So, I've been absent for a bit. This would be because both my phone and my internet became terminally ill on the same day, and I have been fighting to get both up and running for two weeks.
It is a complicated divorce matter.
I will not discuss that here.
What I will discuss is my few veggies managing to grow this summer are now coming pre-cooked.
The cucumbers that are on the vine are not ready to pick but they are turning assorted shades of roasted. Other than my cucumber, I've only had my jalapeno produce, and I'm not so sure about that one these days. The pumpkin has all but died. The herbs are hanging on. The tomatoes are still not producing. I'm not entirely sure I'm just watering weeds. The heat, this unbelievable heat, is worse than last year, and I think I might have seen what bounty I can from my garden.
The beans are gone, although I am sure that was survival of the fittest. (Don't screw with cucumbers.) My herbs are only hanging on because I water regularly. (I don't even water my yard. It's all overgrown weeds and dead grass, but I am sorry I won't waste the water on grass that lets the weeds win.) My tomatoes are growing like mad but aren't fruiting. Everything else has pretty much given up.
What do you expect from 120 degree heat?
I'm sure Nevada is laughing its ass off at us right now, but truthfully, as humid and miserable as it can get here, it's not normal that it's so bad that even the plants can't seem to make it through.
The good thing is last week we got a lot of rain. A lot of rain. Rain we weren't even supposed to get. It was like Mama Nature woke up and realized she forgot to turn on the sprinklers. It also cooled off for a couple of days. It was 90 degrees yesterday, and it was bliss!
I know you think I'm crazy for saying that, but trust me, the heat has been so bad that yesterday with its low humidity was actually a very pleasant day in comparison. That is disturbing, my friends. Disturbing.
Well, the garden limps along. A friend heard a report that we are expected to have a late tomato season this year and were advised to not give up on them. I will let them continue on then. As for the rest, well, it might be time to cull the herd. My friend, April, and I decided we're going to put some fall crops in the ground and see what we get. Things like chard, lettuces, and the like that do better in the last half of the year. I'm also thinking of building a low cover and seeing if I can't pull off cabbages over the winter months seeing as how it usually isn't too horrible here. (Watch. I just cursed us. We're going to get an ice age.) I'm still planning on raising honey bees, so y'all might start hearing more about that in the coming months.
I'm saying this because I had a brief moment of wondering what I was going to do during the winter with a garden blog. Well, I'm moving some of it indoors where it will experience such dangers as cats, possibly a dog, and my inability to remember to water.
Never fear, the adventures shall continue.
____________________
April and I have also decided we are going to plant right after the last frost next year. Apparently, the normal planting time for Arkansas has shifted as all the people I know who planted early got full crops. Whether it's a cyclical thing or outright climate change, it's damn annoying. I wonder if it's making the writers of the "The Old Farmer's Almanac" cry.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Sunday, July 31, 2011
You have to find good things where you can.
Yesterday, we got rain for about twenty minutes.
One lonely cloud passed over and doused us.
I was having an incredibly bad day what with the soon-to-be-ex finally moving out and it slamming home just how over our marriage is, and it felt nice that for the first time all summer we got the rain and others didn't. Made me feel special, like that cloud felt sorry for me and said, "Hey, girl, don't worry about being in the sauna-like heat to water your garden today. I got this."
Of course, it's ridiculous and just a coincidence, but it makes me feel better.
However, if that is what it takes to get rain, it's asking a little much.
Regular posting will resume posthaste.
___________________
Never fear, the tomato and pumpkin drama shall continue.
One lonely cloud passed over and doused us.
I was having an incredibly bad day what with the soon-to-be-ex finally moving out and it slamming home just how over our marriage is, and it felt nice that for the first time all summer we got the rain and others didn't. Made me feel special, like that cloud felt sorry for me and said, "Hey, girl, don't worry about being in the sauna-like heat to water your garden today. I got this."
Of course, it's ridiculous and just a coincidence, but it makes me feel better.
However, if that is what it takes to get rain, it's asking a little much.
Regular posting will resume posthaste.
___________________
Never fear, the tomato and pumpkin drama shall continue.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Didn't even clean my car...
Dear Mama Nature,
The crossroads up the way were wet.
The area passed the light into our neighborhood was soaked.
So, my block of our neighborhood was pretty much ignored.
Once again, I am finding it hard not to take this personal.
Just sayin',
Papermasks
____________________
I think the universe should have a suggestion box.
The crossroads up the way were wet.
The area passed the light into our neighborhood was soaked.
So, my block of our neighborhood was pretty much ignored.
Once again, I am finding it hard not to take this personal.
Just sayin',
Papermasks
____________________
I think the universe should have a suggestion box.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
A season for everything
It turns out that my concern for the lack of fruiting in my tomatoes might be premature.
See, coming from the deep South, I have always known tomatoes to be a early to mid-summer fruit. The fact that my current tomato crop has come up empty so far had me seriously worried. Then, a friend suggested that it's entirely possible that it's just too early for them as some tomatoes don't produce until August and the end of the season is mid-October.
That just seemed like crazy talk to me. I mean, I remember having fresh tomatoes between May and June in Louisiana, and it's plenty hot enough for them here.
But, then, I got to thinking about summer in Louisiana. There are really only two seasons in the armpit of hell, and those are "hot" and "hurricane". Summer doesn't really end down there. I mean, I've spent 90 degree Christmases there. Oh, sure, they might get a winter, but it's usually gone around February. (We went down to New Orleans one year in January to visit friends and it was something like 50 degrees. People were in parkas, and we were in shorts and sandals.) Consequently, people plant earlier down there, which means the tomatoes will fruit sooner.
Can I get a big old "Duh" to that?
So, yeah, it might just be too early for them. Same with my eggplant. Apparently, it is a cooler weather plant. Okay, that works. It means I will most likely have fresh maters and eggyplant when my mom comes to visit the week of Labor Day. (I think I might have to learn to make eggplant parmigian for that occasion.) Besides, it's so bloody hot out there I keep expecting to find my veggies roasting on the stem, so it's probably good they aren't ready to fruit.
The only problem is these plants are huge. The tomato plants come to just below my ribcage, and the eggplant is about mid-thigh. They are damn near trees! The eggplant seems to be doing okay, although I think it has aphids which I need to make a spray for, but the tomatoes are seriously taking a toll on the stakes to which they are tied. And, by "stakes" I mean "sticks I found on the back porch". Now, honestly, I'm thinking they wouldn't do well with plastic stakes either, so I'm thinking I need to cage the suckers before they get away from me. I was thinking chicken wire, but tomato cages make it easier to harvest. Decisions, decisions. I'll have to price them.
Or, maybe I'll just go find some more sticks.
___________________
Crap. I just checked on tomato cages and trellises, and you really have to have those when they are little. So, yep, I get to build some scaffolding to hold them up. Blah.
See, coming from the deep South, I have always known tomatoes to be a early to mid-summer fruit. The fact that my current tomato crop has come up empty so far had me seriously worried. Then, a friend suggested that it's entirely possible that it's just too early for them as some tomatoes don't produce until August and the end of the season is mid-October.
That just seemed like crazy talk to me. I mean, I remember having fresh tomatoes between May and June in Louisiana, and it's plenty hot enough for them here.
But, then, I got to thinking about summer in Louisiana. There are really only two seasons in the armpit of hell, and those are "hot" and "hurricane". Summer doesn't really end down there. I mean, I've spent 90 degree Christmases there. Oh, sure, they might get a winter, but it's usually gone around February. (We went down to New Orleans one year in January to visit friends and it was something like 50 degrees. People were in parkas, and we were in shorts and sandals.) Consequently, people plant earlier down there, which means the tomatoes will fruit sooner.
Can I get a big old "Duh" to that?
So, yeah, it might just be too early for them. Same with my eggplant. Apparently, it is a cooler weather plant. Okay, that works. It means I will most likely have fresh maters and eggyplant when my mom comes to visit the week of Labor Day. (I think I might have to learn to make eggplant parmigian for that occasion.) Besides, it's so bloody hot out there I keep expecting to find my veggies roasting on the stem, so it's probably good they aren't ready to fruit.
The only problem is these plants are huge. The tomato plants come to just below my ribcage, and the eggplant is about mid-thigh. They are damn near trees! The eggplant seems to be doing okay, although I think it has aphids which I need to make a spray for, but the tomatoes are seriously taking a toll on the stakes to which they are tied. And, by "stakes" I mean "sticks I found on the back porch". Now, honestly, I'm thinking they wouldn't do well with plastic stakes either, so I'm thinking I need to cage the suckers before they get away from me. I was thinking chicken wire, but tomato cages make it easier to harvest. Decisions, decisions. I'll have to price them.
Or, maybe I'll just go find some more sticks.
___________________
Crap. I just checked on tomato cages and trellises, and you really have to have those when they are little. So, yep, I get to build some scaffolding to hold them up. Blah.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Wait just a damn minute...
Okay, so to all you people who claim in a "professional" capacity that plants should be watered with a drip hose or other means where the water only goes to the roots and no other part of the plant, I have a question:
When Mama Nature decides to rain, does she just water the roots of the plants or does she just soak the whole blasted area?
Just askin'...
____________________
I am sorry. I know Mama Nature has lost her marbles these days, but I still don't see her wandering around with a watering can.
When Mama Nature decides to rain, does she just water the roots of the plants or does she just soak the whole blasted area?
Just askin'...
____________________
I am sorry. I know Mama Nature has lost her marbles these days, but I still don't see her wandering around with a watering can.
Possible tragedy in the making
So, my pumpkin is looking a little down in the mouth. It's been so incredibly hot that it's been hard to keep the plants watered.
Unfortunately, it could be I've over-watered the pumpkin. Being all knew at this gardening thing, I often forget that different plants require different levels of water. Unfortunately, I have many a water hog in the garden. (Cucumbers, I'm looking at you.) And, let me tell you, when you have a heat index of 107 degrees, you are less inclined to stand out there and measure out who gets how much water when. You just water it all. Unfortunately, my pumpkin might be suffering.
The leaves look okay for the most part, and I discovered what look like tiny tap roots along the vine, but I'm starting to notice a disturbing sight close to the main root system: possibly mold. I say "possibly" because I'm not sure. I thought that when old leaves died they just died, but these are turning gray, and I'm afraid that I might have given my pumpkin mold.
In an attempt to check this theory and save the vine, I shall not water it for a few days, and will check in the early mornings as the leaves will be slightly wilted if they haven't gotten enough water. It'll give me a gauge.
If I didn't just kill it, of course.
