Tag / Garden

by Sixer

Learning from Old Growth

As my first major task of the new year I cleaned out my garden, trimming down the hen-and-chick’s tall, hollow stalks; giving the Japanese maple a severe haircut; and trying yet again to kill the only healthy boxwood in the entire neighborhood – the one that insists on growing between my air conditioner and my house.

One of the many, many reasons I do not like the boxwood is that it gives the wasps yet another place to build their nests. I admire wasps in theory, but I do not like them buzzing around my garden, holding me hostage to fear. When they first started visiting my yard, before they actually moved in, they would hang out in the sunny patch right in front of my door, or buzz up loud as jumbo jets to peer into my bedroom window. This did not leave a very good first impression. Since they’ve started nesting they actually have become less obnoxious, but I still like to encourage them to nest on the other, uninhabited, side of the pond. So when I saw little papery pods on the hen-and-chick I gave a long suffering sigh and assumed it was those wasps again, trying to over winter. It wasn’t until I was stuffing all the rest of the yard debris into trash bags, and realizing just how many pods there were, that it occurred to me they might not belong to wasps at all. After all, bees also overwintered in gardens too. There had to be dozen of other very nice, mild creatures that needed warm places to stay in these cold, dreary days. So as soon as the yard was cleaned, and the bags were dumped, and lunch was devoured, I looked them up. With amused horror I present to you an ootheca of a tenodera sinensis, or Chinese praying mantis.

It's all natural styrofoam!

Yes. It’s an egg case. Each one can apparently hold between 10-400 eggs, which is a large factor into why I don’t feel too bad tossing them. There were well over ten of these babies in my small yard alone – just the idea of 4,000 miniature warriors swarming all over my front walk is enough to make me squirm a bit. Other factors to consider: the tenodera is not native to Maryland and some think it threatens to push out other species of mantis. They’re also big enough, as adults, to eat frogs (no!) and hummingbirds (I’m not the only one that finds this scary, right?). Of course, all these excuses aside, they are considered a beneficial insect and, too, it’s not a good idea to get into the habit of eliminating things just because they give us goosebumps. Still, the large likelihood that some pods missed my pruning and remain safely attached to the lavender, or rosemary, or maple tree makes it hard for me to feel guilty.

I do feel bad about being found so ignorant of my own little piece of dirt – I discovered a bird’s nest in the maple tree while pruning that I had no idea existed, even though the tree is so close to my front window its practically part of my living room. I’ve vaguely known, and have been happy to know, that the number of insects in my yard has been increasing over the past few years (most obvious in the number of pill bugs and slugs I discovered this spring). I saw a praying mantis or two near summer’s end and thought nothing of them beyond a happy remembrance of childhood past. I didn’t realize how much they’d had made themselves at home here. I want my garden it be a place of life, to be safe and inviting for most “creatures great and small.” But I have never thought through what it means to share my yard, or taken the time to sit and visit with all the new faces moving in. Great big tasks, like clearing up the yard, look excellent on the to-do lists, but where do we put all the little tasks we must first do to ensure the great ones are done to best effect?
Nobody home

by Sixer

Naturally, the Garden

I might not know where I plan to be in five years, or what path my career will take me by 2030, but I not only have plans for my 2020 garden I have already bought seeds.

2019 saw growth for myself, as gardener, in two ways: first, I was finally able to start sprouts successfully, managing to keep alive three Okinawa sweet potato slips and about two dozen seedlings. True, many didn’t survive transplanting, but the fact they died outside of the house, from something other than me forgetting to water them, feels like a level up. I also kept much better records than normal. Not perfect records. Not even complete-but-lacking-significant-details records. No, they petered out with the warming weather, leaving me little insight into how my garden works past May. But this is still significantly more information than I’ve ever captured before. I’m excited to improve further in these areas, and to add a few more to my tool belt. Top on my list to try out in 2020 is succession planting, which will require a number of changes in my attitude (and additional care in transplanting seedlings). Also, I plan to devote an hour a week, every Sunday morning, to garden tending – maybe if it’s on my calendar it will actually get done. And maybe if I keep up with it I won’t be so prone to negligence come June.

