Sow There

Author: Heather Hacking
First we’re supposed to be embarrassed if we have a lush, green lawn. Then the media (which includes me) encourages people not to grow vegetables and certainly not summer flowers.

Next it rains profusely, but we’re still in a drought.

Recently, the state came out with water use figures from October, and those water folks made a big fuss that Californians have slacked on their water conservation.

What does Gov. Brown expect me to do? Should I stop washing dishes? Is Gov. Brown taking showers?

At the same time, part of my job is to think about water, pretty much all the time. I attend those meetings where they explain how the aquifers are still lower than they should be. I know it takes time for water to percolate through the soil and refill those underground storage areas. I know a deluge of rain does not fill up the aquifers overnight.

Scientists are saying that unless it rains every day for months, it could be a couple of years until the state recovers from the past few years of drought.

I would feel like a hypocrite if the drought continues for another year and I took warm baths when I could have been saving water.

Yet, what about flowers?

Garden addiction

A few weeks ago I planted about 100 daffodils, some in pots and dozens in the ground. I feel pretty darn proud of myself right now. The rains came and my daffodils grew.

Now the first greenery is poking up from the soil.

However, if this is the last rain we see for months, would I really let those bulbs wither?

I know myself. I would slog saved water from the sink to the daffodils outside. That would mean less “saved water” to use to flush the toilet.

When I planted bulbs I also stuck some seeds at the top of the soil in the pots – kale and sweet alyssum. I could pretend this deed was sheer habit, but I was fairly conscious as I dug around in the shed and found some leftover seed packets.

A gardener who has unplanted bulbs is like an alcoholic who has booze hidden in the house. Sooner or later, those bulbs or booze are going to be used.

The way I’m justifying the daffodils is that I’m an optimist. I think we’re going to all be OK. I think we’re going to get enough rain this winter that my bulbs will grow.

If the drought persists I’ll assess my personal ethics and hopefully become a better person.

Rain barrel alternatives

We’ve been joking about alternative ways to capture rainwater.

For dirt cheap, we could collect dilapidated hot tubs and leave them out in the yard. The Mosquito Control District will gladly give us some mosquito fish. From now until summer we could float plastic ducks in the putrid water and lure neighborhood children for a carnival-style ring toss game.

How much water would be captured? If we’re lucky, 18-21 inches. That’s the amount of rainfall the Department of Water Resources recently predicted we would need before we can declare that we’ve left the drought behind.

Good weeding

Meanwhile the rains have brought an opportunity to scratch my gardening itch. We sat up late Wednesday night listening to the rain.

With soggy soil, I can easily yank the remainder of the mallow weeds.

If there weren’t so many stories to write about storm drains and power outages, I would take the day off to get some mud under my fingernails.

Author: Heather Hacking hhacking@chicoer.com @HeatherHacking on Twitter
About a year ago I was at small open mic night. People were helping to put away chairs and I decided to be helpful and wash the dishes.

Near the end of this little task, the hostess whisked by to see if anything more could be done.

Her eyes darted from the empty plastic tubs, conveniently located near the sink, and the faucet that was spewing water down the drain.

She didn’t need to say anything. I understood that I should have been sudsing up the dishes in the first tub and using the second tub to rinse.

Duh.

For this woman, saving water was a regular part of her life, even if only a few dishes needed to be washed.

I, on the other hand, had bad habits.

A few months later, the governor declared the drought in California.

Water adds up

If you had asked me then, I would have vehemently denied being a water-waster. My showers were of a reasonable amount of time, I’m too lazy to wash the car, my yard is small, children do not flock to my house on Saturdays to play on a slip-and-slide.

Now that I’m consciously trying to conserve I see how quickly water adds up.

We have a five-gallon bucket in the shower and a little tub for wasted water in the sink.

This is kind of a pain, but lugging a bucket of water burns calories.

Burning calories is a known way to justify eating chocolate.

When I talk to officials at California Water Service, they promote installing low-flow toilets and showerheads. Installing permanent devices just once means water saving each day.

Some people are taking this idea a step further.

