Sow There

By Heather Hacking, Chico Enterprise-Record
POSTED: 04/02/15, 6:50 PM PDT | 1 COMMENT

A close-up view of the fabric used to make Smart Pots. Heather Hacking-Enterprise-Record
Last year we had some substantial rains in the month of March. This year March has felt like May or June.

At last check the Sierra snowpack seemed more suited for dirt bike riding than downhill skiing and the governor has called for increased vigilance in water conservation.

The past few weeks I’ve been home after surgery, which has provided the luxury of a deep garden assessment.

I’ve noted that half of my plants look half-dead.

What’s really eerie is that the blooms came early this year, as if the plants knew it was now or never.

Lavender usually blooms around my birthday (April 30). The purple flowers were here before the first day of spring.

Charlie, the tulip guy at the farmers market, said he usually moves his tulips to a greenhouse to help them bloom. This year he needed a cold house to keep all the blooms from arriving too soon.

MOVING SLOWLY

March 20 I had surgery to remove some cancer-encrusted internal organs.

By no means was any of this a light adventure, but “we” got through it.

I say “we” because my close friends and family also had to wait for surgery and wonder about the unknowns.

At the end of the story my UC Davis doc gave me good news.

Detection was early and unless we learn otherwise, I should be able to avoid radiation.

Hurray.

Like most of us, I’ve had friends who have died of cancer, others who have had long battles with cancer and a cousin in the midst of tackling breast cancer.

To have my own cancer chapter come and (hopefully) go so quickly seems like winning the lottery.

The end result has been that I feel blessed and loved. People brought me food, potted flowers, chocolate and a Roku. Friends sat with me when I was scared or played board games as a distraction. My family helped snap photos of the rubber chicken in the hospital and coworkers are picking up my slack at work. My boyfriend stood strong and told me all would surely be OK because he needed me around.

Wow. That’s a lot.

Not to get too Pollyanna about all of this, but in many ways this health scare has been a gift.

BACK TO THE GARDEN

When my friend Jim visited last week he asked if there was anything he could do. Soon he had a hose in his hand and was filling pots with water.

I could have asked him to pull weeds, but the way things are going, those weeds will be dead of drought in no time.

BEING SMART ABOUT POTS

Last week my sister came down for the day and I talked her into driving me to TJ’s Nursery, on Kennedy Avenue in Chico.

During the Local Nursery Crawl, Terry Miller had chatted me up about Smart Pots.

Fabric pots are nothing new, but have really hit their stride with the increase in marijuana cultivation.

It makes sense that plants would be happier when not contained in black plastic. Black plastic gets blazing hot when it’s blazing hot outside.

The fabric container allows more air to circulate in the root zone, the smartpots.com website explains.

Perhaps even more importantly, Terry explained, when the roots hit the edge of the container, the plants produce smaller, more fibrous roots, rather than one long tendril that will cause the plant to turn root-bound.

I bought two pots and will report later on how they work for tomatoes.

Some gals on an online garden forum had a lively discussion about making their own fabric containers. You can read their sewing tips here: http://goo.gl/z8ow7t

The two Smart Pots weren’t exactly cheap, $17 for two. However, they should last about five years, I am told.

Sow There! Peace and quite to grow the easiest of plants
Chico Enterprise-Record (Chico, CA) – Thursday, June 5, 2014
Author: Heather Hacking hhacking@chicoer.com @HeatherHacking on Twitter
Nature has a way of moving into empty spaces — weeds, lichen, wildflowers, toenail fungus.

Recently my neighbors moved away, and gone are the two loud pitbulls that greeted every visitor within a half-block radius.

I made friends with the animals, who did not intend to sound ferocious; That’s just the way pitbulls talk.

A new quiet has entered my back yard, making room for the more subtle sounds of creatures overlooked during the dog days.

The squirrels began to take over the loquat tree. If I look out my front window, I spot them dancing in the now-vacant parking space, rejoicing they can scamper without loud, doggie-comment.

