seedlings

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.

Macro Garden Delights

April 9, 2010

I screwed my Canon 52mm Close-Up Lens on to my camera (Canon T1i) today and went out to the garden. I’m too lazy to ever think about a tripod, so I don’t really go about macro photography the correct way. But then, I don’t really go about anything the ‘correct way.’ This is as close to a macro lens as I am likely to get for a long while. And I’m a total spaz with the auto-focus. I’ve still got a lot to learn, I know that.

But it was fun to lay on the ground and take these close up shots of my itty-bitty goings on in the garden. Nights have still been dipping into the 20’s here in my neck of Minnesota, so only the hardiest things are in yet.

YES, the shriveled red potatoes sprouted! Almost each little divot where the bulb planter did its work shows a little green tuft like this:

The next thing I planted were the peas. Not the sugar snaps (those are in now, too, but were planted about a week after the shelling peas). I neglected to soak the pea seeds (because I’m both lazy and impatient), so they took their sweet time sprouting. I think the snap peas are going to catch up to them. Aren’t they pretty?

This is that tenacious Johnny Jump-Up (violet) that was blooming the first time I did a garden walk through at the end of winter. I can’t help but wonder if it survived all the -30 nights and sub-zero days and was blooming under the snow? So cute, even if a little blurry.

The Black Seeded Simpson lettuce seeds have just sprouted. The red lettuce variety, not at all. And now, my very faded memory is remembering that none of my red lettuce sprouted last year. Why do I never throw away bad seeds? Only to continue to plant the damn things and waste my time?!

And these are the shallots that should have gone into the ground last fall. A few are up. Many are not. I suspect I will have many holes to fill and that this bed will irritate me all year…

And this… This is a… Maybe I should have contest and see if you can guess! Should I give away an iPad? No, that is so unoriginal. Everyone is giving away iPads. I will give away my love. — for that is a much rarer and precious gift. Just ask my family.

My Favorite Way to Plant Onions

April 3, 2010

…is not to start them from seed.

Let’s just say I’ve been at this vegetable garden thing for quite some time now. Characteristically, when I started out, I wanted to everything to be over-the-top-perfect-best-way-to-do-things-ever. And I researched and planned. Started everything from seed. Obsessed. Etc. Etc.

Which is odd.

Because reading that, you’d think I’m a perfectionist.

But I’m not.

Not even close. Suggest to Dave that I’m a perfectionist and he is likely to snort beer out his nose. I am not a perfectionist.

I can’t really explain it, except to maybe speculate that it’s because I’m competitive. As in: if I was going to garden, then dammit, I was going to have the best and be the best gardener ever. And in my neophyte gardening mind, that meant exotic varieties, all started from seed…

So what changed my mind?

What made me the quazi-lazy gardener I am today?

It was a lot of things, but if I were forced to pick just one thing. I would say it was the onions.

Yes. The onions.

Everyone has tasks in their life that they hate. Dread. Loathe. Drag their feet to complete.

For me, it was the onions. [That was before my asparagus had taken on such massive proportions.] Starting onions from seed is… INSANE. But start them from seed I did. Every damn year. Because you can only get gourmet onion varieties in seed form. Onions like Red Torpedo, Ailsa Craig and Borrettana Cipollini. Now those are compelling reasons to start onions from seed!

Or, one would think they were…

But here’s the thing. Just like you weigh the benefits of making traditional ciabatta bread versus my quick recipe, you weigh the benefits of Ailsa Craig against “Yellow Onion” sets available in my local grocery store. And, truth be told, to me it is pretty safe to say a yellow onion is a yellow onion.

Maybe it’s the soil. Or maybe I just hate planting onion seedlings to such a point that I can’t see beyond the agony and I’m rationalizing…

Very possible.

But until you, too, have transplanted itsy, bitsy, hair-like onion seedlings with ridiculously long root systems, spread out nicely on a shallow mound, ever-so-delicately handling the babes so as not to damage their fragile preciousness, then I don’t think you get to vote as to whether I’m rationalizing or not. [oh, how I wish I had pictures of this process from years ago]

It is the most abhorrent task imaginable. And in the end?

You get a yellow onion. No one but me ever knew the sublime, supposedly sweeter difference.

So, much as it pains me to admit it, I rolled over to buying onion sets from the grocery store in the following exotic varieties: Yellow Onion. White Onion. Red Onion. Thrilling, no?

I don’t know if my technique is anything ground breaking, but I buy a whole bunch and plant them only about an inch apart. That way, I get to eat my thinnings. First as green onions or scallions, then as ‘spring onions’ like you see at the farmer’s markets, and finally as my storage and freezing onions.

I like to think it’s brilliant. Or more to the point: I’m brilliant.