Cold water for plants

A few months ago Bob Scoville, a volunteer with the Master Gardener program in Glenn County, was pondering the idea of installing a water-capturing system in his shower.

“I need to be careful about what I say to the newspaper, because I might need to follow through with my ideas,” Bob joked more recently.

Now when he warms up the water for a shower, that first blast of agua flows to his yard.

The showerhead was already placed high in the tub area, and the pipe is only about 1 1 /2 feet from the outside wall.

A friend installed a piece of pipe that leads to the outside of the house.

A valve inside the shower lets Bob flip a switch to let the water flow outdoors for a minute or two.

The pipe outdoors is attached to a 50-foot hose, which is attached to a sprinkler head, which is placed near some plants Bob wants to keep alive.

“It doesn’t get a whole lot of water each time, but it adds up,” Bob said.

He moves the hose around when its time for another plant to survive.

Because he has a friend who did the work, his project was about $35 for parts.

Now he’s toying with the idea of installing a device that uses the water from the bathroom sink to pump into the toilet reservoir. This includes a filter.

I found a description online: http://goo.gl/qmy66T

Now that this is in print, I’ll check with Bob in a few months and find out how the new system works.

By Heather Hacking, Chico Enterprise-Record
01/08/15
My family was in Disneyland last week when the wild and wicked storm hit the Chico area. I planned not to check work email or the E-R website while on vacation. However, the “breaking alert” on my phone broke through Disney’s protective bubble.

My main worry, from 500 miles away, was that a limb from the aged mimosa tree would launch into the windshield of my parked car.

When we arrived home the only thing I found out of place was a tarp that had likely blown around in a circle like the Wicked Witch of the West’s skirt.

What had survived, and even thrived, were the potted daffodils tucked behind the fence. The really great thing about potted bulbs is they can be moved to the front porch when they are in full glory.

BARELY READY FOR SPRING

My new-to-me yard is mostly barren; The daffodils were an inspiration to buy bare-root plants. For even more inspiration, I called Butte County Master Gardeners, 538-7201, 9 a.m. to noon Wednesdays and 1-4 p.m. Thursdays.

My new friend Mari said her group plans a public bare root planting demo at the new drought garden at the Patrick Ranch, http://patrickranchmuseum.org. We’ll keep you posted with the exact date and time.

When work began at the Patrick Ranch, Master Gardeners couldn’t help but notice the heavy loam soil was compacted.

First they dug down a few feet, placed a stick across the indentation, with a string hanging down. Water was added and the gardeners watched how long it took for the water to percolate into the soil.

They ended up working the soil again and again, and adding worm castings.

For more info on soil drainage: http://goo.gl/jUPBwO.

Bare root plants are shipped when they are dormant. Often the roots will be packaged in a little soil and wrapped in plastic.

Sometimes the plants are sold in a pot.

Bare root plants must be planted while they are dormant. Mari even used the word “imperative.”

If you get sidetracked by life and the plant starts to wake up, you’re better off leaving it in the pot and waiting until next year, she explained.

FRUIT TREE TALK

Ken Hodge, owner of http://hodgesnursery.com, was the logical next step for advice. I explained that I am a renter and wanted something I could enjoy within the next several years. A fig would make my boyfriend happy.

Ken jumped on the fig idea, and said the tree would even produce the first year. He suggested the variety Black Jack, and said figs will give the grower two crops a year — early and late summer.

A small tree needs about a gallon or two or water twice a week for the first few years. By the third year, water up to 10 gallons once a week. Leaves on a fig tree are big and will “really tell you when it needs watering,” Ken noted.

I’ll probably put the tree in the ground, but Hodge’s has a special “renter’s section,” of trees for sale in large tubs. If you keep the trees pruned small, they’ll thrive for years in a container, Ken said.

Stone fruits are great for this method, including apples, nectarines, apricots and especially plums.

Another good idea is blueberries in tubs. Blueberries need other blueberries to cross pollinate, so he sells a tub that includes three varieties.

The main worry about blueberries is soil Ph, which needs to be at 4.5-5.5. If those are just numbers to you, Ken said if the plant becomes sick or yellow, add a tablespoon of Dr. Iron in the spring and again in the fall.