It’s more fun now to eat outside at the picnic table. For about 10 minutes I was thoroughly entertained by a long-tailed rodent, eating loquats like ears of corn. But soon the enchantment ended, and I realized the tree rat was dropping the loquat skin onto the hood of my car.

Also, one morning I was washing dishes and felt a bug on my shoulder. I tried to flick it away, but it became attached to my finger.

I have no way of knowing whether pitbulls scare away tiny preying mantids.

Covet not your friend’s raised bed

This week a friend asked me to care for her pets, so I made a visit for instructions and to be entrusted with her key.

Envy is a terrible thing.

I spent a few minutes in her beautiful back yard, gazing with admiration, soon coming to the cold, uncomfortable realization I’ll never be asked to host the local home and garden tour.

Her husband has built a raised bed made with cinder blocks, and placed drip irrigation that neatly tends to each plant.

My “raised bed” is a series of enormous pots on a picnic table, to prevent gophers from killing yet another year of hard work.

My friend already had several three-inch, green-striped squash, with vines languishing across the rich soil.

The squash on my outdoor torture-chamber have had numerous blossoms, each which wilts without any hint of actual food production.

Now I remember why I sometimes vow to stick to growing flowers.

Or better yet, perhaps cactus.

Stick with easy and fun summer flowers

It’s June, which means we have a green light for planting zinnias, one of the easiest flowers for this hot climate.

In years past, I planted these flowers too early, and waited impatiently while seeds rotted in the soil.

My coworker Laurie told me one day “oh no. Never plant zinnia before June.”

She said it so matter-of-factly, I knew she probably knew something about cursing at empty soil during March and April.

Because we are in a drought, I will plant zinnia seeds in containers.

The plants produce flowers you’ll see in Mexican tableware — bold orange, solid pink and orange-yellow.

The organicgardening.com website warns that one zinnia foe is powdery mildew.

For prevention, don’t plant them so close that you cut off air circulation, and water at the base as opposed to overhead.

Sow There! On weeds once not wanted
Chico Enterprise-Record (Chico, CA) – Friday, May 30, 2014
Author: Heather Hacking hhacking@chicoer.com @HeatherHacking on Twitter
I’m not a big fan of transitions.

My family has photographs of little Heather, age 3, hanging on to the wooden beam at the edge of the porch. We were moving and I sobbed as they pried my arms from the only home I had ever known.

Somehow I survived at the next house and many others that followed.

Perhaps even more uncomfortable than transitions is being in that waiting period, where things are going to change but you have no way to prepare.

As gardeners, this drought has placed us in that holding pattern.

Thursday I had a day off from work and was wondering if there was something to do in the yard.

Perhaps it was the mood established when I woke up, but things looked drab and washed out.

Vegetables have been planted in pots (those darn gophers). I’ve bought heat-friendly Portulaca and Vinca minor for near the front door.

As a short segue, Vinca minor is among my favorite choices for the time being. It blooms about as prolifically as impatiens but can be planted in direct sun. It’s relative is Vinca major (periwinkle), as you would assume, but the “minor” doesn’t have the propensity to take over your entire neighborhood.

Portulaca is not as spectacular, but it does not die of heat or thirst.

A not-tipping point

One thing I really love about nature is that it reaches its own equilibrium when we step out of the way.

When I moved to this Chico home 17 years ago, the garden beds were overrun with wild viola. You probably have this weed in your yard as well. The leaves are big and lush and in December and January it has white or deep purple blossoms. The flowers look much like potted viola, only about half the size, and the leaves are not furry.

In my yard, this weed fills up the space of less desirable weeds.

The yard, back then, was a blank slate of mostly dry dirt and Bermuda grass, and the wild viola softened the landscape.

In my naivete, I painstakingly transplanted the wild viola to make room for things with larger flowers.

Ha!

Now I realize the wild viola sends runners every which way.

Those wee, unassuming flowers bloom in December and January, while other plants are still sleeping.

If left on its own in a wet winter, you’ll see a colony of wild viola sprouts determined to blanket the world.

In more recent years, I yank at clumps of these plants with zero remorse.

Thanks to drought, this plant is again my friend.