Trust me when I say I am doing everything I can to not chew through my fingernails on this. The pumpkin was the one that started quickly and grew like mad. I would be horrified if I managed to kill it. It doesn't help I've seen all of one bee pollinating my garden this year, which means there's a very good chance my pumpkin won't fruit simply because they need that insect interaction.
I am incredibly disturbed by the lack of pollinators, and I'm starting to think it's also the cause of my tomatoes not fruiting. Yes, I will be raising honey bees. Our neighborhood gardens demand it!
Either way, I might only get lucky enough to have cucumbers (harvested three more today) and jalapenos. And, possibly garlic. The rest? Well...we'll see...
___________________
Unfortunately, with the divorce and my subsequent depression, I also haven't been tending to the weeds as much. I tried weeding today. It was an experience I don't care to repeat. Next year, the bastards won't even get a chance.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Better than nothing
Well, it was a bit anti-climatic, but we did get some rain.
The way the sky was looking and the wind was blowing and the thunder was thundering you would've thought we missed the memo to build an ark.
Instead, it was a light steady rain for a bit. Definitely better than nothing, but if that wasn't an example of sound and fury signifying nothing, I don't know what is.
____________________
Maybe it's Mama Nature's version of the tease sneeze. A tease sneeze is where you can feel a sneeze build up to such epic proportions you'd swear that once it release it will register on the nearest seismograph only to have it retreat into the recesses of your sinuses. That or Mama Nature has ADD.
The way the sky was looking and the wind was blowing and the thunder was thundering you would've thought we missed the memo to build an ark.
Instead, it was a light steady rain for a bit. Definitely better than nothing, but if that wasn't an example of sound and fury signifying nothing, I don't know what is.
____________________
Maybe it's Mama Nature's version of the tease sneeze. A tease sneeze is where you can feel a sneeze build up to such epic proportions you'd swear that once it release it will register on the nearest seismograph only to have it retreat into the recesses of your sinuses. That or Mama Nature has ADD.
It's not like I was carrying an AK-47
The wind is whipping out there. The sky is looking ominous. We've had thunder most of the day.
So, any time it would actually like to do something productive, like, I don't know, rain, would be great! I mean, seriously, I went out there to check and see if I had any cucumbers ready to harvest and saw this haze in the air all around me. Normally, I would've thought it was humidity, but it was different, mostly because it was brown. I honestly think it's dust and dirt kicked up by the wind because we are so very, very dry right now what with not having had rain in three weeks.
Also, it would be nice to not have to stand in the blistering heat to water my garden. (I have got to get a sprinkler.)
Now, admittedly, as I walked outside, instead of immediately going to the side yard, I stopped at the end of the carport because the strange brown haze had grabbed my attention. I stood there pondering it for a moment, and then saw a lady carrying her small dog and walking with an intent purpose down the street, probably to get indoors before the heavens opened up. That's when I became aware of the dagger in my hand.
As much as that sounds like the opening to a murder mystery or my life as a serial killer, there is a perfectly innocent explanation.
See, I have this thing about blades. I love them. A lot. I have near orgasms at the sight of a finely crafted sword or knife. But, I also believe blades are meant to be used. I don't go for those decorative pieces of crap that just sit there and pretend to be something they are not. (A lot like trophy wives.) This mean, my dagger gets used. I use it for a number of things, but lately it is the blade that cuts ripe veggies off the plant. (You never just yank them off as it could damage the plant. Besides, it only seems polite that if you're going to rob the plant of its fruit the least you can do is cut it cleanly instead of trying to tear it off like a hangnail.)
Of course, it was at that realization that I had my dagger in my hand, not in its sheath, that I quite possibly looked like a lunatic. So, I quickly hid the knife behind my leg and ran off to the garden. I hoped that she actually passed in front of my house and saw me in the side yard using the blade to move aside the prickly leaves and vines of the cucumbers to see if any of the vegetables were ready to harvest. I hoped that she saw that so she didn't think I was actually behind my house cutting up a body and feeding it to the raccoons. Of course, I didn't dare look up to see if she was passing by because then it just makes it weird, like I'm trying to hide something...
So, I checked my cukes (none were ready yet) and nonchalantly went inside, careful to hide the dagger behind me.
Although, I'm not sure why I care what people think. It's not like I was covered in blood with an insane gleam in my eye. I was just kind of staring vacantly at the brown haze in the air...looking a little...
Crap.
___________________
And, yet, I am still not the strangest one in this neighborhood.
So, any time it would actually like to do something productive, like, I don't know, rain, would be great! I mean, seriously, I went out there to check and see if I had any cucumbers ready to harvest and saw this haze in the air all around me. Normally, I would've thought it was humidity, but it was different, mostly because it was brown. I honestly think it's dust and dirt kicked up by the wind because we are so very, very dry right now what with not having had rain in three weeks.
Also, it would be nice to not have to stand in the blistering heat to water my garden. (I have got to get a sprinkler.)
Now, admittedly, as I walked outside, instead of immediately going to the side yard, I stopped at the end of the carport because the strange brown haze had grabbed my attention. I stood there pondering it for a moment, and then saw a lady carrying her small dog and walking with an intent purpose down the street, probably to get indoors before the heavens opened up. That's when I became aware of the dagger in my hand.
As much as that sounds like the opening to a murder mystery or my life as a serial killer, there is a perfectly innocent explanation.
See, I have this thing about blades. I love them. A lot. I have near orgasms at the sight of a finely crafted sword or knife. But, I also believe blades are meant to be used. I don't go for those decorative pieces of crap that just sit there and pretend to be something they are not. (A lot like trophy wives.) This mean, my dagger gets used. I use it for a number of things, but lately it is the blade that cuts ripe veggies off the plant. (You never just yank them off as it could damage the plant. Besides, it only seems polite that if you're going to rob the plant of its fruit the least you can do is cut it cleanly instead of trying to tear it off like a hangnail.)
Of course, it was at that realization that I had my dagger in my hand, not in its sheath, that I quite possibly looked like a lunatic. So, I quickly hid the knife behind my leg and ran off to the garden. I hoped that she actually passed in front of my house and saw me in the side yard using the blade to move aside the prickly leaves and vines of the cucumbers to see if any of the vegetables were ready to harvest. I hoped that she saw that so she didn't think I was actually behind my house cutting up a body and feeding it to the raccoons. Of course, I didn't dare look up to see if she was passing by because then it just makes it weird, like I'm trying to hide something...
So, I checked my cukes (none were ready yet) and nonchalantly went inside, careful to hide the dagger behind me.
Although, I'm not sure why I care what people think. It's not like I was covered in blood with an insane gleam in my eye. I was just kind of staring vacantly at the brown haze in the air...looking a little...
Crap.
___________________
And, yet, I am still not the strangest one in this neighborhood.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
I have a machete and I am not afraid to use it!
Okay, I know this is going to sound stupid before I type it, but I feel the need to share so others don't repeat the mistakes I make. Besides, if I can't hand out a few laughs at the same time, then what good am I?
So, yeah, let's get this over with.
I didn't know cucumbers climb.
Yes, I know they are vines, but not all vines are climbers I mean, look at my pumpkin, for instance, could you see it trying the same stunt? And, honestly, it's the fault of my grandparents.
I know Grandma is looking down at me from the hereafter saying, "Do what now?" (Probably in Cajun.)
You see, anytime my grandparents grew cucumbers, which was pretty much every year, they just let them spread out on the ground. So, this is what I thought you did with cucumbers. (Then again, I was also a kid who was nearly convinced by my grandfather I was born from a pot of gumbo.) When my cucumbers started their ground spreading, I figured all was right with the world.
Then, they started getting into my beans. And, by "getting into my beans" I mean grabbing a hold of them with these freaky little tendrils as if they were out to strangle them one stem at a time. I pointed out to a friend that I didn't understand why my cucumbers were a) trying to murder my beans and b) growing towards the house.
"They are looking for something to climb," she said.
"They're cucumbers," I said.
"Yes?"
"They don't climb," I said.
She looked at me as if I had suddenly sprouted frog legs out of the sides of my head.
I continued to live into denial until I walked into the sun room one day and saw this:
Yes, that is one of my cucumbers climbing the screen on the window. Apparently, no longer happy devouring my beans, it's now after the house. And, trust me, this isn't the only one I found. I would go outside to get a better picture of the invasion, but the last time I walked outside while the sun was out, it took me an hour to peel my clothes off as they had all but permanently adhered to my body through sweat and the melting of unnatural fibers.
Of course, it could be that's why they are climbing the house. It may not be some primal need to climb more than they are actually trying to come into the house to get out of the blast furnace that has become our summer. I can't say that I blame them.
However, I will say:
KEEP A KNOCKIN' BUT YOU CAN'T COME IN! KEEP A KNOCKIN' BUT YOU CAN'T COME IN!
*dances away*
____________________
Of course, it might be a bad idea to tease them like that seeing as how they have tried to grow under the sun room as well, which makes me think they're going after the A/C unit on the other side. If they can't have A/C, no one can...
So, yeah, let's get this over with.
I didn't know cucumbers climb.
Yes, I know they are vines, but not all vines are climbers I mean, look at my pumpkin, for instance, could you see it trying the same stunt? And, honestly, it's the fault of my grandparents.
I know Grandma is looking down at me from the hereafter saying, "Do what now?" (Probably in Cajun.)
You see, anytime my grandparents grew cucumbers, which was pretty much every year, they just let them spread out on the ground. So, this is what I thought you did with cucumbers. (Then again, I was also a kid who was nearly convinced by my grandfather I was born from a pot of gumbo.) When my cucumbers started their ground spreading, I figured all was right with the world.
Then, they started getting into my beans. And, by "getting into my beans" I mean grabbing a hold of them with these freaky little tendrils as if they were out to strangle them one stem at a time. I pointed out to a friend that I didn't understand why my cucumbers were a) trying to murder my beans and b) growing towards the house.
"They are looking for something to climb," she said.
"They're cucumbers," I said.
"Yes?"
"They don't climb," I said.
She looked at me as if I had suddenly sprouted frog legs out of the sides of my head.
I continued to live into denial until I walked into the sun room one day and saw this:
 |
| Caaandygram. |
Of course, it could be that's why they are climbing the house. It may not be some primal need to climb more than they are actually trying to come into the house to get out of the blast furnace that has become our summer. I can't say that I blame them.
However, I will say:
KEEP A KNOCKIN' BUT YOU CAN'T COME IN! KEEP A KNOCKIN' BUT YOU CAN'T COME IN!
