Sow There!

The summer solstice just passed, which is as good a time as any to take a mid-year assessment.
We can do this for our hairstyle, garden success, life plans or savings accounts.
There’s a lot to be said for taking a moment, or several, to glory in things just the way they are, or to renew our efforts to change the things we can.

With summer officially in full swing, there aren’t many major garden tasks to be done right now.
But if you pause just a little, there a lot of lessons in the garden that parallel life.
The morning and evening rituals continue with a tour around the garden, checking on things again, as if I will find some wild new inspiration or need.

Invariably, even in the absence of an obvious need, there is always some small thing to do, such as smashing a snail or picking a weed that finally grew large enough to merit me bending over to pull it.
So far I’ve only lost a few plants. A few cosmos seedlings were toppled when I accidentally dragged the hose across them. Some mystery occurred with the jalapeño plant and it looked like it was chopped in two with a machete. This makes absolutely no sense because the plant is in a bucket hanging from the branch of the birch tree.
Also, the Bacopa plant looks like it’s nearly dead, again at no apparent fault of my own.
But for now, I’ve stopped buying plants and have already planted all the peat pot sprouts that grew in the windowsill.
My latest purchase was a $1 six-pack of Vinca rosea we bought at a big-box store.
We ran into one of those chatty ladies who works in the gardening section. Normally I’m in the mood to chat up just about anyone if the subject is plants. However, that day I felt more like a hunter than a gatherer when it came to shopping.
Big-box gardening sections don’t always take the best care of the plants. Tommy has tried several times to get dead and dying plants for free, but his request is often rejected because the store receives a credit when they return the shriveled, lifeless brown plants to the vendor.
However, the friendly lady in the plant section directed us to the discount shelf. I could tell she was just waiting for people like us to wander by and was excited for us when we snatched up the good bargain.
That’ll likely be the last of the new plantings for a while.
I don’t know about others, but I consider my garden an extension of my living quarters — and in that case, my favorite room in the house.
Here are the lessons I learned in my yard this week:
• Plants are the ultimate Zen teachers. They take what they need from the earth, air and water, and leave the rest.
• Sometimes in gardening, we fail. A plant withers or plays out its natural life cycle. Then we have an important decision about whether to make more effort to revive the plant, wait and see if it revives on its own, or try something completely new.
• Find out what your plants need, but don’t overdo it. Even the healthiest plants will be harmed by too much good intention.
• Just like in life, often you can get some really good ideas when you ask your friends and family for advice.
• If one area of the yard is doing exceptionally well, just enjoy it and move on to an area that needs more attention.
• Sometimes there’s nothing more that needs to be done, and it’s time to just sit back and enjoy the benefits of your efforts.

From Zen to zinnias
This week the highlight of my yard is the stately row of zinnias. In Chico, zinnias are one of those easy producers. I planted a few packets last year and was wowed by my seemingly effortless success.
So much so, that as the days grew shorter, I snipped off hundreds of dying flower buds and stuck them in plastic bags.

This spring Mom and I dug a straight line near the area where we dig holes for compost.
The idea was to build a blooming hedge that would obscure the untidy nature of the compost piles.
I didn’t have hope of 100 percent success, but it didn’t really matter because the seeds were free and except for watering, planting the seeds only took a few minutes.
Now that formerly unsightly spot in the yard is thriving with bloom after bloom of happy zinnias.
The lesson there, I suppose, is to take just a few minutes to do something you know will make you happy, even if it is the same thing over and over.

Posted by Heather Hacking at 06:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

After the January storms, we asked a tree cutter working in the neighborhood if we could have some of the mulch that was being chipped.

The guy said we had to take a whole truckload. He had to wait until he had a full load that didn't need to be delivered to someone else, and he would need to be in our neighborhood again.

Somehow, he remembered us, and the pile magically appeared sometime while I was at work.

The pile was enormous — bigger than my little Barbie-type car — and filled up a great portion of the driveway. This was not daunting because I knew that surely some of my friends would want large chunks of the enormous pile.

The friends didn't come to get the mulch. I even posted it on Chico's Freecycle, where people list things they are offering for free. One person said she and her husband wanted the mulch, but they never followed through.

And there the mulch sat.

(Mom poses briefly wearing the cover we use to keep flies off of the food when we have barbecues).

I've learned from experience that there are some tasks that, if done out of frustration, can insult the man in my life. These include lighting the barbecue, asking another man to watch the barbecue, checking the oil, moving an extraordinarily large object, etc.

Mowing the lawn ranks in the "big" category of things not to do.

Months ago I voiced my opinion that the lawn needed to be mowed. A reasonable amount of time passed, and the lawn had not been mowed. He wasn't around when I voiced my opinion, to myself, that the weeds would soon go to seed if the lawn was not
mowed.