The frost last winter brought the viola back with a vengeance.

They now thrive from the infrequent splash of water applied to plants I actually want to survive. And once again, it fills in those little spots that would otherwise create dusty open sores in my garden.

Compromises

When I look at other people’s yards I see the compromises they make, or perhaps where a plant has simply won the war. Mimosa trees, for example (aka silk trees) are among my least favorite. They attract blue/black butterflies, which is nice. Yet, the life-cycle includes four seasons where tree junk is strewn all over the yard. Currently, this tree deposits pale, pink fluffy flowers in my neighbors yard and on MY car.

Yet, if that’s the only tree in your yard, and often this is the case, you dare not cut it down because you’ll lose all your shade.

Now what to do in the remainder of this transition?

My beau asked me not to water the little patch of lawn because then it would grow and just want more water.

Most of the other plants are things that will survive neglect, including sage, lavender, roses and several other plants that look like they’re on death’s bed.

My job right now is to barely keep these things alive; I understand that things will not be as beautiful as I have come to expect. In the future I will know what remains and decide how best to move forward.

For more inane prattle, check out my blog at www.norcalblogs.com/sowthere. Other contacts, @HeatherHacking on Twitter and Facebook.

By Heather Hacking

Is there a bright side to drought?

Not really. However, let’s pretend for a minute that the lack of water is worthy of praise.

Wow, what beautiful, rain-free weather we’ve been having.

Wouldn’t this be ideal weather for growing winter vegetables?

Even if we can’t tend to winter vegetables, the weather for pulling weeds is excellent.

If this drought keeps going, we can continue to pull weeds every weekend. By the time the Easter Bunny arrives, our yards could be entirely weed-free.

Think about how much money we’re saving on windshield wiper replacements.

If you gauged the season by the temperature, we’re enjoying an early spring. Many plants are flowering early, including the heavenly-scented Daphne odora, which normally doesn’t bloom until Valentines Day.

On weekends we forget about gardening by enjoying nature.

Recent adventures included the trails by the Oroville diversion pool and the wildlife trail at Butte College.

Friends joined me and my beau as we huffed it up the rim trail, scooted on our butts down Monkey Face and meandered around Horseshoe Lake.

Normally we would be a mud-mess after these outdoor adventures. Hurray for drought.

There are already enough songs about rain. I think people should write more songs about dry weather.

Were dry times the inspiration for “A Horse With No Name?”

How about “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?”

Every month Sunset Magazine creates a a to-do list. For January, http://goo.gl/hStPbV, suggestions include shopping for azaleas and camellias. Another task on the list is shopping for medium-sized maple trees. Thanks Sunset. I’ll stop by your place in Menlo Park and use your spigot to fill up my water tanker.

On second thought, those garden magazine folks are realists. If you’re really a gardener, you’re going to plant something.

Despite drought, I plan to buy a fig tree and torture it in a pot until the rains return.

If I’m feeling really defiant, I’ll also plant a few tomato plants by seed.

Who knows, we might have an amazingly ample April and the wells in Chico will turn artesian.

I save the plastic food containers with the flip-top lids. These make the perfect poor-woman’s greenhouse. Simply poke some holes in the bottom and the soil stays moist.

If you have a window with some good light, just place the containers in the sun, then pull them to the middle of the living room at night when the windowsill turns cold.

I’m growing cat grass right now and I won’t apologize.

When the new kitty arrived, my coworker Laura gave me the cat grass seeds. It would be rude not to plant them.

Maybe I’ll water the plants by dipping a ladle into my toilet.

I need to watch myself, however, because you never know what actions I’ll be able to justify. Next thing you know I’ll be planting a long row of exotic, water-hogging plants like hibiscus and bananas.

According to Natiional Geographic’s website, http://goo.gl/ugJAJH, other moisture-hogs include impatiens and annuals with shallow roots.

Other contacts, @HeatherHacking on Twitter and Facebook.

