Fall Happenings

The stunningly tall August garden makes me feel a little short.

The garden has definitely turned a seasonal corner.  In July the days are growing shorter each day but the soil is nice and warm; leaving the garden for a week in July may well spell the end of your gardening year.  In July the weeds seem to spring from the soil fully formed and half grown, overnight.  But then in August the balance of power turns back in the gardener's favor.  It takes energy to grow after all, and there just isn't as much sunlight as there used to be.  This time of year the plants are all frantically trying to produce seed - weeds and crops alike following some genetic program warning them that it's now or never- and I spend most of my time picking, or clearing away the things that are spent to make way for fall crops.  There are insects everywhere: mosquitoes, grasshoppers, squash bugs, cucumber beetles, harlequin bugs, stink bugs, ladybeetles, swallowtail butterfly larvae, and more, racing me and the plants to the finish line at the end of the summer.  How fascinating the life-and-death melodrama playing itself out in a boring, dried-up, late summer garden.  How fortunate that my life doesn't depend on winning.

Spring is Here

Last weekend our daytime temps finally got above 40 degrees, prompting a frenzy of seed-starting activity at my house.  I dashed over to the store to buy new seed-starting trays, fetched the lights from the basement, cleaned the bulbs, hung the lights from the plant hooks we installed in the guest bedroom for this purpose, and fetched the soil and compost from the shed.  Then I had to take a break while the potting soil thawed - it's been cold here!  (I gave some of it a little help in a warm oven.)

While I was waiting I transcribed my paper planting calendar (circa 2013) into Google Calendar.  Then I planted lettuce, broccoli, cabbage, and onions.  I'm a bit late on some of them, but not too bad.  The lettuce came up last night.  As I write this snow is piling up outside again, but it is officially spring at the M residence.

Morning gardening

I made it out to the garden this morning in time to catch the morning dew on the asparagus in M's plot. Gorgeous!

The tall, white fronds on the right half of the picture are the mature asparagus plants.  Normally they are green.

A Beautiful Spring

A. inspecting today's strawberry harvest

This evening I went out the the Cherry Hill garden to water some of the seeds I planted earlier this week.  But before I could do that, I had to spend about 45 minutes picking strawberries.  Then I found that most of the seeds I was there to water were already coming up, the ground having passed some magical spring/summer temperature divide that seems to tell the seeds to run.  The tomatoes I transplanted last week have set their first flowers, as have the sugar snap peas I've been drooling over.  The air this spring has been cool and dry, the rain has come in regular downpours, instead of days of drizzly drips.  Even the cabbage worms seem to have just fizzled away.  This must be the best spring I can remember in the garden.  

Out with the Old

The last couple weeks I've been focused on preparing for spring planting.  Lots of little seedlings are decorating my kitchen and spare bedroom, and I've been out at the plot every decent day we've had.  I'm working from a schedule this year; I put it together over the winter to help make sure that when beds are empty, something is ready to put in them, and when something needs to go in the ground there is a place for it.  I'm anticipating strawberry and blackberry plants will arrive this week or next week, plus next weekend I plan to plant my peas and potatoes, so I've been working hard to clear all the space where they will go in. 

Late-winter carrot harvest

One of the unexpected tasks I had to deal with last week was picking all of these leftover carrots (a little over 5 lbs).  If you don't pick them before spring they will start to form a central flower stalk, and the root (supposedly) gets kind of woody.  So far, they've been a hit - very sweet and tender, except at the very tops where the frost made them kind of crumbly.

I don't think I over-planted carrots last fall, rather I under-harvested them, buying numerous bags of baby carrots from the grocery store over the winter.  It's harder to get into the garden during the winter because the park gate stays locked December-March, and it takes a lot of time to coax two little ones across the wind-swept soccer field.  Maybe next winter I'll grow my carrot patch at home so they'll be more convenient.

Signs of Spring

Bulb bed by the back door, just beginning to color up

 
Some beautiful signs of spring are popping up all over the yard.

New garden bed on the southeast side of the house

The new garden bed is shaping up.  The bulbs I planted last spring are starting to pop up, R and I put in a row of pavers we found behind the shed, and I've been spreading coffee grounds when I can get them.  The soil test for this area came back clean, with low lead levels and a nice pH level - 6.0.  I'll be planting my potatoes here this year, and probably some sweet potatoes, too, if I can grow some slips.