*dances away*
____________________
Of course, it might be a bad idea to tease them like that seeing as how they have tried to grow under the sun room as well, which makes me think they're going after the A/C unit on the other side. If they can't have A/C, no one can...
Monday, July 11, 2011
At least I was nice about it
Dear Mama Nature,
My garden is panting, and the only time I can find it bearable to water it is at dusk. I don't suppose you could find it in your heart to turn on the A/C now, huh? Spontaneous combustion of vegetation or humans might be funny as hell to watch, but it's kind of a bummer.
Thanks,
Papermasks
____________________
I'm pretty Mama Nature is just a big ten-year-old holding a magnifying lens in the sun.
My garden is panting, and the only time I can find it bearable to water it is at dusk. I don't suppose you could find it in your heart to turn on the A/C now, huh? Spontaneous combustion of vegetation or humans might be funny as hell to watch, but it's kind of a bummer.
Thanks,
Papermasks
____________________
I'm pretty Mama Nature is just a big ten-year-old holding a magnifying lens in the sun.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
At least I'll get a lot of pickles this year
I went today to get some neem for my tomatoes as something is eating the blossoms before they can fruit. I haven't found anything else wrong with the plants. I mean they are about three feet tall. There is no reason they shouldn't be bearing fruit by now. Well, the nursery was out of neem, but the nice gentleman who helped me suggested this other stuff. It appears to be a hormone to help the blossoms. Unfortunately, it wasn't until I got it home that I realized that it was also a pesticide. Now, see, I've been avoiding such things, but since I already bought it, I figured I'd try it to see if it works. If not, there is a homemade organic spray I'm going to make and try.
I'll try to get a good pic of the tomatoes later, but here is my garden in general.
You can see the tomatoes way in the back. But, what I would like you to take notice of is the huge section of green on the right hand side near the house.
That would be the cucumbers. Inside that jungle of leaves is part of the row of bush beans. I mentioned in my last post that I have tried very hard to convince the cucumbers they want to grow the other direction, but they are definitely not listening. So, yeah, I don't see a lot of beans this year.
However, I have gotten this:
My first beautiful, lovely, delicious cucumber! I was checking some of the baby cukes I've seen, and was shocked to find this guy hiding under the leaves. I immediately wanted to slice it up and eat it with a dash of salt, but my need to show it off to my friends is holding me back. (Hey, we are all attention whores in our own way.)
Apparently, the cucumbers are enjoying this godawful heat. I have three more that are close to ready. Funnily enough, one of them is round and about the size of a baseball and another looks like a gourd. I'm not sure what would cause a cucumber to distort into another shape, but I'm hoping the oddness continues. I want to put them out in a big bowl on the dining table when I have friends over as proof that my innate weirdness is even contagious to my plants. There's something inherently satisfying to know that one's own weirdness actually warps the world around her.
I knew there was a reason I was put on this earth.
___________________
A lady at the nursery suggested that it could be the fact that it's over 75 degrees at night that could be doing a number on my tomato blossoms and could be why my pumpkin isn't fruiting since they just aren't getting a chance to cool down. I keep telling everyone the sun is evil, but do they listen? Noooooooo...
I'll try to get a good pic of the tomatoes later, but here is my garden in general.
 |
| Still not dead! |
That would be the cucumbers. Inside that jungle of leaves is part of the row of bush beans. I mentioned in my last post that I have tried very hard to convince the cucumbers they want to grow the other direction, but they are definitely not listening. So, yeah, I don't see a lot of beans this year.
However, I have gotten this:
 |
| Ta-da! |
Apparently, the cucumbers are enjoying this godawful heat. I have three more that are close to ready. Funnily enough, one of them is round and about the size of a baseball and another looks like a gourd. I'm not sure what would cause a cucumber to distort into another shape, but I'm hoping the oddness continues. I want to put them out in a big bowl on the dining table when I have friends over as proof that my innate weirdness is even contagious to my plants. There's something inherently satisfying to know that one's own weirdness actually warps the world around her.
I knew there was a reason I was put on this earth.
___________________
A lady at the nursery suggested that it could be the fact that it's over 75 degrees at night that could be doing a number on my tomato blossoms and could be why my pumpkin isn't fruiting since they just aren't getting a chance to cool down. I keep telling everyone the sun is evil, but do they listen? Noooooooo...
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
It hasn't turned into a mass veggie graveyard yet...
So, while this blog is only a few days old, I spent that time putting in all of my entries about the garden into my hand-written journal. I've not caught up to present day, thankfully.
The last entry was nearly two months ago, and there are good reasons for it.
Our marital breakdown took a serious turn for the worse. I lost my job. I nearly lost half my family to the Joplin, MO tornado. In order to keep my own sanity and protect myself, I was forced to actually file for the divorce I still do not want, completely sacrificing my integrity and moral views on the subject.
Needless to say, there has been a great deal of deep depression and anxiety that has made it nearly impossible for me to function beyond job hunting. Some days, just getting out of bed was a major accomplishment.
I'm still not at my best, but I am improving. The job search continues and is getting nail-bitingly frustrating. I have got to find a job. I've applied to thirty places last month alone (although I can only find the confirmations of twenty-four for some reason). I need money, sure, but I also just want to be working again. Hopefully, something will give soon.
On a brighter note, the garden is doing well. There have been some confirmed casualties: the onions and the chard. I thought the bell pepper didn't make it, but I appear to have at least two little plants coming up. I've harvested two jalapeno peppers and a handful of beans so far. The jalapeno seems to be the most prolific. The basil is happy, and the tomatoes are huge although I've seen no fruit on them yet. The pumpkin is trying to take over the garden, and the cucumbers have decided for some unknown reason to grow into the beans and try to come into the house. I've tried to keep them out of the beans, but they are stubborn, so I may just not have much in the way of beans this year. A few days ago, I planted cloves of garlic bought from the store where the chard was and in the corner I left empty for the pumpkin to have growing room, which it promptly ignored. So far, I'm happy with it, even if I did screw up the leeks. (That's for a whole other post.)
Either way, I continue to have my good days and bad, but the constants that I've experienced that have kept me afloat are my family, my friends, my garden, and God.
I can't say I'd want it any other way.
___________________
I am rather concerned about my thyme suddenly rising from the dead. Apparently, I didn't contain my undead mint quickly enough, and even worse I didn't think about it when I put the thyme in the garden. I'll just have to watch it carefully and look for any signs that it's munching on neighborhood children.
The last entry was nearly two months ago, and there are good reasons for it.
Our marital breakdown took a serious turn for the worse. I lost my job. I nearly lost half my family to the Joplin, MO tornado. In order to keep my own sanity and protect myself, I was forced to actually file for the divorce I still do not want, completely sacrificing my integrity and moral views on the subject.
Needless to say, there has been a great deal of deep depression and anxiety that has made it nearly impossible for me to function beyond job hunting. Some days, just getting out of bed was a major accomplishment.
I'm still not at my best, but I am improving. The job search continues and is getting nail-bitingly frustrating. I have got to find a job. I've applied to thirty places last month alone (although I can only find the confirmations of twenty-four for some reason). I need money, sure, but I also just want to be working again. Hopefully, something will give soon.
On a brighter note, the garden is doing well. There have been some confirmed casualties: the onions and the chard. I thought the bell pepper didn't make it, but I appear to have at least two little plants coming up. I've harvested two jalapeno peppers and a handful of beans so far. The jalapeno seems to be the most prolific. The basil is happy, and the tomatoes are huge although I've seen no fruit on them yet. The pumpkin is trying to take over the garden, and the cucumbers have decided for some unknown reason to grow into the beans and try to come into the house. I've tried to keep them out of the beans, but they are stubborn, so I may just not have much in the way of beans this year. A few days ago, I planted cloves of garlic bought from the store where the chard was and in the corner I left empty for the pumpkin to have growing room, which it promptly ignored. So far, I'm happy with it, even if I did screw up the leeks. (That's for a whole other post.)
Either way, I continue to have my good days and bad, but the constants that I've experienced that have kept me afloat are my family, my friends, my garden, and God.
I can't say I'd want it any other way.
___________________
I am rather concerned about my thyme suddenly rising from the dead. Apparently, I didn't contain my undead mint quickly enough, and even worse I didn't think about it when I put the thyme in the garden. I'll just have to watch it carefully and look for any signs that it's munching on neighborhood children.
Monday, May 2, 2011
You have got to be kidding me...
While my friends do indeed inform me that I am about two cows short of a herd, I still had to double-check the calendar several times today to make sure that I either hadn't gone completely off the deep end or wasn't missing time from an alien kidnapping.
It's 45 degrees today.
It's also May.
Trust me, I checked. I even called people asking if maybe I was hallucinating.
Nope. It's May, and it's 45 degrees.
Maybe to people born and raised here this might not seem so weird, but I've lived here for ten years and have never seen it get this cold this close to summer. I, personally, love it because the heat of summer makes me weep. The problem is I'm not sure how my garden is going to like it. Granted, we're not talking freezing weather by any means, but still, being a new gardener, I can't help but worry about how such drastic temperature changes will affect my plants.
So far they seem okay, but I guess I'll know more when it warms up.
Of course, the fact that it's this chilly today means it will be comparable to high noon in the Sahara tomorrow and probably until December.
I can feel Mama Nature laughing maniacally at us.
____________________
I know prayer is supposed to be a direct line to the great celestial boss on this planet, but for some reason my requests that Mama Nature be put in a strait jacket and carted off to the Hospital for Psychotic Anthropomorphic Personifications has been continuously ignored.
It's 45 degrees today.
It's also May.
Trust me, I checked. I even called people asking if maybe I was hallucinating.
Nope. It's May, and it's 45 degrees.
Maybe to people born and raised here this might not seem so weird, but I've lived here for ten years and have never seen it get this cold this close to summer. I, personally, love it because the heat of summer makes me weep. The problem is I'm not sure how my garden is going to like it. Granted, we're not talking freezing weather by any means, but still, being a new gardener, I can't help but worry about how such drastic temperature changes will affect my plants.
So far they seem okay, but I guess I'll know more when it warms up.
Of course, the fact that it's this chilly today means it will be comparable to high noon in the Sahara tomorrow and probably until December.
I can feel Mama Nature laughing maniacally at us.
____________________
I know prayer is supposed to be a direct line to the great celestial boss on this planet, but for some reason my requests that Mama Nature be put in a strait jacket and carted off to the Hospital for Psychotic Anthropomorphic Personifications has been continuously ignored.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Feed me, Seymour!
While this is my first garden, this was not my first attempt at growing things.