By Heather Hacking, Chico Enterprise-Record

Adult brown marmorated stink bugs can be differentiated from other stink bugs because they are larger and more pungent. Also, the antennae have white stripes. Photo courtesy OF UC Agriculture and Natural Resources
The stink bugs have started to warm up and wake up. So far we’ve had three unwelcome visitors.

The first creepy-crawly was making a slow march up the dining room wall. It’s hard to mistake the stink bug, which is shaped like a Three Musketeers shield.

The next night we were playing a board game when out of nowhere a stink bug was in my hand.

One minute I was looking at my cards, the next minute I was screaming like Miss Muffet.

As per their name, stink bugs smell like rotten eggs when squished. Rather than smack them with a fly swatter, it’s best to capture the bug gently with a napkin. I like to flush the living bug down the toilet.

Some folks will make an effort not to kill a bug inside the house. This is probably the right thing to do. However, I’m not that good of a person.

The brown marmorated stink bug is new to this area, larger than other stink bugs, smells worse and is determined to eat our vegetables.

I say flush it before it has a chance to mate.

Agricultural Commissioner Richard Price and I had a rather lengthy discussion about stink bugs last year and again this week. The marmorated brown stink bug has done a serious job of devastating people garden’s as well as commercial crops.

They nibble at least 170 plants. I checked the list of its favorites — catalpa, garden tomatoes Southern magnolia and sunflowers.

Just to make things worse, the evil and invasive stink bug loves the evil and invasive Chinese tree of heaven (Ailanthus).

Other snackable plants for the crafty critter include dogwood, cucumber, fig, maple, black walnut, privet, tulip tree, honeysuckle, sycamore, viburnum and wild grape.

I don’t know what’s growing in your neighborhood, but the favored ingredients of this bug are all within a stone’s throw of my front door.

BEAUTY IN ALL THINGS

Before I continue a long and heartfelt rant about this creature, I must say that its birth is quite beautiful.

Some guy named Peter posted a YouTube video of a white cluster of eggs he found on his windowpane. Rather than squish the eggs like a sane person, he watched for hours as one after another of the creatures hatched.

The balls are opaque pearls. For just a moment you can see little dots — perhaps eyeballs. Then translucent creatures emerge, wraithlike. As they spend time outside the egg, their slithery bodies begin to change color. At the end of Peter’s two-minute video, the baby stink bugs are going crazy, with legs wiggling and bodies marching off toward their first plant demolition job.

In some ways, they did resemble minions.

At this point, any reasonable person would have smeared the bugs against the windowpane like Rain-X.

MORE STINK TO COME

WHAT WE SAW IN MY DINING ROOM IS JUST THE BEGINNING.

Price said we’ll probably see damage to our home gardens this year. He’ll be watching to see if there is significant damage to commercial crops.

Adult stink bugs bully their way into your home and hide in the little cracks and crannies during the winter.

In spring — about now — the mature bugs will come out of hiding in search of your garden. Once outside they will grab the first receptive mate and lay 18 bazillion eggs, perhaps on your window pane.

Price said we’ll have a hard time battling this beast. The amount of toxic chemicals needed to kill the critters would end up harming the humans more than the stink bugs, he said.

I watched a relatively long academic presentation online, http://goo.gl/g4DVqQ
href=”http://www.norcalblogs.com/sowthere/files/2015/02/stink-bugs.jpg”>
The USDA researcher revealed that an orchard was sprayed and it looked like the stink bugs were 100 percent dead. However, within about 72 hours of treatment, one-third of the stink bugs came out of their pesticide stupor and revived.

This is what Richard meant when he said you could do more harm to yourself by trying to chemically treat them.

However, you can always pick them off one by one.

They do stink when cornered, but a little stench never killed anyone. Price suggested having a coffee can filled with soapy water nearby. Stink bugs aren’t too smart and they aren’t too quick. You should be able to shuffle the bugs into the lethal soapy water.

If the bugs become a pest indoors, Virginia Tech suggests you attract them with a bright light. Fill an aluminum roasting pan (the kind you throw away) with about a gallon of water and some liquid soap. Shine a bright light on the pan and leave in a dark room for 12 hours. Stink bugs should be attracted to a drowning death.

