain into the wheelbarrow, then wait for them to start to decompose. When the whole mess gets really, really stinky, I dump the now 3x heavier load into the woods.

Leaving weeding unfinished is always a bit of a gamble. Will it ever get done? I’m going to try to finish it up today because, well… it rained another inch this morning. So I have no excuse.

This is where I left my tools on Saturday. Today, they are muddy and wet from another inch of rain. Why don't I ever put my toys away? — This is where I left my tools on Saturday. Today, they are muddy and wet from another inch of rain. Why don’t I ever put my toys away?

But here’s the thing about weeding — any weeding, really. It is so supremely SATISFYING. Who among us has not spent an afternoon weeding who didn’t then go way, way out of their way to walk past the weeded area and stand there and simply admire it? In my case it goes on for several days.

I tend to stop doing that about the time the weeds show up again.

Actually. This whole process pretty much sums up the definition of insanity, now that I think about it.

Mooshie comes in for some hot and humid fur-to-skin transfer

In an effort to appeal to a wider audience, here are some more cat pictures.

Ollie helps me fold the blanket — Ollie helps me unfold the blanket

Ollie helps me put new sheets on the bed — Ollie helps me put ‘clean’ sheets on the bed.

When Money is No Object

June 16, 2015

These little white seeds were the inspiration for the title of this post: Pelleted Carrot Seed costs, like, 3x more than regular seed. But hey, I'm still saving money by growing my own, right? — These little white seeds were the inspiration for the title of this post: Pelleted Carrot Seed costs, like, 3x more than regular seed. But hey, I’m still saving money by growing my own, right?

We gardeners love to act like we are all frugal — growing our own veggies, you know! Oh, don’t you? It’s really not that hard… Wouldn’t you like to harvest your own organic veggies? It’s SO healthy! And cheap!

No it is not.

Nor is it an efficient use of time. Or energy. Or much of anything else. [What it IS, is a good summer workout plan that also gives you a head start for contracting skin cancer.]

Don’t let people like me make you feel like an underachiever. Seriously. We are not overachievers. We are insane. Battling mother nature and the animal kingdom with weapons [remember, we are ORGANIC] that would translate to a rubber knife and plastic squirt gun out on the battlefield.

Anyway, this is my mid-June garden update. Things are actually looking pretty good. Mostly that’s because we have been mercilessly missed by the worst of the damaging weather and because I finally fixed the garden gate. It latches now and keeps Lola [mostly] out of the garden. What it doesn’t keep out is the adolescent bunnies that love nothing but edamame. (I have never found any bunny damage to other crops — which I find very strange) Every year, after the bunnies either 1) mow down the entire planting, or if I’m lucky, 2) only nip a few plants, I haul out my insanely unwieldy “portable” electric fence and spend about, oh… 3 hours setting it up. It is hideous, and tedious and dangerous to work around.

And quite effective.

Several years ago, I was contacted by a representative of a company asking if I would be interested in testing a product to keep rabbits and deer away. It was my first (and only) offer for free swag, courtesy of this ridiculous blog. Unfortunately, the kind woman who contacted me, made the gesture in October — not a prime gardening month in Minnesota. I told her, “Sure. Send it in the spring.”

The next year, forgetting all about that, I dragged out my fence and did it all over again.

She contacted me again in November the next year. The same thing happened the following year. I get it: she’s probably busy in the spring. I was ready for her when she got back in touch last Fall: I told her to send it to me right away. Then, I would use it the following spring. I don’t think she liked that idea, but she sent it anyway.

So here we are in the early summer of 2015 — and I almost forgot about all about it! And when I remembered, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to roll the dice–replanting is SUCH a drag. Nevertheless, I do have a renegade bunny that is working hard on my edamame. And, I am also feeling very old and lazy these days. Spraying some stuff sounded a lot easier to me than dragging out that damn fence. Besides: we are all kinda sick of edamame. Isn’t soy bad for you now? If I lost the crop I would shake my fist at the sky and plant a cover crop.

Here are examples of an uneaten plant and a recently eaten plant that is starting to recover (sometimes they don't) — Here are examples of an uneaten plant and a recently eaten plant that is starting to recover (sometimes they don’t)

The product isn’t anything new or ground breaking, from what I can gather. I remember my mom using Liquid Fence at various times during the past decade or two. I also remember that she had to reapply it every time it rained, which was a total pain. [A bigger pain than the electric fence? — who’s to say.] Happily, this formula doesn’t require that. However, it also says nowhere on the label, that it is safe for use on vegetables. In fact, I can find no mention of vegetables at all. Hmmmm. That seems like, I don’t know… kind of important? And ominous?