By Heather Hacking, Chico Enterprise-Record

Theoretically, “black Friday” is the official kick-off for the holiday shopping season.

I don’t know who anyone thinks they are kidding. For weeks my Costco shopping experience has included a walk past the $70 ceramic bear holding a candy cane.

In September I bought Christmas slippers.

I could have also purchased a fully-decorated fiber optic Christmas tree. It was conveniently located next to the hanging plastic skeletons in early October.

I know this was not my imagination because I posted a picture on Twitter.

The benefit of having Christmas merchandise on sale after Fourth of July is that it reminds me how much I hate the crowds during the holidays.

My friend Kara and I attended the Christmas Preview in downtown Chico.

Christmas preview is very much like trick-or-treating. The stores are open for shopping and each store offers a treat.

We even wore costumes. Kara looked adorable in a knitted gray cap that with elephant ears and I donned a green and red scarf with matching ornament earrings.

We arrived promptly at four and were among the first to attack the treat tables.

As is always the case with a good thing, more people arrived.

By about 6 p.m. I felt a mild form of claustrophobia.

I know myself in shopping situations. First I turn cynical, which may or may not grow into general disdain for humanity.

A woman pushing twins in a double-wide stroller stopped every five feet to greet friends. Groups blocked my path while taking group photos.

I bumped into several people who were in mid-text.

In addition to having our fill our Christmas cookies, I wanted to shop at Tom Foolery, where I always find something to buy for my dad.

Kara and I were perusing the collection of old fart gag gifts when two teens elbowed their way through the crowd. Their movements were abrupt and I almost lost some of the Lindt chocolates that were stuffed into my pockets.

I’m sorry, I said, as I was slammed into a little girl who was standing behind us.

“That’s OK,” the little girl said. “We knew it was going to be crowded so we’re OK with being patient.”

Yes indeed. If an 8-year-old had learned how to be patient, maybe I could as well.

The rest of the adventure was joyful. If someone stopped in front of me for no apparent reason, I stopped to listen to Christmas carolers. When four people were in line for the cash register at in Zuchinni and Vine, I snacked on yet another chocolate from my pocket.

SHOPPING LOCAL

With reminders of the upcoming winter holiday spanning half the year, I was reminded in August, September and October to stop procrastinating. When we stopped at the Olive Pit in Corning I bought a few jars for my holiday stash. During the Sierra Oro Farm Trail, I found blood orange infused olive oil for my aunt and uncle at http://www.lodestarfarms.com in Oroville. Honey Run Covered Bridge craft fair: two hand-made gourd ornaments made by Ed and Linda Hemsley, of Oroville. Christmas preview: old fart gag gift for dad and two lovely tiles from Art Etc.

A week before Christmas I’ll head to the farmers market and stock up on dried fruit, bags of apples and mandarins, newly-harvested walnuts and flavored almonds.

DROUGHT DAFFODILS

Sometimes our greatest of intentions are no match for our deepest desires.

We’re in the middle of a drought, driving dirty cars and carting buckets from the shower to outdoor plants.

Weeks ago a metal rack of spring-blooming bulbs bumped into my shopping cart. Fifty bulbs for $13.

My hesitation was less than momentary because another woman also found herself with her wheels locked.

“Can you believe these are so cheap?” she said.

“But we’re in a drought, are we supposed to be planting bulbs?”

I must have been mumbling, because she didn’t understand what I was talking about.

After my impulse buy, I sought further affirmation in and article in the Sacramento Bee, http://goo.gl/uQqthh.

“People don’t realize it but bulbs are very drought-tolerant,” an expert states.

In fact, they don’t like to sit in water and prefer to be left dry and dormant all summer.

Last summer I planted a few tomatoes in pots, which were a complete disappointment. Those 10-gallon containers were perfect to refill with fresh potting soil and about a dozen bulbs each. At the surface I planted several handfuls of kale and spinach seeds, which are now sprouting after the recent rains. The pots are conveniently located within walking distance of the back door. If I really do this right I can use the water from rinsing vegetables in the kitchen.

Author: Heather Hacking hhacking@chicoer.com @HeatherHacking on Twitter
I’ve been through this before.