Also, try to leave lights off near the entrance to your home, so they don’t hop inside.

By Heather Hacking, Chico Enterprise-Record
POSTED: 04/16/15, 10:53 AM PDT | UPDATED: 2 WEEKS, 2 DAYS AGO 0 COMMENTS

High marks for the guys from Earl’s Plumbing who managed to move a ton of earth without ruining the plants in my yard. Heather Hacking — Enterprise-Record
The yard has been torn up, tossed around and put back together, but not because of any effort on my part.

I haven’t done much of anything in the four weeks I’ve been home after surgery.

About 14 friends have asked if I planned to finish my screenplay while off from work. Wouldn’t it be nice to do some “personal writing,” they suggested.

It sure would be nice to be inspired or motivated to do something useful.

Mostly I’ve been inspired to drive the motorized shopping carts at Costco and Trader Joe’s. For the first two weeks, a little escape from the house was the highlight of my day.

In some of my spare time I have devoured trash magazines and eaten copious amounts of dark chocolate.

My main motivation has been to binge-watch television shows I had only heard about through social media. After absorbing seasons 1-4 of “Game of Thrones,” I woke up one morning mumbling about my disdain for King Joffrey.

CHANGES IN THE YARD

Meanwhile, some very nice men from Earl’s Plumbing dug a trench just outside my front door. The depression was three-feet deep and connected my little cottage to the city’s sewer system.

The old septic tank may have dated back to World War II and may be responsible for the plume of nitrates that exist throughout the Avenues.

At the edge of the yard is a towering maple tree that looks like it was planted in Annie Bidwell’s days.

I’m worried about that tree now. Did the landmark tree grow so tall and robust because it was given water from my previous septic tank and all the “nutrients” it could ever need?

While the work was being done outside my door, I peeked through the window several times an hour. I was tempted to set up a lawn chair outdoors. However, my boyfriend said it was inappropriate to sit outside in my pajamas and act like a construction crew supervisor.

Instead, I offered them ice water and checked on their progress.

These guys from Earl’s Plumbing were pretty darn conscientious. They moved potted plants out of the way and even managed to leave the poppies intact. All this was without asking.

DUST AND DIRT

After they had completed the job, the walkway to the front door looked like a campground.

If you’ve camped, you may know this kind of dirt – loose and soft. When you walk, you drag a cloud of brown around with your feet.

This type of dirt soon reaches your kneecaps and you need to take off your socks before they are ruined.

Next, the rain came. The soft, billowy dust turned to soggy, squishy black mud. We didn’t just take off our shoes at the door, we left the shoes on the front porch so we could wash them off with the hose.

My boyfriend was quick to call for delivery of a giant truckload of gravel.

Lucky for me, I just had surgery. My boyfriend was smart and enlisted the help of the neighbor.

Work on aesthetics

Now I have a delightful new project.

With the walkway brand new with gravel, I’m slowly creating a new hidden garden.

We covered an entire picnic table with potted plants, which acts like a partial “fence,” blocking the view of the street.

Because we moved last year, and because of the drought, I now have 47 plants in pots.

I counted them.

This includes many one-gallon containers, as well as at least half a dozen 15-gallon planters. Then there are the trees, including a container-sized Meyer lemon, an olive, the newly-acquired fig tree and a few mystery trees. A buddleia (butterfly bush) was recently placed in a Smart Pot.

Repotting plants is a great little job for my current level of doctor-recommended activity. My boyfriend dumped the potting soil in the wheelbarrow and I’ve had fun giving old plants new homes in larger containers.

When this is all done, I’ll have several empty containers to fill.

You know what? They have motorized shopping carts at several big-box nurseries. If I hurry, I might be able to buy some bare-root plants from the clearance rack.

By Heather Hacking, Chico Enterprise-Record

The Allium triquetrum isn’t the most heinous of weeds, as far as weeds go. Yet, there are just some things you learn you can’t live with. Heather Hacking-Enterprise-Record
Often when you make a wish out loud, and then wait longer than you would have hoped, your wish comes true.

Sometimes you wait for a long, long time.