Liquid Fence Deer & Rabbit Repellent (zoom in to verify my claim about no mention of vegetables). Does "EcoSafe" mean organic? — Liquid Fence Deer & Rabbit Repellent (zoom in to verify my claim about no mention of vegetables). Does “EcoSafe” mean organic?

Undeterred, I sprayed it all around the bed, and then all around the entire garden perimeter. The next day I had another two plants nipped off.

This was surely a dilemma.

[Oh my gosh. Is it me? Or is this the world’s longest, most boring story? Why can’t I stop?]

I stood there for long enough to get a nice sunburn on the back of my neck while I contemplated dragging out the stupid (but effective!) fence.

Then, in a sudden flurry of decisivity (yes, I made that word up), I sprayed the Liquid Fence all over my edamame. To HELL with organic.

And I haven’t lost a plant since!

I’m sort of hoping my lady finds me again so I can ask her if I’m going to die when we eat the edamame (because we will be eating the edamame). My rationale is that it absolutely fine. These plants are still tiny and not even close to flowering — that is still many weeks away. (I am no botanist, but doesn’t that make perfect sense?) Plus, from what I can tell from the smell as you spray it, it just might be organic: dead fish and coyote urine? Decomposed and liquified flesh? As long as whatever is inside this bottle didn’t eat GMO corn before it was turned into Liquid Fence, it’s probably fine, right?

The good news is, that smell goes away when it dries. The bad news is, Lola rolled in it before it dried. The good news is, after it dried on Lola, it didn’t smell. The bad news is, when she got wet I smelled it again.

The plants only need to get another inch or so taller and then they should be safe. So, I totally endorse this product. Assuming I don’t die, I will even buy it again. It’s appears to be a good weapon.

On to the photos. Captions included.

Isn't this pretty lettuce? This is what lettuce that is properly thinned will look like. I only achieve this when I transplant already-started seeds. I'm bad at tough love when it comes to direct seeded lettuce. — Isn’t this pretty lettuce? This is what lettuce that is properly thinned will look like. I only achieve this when I transplant already-started seeds. I’m bad at tough love when it comes to direct seeded lettuce.

This is a back bed where I often grow the garlic. I rotated it to another spot and sprinkled lettuce seed everywhere. It's a total experiment. I don't have high hopes. — This is a back bed where I often grow the garlic. This year, I sprinkled lettuce seed everywhere (aka “direct-seeded, and un-thinned lettuce”. It’s a total experiment. I don’t have high hopes.

Another shot of the non-properly-thinned lettuce. My guess is that it will bolt much quicker. My guess is that I will know very soon.

Garlic plants are already showing signs of yellow. THIS YEAR will be the year I harvest it ON TIME! ...right? — Garlic plants are already showing signs of yellow. THIS YEAR will be the year I harvest it ON TIME! …right?

Let us out! (missing cages are right out of the farm in this shot protecting newly planted apple trees that the deer decided tasted "just right." — “Let us out! ” said the still-healthy tomato plants. (the missing cages are right out of the frame in this shot protecting newly planted apple trees that the deer decided tasted “just right.”)

I'm hoping for a good tomato crop after last year's devastation. — I’m hoping for a good tomato crop after last year’s devastation.

Glamour shot. Aren't I cute? — Glamour shot. Aren’t I cute?

Kind of arty, eh? I believe I will come to rue this day. I used to grow beans on my center trellis and then I stopped. Something tells me there was a good reason I stopped, but for the life of me, I can't remember what it was. — Kind of arty, eh? I believe I will come to rue this day. I used to grow beans on my center trellis and then I stopped. Something tells me there was a good reason I stopped, but for the life of me, I can’t remember what it was.

New for this year: growing the peas (and cukes) on round tomato cages. Hoping for less potential storm damage. Damage from dog is not expected to change

Snap peas on far side. Cucumbers on near side, interplanted with spinach and cilantro

Glamour shot. Sugar Snap peas reach for the sky! — Glamour shot. Sugar Snap peas [before the German Shorthair murders them…]

Seriously, man. What is this all about? Right after this photo was taken, I pulled out all the Broccoli Raab. I'll try it again in the fall. All I got were these spindly little flowers. #fail — Seriously, man. What is this all about? Right after this photo was taken, I pulled out all the Broccoli Raab. I’ll try it again in the fall. All I got were these spindly little flowers. #fail

The cucumbers took forever to sprout. But hopefully with a little warm weather, they'll mutate (aka grow) — The cucumbers took forever to sprout. But hopefully with a little warm weather, they’ll mutate (aka grow)

That’s it for today! I’m going to be changing my RSS subscription to Mail Chimp as soon as I have time. Look for an email if you were a previous subscriber, and if you want to become one, just fill out the box in the side bar when it shows up.