Given no other available options (such as asking someone else to mow the lawn), one day I mowed it myself. It took five minutes and the task was very satisfying. No wonder he reserves it for himself.

I knew mowing the lawn would make a statement. Indeed, he was irked when he got home. I don't really want to argue about this, because I also consider washing dishes to be "his job," since I usually like to cook.

Recently Tommy tweaked his knee at work and was hobbling around with an ice pack as a new appendage.

Given the circumstances, and being that it was time again to mow the lawn, I took the risk of insulting his manhood and did the task.

When he stated the obvious, that I had mowed the lawn, I could tell that he still didn't like it, but under the circumstances understood that I had no alternative.

So, on to the mound of mulch, which sat in the driveway undiminished. The fact that this pile of mulch was underutilized is not entirely Tommy's fault. First, I thought that my offers for others to take part of the mound away would be accepted. Also, I wanted to do some research to make sure that using these particular trees as mulch would not cause some strange reaction to the acidity of my soil.

But the bottom line is, the mound sat there.

Mom visited last weekend and we were putzing around the yard. She's a veteran when it comes to mulch and has had about a dozen truckloads delivered from the garden store to her backyard.

So it was only natural that she maneuvered the wheelbarrow and replaced the inertia of the mulch pile with momentum.

With Mom's help, we took about four wheelbarrow loads of mulch around to the herb garden beds.

The finished look of the fresh mulch was inspiring and I vowed to continue moving at least one wheelbarrow full of mulch each day, even if it was 106 degrees outside.

Over the next several days I continued around the garden beds and started on the area where the tomatoes are growing.

Tommy's knee is recovering and I came home one day this week and saw him and Leif, the soon-to-be-11-year-old next door, working in the yard.

The entire backyard was a sea of gray/brown mulch.

Half the gravel driveway had moist mulch from the center of the pile spread somewhat evenly.

My neighbor even complained that she thought there was too much mulch and we should be worried about a myriad of bugs that might thrive in it.

While I praised Tommy for his good work, it's really Mom who deserves the big "huzzah."

Now, a new dilemma. There's still an enormous pile of mulch and very few places left in the yard in which to spread it.

And here, a few tidbits about mulch from Chapter 3 of Taylor's Weekend Gardening Guide, "Soil and Composting: The complete guide to building healthy, fertile soil," by Nancy Ondra.

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Soil should be moist before adding mulch because the mulch will absorb water.

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Mulch will suppress weeds from sprouting but existing weeds should be pulled before mulch is applied.

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Mulch can contribute to some pest problems, such as snails and slugs, which can hide in the crevices.

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Weeds can still creep through mulch. One method is to apply about eight layers of newspaper under the mulch.

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Mulch should not be placed close to the stems of plants, because it can make the plants rot.

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Some mulches, such as bark chips, can tie up nitrogen in the soil. Apply rich compost under the mulch to feed the plants.

Posted by Heather Hacking at 01:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

(Tommy couldn't hide from these mutant morning glories, which were plucked before the mysteries of their development could fully evolve).

Sometimes a wait-and-see attitude can pay off in the garden.
Many of the predictable weeds in my yard I will recognize from a young sprout and can quickly eradicate. Funny how if you hate something enough, you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.
But occasionally I’ll wait until I can decipher what is a weed and what is a magical surprise.

For plants that are dying in my yard, my theory is that unless I have something else to put into the ground, I’ll give a plant that last fighting chance to see if it survives.
I’d hope someone would do the same for me someday.
With this approach, I’ve had some primrose plants that looked like they were dead, but after the summer months passed, they revived and bloomed again in winter.

The same story goes for a Vinca rosea on the doorstep. It “died” this winter, but now the veteran plant is in full bloom.
My latest victory was a tiny sprig of a fern-like plant. I thought it might be an Australian fern and asked my partner Tommy not to touch it.
Months passed and the mystery plant grew.

When it started to bloom I realized it was nierembergia.
I cannot recall if I ever had nierembergia planted in this location in the past. If so, it has been several years.
Perhaps one tiny bit of root survived and it took this long for the plant to get enough “oopmph” to punch through the soil surface. Or maybe seeds were transported through the magic of birds.

Other unwanted volunteers
Several interesting things have also sprouted from the various compost piles around the yard.
I’m a slow composter.
We dig a giant hole in an idle area of the yard. Over time this fills up with food scraps.
If it occurs to me, I shovel a few piles of soil on top and drag a running hose in the general vicinity.
By those who pride themselves on their ability to perfectly blend a compost pile, my compost method is primitive.
But it does the job.

After about a year I check the hole and usually everything has decomposed and there are a few wheelbarrows full of garden gold.
Because it’s not a hot compost method, the seeds aren’t “cooked” and I’m careful to put weeds in the green waste can, effectively making them someone else’s problem.
One surprise last year was a little bit too much.