 

 

 

 

Raspberry buds sprouting

Self-sown lettuce in the cold frame bed

My self-sowing lettuce struck again.  This little patch popped up last spring, along with a few others that I buried in compost to refresh the bed.  I took these 6 plants and separated them this week; if they survive I will leave them in place and let them flower again to make new lettuce last year.  I also saved some seeds from a plant last year and recently had 7 out of 9 germinate, so they will be my backup.

Lenten rose in bloom

Garlic sprouts

 Last spring a Japanese man from the community garden gave me some garlic plants and I saved four of them for planting in my backyard, but they didn't survive the transplant...or so I thought.  Then last fall all these little babies started popping up.  I'm not sure if I should now transplant them out the community garden where they'll get more sun, or thin them to a reasonable spacing and hope for the best.  Maybe I'll do both.

Flowering branch bud

While taking the boys for a walk the other day I encountered a pile of trimmings from someone's tree that just looked like they were desperate to bloom.  So I brought some home and put them in water, where they have proceeded to break out of their shells and color up.  Hopefully I'll have some blossoms to show sometime this week.  Even if I don't, though, it's been fun watching them progress.

Putting Away the Spring Garden

Broccoli plants forming secondary flower stalks

This year I am aiming for a true 3-season (spring-summer-fall) garden.  My goal is to keep every bed in continuous use, or at least to not let them grow any crops of weeds.  So far my only complaint is that I really dislike pulling out crops that are still producing food, no matter how slow that production might be. 

The broccoli plants above had to go, despite the fact that they were producing some nice side-shoots, because it really is time to get the winter squash going if I want to have any before the squash bugs overrun me.  The same thing applies to the lettuce heads I pulled early so I could get the peppers and eggplants in the ground.  I have noticed the bottoms of the peas in the front bed are starting to yellow, so even though they're still producing well, I'm confident I'll be able to re-purpose that space soon as well.

R was a little confused when he came back to the garden earlier this week and the broccoli was gone.  It's been one of his favorite crops this spring.  I don't like to see him disappointed, but this is one of the things I like about gardening with him.  I like showing him the changing of the seasons.  I don't want it to be like switching a backdrop; it's a real, visceral part of his life.  The days of broccoli and strawberries are finite and precious - maybe shorter than we expect.

Is it Spring?

This lone crocus blooms right in the middle of my backyard every year.

Crocuses in my side flower bed, a little overrun by weeds last year

My neighbor and I have an unofficial spring ritual.  (Okay, he's probably totally unaware of it.)  Every year in early spring there comes a day when he and I both individually determine that it is now safe to use the hose again, following which we both go outside and I start gardening and he starts washing his car.  It's laughable, really.  I'm sure our other neighbors have no need for a groundhog to tell them when spring has started.

Here are some signs that spring is here:

• Birds.  Lots of birds.
• Crocuses blooming around my yard.
• Ants in my kitchen (I always know when the outside temp goes above about 55 F)
• Burpee seed racks in my grocery store!
• Wind-seeded lettuce growing in my grass
  
  
  

  

  Yep, that's lettuce

  

So, is it spring?  Should I be alarmed that I still haven't even started my pepper seeds? 

Well, I'm not ready to turn on the hose just yet...

What a Difference a Year Makes

2010

 During a visit to the community garden last week (before the snow), as I was pushing A's stroller around a massive mud puddle at the corner of the garden clearing, I had one of those moments when the memory of an unremarkable event comes rushing back to me.  The garden is technically closed for the season, which means I carry all of my tools and materials from a distant - locked - gate all the way around the clearing and into the garden.  Precariously balancing a large cardboard box under my arm and swinging a shovel and hoe in the opposite hand while trying not to let the stroller shake too much, (lest the pile of gloves and hand tools placed precariously on the cup holder tip and fall off), I heard R's scared voice call after me and abruptly realized he had stopped following.  Just like that, I was taken back to a day during last year's rainy spring when I'd decided not to chance taking the car through this same mud puddle.  As I walked around the puddle, struggling to carry too many items, I suddenly discovered that two-year-old R was scared of mud and would NOT walk blithely around it.  Only, on that day I wasn't pushing a stroller, just working around an awkward big belly.  And R was so, so scared that I ended up setting down everything and carrying him and the equipment, leap-frog style, the rest of the way to the gate. 