For example, I’m still waiting for the perfect house to buy and wishing for a raise. I’m also hoping that gophers become extinct.

In the meantime, I have a new cat.

Several months ago I fell into infatuation with a neighborhood kitty that already had a home. As it goes with most thing, I learn the hard way.

That philandering feline had meandered between my ankles as if she had not been petted or fed for months. With big green eyes, she looked longingly toward my front door. I imagined the underside of a dirty dumpster where she curled up on long, scary nights — so alone.

Note to self: I should never think that I can read a cat’s mind.

After I placed a collar on her neck with my phone number, her REAL owner called to tell me to back off.

The experience could have left me bitter. However, it instigated a serious talk with my beau about whether our future would include a cat.

When my boyfriend’s son moved last year, the kitty came under the care of gramma.

When she officially retired recently, she decided she wants to be a galavanting gramma and a kitty encumbrance no longer matches her lifestyle.

We could have lead her to believe we were doing her an enormous favor. However, I could not contain my glee as my guy lugged the cat carrier from her car to the house.

Gramma brought the necessary accoutrements including a carpet-covered kitty tower, litter box and enough food to keep us until she is well on her way to adventure in a Winnebago.

STARVED FOR ATTENTION

Did I mention the 8-year-old kitty is a Manx, a Calico, and has the softest long fur I have ever touched.

Naturally, I wanted her to love me best, so I sat that first night and petted her for three hours straight.

TWO TO WORK ON THE YARD

When we fall in love and it doesn’t work out, we can learn valuable lessons about the qualities we appreciate in a partner. One of the things I loved about that neighborhood cat is that she followed me around while I worked in the yard; She was a good companion.

My new kitty will be trapped in the house for the customary two-week transition period. She already follows me around the house, and I’m confident she will follow me around the yard.

MOLE MAVEN? TIME WILL TELL

Last weekend I yanked five gallons of wild garlic, Allium triquetrum, also known as three-cornered leek.

I spent years eradicating this plant from my previous yard. It’s not a terrible plant, and even pretty when it flowers in March. I’ve heard it is also edible.

However, it freezes on a normal winter and turns to a brown, matted mess in the summer. In addition to the normal allium-like bulbs, the plant dumps hard white seeds just a short distance from the base.

It would not be a chore to find a house where the entire yard is nothing but wild garlic.

Perhaps my world is very small, but I gain great satisfaction by yanking weeds before they have a chance to reproduce.

When the soil is moist from a distant rain, I pride myself in a technique where most of the bulbs are separated from the turf with a smooth, gentle yank.

While I was down and dirty, I could not overlook the other creatures that have been busy in the yard. In addition to the gopher holes, moles have been grubbing underground pushing up the soil as if they own the place.

Message to moles: There’s a new cat in town.

By Heather Hacking, Chico Enterprise-Record
Next Tuesday will be two weeks that the new kitty has been cooped up in the house.

I discovered that a new way to torture a cat is to let fresh air in through the screen door. The cat will sit at that the screen hoping you are dumb enough to walk outside before nudging her back into darkness.

As the days go on we can tell the cat is getting edgy. She has resorted to batting her fuzzy mouse toy across the hardwood floors. I’m beginning to wonder if there is a an Animal Planet cat curling team.

The best way to help her forget about the great outdoors is to place her in my lap and pet her for about four hours.

Meanwhile, we learned that a previous owner must have taught her to talk. Some people think this is cute, but I find it unecessary.

I know what she wants. She wants wet food.

The direct correlation between cat talk and the operation of a can opener has been well documented.

Meanwhile the cat is new and I’m new in love. When I’m at work I think about her.

If I am still at the office I’ll call my boyfriend if I know he’s already home.

“What’s she doing now?”

“She’s sitting at the top of her cat tower, watching squirrels and moaning.”

Sometimes he’ll send me photos on my cellphone.

Perhaps Doug LaMalfa will sponsor legislature for a new family leave act, requiring employers to grant two weeks paid time off when a worker aquires a new pet.