Last year, during the spring, I planted in a long plastic pot rosemary, basil, and thyme. (Feel free to hum the song here.) In a regular terracotta pot, I planted mint. They all grew merrily and much cooking and tea-making happened.
Then we proceeded to have one of the hottest summers in decades.
We were hitting over one hundred degrees before the heat index. While summers here are miserably hot at times, they aren't usually quite like that. Apparently, the Earth decided to move closer to the sun for a few months.
Despite the harsh conditions, the herbs thrived, however, so long as I watered them every day without fail. Well, there was one scare during the Great Green Worm Plague in July when I discovered the leaves on my mint were starting to resemble lattice work. I flipped over a chewed upon leaf and discovered a small, green worm. I picked it off, cursed it, and tossed it into the yard. Then I discovered another. And, another. Over a period of two days, I picked fifteen of the little bastards off of my mint. I tried to figure out what they were or how they managed to get on a plant that sits on a pot on a brick wall, but their identification remains a mystery even now. All I know is it took several weeks for my mint to recover. Other than that, all was well.
Then, tragedy struck: I got sick.
I have a proclivity towards bronchitis, and it always seems to follow a cold. I don't know why a common cold will crawl into my chest and die, but it's something of which I have to be exceedingly mindful. Sometimes, I can head it off at the pass. Not that time.
For a solid week, I was in bed, which meant my plants didn't get watered. I suppose I could've asked my husband to do it for me, but I just didn't think about it. I was too busy trying to not cough up my lungs.
Let's just say when I went out to check on my plants after my recovery I discovered a graveyard.
Fast forward to March.
I went out to check the mail, and actually glanced down at the remains of my herbs. Then, I did a double-take. There was green in the mint pot, and I'm not talking mold. I picked it up and inspected the tiny plants. Mother Hubbard and her damn dog! The mint was coming back!
This was my first experience with an undead plant. When a zombie rises out of the grave, it's usually on the hunt for living flesh. Did this mean I needed to keep my fingers and small dogs away from it? Was it suddenly going sing a show tune about how I need to feed it a sadistic dentist? Mint has a bit of weed in it in that if you plant it in the ground, it will take over your yard and possibly the neighborhood. So, I wondered, when you have a plant that can invade like the Mongols and cheat death like Keith Richards, what do you do with it?
Sane people would probably suggest burning it.
I ignored it.
Several weeks later, this is what I got:
I decided it was best to not introduce it to the garden in case it infected the others. Last thing I need is a horde of undead plants eating the neighbors. Can you see explaining that to the police?
Me: Why no officer, I have no idea where she went.
Officer: Then, can you explain why there is a finger in your mint plant?
Me: I'm sorry, sir. I've told it many times that flipping off people is rude, but you know how plants are, no respect for authority...
Thankfully, the evil, tasty though it is, is contained for now.
However, if it does start using show tunes to demand blood, it will have a date with the grill.
__________________
If you don't get the movie reference, then you lead a very sad, sheltered life. Although, the original was a far better film.
Last year, during the spring, I planted in a long plastic pot rosemary, basil, and thyme. (Feel free to hum the song here.) In a regular terracotta pot, I planted mint. They all grew merrily and much cooking and tea-making happened.
Then we proceeded to have one of the hottest summers in decades.
We were hitting over one hundred degrees before the heat index. While summers here are miserably hot at times, they aren't usually quite like that. Apparently, the Earth decided to move closer to the sun for a few months.
Despite the harsh conditions, the herbs thrived, however, so long as I watered them every day without fail. Well, there was one scare during the Great Green Worm Plague in July when I discovered the leaves on my mint were starting to resemble lattice work. I flipped over a chewed upon leaf and discovered a small, green worm. I picked it off, cursed it, and tossed it into the yard. Then I discovered another. And, another. Over a period of two days, I picked fifteen of the little bastards off of my mint. I tried to figure out what they were or how they managed to get on a plant that sits on a pot on a brick wall, but their identification remains a mystery even now. All I know is it took several weeks for my mint to recover. Other than that, all was well.
Then, tragedy struck: I got sick.
I have a proclivity towards bronchitis, and it always seems to follow a cold. I don't know why a common cold will crawl into my chest and die, but it's something of which I have to be exceedingly mindful. Sometimes, I can head it off at the pass. Not that time.
For a solid week, I was in bed, which meant my plants didn't get watered. I suppose I could've asked my husband to do it for me, but I just didn't think about it. I was too busy trying to not cough up my lungs.
Let's just say when I went out to check on my plants after my recovery I discovered a graveyard.
Fast forward to March.
I went out to check the mail, and actually glanced down at the remains of my herbs. Then, I did a double-take. There was green in the mint pot, and I'm not talking mold. I picked it up and inspected the tiny plants. Mother Hubbard and her damn dog! The mint was coming back!
This was my first experience with an undead plant. When a zombie rises out of the grave, it's usually on the hunt for living flesh. Did this mean I needed to keep my fingers and small dogs away from it? Was it suddenly going sing a show tune about how I need to feed it a sadistic dentist? Mint has a bit of weed in it in that if you plant it in the ground, it will take over your yard and possibly the neighborhood. So, I wondered, when you have a plant that can invade like the Mongols and cheat death like Keith Richards, what do you do with it?
Sane people would probably suggest burning it.
I ignored it.
Several weeks later, this is what I got:
 |
| Braaaaaaaaains |
Me: Why no officer, I have no idea where she went.
Officer: Then, can you explain why there is a finger in your mint plant?
Me: I'm sorry, sir. I've told it many times that flipping off people is rude, but you know how plants are, no respect for authority...
Thankfully, the evil, tasty though it is, is contained for now.
However, if it does start using show tunes to demand blood, it will have a date with the grill.
__________________
If you don't get the movie reference, then you lead a very sad, sheltered life. Although, the original was a far better film.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Well, at least they don't turn into zombies
Okay, so feeling better today. I decided it was a good day to really go and inspect the sproutlings to make sure they are actually what I planted and not invaders.
This is easier said than done since I don't know what any of the plants I started from seed are supposed to look like. I tried doing research on the Great Internets, but if I found any pictures at all they were of plants far older than my own. Before the next garden, I'm going to play a gardening book with pictures, lots and lots of pictures.
This year, I'm pretty much guessing. I figure if it's several plants that look alike growing in a row, then it's a very good chance it's something I planted. Of course, the other way to tell is to let it grow and see if it bears fruit I recognize, but that's a long wait.
The seed packets with their cheerful bits of information (when to plant, how far apart to plant, when to thin out, etc) seem to skip over the whole "oh by the way this is what they will look like when they grow so you don't weed them out accidentally" part. And, that's the other problem: I have to make damn sure I know what I'm looking at before I weed or I risk tossing a wanted plant into the compost pile. That would make me cry. A lot.
Of course, here's an endorsement for container gardening. You are less likely to get undesirable plants in your veggies and flowers, but I feel like there are more limitations to container gardening. Okay, I'm going by just a generalized view of it, which means I need to do research. So, I promise to do that and write up a comparison in the future.
But, for now, I've got the problem of leftover weed roots trying to sprout into new plants mixing in with my veggies and herbs, and some of them I can't tell the difference. I suppose it would've helped had I mulched, but it just wasn't feasible at the time. A client informed me that eventually, if I keep weeding and if I cover the ground during the winter, that eventually I will have a nice clean slate when I go to plant, but that takes time. An additional level to the problem is that with all the torrential rains and flooding, I'm not entirely sure some of tinier more shallow seeds just simply didn't wash away. Oh, sure, those tiny plants where the chard should be could be chard, or it could be just weeds teasing me. Without a solid reference there is no real way for me to tell right now.
Thankfully, the bigger, heartier sprouts are easy. You just can't miss the beans or the pumpkin. (Of course, the pumpkin is growing out of a great bloody mound, but that's beside the point.) I think next year, though, I'm going to buy more pre-started plants. I only have the ones I have because my local nursery just happened to carry them. I really didn't want to buy from one of the big chain stores. I would like to keep the local nurseries open. I did find out, however, there are a couple of larger ones a little more on the west end of town, so now I know I can most likely find all the seedlings I want.
Either way, I went into this with the understanding that there might be some casualties, and I may have just found a few among the bell pepper, chard, and onion.
That made me wonder how you have a funeral for a plant. I mean, considering you start off with a burial process... I guess I just hum a few bars of "Taps" over the rows.
Or I could just ignore the totally lack of sanity in that idea and find something else to plant there.
Ahem. Yeah.
_________________
I think the reason I blog sometimes is because a lot of things seem like a fantastic idea until you write it down and you realize you're a few whores shy of a bordello.
This is easier said than done since I don't know what any of the plants I started from seed are supposed to look like. I tried doing research on the Great Internets, but if I found any pictures at all they were of plants far older than my own. Before the next garden, I'm going to play a gardening book with pictures, lots and lots of pictures.
This year, I'm pretty much guessing. I figure if it's several plants that look alike growing in a row, then it's a very good chance it's something I planted. Of course, the other way to tell is to let it grow and see if it bears fruit I recognize, but that's a long wait.
The seed packets with their cheerful bits of information (when to plant, how far apart to plant, when to thin out, etc) seem to skip over the whole "oh by the way this is what they will look like when they grow so you don't weed them out accidentally" part. And, that's the other problem: I have to make damn sure I know what I'm looking at before I weed or I risk tossing a wanted plant into the compost pile. That would make me cry. A lot.
Of course, here's an endorsement for container gardening. You are less likely to get undesirable plants in your veggies and flowers, but I feel like there are more limitations to container gardening. Okay, I'm going by just a generalized view of it, which means I need to do research. So, I promise to do that and write up a comparison in the future.
But, for now, I've got the problem of leftover weed roots trying to sprout into new plants mixing in with my veggies and herbs, and some of them I can't tell the difference. I suppose it would've helped had I mulched, but it just wasn't feasible at the time. A client informed me that eventually, if I keep weeding and if I cover the ground during the winter, that eventually I will have a nice clean slate when I go to plant, but that takes time. An additional level to the problem is that with all the torrential rains and flooding, I'm not entirely sure some of tinier more shallow seeds just simply didn't wash away. Oh, sure, those tiny plants where the chard should be could be chard, or it could be just weeds teasing me. Without a solid reference there is no real way for me to tell right now.
Thankfully, the bigger, heartier sprouts are easy. You just can't miss the beans or the pumpkin. (Of course, the pumpkin is growing out of a great bloody mound, but that's beside the point.) I think next year, though, I'm going to buy more pre-started plants. I only have the ones I have because my local nursery just happened to carry them. I really didn't want to buy from one of the big chain stores. I would like to keep the local nurseries open. I did find out, however, there are a couple of larger ones a little more on the west end of town, so now I know I can most likely find all the seedlings I want.