So, those are my two 2020 personal goals. My goals for my garden are even more ambitious. I really, really, really, want to eat more veggies this year and somehow this desire keeps getting tied into my garden plans. To be able to provide a good portion of my food needs from my own front yard is the distant Ultimate Goal that all other yearly goals point towards. To that end, this year I want to effectively use the spaces I’ve already established, rather than introduce more spaces I do nothing with. I do need to buy more soil and supplements to build up my first box’s soil, and I want to try out a few grow bags this year – especially for my sweet potatoes. But my growing plans are still as audaciously unlikely as ever. I’m starting a butterfly section near my front door which, to start with, is going to have bronze fennel, orange milkweed, and whatever extra marigolds I get to germinate. I also might stick a ground cherry in there, if I have space. Long term, I hope to have zinnias, cone flowers, and perhaps another perennial with the power to entice butterflies and bees (but not wasps). I’m also going to stick marigolds, ground cherries, kale, and lemon grass in my lower front window bed, which has historically been neglected. Both of these areas have uncertain to outright awful soil, and are going to be wedding nightmares. Scheduled weeding will be a must.

The main box is going to be my Succession Planting Learning Arena (SPLA).

  • Season one, spring: Kale, lettuce, beets, radishes, carrots, string beans
  • Season two, late spring: Cucumber, tomatoes, basil, marjoram, marigolds, okra, cilantro, string beans, carrots
  • Season three, summer: Peppers (sweet and spicy), nasturtiums, okra
  • Season four, late summer/early fall: Winter radish, squash, carrots, lettuce, kale, beets, cilantro, garlic (from grocery store bulbs)


And then, finally, in the half barrel I’m trying out …… peanuts! They should be a lot of fun, especially since I went ahead and ordered the striped variety. Extra peanuts and peppers will, hopefully, go into grow bags.

Even if I fail miserably to reach my goals, it’s going to be a very, very yummy year.

by Sixer

And in the the Garden was . . . .

What is your memory of gardens?

Like so many things, my memory of gardens is of books. I had plants in my yard as a child – the mint patch that defied any attempts to plant something else; the clump of cattails that I can never quite be certain actually existed; dandelions, used on cheeks as yellow blush; Azaleas, flanking the path to our house like two shaggy, ornamental lions; pokeweed, the berries happily used to stain our fingers brightest pink. But all of these, except for the dandelions and pokeweed, were inert. A background, as it were. Flat and interchangeable with imagination.

In books gardens often are characters. Even when they are not, there is a certain kind of book that, without ever having any actual gardening in it, still speaks of them in hushed voices. Certainly Anne of Green Gables would make anyone long for glades of velvet violets, and most older books sprinkle fresh flowers about until you’re certain they are being conjured out of air. But it is Mandy and the Sunflower Garden and Cicely Mary Barker’s faeries, and even the water colored flowers in one Ariel picture book, that I draw my definition of a garden from. Those and The Secret Garden, which filled many a day with the exulted wonder of seeing things grow. Maybe that is why I am discontent with giving up and washing my hands of green things, or maybe it is less conscious than that, an assumption, seeded into mind during childhood, that gardens are as much a fact as breathing and cake. Even Bilbo had gardens. Gardens large enough to justify hiring someone just to tend them.

My plans for my garden this year are modest. We reap what we sow, after all. No fig trees. No hand built containers. Just seeds. And a blueberry bush. My parents have two large planters that they’ve never used which I have relived them of, and I’ll need to get dirt, of course, but other than that my shopping is done. Well, mostly done. I do want to get some Arp Rosemary. And maybe some lemon grass. But other than that my shopping is done. My list is a funny, malformed thing. Half practical, half fanciful. There are no roses, none of the heavily scented flowers I dreamt of last year. No larkspurs, which always make me think of Nancy Drew. Mary Crawford would likely not be too inspired by what is essentially going to be a scraggly vegetable patch. The drama is to be supplied by echinacea, luffa gourds, chard, and nasturtiums, but otherwise it is all business. All small lettuce and baby bok choy, long thai egg plants and small french radishes. And herbs  – fanciful ones, chervil and rue and crinkled garden cress.