I’m leaving town tomorrow, so…

May 15, 2015

It’s time to frantically plant the garden.

_MG_7607 — Herbies. Many are overwintered and sort of “just barely hanging on” at this point

I don’t know what it is about going out of town that flips some switch in my brain and makes me decide to get done what I have not gotten done in the comparatively long and more open days prior to this, but it happens every time. Like clockwork. I guess that just verifies something I already know.

I am a procrastinator.

Of the worst, worst. sort.

With everything. Work. Kids. Meetings. Everything. It’s why I’m late everywhere. Well, the other reason is because I am actually am more embarrassed to be early, than late. But that’s a whole nother subject into my psyche that I probably won’t explore here because then people won’t believe my rather extravagant excuses as I cruise into meetings and appointments and lunch dates and BSF carpooling driveways precisely 10 minutes late every time. I recognize this is not an attractive trait. And recognizing it has done nothing to improve it. Nor did making it a New Year’s Resolution. So I’m kind of over trying to change. (Sorry Pam)

Anyway. This is about the garden.

Hello strange yellow-green pac choi plant.

Tomorrow, bright and early, I’m leaving for Boston to see my darling niece graduate from Boston College. I sort of forgot about this fact until some time this morning. After freaking out about all the things I needed to get done, I decided, “Damn. I better get those seedlings in the ground.” Because I was also thinking, “…they will never survive the weekend with Charlie and Dave in charge.” Did I let the fact that I only had about two hours to pack, and plant the garden and get a couple work-work things done deter me? No, I did not. Did I try to talk myself into waiting? –Seriously. This could have waited. — Yes, I did. But I ignored me.

I also have a very warped perception of time. (I guess that is another reason I am always late.)

But I dug in (haha) and ran from the barn to garden, back to the barn, to the house, to the garden, sweating and huffing and being very, very productive. Being the organized person I am, I had calculated that I needed to leave for Charlie’s track meet by 1:30 (tricking myself, because I actually didn’t have to leave until 1:45). And, to make a long story short, I got in the house at 1:50, totally freaked out because I thought I was supposed to leave at 1:30, then remembered I had tricked myself and ran upstairs to change. Then got something to drink. Then grabbed my camera. And… and sped out of the garage at 2:05. Twenty minutes late.

Never mind. Google maps is always wrong about how long it takes.

Not this time, they weren’t.

Anyway. The good news is: I was exactly on time for the estimated start of Charlie’s first race. The bad news is that for the first time in the HISTORY OF THE WORLD, a track meet was running ahead of schedule. I got there in time to see the last 100 meters of his mile. At least I wasn’t lying when I said, “Great finish!”

Anyway. This post is about the garden.

Lola the anti-garden helper, looking innocent

OK. Maybe it’s not about the garden. I got a lot left to do before going to bed. But I did take some pictures:

Here are the sugar snap peas that I planted about 2 weeks ago. I am trying something radically different this year. I’m trying to combat Lola, the pea eating dog, as well as the annual pea plant blow down. Stay tuned:

Sugar Snap Peas on 6' cages — Sugar Snap Peas on 6′ cages

And here are the stupid leeks. I haven’t grown them for several years and I kind of miss them. These aren’t looking real promising though. I started them from seed several weeks ago. If they don’t make it, I’ll just pull them out.

These leek plants are practically microscopic

Garlic and shallots are planted in late October (or early November if you are a procrastinator) and are looking pretty good!

And my favorite photo of the day, the radish soldiers under the “don’t-poop-here-cat-deterrent.” If you look closely at the leaves, they already have telltale holes from flea beetles!

radish seedlings hiding under old tomato cages to keep the cats out.

That’s a wrap. I didn’t get ALL my plants in the garden and in pots, so Dave and Charlie will still have a lot riding on their shoulders. If they fail, you can be sure I will let you know.

End of Summer Garden Round-up

August 24, 2014

Well, the thought that I might write more this summer kind of fizzled. I’ve been ‘work-working’ more and I’ve got a lot of other commitments that just seem to take over. Nothing changes about my desire to write and stay current, it’s just those pesky clients!

I do find myself thinking a couple times a day, “I should write about that.” And then I sit down at my computer and think, “I better clean out my emails first.” –And you know how that goes. It simply never ends! I marvel at people who seem to be able to do it all. How? Is their house a mess? Are they insomniacs? I don’t get it.