Either way, I went into this with the understanding that there might be some casualties, and I may have just found a few among the bell pepper, chard, and onion.
That made me wonder how you have a funeral for a plant. I mean, considering you start off with a burial process... I guess I just hum a few bars of "Taps" over the rows.
Or I could just ignore the totally lack of sanity in that idea and find something else to plant there.
Ahem. Yeah.
_________________
I think the reason I blog sometimes is because a lot of things seem like a fantastic idea until you write it down and you realize you're a few whores shy of a bordello.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
If the sprouts can make it...
A vicious bout of depression kept me in bed until two today.
I did manage to get up and go to work, so that's at least something, but I am still very down.
After work, gauging the over all mood of the house to be chilly (don't ask), I went to check on my plant babies.
I will say this about gardening, it takes away that sense of self. That may sound strange and I know I've touched on it before, but it bears repeating. It helps you to realize that life isn't always about you. It helps you to remember that even in bad times there are little things that are just as important.
Like little leaves pushing through the soil.
It's kind of how I feel right now in a lot of ways. I feel like I've been buried in this depression, covered in suffocating mud. And, there are days I just want to breathe it in, let it choke me. Anything to get away from the excruciating pain of my marriage falling apart around me.
My heart has been shattered into pieces so small I'm not sure I'll ever be able to put it back together again.
Right now, the only things that keep me going are my family, my friends, and those tiny little leaves.
Maybe one day I'll learn from them and reach towards the sun.
___________________
I know this isn't exactly the most pleasant post, but ignoring depression doesn't make it go away. I have good days and bad days. Eventually the good days will outnumber the bad days. I long for that time.
I did manage to get up and go to work, so that's at least something, but I am still very down.
After work, gauging the over all mood of the house to be chilly (don't ask), I went to check on my plant babies.
I will say this about gardening, it takes away that sense of self. That may sound strange and I know I've touched on it before, but it bears repeating. It helps you to realize that life isn't always about you. It helps you to remember that even in bad times there are little things that are just as important.
Like little leaves pushing through the soil.
It's kind of how I feel right now in a lot of ways. I feel like I've been buried in this depression, covered in suffocating mud. And, there are days I just want to breathe it in, let it choke me. Anything to get away from the excruciating pain of my marriage falling apart around me.
My heart has been shattered into pieces so small I'm not sure I'll ever be able to put it back together again.
Right now, the only things that keep me going are my family, my friends, and those tiny little leaves.
Maybe one day I'll learn from them and reach towards the sun.
___________________
I know this isn't exactly the most pleasant post, but ignoring depression doesn't make it go away. I have good days and bad days. Eventually the good days will outnumber the bad days. I long for that time.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Hey, at least it isn't a hurricane
I was only able to take a quick look out the window today to check for obvious casualties from last night's violent storm.
The tomato that continues to take most of the beating from the roof waterfall doesn't seem to be broken more than just leaning very close to the ground poor dear. The other plants and sproutlings looked okay, but I couldn't go out and check for sure since I was dressed for an interview. Pumps and muddy ground just don't mix.
Speaking of the interview, we awoke with no power this morning, which meant I couldn't print off my resume. What a first impression that creates, let me tell you. Despite it all, I'm pretty sure I rocked even if I was ambushed by a panel instead of just one interviewer. (I hate panel interviews.) However, one of my interviewers informed me as he was showing me out that we had more horrible storms on the way. Lovely.
And, let me tell you, this city took that threat seriously. It was mid-afternoon, and I found out they shut all the schools down. Now, look, I understand we had a tornado go bouncing down a major street (about three blocks from my house), and I know we've had a lot of trees come down from the over-soaked ground, but seriously guys? Shutting down the schools? Overreacting just a little, aren't we?
Well, when I got home, before we were to get pummeled again, I decided to take some pictures of my sprouts and plants with my phone a) so my mother would shut up about me not sending pictures (hi, Mom!) and b) so I'll have something to remember them by considering people are running around this town like the next set of storms are the Apocalypse.
Picture parade!
For some reason my pictures of my eggplant and cucumbers didn't come out, but you get the idea.
I was surprised to see the tiniest bit of green trying desperately to poke through the ground in the bell pepper and onion sections (not pictured). I was almost too scared to hope, but I cleared away what debris I could around them and encouraged them the best I can.
Now, I go await the storms, which apparently are going to include fire, brimstone, frogs, fish, and a hippo or two.
____________________
The way people react to weather here always makes me laugh. This drama they are expressing right now is about the same reaction I see during impending snow, except when it's snow, they must go out and buy bread, milk, and eggs. We're pretty sure there is some unwritten belief in Arkansas that French toast will prevent snowstorms.
The tomato that continues to take most of the beating from the roof waterfall doesn't seem to be broken more than just leaning very close to the ground poor dear. The other plants and sproutlings looked okay, but I couldn't go out and check for sure since I was dressed for an interview. Pumps and muddy ground just don't mix.
Speaking of the interview, we awoke with no power this morning, which meant I couldn't print off my resume. What a first impression that creates, let me tell you. Despite it all, I'm pretty sure I rocked even if I was ambushed by a panel instead of just one interviewer. (I hate panel interviews.) However, one of my interviewers informed me as he was showing me out that we had more horrible storms on the way. Lovely.
And, let me tell you, this city took that threat seriously. It was mid-afternoon, and I found out they shut all the schools down. Now, look, I understand we had a tornado go bouncing down a major street (about three blocks from my house), and I know we've had a lot of trees come down from the over-soaked ground, but seriously guys? Shutting down the schools? Overreacting just a little, aren't we?
Well, when I got home, before we were to get pummeled again, I decided to take some pictures of my sprouts and plants with my phone a) so my mother would shut up about me not sending pictures (hi, Mom!) and b) so I'll have something to remember them by considering people are running around this town like the next set of storms are the Apocalypse.
Picture parade!
 |
| My beanlings |
 |
| Pumpkins |
 |
| Lavender and the beginnings of pak choy just above. |
 |
| Jalapeno! |
 |
| Basil in the foreground, four tomatoes towards the back. |
For some reason my pictures of my eggplant and cucumbers didn't come out, but you get the idea.
I was surprised to see the tiniest bit of green trying desperately to poke through the ground in the bell pepper and onion sections (not pictured). I was almost too scared to hope, but I cleared away what debris I could around them and encouraged them the best I can.
Now, I go await the storms, which apparently are going to include fire, brimstone, frogs, fish, and a hippo or two.
____________________
The way people react to weather here always makes me laugh. This drama they are expressing right now is about the same reaction I see during impending snow, except when it's snow, they must go out and buy bread, milk, and eggs. We're pretty sure there is some unwritten belief in Arkansas that French toast will prevent snowstorms.
Monday, April 25, 2011
There's a pill for that...
Dear Mama Nature,
I know how it is. I know that after a while you feel more in control, calmer, etc. I know that it gives you a sense of peace and comfort and you think, "I've been cured!"
But, then a week or two later, you're freaking out and sending rain, hail, tornadoes, and general destruction via wind and a big old temper tantrum.
I know you don't want to hear this, but it's time for an intervention.
Mama Nature, you have got to go back on your meds. When we are having random trees fall during slight breezes because the ground is so soaked it can no longer support their roots, enough is enough.
We won't even mention what you've done to my bell peppers.
Your meds! Take them!
Angrily yours,
Papermasks
___________________
It usually takes one to know one and seeing as how I will be on anti-anxiety meds my whole life I think I'm entitled to give her what-for.
I know how it is. I know that after a while you feel more in control, calmer, etc. I know that it gives you a sense of peace and comfort and you think, "I've been cured!"
But, then a week or two later, you're freaking out and sending rain, hail, tornadoes, and general destruction via wind and a big old temper tantrum.
I know you don't want to hear this, but it's time for an intervention.
Mama Nature, you have got to go back on your meds. When we are having random trees fall during slight breezes because the ground is so soaked it can no longer support their roots, enough is enough.
We won't even mention what you've done to my bell peppers.
Your meds! Take them!
Angrily yours,
Papermasks
___________________
It usually takes one to know one and seeing as how I will be on anti-anxiety meds my whole life I think I'm entitled to give her what-for.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
I'm a mother!
Holy monkey butts! I have sproutlings!
Please note that today three pumpkin, three bush bean, six pak choy, and one swiss chard were born. (Eat that OctoMom.)
Sniffle, sniffle. I'm so proud!
May they grow happy, strong, fruitful, and encourage their siblings to come forth!
Now, I get to do more research on on the possible dangers to my little plant babies and if their are organic ways to manage such things. Yeah, yeah, I'm trying the companion planting thing, but while some plants are beneficial to others it doesn't necessarily mean they will also keep away pests or disease. Some do both but not all. It would take more plants than I have room to achieve that effect. Just getting these guys set up to be peaceful in their playpen was headache enough.
I am sure there are all sorts of natural ways to get rid of pests, like picking them off the leaves and squishing them with extreme prejudice, which is surprisingly satisfying.
Look, when it comes to my hard earned garden, there is no tree-hugging mercy (see bunny and squirrel gumbo). I might be a touchy-feely, bleeding-heart, but even I have to draw the line somewhere. (Bloody damn green worms chewing holes in my mint last year. Little bastards.)
__________________
Of course, I am encouraging spiders, lizards, lady bugs, and all other sorts of beneficial pest killers. At least when they do the killing, it's considered natural. When I do it, it's considered carnage. Go fig.
Please note that today three pumpkin, three bush bean, six pak choy, and one swiss chard were born. (Eat that OctoMom.)
Sniffle, sniffle. I'm so proud!
May they grow happy, strong, fruitful, and encourage their siblings to come forth!
Now, I get to do more research on on the possible dangers to my little plant babies and if their are organic ways to manage such things. Yeah, yeah, I'm trying the companion planting thing, but while some plants are beneficial to others it doesn't necessarily mean they will also keep away pests or disease. Some do both but not all. It would take more plants than I have room to achieve that effect. Just getting these guys set up to be peaceful in their playpen was headache enough.
I am sure there are all sorts of natural ways to get rid of pests, like picking them off the leaves and squishing them with extreme prejudice, which is surprisingly satisfying.
Look, when it comes to my hard earned garden, there is no tree-hugging mercy (see bunny and squirrel gumbo). I might be a touchy-feely, bleeding-heart, but even I have to draw the line somewhere. (Bloody damn green worms chewing holes in my mint last year. Little bastards.)