CATS AND TOXIC PLANTS

Before the cat moved in, most of the tables held glass spaghetti jars filled with water and plants.

While cooped up inside, the new cat has taken the liberty of adding the jars to her drinking water options.

My goal is to grow long, luxurious greenery that will drape precariously around the room on pushpins — Repunzels of philodendrons and the most wandering of Tradescantia flumeninsis.

Both of these are on the kitty poison list. We also have toxic Pathos and a fern we found in the center of the table at the Butte County Rice Growers Association annual dinner.

Just to be certain of my fears, I looked up the lists of deadliest house plants on the Better Homes and Gardens website, goo.gl/4Ckc9j. The list includes daffodils, something called “dumb cane,” Easter lily, English Ivy, oleander, peace lily, sago palm and the ZZ plant.

The ASPCA website goo.gl/tFpxY2 includes hundreds more, including pretty much everything that I grow in my garden.

This brought me to the conclusion that cats must be smart, otherwise they would be extinct.

The symptoms from toxic plant eating include diarrea, vomiting, skin scratchiness and “depression,” among others.

PetMd clarifies that eating grass outdoors is more than just common, it may even be necessary: goo.gl/z3NQ1v

When cats get an upset stomach, they want to throw up, and eating grass can help. PetMD also says kitties need folic acid, which is contained in plants, or need grass as a laxative for moving massive amounts of hair from mouth to their tail.

@HeatherHacking on Twitter and Facebook.

By Heather Hacking, Chico Enterprise-Record

Onions in a trough was the way Tom Orendorff learned to keep gophers at bay. One year he planted 400 onion sets in his yard, and harvested three onions. The gophers don’t bother the tomatoes, he said, but love the onions, Dec. 12, 2014. Heather Hacking — Enterprise-Record

Last December, a day after the “big storm,” I cruised out to the town of Nord. The assignment was to chat with folks who had witnessed water running down their street.

Six homes were flooded in the little town, but not the house of Tom Orendorff, who was nice enough to chat about the near-miss.

One thing led to another, and soon Tom and I were gathering Granny Smith apples from his well-watered back yard.

In some ways, a limited amount of flooding could have been a good thing. His back yard has so many gophers it looks like a prairie dog preserve.

If the gopher holes had been flooded, the intruders might have marched out of their holes, where Tom could have chased after them like a cat.

Near the apple tree, Tom had two large animal troughs filled with soil.

“What’s that?”

“Onions,” he explained. For some reason the ridiculous amount of gophers in his yard don’t bother the tomatoes, but they gobble the onions. One year he planted about 400 onion starts and harvested three.

I admired Tom for his ability to innovate beyond adversity. A less-dedicated gardener might have moved to a condo with cement walkways and a club house filled with plastic bouquets.

Nope. Tom had filled troughs with soil.

I neglected to ask him why anyone would have need for 400 onions.

Why Tom?
Did an evil sorcerer cast a gopher curse on my new friend? Did prior generations of gophers develop a grudge against Tom?

Why else would gophers have decided to dig holes about every three feet across his great expanse of lawn?

Perhaps Tom is just too kind. Obviously he does not trap nor poison the creatures. Maybe his parcel of land is the only safe gopher ground from the railroad tracks to the highway.

Ideas planted
I did not buy a horse trough that day, but the idea lingered.

My yard is only in the mid-range of gopher devastation.

I also have moles. A week after we made a gravel path from the back gate to the shed, moles began happily pushing up the soil. I stomp on the mounds and make mean noises, but the moles have not yet packed up and moved to Tom’s house.

Last weekend I finally planted some “garlic” in a large plastic pot near the front door.

The garlic was a cluster we bought at the farmers market with good intentions.

They disappeared at the back of the crisper drawer and after an unknown period of time, began to grow. By the time the cloves were rediscovered, two-inch green stems had emerged. The next step in their growth cycle was sitting on the little coffee table near the front door. The logic was that I would remember to plant them if they were within close proximity to my garden clogs.

My plan is not really to grow fabulous garlic cloves. Apparently I’m not really that into fresh garlic, otherwise I would have eaten the cloves before they reclaimed a life of their own.