A soft soul suddenly drifted into my life and appeared to accept my tentative affection.

The red-tinted tabby kitty was spotted during the heat of the summer, often resting at the base of the mimosa tree.

For more than a month, he borrowed my shade as I moved into my new house.

I nicknamed him Ferdinand, knowing that was not a name that would stick if he found a warm spot at the food of my bed.

Ferdinand the bull is a character from a children’s book. The storybook bovine would rather smell flowers and sit under a tree than take part in bullfights.

This kitty would sit at the base of the tree with a distant gaze.

Other times, he was staring intently at the ground. I knew if he started to catch moles I would fall in love — hard.

People have offered me pets over the years. I was tempted by the tales of Portollo in Magalia, a black furball in need of a loving home.

However, I want a cat to “find me.” You can’t just see a picture and trust a matchmaker from the foothills.

Anyone can also pick up a stray at the corner of the alley, take him home then almost immediately begin to feel used.

I want to get to know my future pet slowly — to make sure its a good fit, not just a passing attraction.

Part of my pet reticence stems from a distant heartbreak.

Years ago a gorgeous gray kitty sashayed into my life. I had him fixed, fed him wet food, bought the expensive flea drops for the back of his neck … but he abruptly disappeared.

When my clan scoured the neighborhood we learned he had been nibbling wet food from the hands of residents within a two-block radius.

Long before that I had the long-term feline love of my life.

My cat Hollywood and I stayed together through four household moves, a urinary tract infection, 1996 winter storms and several tumultuous life events.

So the story goes …

Time passed. “Ferdinand” and I began to make eye contract.

Sometimes my beau would come into the kitchen and announced “you have a friend in the yard.”

Over time the cat would let me pet him, at first tentative and later more ardent.

I knew exactly what I was doing when I purchased the small bag of potent-smelling dry nibbles.

“Not that we are going to adopt that kitty,” I said to my beau on a long road trip, “but what would be a good name for him?”

Intermittently, while traveling 600 miles, we came up with two hypothetical names. The name needed to be something that fit the cat’s personality, as well as something that didn’t sound stupid when bellowed at dusk from the back porch.

The conclusion was that we’d wait for the right name.

I was ready to clinch the deal when I bought “cat tuna” from Trader Joe’s.

My beau and I even had the important “relationship talk.” After a lengthy discussion, we decided the cat would be allowed inside the house, but he would not be allowed on the bed.

One gray day it happened. I was ready to grab the cat tuna when I saw the blindingly-white flea collar around the kitty’s neck.

Yes, someone else had moved more quickly. I wished nothing but the best for him. I heard Adele’s voice in my head singing “never mind, I’ll find someone like you.”

This week I heard the neighbor calling “her cat.” Apparently she had named him “kitty.”

When I looked out the bathroom window I saw Ferdinand resting in the quiet under my mimosa tree.

My boyfriend has now forbidden me from opening the cat tuna.

Once a kitty is wearing a collar around its neck, women like me need to know when to back off.

Author: Heather Hacking hhacking@chicoer.com @HeatherHacking on Twitter
Why do we like to travel? To hear words that sound like music? To see artwork we learned about in college G.E. classes?

Some of us may travel for food – moussaka in Greece, pyroshki in Russia and lumpia in the Philippines.

One year my dad took the adult children to O’ahu.

My sister and I squealed in unison for Dad to stop at the fruit stand. Our request had absolutely nothing to do with the shirtless man holding a machete, waiting for people to buy coconuts from a bucket of ice water.

We bought one of every fruit we had never experienced, including jackfruit and star fruit. Passion fruit was familiar, but only as a flavoring in diet Snapple.

When it comes to weird and wacky food, you really don’t need to jump on a plane to find something fun and different.

At the Thursday night market, one of my favorite vendors sells two-foot long green beans gathered together in a rubber band.

I could have worn the beans as a necklace, but I threw them into a stir fry. They tasted exactly like green beans.

My current favorite is jicama, a root that is a bit like a turnip, but totally different. The skin peals off easily and the vegetable can be chopped into carrot-stick sized bites. Nearly flavorless, jicama satisfies the crunching urge, without a bazillion calories.