Anyway, it’s a hot and steamy Sunday and summer 2014 is coming to a close. I pulled out my dusty Canon and took some shots of the garden today as I sweat my way to the compost and picked some beans on the way back. –Thought I might share a few of my garden failures and successes with you all.

Oh, yes, I know: it LOOKS pretty enough. Frankly, it looks gorgeous. But gardening this summer has been another year of failure-firsts: terrible tomatoes, beans that gave up after just a couple pickings, frankenberries instead of raspberries, no peas, no radishes — except those gorgeous watermelon radishes that don’t satisfy my need for raw, crispy heat.

And then I’ve got a few successes: I have the best cucumbers in years — maybe ever.

The edamame finally grew without being gobbled by the bunnies (thanks to my portable electric fence). The problem with edamame is that when it’s ready, it’s ready. And there is just too much of it!

The pole beans are awesome.

I gave up on pole beans several years ago because I found that the bush beans just never stopped producing and since they are easier to pick I just never really harvested the poles. But a variety this year called ‘Garden of Eden’ caught my fancy in a catalog and I ordered some.

They are so cool! Flat, non-fuzzy romano-type. Something different — and pretty tasty!

And I’m glad I did plant the poles, because the bush beans pooped out on me inexplicably.

Sad Beans, Bad Beans

Oddly, when taking the photos today though, I saw a whole bunch of new little beans. So maybe I’ll see if they are any good next time I am out there.

Kale. Kale. Kale. Is this the start of our seven-year itch? After the lustful throes of courtship, which settled into mature love after a few years. Are you restless? Feeling the need to move on from my life? Is there someone else you love more? Maybe the ne’er-do-well cabbage moth? I don’t know. I’d like to work on it. Let’s not give up just yet…

And what about you, dill weed? No, not you. You. The dill. That’s acting like a weed. What the hell is up with you? I could never get you to grow in the many years before and gave up. I didn’t even plant you. Now you are EVERYwhere. How does that happen?

When I planted “miniature eggplant” I didn’t think they really meant it.

But they did. Dozens of them on tiny plants. I miss the majestic beauty of a standard eggplant plant. But I am totally in love with the perfectly sized midgets that don’t seem to get too big and stay tender.

I can’t really comment on the pumpkin and squash patch quite yet, except to say I see a few in that mell of a hess.

And also to say that this looks NOTHING like the Sugar Baby Watermelon I was expecting.

I don’t even like cantaloupe!

I planted this hybridized bittersweet vine about 3 years ago. This year it really took off. And, as usual, I’m staring to wonder: what in heaven’s name was I thinking.

It is quite pretty though…

I never got to the garden store to fill out my beds this year (SEE? So I don’t even have time for THAT anymore!) so I plunked some of my all-time favorite flower seeds right into the soil and hoped for the best. I figured they’d bloom right about now, when the god-forsaken borage starts to look just awful. I was right on both accounts. However, whenever I see them, the Sesame Street jingle “One of These Things Doesn’t Belong” runs through my head over and over.

(The photo doesn’t really show how badly they stick out. Like a sore thumb. BRIGHT MAGENTA. BRIGHT ORANGE. BRIGHT YELLOW. Like primary colors in a house full of sage green and browns… Very unsophisticated, I must say.)

The raspberries are on their own program this year. A big crop in June. Now floundering plants that are way-behind…

Dave and I don’t know what to think. It’s kind of the same way we feel about Charlie right now…

I’ve tried to avoid it, but…Last and Least. The tomatoes… I don’t even know what to say. I’m a loser. My tomatoes are losers. It’s difficult to even talk about.

I’m going to blame that damn straw. I don’t know WHAT I was thinking. I said (several years ago) that I would never succumb to straw again. And then I thought “everyone else does it, why can’t I?”

Just say no. To straw.

But actually, I don’t really even think that. I just want it to be that simple. What I really think is that the May/June Monsoons leeched all the nitrogen out of the soil and by the time that gardening 101 fact crossed my mind, I was too lazy to do anything about it. I mean, the peppers bounced back, why couldn’t the tomatoes?

Ever the positive thinker: I will just have way less to deal with this fall.

Now I’m going to go jump in the pool with Lola. She’s chomping at the bit. Can’t you tell…?

Blendtec and Tomatoes. A Heavenly Match

September 24, 2013

This post takes the cake for all-time fastest tomato preserving.