The idea now is to grow garlic within close proximity to the front door. I can snip off the green tops for salads in summer.

I’m also planting the stubs from green onions. These usually have a quarter-inch of roots at the end and can be planted in the pot like an onion start. If things go well, the onions will grow very large and be used to bonk gophers over the head if there is a flood.

Now that I think about it, maybe that’s why Tom was growing 400 onion plants.

How others grow garlic
A fairly in-depth article on organicgardening.com, http://goo.gl/4hU83e, notes that garlic is best when planted in the fall. Expect smaller bulbs if you plant in the spring (or January).

Space individual cloves 6-8 inches apart, and two inches deep. Water about an inch per week.

About mid June, you might notices “scapes.” If that word is new to you, you’re not alone.

The word is used for the “flowery tops that curl as they mature and ultimately straighten out into long spiky tendrils,” the website states.

To send more energy to the bulb, lop off the scapes and add them to salads or soups.

Once the leaves on your garlic are mostly brown in mid summer, dig them up. Next, hang them for six weeks in the shade. However, my experience is that “new garlic,” is incredibly delicious and best eaten before I forget about it in the back of the crisper drawer.

Other contacts, @HeatherHacking on Twitter and Facebook.

By Heather Hacking, Chico Enterprise-Record
12/25/14
For years my driveway has looked like a duck pond the minute it begins to sprinkle. If I had known that all it would take was seven yards of gravel and two half-days of hard labor, I would have hired two men with two shovels long ago.

But no. We decided to do some of the heavy lifting ourselves.

The mud hole had been maddening. In the winter we tracked in mud. In the summer we tracked in dust. You could take off your shoes at the door and sweep every day, and still the dust found its way onto the bed pillows.

Monday is my day off and the nice young man from Sutherland’s arrived right on time.

I was excited.

The experience was much like climbing Lassen Peak. When you arrive at the base of the mountain — your rubber chicken in the backpack and oatmeal in your stomach — it’s exciting. Hard work is ahead but the reward (the fantastic view) will become a lifetime memory.

We prepared for the gravel project by clearing away the usual yard obstacles, potted plants and the picnic table.

My partner in grime prepared the soil by filling in gopher holes. Along the main walkways he dug down a few inches so gravel would be packed along the main traffic zones. He looked handsome with sweat on his brow.

We literally cheered when the bed of the dump truck began to lift and the gravel poured out in a thick sheet, covering the dirt we have known and hated.

Power lines reach from the street to the house, so the disbursement was less than perfect. There would be mounds to move.

But hey, we’re able-bodied and like working side by side. Right?

As luck would have it, the business next door had recently ripped up some concrete, and fist-sized chunks were there for the asking.

We smashed umpteen wheelbarrow loads of concrete into the “lake” until our shoelaces were blackened.

Partway through the day Monday, I remembered that moment on Lassen Peak.

We had paused for a 15-second rest overlooking Lassen Park. My boyfriend urged me not to linger, or I might lose momentum.

I thought the view was just fine from where we were standing, and would have been pleased for the rest of my life to have made it just that far.

For the next half hour we trudged in silence. I hated the dust on my feet. I hated my boyfriend and his long legs and the fact that he wasn’t even breathing hard.

People walked past us with high energy, encouraging us.

“Keep going. It’s worth it,” they said.

An 80-year-old man with two ski poles for walking sticks passed us as I cursed silently.

They were all correct. I was glad we made it to the top.

I took photographs so I never have to do that hike again.

Monday, in the driveway, with half the gravel moved and most of the excitement of the dump truck faded into a distant memory, I remembered Lassen.

My boyfriend and I worked for half an hour in silence.

He did not remind me how to properly maneuver the wheelbarrow. I did not remind him to bend at the knees.

We did not sing songs nor exchange pleasantries.

But soon, the mounds began to diminish. I texted Lisa and she agreed we could use her hot tub after the work was done.

At the end, my guy became handsome again as he expertly rolled over the finished driveway with a gigantic truck, making the former mud hole look like a bumpy dance floor.