The cute couple on Third Street (where I like to buy almonds) sells Mexicola avocados when their tree is good and ready. The fun part is that you can eat these avocados skin and all.

Bargain dancing

Several weeks ago my sister and I found ourselves at Grocery Outlet (bargain market), bonding over dragon fruit. We love the music at this store. During the most recent visit, my sister pointed out a sign that states:

“Feel free to dance and sing.”

What an affirmation. Now we won’t need to hide from the hidden cameras while singing and dancing in the aisles.

Near the front of the store was a giant box of a pinkish, waxy, bumpy objects that were either a fruit or alien pupae: dragon fruit.

The price was two for three dollars, so we chose the largest fruit we could find.

While rummaging, we had a long, lively conversation with a woman who also couldn’t just walk by weird fruit without pause.

The skin is waxy, much like the red skin on Gouda cheese. I found instructions on the Internet that said to slice the dragon fruit in half lengthwise.

Inside was white flesh with spots, very similar to kiwifruit. The taste was bland compared to my expectations, but cold and yummy in a new sort of way.

I sliced it like I would jicama.

Wikipedia notes that the dragon fruit is not from Thailand (as noted in tiny print on the sticker), but is a night-blooming cactus originally native to Mexico. The plant itself looks like a cactus tree, and/or something created by computer for the film “Avatar.”

Buddha’s hand, http://goo.gl/EyAC0a, sometimes called a “fingered citron,” is a fun, yet freakish-looking fruit, used in China and Japan to overpower the smell of gym socks in your children’s room (I’m guessing). At the farmer’s market in Sacramento I stumbled across Australian limes, http://goo.gl/X3oYvj. These taste great in soda water and have little seeds that feel like roe in your mouth.

The woman at the grocery store said she bought the dragon fruit because her daughter recently gave her a dragon fruit plant. If the fruit was good, she would learn how to keep the plant alive.

I wish we had exchanged phone numbers. I’d like to check on her plant in the future.

Perhaps one day I’ll spot her dancing in the aisles.

By Heather Hacking, Chico Enterprise-Record

The surviving peppers aren’t exactly ornaments, but they’re kind of festive. Heather Hacking — Enterprise-Record
I live in the house without a Christmas tree.

Some of you might remember the “made-for-TV” movie about a little girl who has a curmudgeon for a father. He’s bummed about life and denies his little girl the most basic of holiday pleasures. Over the course of the two-hour drama, Dad’s frozen heart melts and a tree is sacrificed for familial happiness.

In my case, my house is so small that if a large conifer was added to the mix, I wouldn’t be able to watch TV.

A four-foot tree was one consideration. If I put the table lamp in the shed, I could prop a wee tree on the bookshelf. Yet, I need that space to dump my purse and keys when I walk through the door.

One year — during the dark, single years — I bought myself a potted rosemary Christmas tree. Looking back, that tree made me sad because I was the only one to see it. Now it’s in the ground, and it still makes me sad.

This week I had a short conversation with a significant friend, who has Grinch-like tendencies. He argued that Christmas trees are the least best use of renewable resources.

He prefers to buy live Christmas trees, which he plants in the yard. I have visited his home and it looks like he could now open his own Christmas tree farm.

Before Christmas trees are harvested for our temporary, indoor enjoyment, they help to provide oxygen to the planet, I said, quoting propaganda from the National Christmas Tree Association.

He pointed out that most holiday trees are trucked from Washington and Oregon, therefore adding to the holiday carbon footprint.

Harrumph.

I’ve amassed ornaments since 1969 and have hauled those boxes to umpteen different residences. I wrap them carefully and handle them with care. They take up space in my small house 11 months of the year. I AM going to put them up in my house. They WILL remain visible through the Chinese New Year — Feb. 19.

My beau was napping when I ventured into the “Christmas treasure chest.” I should have asked for help, because lifting the ginormous TV from the top of the chest was not doctor recommended.

Inside I found the very important elf and Santa hats, childhood Christmas stocking and oodles of ornaments.