__________________
Of course, I am encouraging spiders, lizards, lady bugs, and all other sorts of beneficial pest killers. At least when they do the killing, it's considered natural. When I do it, it's considered carnage. Go fig.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
It's mostly a guessing game
4:00 PM
Wow. A second day in a row without rain. Not a lot of sun, though. The problem there is I was thinking I should water the garden, but there were some threatening clouds. If the past few weeks are any indication...
8:00 PM
And, of course, it didn't rain.
Dear Mama Nature,
You are a big, damn tease. If I find my plants wilted tomorrow, I will give you such a glaring!
Love,
Papermasks
__________________
As the great sage Mr. Miyagi said, "Do, or not do, there is no in between." Or something like that. All I remember was there was something about Ralph Macchio and going "squish like grape". Could've saved the world some bad movies, that.
Wow. A second day in a row without rain. Not a lot of sun, though. The problem there is I was thinking I should water the garden, but there were some threatening clouds. If the past few weeks are any indication...
8:00 PM
And, of course, it didn't rain.
Dear Mama Nature,
You are a big, damn tease. If I find my plants wilted tomorrow, I will give you such a glaring!
Love,
Papermasks
__________________
As the great sage Mr. Miyagi said, "Do, or not do, there is no in between." Or something like that. All I remember was there was something about Ralph Macchio and going "squish like grape". Could've saved the world some bad movies, that.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Priorities
For the love of little green men in pink panties it's muggy, and...
Wait...what is...?
Holy shit there's a huge ball of fire in the sky! Everyone run for your lives! Save yourselves! SOMEONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN!
Oooh...my cucumber seedlings are perky!
___________________
I recognize the need for the evil day star for my plants, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.
Wait...what is...?
Holy shit there's a huge ball of fire in the sky! Everyone run for your lives! Save yourselves! SOMEONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN!
Oooh...my cucumber seedlings are perky!
___________________
I recognize the need for the evil day star for my plants, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
I'm not that big on the whole sun thing, but really...
The rain continues. This is starting to remind me of the May two years ago when we bought our house. It rained for something like three weeks straight. I think Mama Nature has forgotten that there is such thing as too much of a good thing.
I'm trying to look on the bright side of things. Let's be Pollyanna for a minute. What can I find in this situation to be glad about? Well...at least I won't have to water the garden for a while. Yay for optimisim!
Of course, that worry might be moot anyway if my garden up and swims away. Yay for cynicism!
____________________
It would seem tomorrow will be our only break in the rain for quite some time. I'm starting to wonder if I should install umbrellas in the garden. It definitely wouldn't be the strangest thing that's ever happened in our neighborhood. Yay for the eccentricities of suburbia!
I'm trying to look on the bright side of things. Let's be Pollyanna for a minute. What can I find in this situation to be glad about? Well...at least I won't have to water the garden for a while. Yay for optimisim!
Of course, that worry might be moot anyway if my garden up and swims away. Yay for cynicism!
____________________
It would seem tomorrow will be our only break in the rain for quite some time. I'm starting to wonder if I should install umbrellas in the garden. It definitely wouldn't be the strangest thing that's ever happened in our neighborhood. Yay for the eccentricities of suburbia!
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
It's a garden not a pool...
10:00 AM
Everything seems okay.
The tomatoes have perked up considerably. Now I know what they look like when they need water. The cucumbers were looking a little down as well. I suppose it makes sense as tomatoes and cucumbers are very juicy, so it stands to reason they need a lot of water, especially in the beginning. I imagine the eggplant will be the same way as will the pumpkins once they start sprouting.
I'm still concerned about that corner where the chard was planted. The seeds are about the size of fleas and are planted rather shallow. That waterfall I mentioned before is apparently caused by a funnel created by the sunroom roof meeting the roof to the main part of the house. While the rest of the garden seems to be fairing well, the massive storms we have been getting has been turning the chard corner into a lake. It drains, but I'm afraid that the seeds have been washed away. I guess I'll have to just wait and see.
And, if that poor tomato that is also taking a beating under the waterfall makes it, I will be shocked.
5:00 PM
More storms, yeesh. At this point, it might not be washing away so much as my seeds rotting. Yay Spring in Arkansas.
___________________
During the brief respite, I watched a squirrel on the neighbor's wooden fence that is beside my garden. He seemed rather interested in it. I would like to say I also like squirrel gumbo, buddy...
Everything seems okay.
The tomatoes have perked up considerably. Now I know what they look like when they need water. The cucumbers were looking a little down as well. I suppose it makes sense as tomatoes and cucumbers are very juicy, so it stands to reason they need a lot of water, especially in the beginning. I imagine the eggplant will be the same way as will the pumpkins once they start sprouting.
I'm still concerned about that corner where the chard was planted. The seeds are about the size of fleas and are planted rather shallow. That waterfall I mentioned before is apparently caused by a funnel created by the sunroom roof meeting the roof to the main part of the house. While the rest of the garden seems to be fairing well, the massive storms we have been getting has been turning the chard corner into a lake. It drains, but I'm afraid that the seeds have been washed away. I guess I'll have to just wait and see.
And, if that poor tomato that is also taking a beating under the waterfall makes it, I will be shocked.
5:00 PM
More storms, yeesh. At this point, it might not be washing away so much as my seeds rotting. Yay Spring in Arkansas.
___________________
During the brief respite, I watched a squirrel on the neighbor's wooden fence that is beside my garden. He seemed rather interested in it. I would like to say I also like squirrel gumbo, buddy...
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Mama Nature strikes again
7:00 PM
The wind has been vicious today because apparently our bi-polar version of Mother Nature has forgotten that the windy season was in March. My seedlings have taken a beating, especially my tomatoes which I forgot needed to be staked. They were also looking a little wilted despite all the water I gave them. The idea of using garden soil over our native soil was to provide more nutrients as well good drainage. It might be better than I thought.
I had to go to work for a while today at which I was told we had some big storms coming our way. As I watched the ever-darkening sky between clients, I did my best to not panic. Massage is supposed to be relaxing and soothing. Stopping in the middle to shout, "Screw your back! What about my garden?!" wouldn't go over well. (Although, funnily, I have a few clients who actually would sympathize.)
When I finally managed to escape work, I adopted the Little Rock method of driving, which is to say no one else has the right of way ever and people on the sidewalk take their lives into their own hands. I cursed at every red light, at every slow poke who decided at that moment to get in front of me, and at the approaching clouds. I had to get home to save my tomatoes!
I managed to make it home about fifteen minutes before monsoon started. I dug out some short plastic garden stakes that I knew would do well for the small plants, at least for the night. I staked my tomatoes and my jalepeno just to be sure.
After changing clothes and settling down to do some writing, the rains started and I breathed easier that I had done all I could for the evening.
8:00 PM
Okay, that's a lot of rain. A lot of rain.
Oh goody! Hail! And more wind! Oh, and does mine eyes see a waterfall coming off the roof and pummeling one of my tomatoes and possibly washing away my chard seeds? How lucky am I!
You know, I'm starting to get the definite impression Mama Nature is laughing at me.
__________________
If a very small, localized tornado ripped right through my garden and took out the shed, I would feel absolutely no surprise at all. A pox on you, Mama Nature! A pox!
The wind has been vicious today because apparently our bi-polar version of Mother Nature has forgotten that the windy season was in March. My seedlings have taken a beating, especially my tomatoes which I forgot needed to be staked. They were also looking a little wilted despite all the water I gave them. The idea of using garden soil over our native soil was to provide more nutrients as well good drainage. It might be better than I thought.
I had to go to work for a while today at which I was told we had some big storms coming our way. As I watched the ever-darkening sky between clients, I did my best to not panic. Massage is supposed to be relaxing and soothing. Stopping in the middle to shout, "Screw your back! What about my garden?!" wouldn't go over well. (Although, funnily, I have a few clients who actually would sympathize.)
When I finally managed to escape work, I adopted the Little Rock method of driving, which is to say no one else has the right of way ever and people on the sidewalk take their lives into their own hands. I cursed at every red light, at every slow poke who decided at that moment to get in front of me, and at the approaching clouds. I had to get home to save my tomatoes!
I managed to make it home about fifteen minutes before monsoon started. I dug out some short plastic garden stakes that I knew would do well for the small plants, at least for the night. I staked my tomatoes and my jalepeno just to be sure.
After changing clothes and settling down to do some writing, the rains started and I breathed easier that I had done all I could for the evening.
8:00 PM
Okay, that's a lot of rain. A lot of rain.
Oh goody! Hail! And more wind! Oh, and does mine eyes see a waterfall coming off the roof and pummeling one of my tomatoes and possibly washing away my chard seeds? How lucky am I!
You know, I'm starting to get the definite impression Mama Nature is laughing at me.
__________________
If a very small, localized tornado ripped right through my garden and took out the shed, I would feel absolutely no surprise at all. A pox on you, Mama Nature! A pox!
Monday, April 18, 2011
Well, it's still there.
A friend who is a botanist has been the lucky person to endure my amateur questions on gardening.
For instance, how do I keep the yard bunnies from munching down on my seedlings like their own personal buffet?
You see, in our neighborhood, each yard as at least one bunny. Although I haven't seen our long-eared resident in several weeks, my sore muscles demand I take no chances that she'll undo my hard work. Considering that some of my plants are already seedlings, the temptation might be just too much for her to ignore.
My friend suggested I place bags of used cat litter around the garden edge. I don't know how many is really needed, but after planting yesterday, I put six plastic grocery bags of litter out. I tied knots in the handles, leaving just a small hole to allow the scent to escape. I know the smell of used cat litter in the heat of summer would probably concern you guys, but she assures me that unless you run over it with a lawnmower in July (yes, yes, she has done this) you really won't notice. We'll see.
All I know is my starter plants do still exist, although it's too soon to tell if any new sprouts might worth a bunny ignoring her fear of cats (or the smell of them).
I do grow worried of the squirrel mob that has been meeting in our front yard.
I will be monitoring their activities closely...
___________________
I love the yard bunnies. I sincerely do. However, I also like bunny gumbo. My aching back and I have no sympathy for the bunny I find in my garden, especially when there's a whole back yard for her to munch on. Just sayin'.
For instance, how do I keep the yard bunnies from munching down on my seedlings like their own personal buffet?
You see, in our neighborhood, each yard as at least one bunny. Although I haven't seen our long-eared resident in several weeks, my sore muscles demand I take no chances that she'll undo my hard work. Considering that some of my plants are already seedlings, the temptation might be just too much for her to ignore.