In all of this, it is apparent that the thing which grows strongest in my garden, besides the mint and the weeds and the love-in-the-mist, is my own undaunted optimism. Perhaps that is the flower most worth cultivating.

by Sixer

Skipping a Beat: Or, the Tempo Revs Up

Dear Readers,

I have been thinking of you quite often over the past few weeks. For one thing, I really wanted to post at least once every month this year, and was all ready to pop in on the last day of March, even if my entry only said “Made it!” And yet, somehow, I missed it. For once it is productivity that is stopping me, for now when I have both energy to do something and time to do it I find a dozen different projects lie happily at my feet. Thus the theme of this blog, I suppose. A woman of many hobbies, and devote of none.

To show how much I’ve thought of you I have some pictures. They prove my intent to share these mini-milestones, for I certainly do not take them for myself, and I have yet to start instagraming. See, here’s one from March showing the first little seedlings:IMG_0687

Behold, arugala (I’m pretty confident about this, but considering the lemon balm/lime basil incident. . . . ). There are also little poky leaves which are either cress or borage (or lemon balm, I suppose). Now that they are developing real leaves I’m siding towards borage. The dill is coming out too now, its seedlings like little blades of split grass. A volunteer army from last years horridly lanky pair. Saturday I went out and “weeded” as an excuse to stare deeply into the dirt and soak up the beautiful warmth of the sun. I did a little thining, and confirmed that the mundane looking seedlings in the door-wise corner are indeed cilantro, as I hoped. The seedlings smell of it all ready, and I wait in hungry anticipation for the summer. All I need now is for some of the winter thyme to show itself and my joy will be complete, as far as the large box goes.

IMG_0703

Look, whales!

Oh, what is this picture? Knitting? Yes, do not be shocked, this is a glimpse of a Christmas present for the Geekette. Finished in March and given hastily before I could find yet another thing wrong with it. I am really happy about them, but those decreases on the left hand! Finishing wool mittens in March was an excellent strategy to chase away the chill weather, but not a good idea if you want immediate confirmation of their long-term comfort. That’s okay, they are done and it’s not her birthday. I can cultivate a little patience for the weather’s whims.

Screen shot 2015-04-15 at 7.06.38

Now this is really for you, I have been learning HTML and CSS. Prior to this I’ve picked things up mainly by poking into themes and making Decollate – fun but maddening. This time I am trying to learn from the ground up. I have watched the first few videos of Do Not Fear the Internet, interspersed with the appropriate lesson section from Code Academy. Here is my review of Code Academy after completing their basic website course: they make things quite easy to follow and allow hands on application to drive each point home. I love this way of learning, their use of badges and percentages, and their general layout. Only three things have annoyed me so far:

1) The window where you get to see your changes magically manifest is buggy (in Safari) and instead of scrolling you have to select the contents and drag in order to see anything below the top two inches.

2) The website likes to refresh and Boot You Out. I googled it and, for once, I’m not the only one with this problem. Frustrating but not really a big deal (it usually saves your progress).

3) The course I’m taking is how to make a website. We had just gotten started on the topic that I really, really care about – positioning – when they pulled out the magic wand and shouted “Bootstrap.” I think bootstrap is cool and all, but not in a class. Please teach me how to actually position things first, and then introduce me to possible shortcuts. I’m taking their HTML & CSS language course next and I’ll let you know if it covers the subject any better.

Between these two sites I am learning quite a bit, and you can keep up with my progress here (when I finally insert a link ^_^ EDIT: Done!). Eventually I will be able to make my own theme, and then there will be no stopping me (bwhahaha!). Look forward to it!

 

IMG_0733

A more recent picture of sprouts.