Why did I start buying miniature ceramic houses topped with snow? Did I think I would be moving to a larger house?

With the stealth of a rhinoceros, I tried not to wake my man as I detangled the 50-foot string of white holiday lights and pinned them in a haphazard mess around the living room.

When my guy woke up, I could tell the lights were tingling his Christmas spirit.

Together we cooked up a grand plan.

The pepper plant near the front porch is still producing peppers and has not yet been hit by frost.

A NEW KIND OF HOLIDAY HANGER

My friend Mike Morgenroth, who died in October, taught me about bringing peppers inside for the winter. Technically many perennial plants are treated like annuals because they die once a bitter frost comes along. However, if you bring peppers, eggplant, basil and tomatoes inside, they might just make it through the winter.

Mike had suggested an enclosed patio, because all plants need light from the sun.

My surviving pepper plant is about four feet tall and is already adorned with peppers. Some of the lights could easily be yanked from the wall and wrapped around the tree.

The soil in the 15-gallon bucket is soaked right now. The plan is that after it stops raining, I’ll let the plant dry and drag it indoors. Keeping the plant alive will be a good excuse to keep the ornaments on display.

Author: Heather Hacking hhacking@chicoer.com @HeatherHacking on Twitter
As much as I may secretly wish it, I will never be one of those crafty, home-spun, easy-bake, savory-leftover type of women.

At this age I also doubt that I will discover the equivalent of penicillin, fly to a distant planet or meet anyone particularly famous unless I happen to be in a public bathroom at the right time.

Most of the time I’m fairly happy, so if I’m mediocre I can live with that.

However, this region has so much food lying around in summer I wish I was more skilled at food preservation.

People often offer me their garden excess. I always say yes and sometimes even make shameless pleas to glean other people’s trees.

Yet, the beauty of bounty wanes when you botch the batch.

Cold/dry storage

Unless there is a power outage, freezing fruit is a no-brainer.

Last year I had unlimited access to peaches, plums and blackberries. Now, a year later, I occasionally dislodge a bag of plums when I’m stashing the frozen yogurt.

The next easiest way to prepare extra food is to fill up the food dehydrator.

The problem is, once you have stored dehydrated fruit, you need to eat it.

My boyfriend will sit and nibble peaches when he has nothing better to do. But I’m more of a chocolate go-to girl.

Salads make great catch-alls for food that took great effort to preserve. I use kitchen scissors to hide small pieces of plums or figs among the other foliage.

This week I remembered the fruit when I was making a mystery meal.

Two bags of quinoa are competing for room in my freezer. Two family members bought big bags of the grain, then realized they ate it infrequently.

As I mixed up my quinoa concoction, I fantasized about making something so odd and wonderful that people at potlucks would praise my name.

Mix and match

Instructions for mystery quinoa goulash:

Add appropriate amount of quinoa and water to rice cooker. Look through cupboard for dried and forgotten food. Look in fridge for leftovers that will soon be compost.

Dried foods can be added directly to the water in the rice cooker. I found dried figs (which were fantabulous), dried tomatoes and whole almonds (not sliced). I also diced up a tomato and about a quarter of an onion.

At the end, cold grapes were cut in half and dumped on top.

When you perfect this recipe, let me know. My dish was only so-so.

Reality of math

You really can’t get enough “sun-dried” tomatoes, which I like to call “fruit Skittles.”

When tomatoes went on sale for $1 a pound, we bought nine measured pounds of romas, and sliced each fruit into six long slices.

Once filled, the food dehydrator was placed on the back porch, so the house would not heat up.

Through experience, I learned the batch dries in about 14 hours.

The next day I worked late and called my boyfriend to protect my investment. Could he check the tomatoes in two hours?

It was a simple request. He’s an adult.

Apparently, I will be buying him a wrist-watch with an alarm this Christmas.

Luckily, I have learned that even crispy-dried fruit will soften when added to a rice cooker with quinoa.

The big question is, if it cost $9 to buy the tomatoes, and perhaps $1-2 to run the machinery, would I have been better off buying a big bag of dried tomatoes at the warehouse store?

The solution, of course, is to beg my friend Holly for a big box of free tomatoes.