My friend suggested I place bags of used cat litter around the garden edge. I don't know how many is really needed, but after planting yesterday, I put six plastic grocery bags of litter out. I tied knots in the handles, leaving just a small hole to allow the scent to escape. I know the smell of used cat litter in the heat of summer would probably concern you guys, but she assures me that unless you run over it with a lawnmower in July (yes, yes, she has done this) you really won't notice. We'll see.
All I know is my starter plants do still exist, although it's too soon to tell if any new sprouts might worth a bunny ignoring her fear of cats (or the smell of them).
I do grow worried of the squirrel mob that has been meeting in our front yard.
I will be monitoring their activities closely...
___________________
I love the yard bunnies. I sincerely do. However, I also like bunny gumbo. My aching back and I have no sympathy for the bunny I find in my garden, especially when there's a whole back yard for her to munch on. Just sayin'.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
In which I forgot something...
So, late this morning I gathered up my best laid plan along with my plants and seeds and went to discover the fun of planting.
As I rounded the front corner of the house, twenty-two 40-pound bags of dirt screamed "Surprise!"
Oh...yeah, right...
I'm not going to lie that I had a vague and apparently futile hope that overnight the bags of soil (twenty-two at 40 pounds each, mind you) would be neatly distributed into the garden plot by happy little dirt fairies. You know, kind of like in the story about the shoemaker and the elves.
I stared dejectedly at the pile large pile of mocking bags. Well, shit...
Cursing the lack of dirt fairies, I put down my cardboard flat of plants and seeds and went to retrieve tools from the Shed of Pain. (So far, the only thing I've surmised during this adventure is all yard work is torture.) I would also like to point out that my husband informed me that he would be giving me no aid at all in this adventure. Failing marriage or no, I would like for our SCA peeps to please remind him of the definition of chivalry, please. Thank you.
Implements of suffering needed for this stage of gardening: a sturdy rake, a hand tiller, a box-cutter, and a resolve of friggin' steel.
One day, some amateur gardener might find this blog next to newspaper article about how I died reaching for that last blasted weed. I only hope that he or she either use it to learn from my mistakes or decide to take up something less strenuous, like coal mining.
A few items of note:
I ate a bit. I drank a lot of water while wishing it was tequila. I sat indoors where there exists the greatest blessing God ever gave us: air conditioning. (Your opinion may vary, but I don't care.)
I was tempted to not get up again and just plant another day, but with my schedule being about as stable as a squirrel on caffeine, I knew today was it or I risked not being able to get the plants into the ground before the end of our planting season.
After several minutes of pep talks, I finally got up and gathered my plants and finally, finally get to experience the "fun" part.
I started with the beans. As you saw from my diagram, I had a whole row the length of the plot dedicated to them. As I actually started to plant them, I realized, "Wow, that's a lot of beans."
Here's another note to would-be gardeners/masochists: Just because there are that many seeds in the packet doesn't mean you have to plant them all.
So, I decided to only do a half-row of beans and give the chard the other half. Okay, that changed the lay-out, but I knew I could work with it.
My next discovery is pumpkins are space whores, and I don't mean green women from the planet Slut-tron who need men for Pimp Daddies. I knew, as a squash, it was easy to fall into the common mistake of planting too many and end up being forced to give so much away that you become the Jehovah's Witness of gardening and the sight of you bearing down on their doors with a bushel of squash cause neighbors to dive behind couches. But, I had no idea they needed so much room. I figured I could get in a couple of pumpkin hills at least. (Pumpkins like hills. I guess either for drainage or because they like being high and mighty over the other plants.)
Pumpkin hills need to be eight feet apart. Eight Feet. My plot is 8 x 16. So, yeah, I have only one hill that has a whole corner to itself.
As you can guess, I ended up making a lot of placement changes as I discovered more space needs of each plant.
The result:
Notice that the turnips are missing. It just didn't seem like I had enough room. Hell, considering both they and the pak choy are cool-weather plants, I'm not expecting much either way.
Still, the planting is done. I now have what could turn out to be a pretty awesome garden.
I have made the necessary phone calls to squeal over my accomplishment. Now, I think, I will crawl under the bed and die.
Fun, they said...
___________________
Now, the waiting begins. I wish I could poor some instant grow stuff on it and have it pop up all pretty and full of veggies. Hey, it worked in the cartoons! Damn reality and its "patience is a virtue" crap.
As I rounded the front corner of the house, twenty-two 40-pound bags of dirt screamed "Surprise!"
Oh...yeah, right...
I'm not going to lie that I had a vague and apparently futile hope that overnight the bags of soil (twenty-two at 40 pounds each, mind you) would be neatly distributed into the garden plot by happy little dirt fairies. You know, kind of like in the story about the shoemaker and the elves.
I stared dejectedly at the pile large pile of mocking bags. Well, shit...
Cursing the lack of dirt fairies, I put down my cardboard flat of plants and seeds and went to retrieve tools from the Shed of Pain. (So far, the only thing I've surmised during this adventure is all yard work is torture.) I would also like to point out that my husband informed me that he would be giving me no aid at all in this adventure. Failing marriage or no, I would like for our SCA peeps to please remind him of the definition of chivalry, please. Thank you.
Implements of suffering needed for this stage of gardening: a sturdy rake, a hand tiller, a box-cutter, and a resolve of friggin' steel.
One day, some amateur gardener might find this blog next to newspaper article about how I died reaching for that last blasted weed. I only hope that he or she either use it to learn from my mistakes or decide to take up something less strenuous, like coal mining.
A few items of note:
- Sunblock is always a good idea, but if you are a rebel like me (read: stupid), it is best to take frequent breaks in the shade to avoid sunburn.
- It is perfectly acceptable to use the above excuse for breaks to cover up your true feelings, which will run along the lines of "Holy monkey ass! I hurt in places I didn't know existed! When I finish this damn garden, I am going to lobotomize myself to prevent future masochistic tendencies!"
- Dumping one bag of soil at a time then spreading it around is the bullet train to Crazy Ville.
- The true recipe for garden soil installation: take six or seven of the bags at a time, placing them where ever the hell they land when you throw them into the plot. Use the box-cutter to open the bottoms of the bags. Sit down and cry for a few minutes. Dump out the bags. Spread with the rake, tilling where necessary, so as to get a good mix of the bought soil with your native soil so as not to create a barrier and confuse the plants. Wash, rinse, repeat. When done, collapse and think horrible thoughts about anyone who said, "Gardening is fun!"
- The smart recipe for garden soil installation: call upon the teenage boys of friends and have them do it for you. Pay them in pizza and video games.
- The genius recipe for garden soil installation: take up pottery instead.
I ate a bit. I drank a lot of water while wishing it was tequila. I sat indoors where there exists the greatest blessing God ever gave us: air conditioning. (Your opinion may vary, but I don't care.)
I was tempted to not get up again and just plant another day, but with my schedule being about as stable as a squirrel on caffeine, I knew today was it or I risked not being able to get the plants into the ground before the end of our planting season.
After several minutes of pep talks, I finally got up and gathered my plants and finally, finally get to experience the "fun" part.
I started with the beans. As you saw from my diagram, I had a whole row the length of the plot dedicated to them. As I actually started to plant them, I realized, "Wow, that's a lot of beans."
Here's another note to would-be gardeners/masochists: Just because there are that many seeds in the packet doesn't mean you have to plant them all.
So, I decided to only do a half-row of beans and give the chard the other half. Okay, that changed the lay-out, but I knew I could work with it.
My next discovery is pumpkins are space whores, and I don't mean green women from the planet Slut-tron who need men for Pimp Daddies. I knew, as a squash, it was easy to fall into the common mistake of planting too many and end up being forced to give so much away that you become the Jehovah's Witness of gardening and the sight of you bearing down on their doors with a bushel of squash cause neighbors to dive behind couches. But, I had no idea they needed so much room. I figured I could get in a couple of pumpkin hills at least. (Pumpkins like hills. I guess either for drainage or because they like being high and mighty over the other plants.)
Pumpkin hills need to be eight feet apart. Eight Feet. My plot is 8 x 16. So, yeah, I have only one hill that has a whole corner to itself.
As you can guess, I ended up making a lot of placement changes as I discovered more space needs of each plant.
The result:
Notice that the turnips are missing. It just didn't seem like I had enough room. Hell, considering both they and the pak choy are cool-weather plants, I'm not expecting much either way.
Still, the planting is done. I now have what could turn out to be a pretty awesome garden.
I have made the necessary phone calls to squeal over my accomplishment. Now, I think, I will crawl under the bed and die.
Fun, they said...
___________________
Now, the waiting begins. I wish I could poor some instant grow stuff on it and have it pop up all pretty and full of veggies. Hey, it worked in the cartoons! Damn reality and its "patience is a virtue" crap.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Plan of Attack: Part Two
Now, as I've said before, around here, Mama Nature goes off her meds in the Spring, so I wasn't entirely surprised by the rainy tantrum she threw that next day keeping me indoors. I shrugged it off. There was always the next weekend...
A ton of rain, two cold snaps, a complete marital meltdown, a sci-fi/fantasy convention, a visit from most of the family, and a tornado helped me pass the rest of March and half of April. So, here I am, Saturday, April 16th, doing my best to keep looking forward and not commit seppuku.
Despite the aforementioned complete marital meltdown, the husband kept his word to buy me some garden soil, which we picked up earlier today.
The conversation started with him asking, "How deep do you want it when it's spread out? Three or six inches?"
I shrugged, trying to not remind him that I have the math skills of a brain-dead monkey. "I don't know."
He did some calculations. "Six inches will require about forty-four bags of dirt."
"Three inches it is," I said.
I tried hard to focus on how happy I was to be getting a garden among all this turmoil and ignore the urge to have a nervous breakdown as the nice guys loaded the bags of soil onto the truck.
The twenty-two bags of soil.
The twenty-two 40 pound bags of soil.
I just kept smiling and breathing and wishing for a few shots of tequila.
Think of the garden, think of the garden, think of the garden...
I also bought one of those hand tillers that looks like a twisty fork hoping it would make breaking up the rest of the plot easier.
It in that it made it easier to re-till the first half and break up the weeds and grass in the second half. It didn't in that it was still tedious work that helped me discover new muscles that are currently calling me foul names.
In the end, I have nicely turned earth and a growing compost heap thanks to all those leaves. Tomorrow I get to do what everyone declares is the Fun Part: planting. (Personally, I figured the Fun Part would be eating the resulting veggies, but who am I to argue?)