Well, crap. Now that I think of it, there was the year I simply put entire tomatoes in the freezer whole… I guess that was faster. But this version actually qualifies as tomato puree, so I’m going with it.

As anyone who lives in the Midwest knows, it has been a bizarre gardening year. B I Z A R R E. Flood, Frost, Flame, F___ (don’t tempt me. I’m very bad at alliteration.) For example, I finally started harvesting tomatoes in September. While Bon Appetite and every other cooking-with-the-seasons resource is on to their fall recipes, Minnesota BEGINS to harvest the summer staples. I made my first gazpacho on September 5th. Who wants gazpacho in September?

Apparently, WE do! Because at that point on the calendar, I believe we topped out around 97 degrees. Like I said: crazy weather. Approximately 10 days later I experienced my first frost completely out of the blue. I had not one single clue that was even on the horizon, much less imminent. Nothing was killed — or at least nothing I really cared about.

But the early September heat wave certainly stimulated the tomato harvest, and for that I think most of us are grateful. It was also extremely needed for my raspberries and pumpkin patch, both of which seem to have caught up to where they need to be in order to be able to have successful harvests.

Maybe it’s my age — or maybe it’s because EVERYONE is now gardening, canning, preserving — but something seems to have made me apathetic. -And if I don’t want to do it, well then, at this point in my life I’m NOT going to do it, dammit. But the tomatoes. THE TOMATOES! They are rolling off vines knocking us over. Too many. And as apathetic as I might be, I still can’t seem to be able to wast them.

So I got to wondering: I wonder… I wonder… if I can just puree the whole tomatoes in the Blendtec and freeze them? [google. google. google…not much to be found…] So I just did it. And let me tell you: it was FAST and it was EASY and I’m THRILLED. Isn’t that all that counts?

I started by cutting them and ended by pulling the green stem off and throwing them in whole. Duh. I forget: the Blendtec can blend wood…

Yum! (looks more like MANGO than tomato!)

Then I measured 2 cups into small sandwich size and 1 cup into snack size ziploc bags.

And put the smaller bags inside a gallon sized freezer bag and laid flat to freeze.

All in, it took about 20 minutes. Stay tuned for how well it cooks up. I will try that soon, before I make buckets more of the stuff and update here.

Hello.

July 28, 2013

Remember me?
I have no excuses. I won’t even try. But as easy as it has been to use up the time freed by not posting my shenanigans here, it’s simply impossible to not share pics of the garden this time of year.

And what a year it’s been.

Surprise! Carrots are ready!

The Monarda (Bee Balm) in the prairie is breathtaking right now. Even if you aren’t keen on purple.

Something is missing from my brassicas this year. Can you see what it is?

Holes! Made by the ubiquitous cabbage worm/moth. Why? I have no clue! They simply are not here this year. I will not be heartbroken if they don’t make an appearance. I’m loving it! These are my Brussels sprouts. Aren’t they gorgeous?

And this is the kale. I thought I was planting mostly Nero Black Tuscan, but it looks to be mostly Red Russian and the curly variety.

Here’s the popular edamame. After a rocky start from leaving the electric fence turned off just one night (bunnies!) I had to replant. It’s finally doing well.

Here’s a view of onions and tomatoes. The onions are SO LATE. Course, I didn’t get them planted until late May but still. They look marvy. Very excited they are all standing upright and haven’t bolted. I haven’t had a good onion year in at least 3 years.

My pretty (rotten, lichen-covered) bench. The blue in front is borage (haven’t cooked with it, but just found a recipe for borage ravioli and might try it). The feathery white flowers are actually cilantro gone to seed. I love how it looks and that’s where I get my seed (and coriander for cooking!) for next year.

Hello, asparagus! Just who are you trying to impress?

More onions. These are the reds.
I realize I didn’t get any shots of the tomatoes. I’d run take some, but I’m trapped on a fishing boat pretending to be a good wife. (In fact, that’s why this post looks so funny — I’m doing it from my phone!) The tomatoes are… Struggling to catch up after a very late spring, a later summer, and most currently: nighttime temps in the 40s. Thankfully I bought a large Early Girl to plant or I wouldn’t be looking at a fresh tomato for at least another month. I still have two (out of eight) plants without a single tomato! 🙁

Very excited to see what colors these sunflowers are! As usual, I don’t remember what I planted.

Arugula: how I do love thee. There is no more simple thing to grow than you. I love you more than lettuce. But maybe not cilantro.

So that’s it for now. On a side note, there is a movement for National Kale Day! In honor of a post I wrote of the same name, go like it on Facebook and help them out: https://www.facebook.com/nationalkaleday.