From the depths of a compost hole grew a plant with giant leaves that looked like it was in the squash family.
I had good reason to expect it was a pumpkin plant, or a lot of pumpkin plants, because that’s where I buried the enormous jack o’lantern that had turned moldy on my front porch.
The plants grew until the leaves were about three-feet wide and pretty much devoured all of that previously idle composting area.

(Note that the mystery plant has almost completely taken over the garden bench).

In the spirit of unveiling mysteries, we continued to let the plants grow.
What later emerged were a disappointing array of bumpy, football-shaped, squash-like things. Some of them were orange, and others were a dark, olive green.
When I called Joe Connell, farm adviser, he said that squash have a tendency to create hybrids, some of which are inedible.
Wanting to avoid another large disappointment, we placed the strange harvest in the green waste can.

(Mystery mutant "vegetables" before they were safely discarded in the green waste can).

This year, I noticed some morning glory sprouts near the septic tank and in the same general location as the aforementioned mystery squash.
No doubt, I overreacted. But when I saw that the morning glory leaves had grown unusually large, I yelled at Tommy to yank them out.
He was nice about it, even though I had this strange sense of urgency, as if the plant would have grown over the next 2 1/2 minutes.
The idea that the morning glories might have been large due to the proximity to the septic tank gave me the heebie jeebies. Also, I feared whatever DNA had produced last year’s bumpy footballs might have still lurked beneath the soil surface.
Either way, it’s all good and gone now.

Posted by Heather Hacking at 04:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Many of us who are gardeners have browsed through those frou-frou garden books and magazines and viewed photos of herb harvesting.
Usually in the glossy photos are giant clumps of herbs hanging in a shed or barn. These are artistic photos, shot in sepia tone, with shafts of light streaming in through the cracks of wood of the structure.
The gardener is dressed as if she just washed with Ivory soap and is imminently approaching a Cafe Mocha moment.

(Oregano can grow big and bushy after a few years. Too bad friends aren't more eager to take giant clumps home with them).

In my reality, harvesting herbs happened on a hot afternoon. I needed to make some room in the garden bed and hacked off giant clumps of lavender, sage and oregano and unceremoniously dumped them into plastic crates.
Some of the clumps I brought into the house for a few days for a sweet smell inside. This works really well with spearmint and lemon verbena as well.
The lavender is nice to tie into a clump and add to the top of a spring birthday present.

I’ve tried tying them up with string and offering them to friends, but invariably they act as if I am offering them a controlled substance.
Also, people don’t need a gallon of oregano unless they have been enlisted to help out with a charity spaghetti feed.
Usually, I refresh my spice jars with new herbs, and keep the herbs around until they are crumbling and making a mess all over the floor.
Sometimes they miraculously disappear from the kitchen when my partner is cleaning up.
Herbs dry well in those metal three-tier baskets that people use to store fruit and non-refrigerated vegetables in the kitchen.
I’ll also save some of the sage for some of my friends who like to burn it.
Native Americans use sage in “smudging,” a ritual where a home is blessed with sage and negative energy is dispersed.
Some people grow herbs such as lemon balm and chamomile to use to make tea. Herbs also make a nice garnish on dishes during a summer barbecue.
Some people will put fresh herbs in oil and freeze them. These are used to add flavor when cooking.
However, doing that would just mean one more thing I can’t find in the back of my over-stuffed freezer.
Spearmint is another herb of which I always have too much. It spreads rapidly, sending out babies from the mother plant. We keep a nice clump near the strawberry patch and when it gets too large, Tommy runs over it a few times with the lawn mower. Invariably it springs back.

Memories, like the corners of my mind
For years, Mom has known that a guy from her past was writing a book and used her as the basis for one of his characters.
She and the writer were friends and co-workers nearly 30 years ago.
Mom was married and raising two kids. Apparently there was some awkwardness way back when and the guy fell in love with her.
Their friendship endured this unrequited love, but they lost touch when my mom moved out of state.
With the magic of the Internet, he tracked her down in the 1990s.
They never hooked up, but over the course of conversations, he told her he was writing the book and basing his lead female character on her.
Recently, she received word that the book had been printed.
Mom shared that it was a somewhat spooky feeling to imagine what the character would be like and how the writer would represent her circa 1985.
Of course, she understood that this would just be a loose interpretation based upon his perhaps romanticized memories.
If the male lead character was based upon himself, would the old friend have his character and her character fall in love the way he had hoped back then?
Would he go further and have them in some sort of ’70s-style Erica Jong tryst?
Of course, Mom went to the Internet and bought a copy of the book.
Last time I spoke to her about it, she’d read the first few pages.
She said she paused when she read that her character was not classically beautiful. However, he also describes her in a way that lets the reader know she is noteworthy.

Posted by Heather Hacking at 12:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)