I am going to attempt Companion Gardening, which is planting certain plants together so that they benefit each other's grow and/or keep away certain pests. I have no desire to use pesticides for many reasons, especially since I aspire to raise honey bees next year. The problem is there are some plants that can actually hurt each other's growth...
If anyone ever asks me what it's like to plant a garden, I will tell them that it's like planning a dinner party where a third of the guests hate each other and putting them at the same table would inevitably result in a brawl.
I have spent the last two hours just trying to figure out who are friends, who are enemies, and who are the laid back dudes who just don't care.
I think I finally have it figured out:
Will Uncle Cucumber imbibe a little too much fertilizer and try to beat up Aunt Pak Choy? Will the tomatoes be uncontrollable brats and make the chard want to stomp them? Will the Onions just say, "Screw it!" and stomp out in a fit of melodrama?
With hope, this tentative lay out will mean relative peace and prosperity in my garden.
But, you know, "the best laid schemes of mice and men go often askew..."
We shall see what we shall see.
____________________
If a veggie war were to break out in my yard, I wonder who the winner would be. Cucumbers could take 'em all out by sheer numbers, but pumpkins are like nature's land mines and can just nuke the whole thing. I guess I'll find out if I go out one day and find myself cleaning pumpkin guts off the side of the house. (And, yes, it's very true about the pumpkins.)
A ton of rain, two cold snaps, a complete marital meltdown, a sci-fi/fantasy convention, a visit from most of the family, and a tornado helped me pass the rest of March and half of April. So, here I am, Saturday, April 16th, doing my best to keep looking forward and not commit seppuku.
Despite the aforementioned complete marital meltdown, the husband kept his word to buy me some garden soil, which we picked up earlier today.
The conversation started with him asking, "How deep do you want it when it's spread out? Three or six inches?"
I shrugged, trying to not remind him that I have the math skills of a brain-dead monkey. "I don't know."
He did some calculations. "Six inches will require about forty-four bags of dirt."
"Three inches it is," I said.
I tried hard to focus on how happy I was to be getting a garden among all this turmoil and ignore the urge to have a nervous breakdown as the nice guys loaded the bags of soil onto the truck.
The twenty-two bags of soil.
The twenty-two 40 pound bags of soil.
I just kept smiling and breathing and wishing for a few shots of tequila.
Think of the garden, think of the garden, think of the garden...
I also bought one of those hand tillers that looks like a twisty fork hoping it would make breaking up the rest of the plot easier.
It in that it made it easier to re-till the first half and break up the weeds and grass in the second half. It didn't in that it was still tedious work that helped me discover new muscles that are currently calling me foul names.
In the end, I have nicely turned earth and a growing compost heap thanks to all those leaves. Tomorrow I get to do what everyone declares is the Fun Part: planting. (Personally, I figured the Fun Part would be eating the resulting veggies, but who am I to argue?)
I am going to attempt Companion Gardening, which is planting certain plants together so that they benefit each other's grow and/or keep away certain pests. I have no desire to use pesticides for many reasons, especially since I aspire to raise honey bees next year. The problem is there are some plants that can actually hurt each other's growth...
If anyone ever asks me what it's like to plant a garden, I will tell them that it's like planning a dinner party where a third of the guests hate each other and putting them at the same table would inevitably result in a brawl.
I have spent the last two hours just trying to figure out who are friends, who are enemies, and who are the laid back dudes who just don't care.
I think I finally have it figured out:
Will Uncle Cucumber imbibe a little too much fertilizer and try to beat up Aunt Pak Choy? Will the tomatoes be uncontrollable brats and make the chard want to stomp them? Will the Onions just say, "Screw it!" and stomp out in a fit of melodrama?
With hope, this tentative lay out will mean relative peace and prosperity in my garden.
But, you know, "the best laid schemes of mice and men go often askew..."
We shall see what we shall see.
____________________
If a veggie war were to break out in my yard, I wonder who the winner would be. Cucumbers could take 'em all out by sheer numbers, but pumpkins are like nature's land mines and can just nuke the whole thing. I guess I'll find out if I go out one day and find myself cleaning pumpkin guts off the side of the house. (And, yes, it's very true about the pumpkins.)
Plan of Attack: Part One
Despite the title, there really wasn't one. A month ago, my husband laid out and anchored the landscaping timbers into an 8 x 16 plot that would one day become something resembling a garden. "One day" seemed to be the phrase of note.
Arkansas weather being what it is during the Spring (also known as the season Mother Nature goes off her meds) it was a couple of weeks before I could start the process of turning the soil so that it looked more like a potential garden plot and less like weed nursery. So, bearing a shovel, heavy duty gloves, and a happy determination, I started what I thought would be the Hard Part.
Most people will probably recognize that the first mistake I made was using a shovel. Hey, some of us learn the hard way.
The happy left me fairly quickly when I discovered that we actually grew rocks more than we grew weeds. Most of them were small and suitably annoying enough that every time I heard the shovel go "clink" my cursing was relatively mild, at least not enough to scare the neighbors. (Considering all of them have a garden of some type or another, I figured they would understand anyway.)
And, then the shovel went "clunk".
Okaaaay...
I shifted the shovel a few inches over.
"Clunk."
I shifted the shovel several more inches.
"Clunk."
That's when I decided it was a good time to take a break and ponder the situation.
Now, I had to take frequent breaks anyway for several reasons: one, I forgot to buy sun screen, so I was doing my best to keep from burning to a crisp; two, I am a massage therapist and my hands tire quickly, plus I didn't want blisters; and three, I am woefully out-of-shape. These things definitely seemed to have more merit than the mystery item in my soon-to-be garden.
I sat on the deck steps, wiping the sweat from my brow, and drinking water. As I stared at the plot, several things went through my head:
After a while, my determination boosted, and I stood to go dig the Thing up.
There are several reasons I want a garden beyond fresh veggies and a reason to get my ass out of the house. Good exercise as well, sure, but I also wanted to prove to myself I can finish something this large. Besides, there was something to be said about having a calming place where it wasn't about me or the stress in my life, but these quiet, living things who need protection and love.
I was not going to be beaten by geological upstart!
It took me the better part of a half hour to dig the damn thing out of my way to Zen inner peace.
It was unfortunate that it wasn't anything as exciting as human bones or buried treasure. Alas, it was just a rock. A rock the size of a small dog, but just a rock. (About as equally annoying as a small dog as well.)
With that out of the way, I labored bearing a little paranoia that the next thing that made the shovel go "clink" would require the use of heavy machinery for removal.
Two hours and a blister later, I reached the half-way mark. I didn't think working with a shovel to break up and turn soil would be so slow, but live and learn these things so you don't have to.
Worn out but feeling good about my accomplishments and the healthy amount of earthworms I found, I figured it was okay to stop for the night. The next day, I could go get the garden soil and finish turning the earth.
Please note that this was the middle of March.
Yeah, you see where I'm going.
(To be continued...)
__________________
Please note also that it was during this time period my husband decided he didn't want to be married anymore. Both of us went into individual counseling in the hopes of saving our relationship, but my sanity at the time was definitely wearing thin. Luckily, gardening is a pretty good anchor. Besides, I kept having dreams my garden ate him. Hey, we all get through tough times in our own way.
Arkansas weather being what it is during the Spring (also known as the season Mother Nature goes off her meds) it was a couple of weeks before I could start the process of turning the soil so that it looked more like a potential garden plot and less like weed nursery. So, bearing a shovel, heavy duty gloves, and a happy determination, I started what I thought would be the Hard Part.
Most people will probably recognize that the first mistake I made was using a shovel. Hey, some of us learn the hard way.
The happy left me fairly quickly when I discovered that we actually grew rocks more than we grew weeds. Most of them were small and suitably annoying enough that every time I heard the shovel go "clink" my cursing was relatively mild, at least not enough to scare the neighbors. (Considering all of them have a garden of some type or another, I figured they would understand anyway.)
And, then the shovel went "clunk".
Okaaaay...
I shifted the shovel a few inches over.
"Clunk."
I shifted the shovel several more inches.
"Clunk."
That's when I decided it was a good time to take a break and ponder the situation.
Now, I had to take frequent breaks anyway for several reasons: one, I forgot to buy sun screen, so I was doing my best to keep from burning to a crisp; two, I am a massage therapist and my hands tire quickly, plus I didn't want blisters; and three, I am woefully out-of-shape. These things definitely seemed to have more merit than the mystery item in my soon-to-be garden.
I sat on the deck steps, wiping the sweat from my brow, and drinking water. As I stared at the plot, several things went through my head:
- A scene in "The Quiet Man" where John Wayne digs up yet another rock while planting roses and declares, "Now, I know why you have so many rock walls in this country!"
- "It's not even my luck that it's buried treasure. I'm sure my luck dictates that it's a shallow grave."
- "'Oh, you're planting a garden! You'll have so much fun!' Ms. Molly said. I need to go ask her when the fun starts."
- "If it is a shallow grave, do I have to alert the authorities or can I keep the bones to use during Halloween?"
- "I know why they call it a garden 'plot' because I definitely think it's plotting my demise. Maybe it's cursed land and it actually ate the last would-be gardener. Would explain the shallow grave."
After a while, my determination boosted, and I stood to go dig the Thing up.
There are several reasons I want a garden beyond fresh veggies and a reason to get my ass out of the house. Good exercise as well, sure, but I also wanted to prove to myself I can finish something this large. Besides, there was something to be said about having a calming place where it wasn't about me or the stress in my life, but these quiet, living things who need protection and love.
I was not going to be beaten by geological upstart!
It took me the better part of a half hour to dig the damn thing out of my way to Zen inner peace.
It was unfortunate that it wasn't anything as exciting as human bones or buried treasure. Alas, it was just a rock. A rock the size of a small dog, but just a rock. (About as equally annoying as a small dog as well.)
With that out of the way, I labored bearing a little paranoia that the next thing that made the shovel go "clink" would require the use of heavy machinery for removal.
Two hours and a blister later, I reached the half-way mark. I didn't think working with a shovel to break up and turn soil would be so slow, but live and learn these things so you don't have to.
Worn out but feeling good about my accomplishments and the healthy amount of earthworms I found, I figured it was okay to stop for the night. The next day, I could go get the garden soil and finish turning the earth.
Please note that this was the middle of March.
Yeah, you see where I'm going.
(To be continued...)
__________________
Please note also that it was during this time period my husband decided he didn't want to be married anymore. Both of us went into individual counseling in the hopes of saving our relationship, but my sanity at the time was definitely wearing thin. Luckily, gardening is a pretty good anchor. Besides, I kept having dreams my garden ate him. Hey, we all get through tough times in our own way.
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