2011



But he's a big boy now.  "You came almost all the way around it by yourself!" I said proudly, as I set the tools and the cardboard against the fence and carried R the last two feet around the puddle.  I set him down in the grass and we walked the rest of the way to the gate, which he helped me open.  He doesn't drop his snacks anymore, or fall in the puddles, and if I help him he'll lay in the grass on the path with me and watch airplanes go by.  He used to watch my every move in the garden, grabbing me when I moved around too fast for him to follow; last week he spent the better part of our garden time in an intense game of pretend where he lived in a house with an elevator.  Later he asked me to tell him stories about Ropps and Gopps, fictional characters he made up one day out of thin air.  I suppose by this time next year A will be chasing after his brother and tripping into the mud puddle.



2012

That's one of my favorite things about a garden: it doesn't let you fail to notice the time passing by.

Waiting for Winter

We are having a ridiculously mild winter.  While I appreciate all the extra opportunities to work (and play) outside, I have to admit I'm a little concerned.  These cabbage worms should have died (or gone into hiding or dormancy or whatever it is cabbage worms do during the winter) a month ago.

Cabbage worm crawling on my slightly eaten cabbage.

Central Maryland exists in a fantastic climate zone with a near perfect balance between a long growing season and a good, hard, bug-killing freeze.  Usually, at any rate.

The boys and I have been taking advantage of the nice weather to get some prep work done in the garden.  I've been working my way through the community garden plot, raising the beds where things will be planted this year and laying down cardboard on several of the paths.  I can already see the perennial weeds that survived last season coming back to haunt me, so I've been doing a lot of pre-emptive weeding, too.

While I'm waiting for winter and prepping for summer, some of the plants around my yard are getting ready for spring.  These bulbs usually come up in late January, but decided to to strike out early this year.

The Lenten Rose by my driveway (see Replanting Near the Driveway and Some Photos I Meant to Post Sooner) has set some beautiful little pink buds.  They look so classic spring peeping out from amongst last fall's leaves.

Lenten Rose

Long Season

What a long year it's been in the garden! There are finally some signs that the season is drawing to an end, though.

Ridiculously long-lived hot pepper plants

My hot pepper plants and potatoes are starting to look wilty from frost damage.

Wilty late potato sprouts

And we've had a couple days this month when I had to bundle up A quite a bit in order to work outside.  It's a shame, because he really likes being outside and takes his best naps there.

December 1 is the last official day of the season at the community garden plot, and the park service has asked that we remove all of our gardening materials from the plots.  I've been gradually drawing down, so I think there will be too much to do, but then I'm always surprised by how much there is to do once I get there.

Fantastic Fall

The boys and I have been trying to soak up as much outdoors as we can.  After last weekend's freak snowstorm, I know time is short.  Tonight we went out in the back yard and grilled chicken and most of my tiny winter squash store.  (Squash bugs killed my winter squash vines before they really had much of a chance.)  The butternut squash was just fabulous; I will definitely have to grow some of these next year.  Maybe I will start them late-season at home and hope to avoid the borers and the squash bugs.


Butternut squash, and the last potato in the box.



Know what else was fabulous?  Sunset in this tree.  I'm not sure even the best digital camera could capture it - it really could have been on fire.  Do you think that's why they call it sunset?



Our maple tree lit by the setting sun.



Great Gardening Weekend!

The weather here has been cold, wet, and mostly overcast for the last two days.  Normal people are probably sad, but I was thrilled because all that cold air came with a beautiful promise: dead mosquitoes. 

When the park service plowed our community garden plot last year the plow left a 1.5-foot deep trench along the side where we enter our plot.  With the crazy amount of rain we've gotten over the last month or so (I saw a half-full 55-gallon drum out at the community garden!) it has been almost constantly full of water.  On top of that, the park service is still sort of working out the kinks in the new deer fence, one of them being that they haven't mowed the grass and weeds in our path since the fence was put up last spring, and it is starting to pretty tall.  So, no surprise I suppose that the mosquitoes out there have become unbearable.  The last time I took the boys out there I was in my plot for about five minutes before I decided we'd better run for it.  Literally.  I ran the stroller (thankfully covered in netting) over the weeds, back to the car and threw both boys in.  I chucked stuff in the trunk and drove out to the parking lot before stopping to buckle the carseats, in between waving a cloud of mosquitoes out of the car.  Until yesterday I haven't been back since.

So, yeah, I just love this weather!  I'll have to write more later to tell you all the work I got done....

The Romantic Side of Gardening

I have issues with bloggers who over-romaticize gardening.  Gardening is work; it's dirty, buggy, grubby work.  Sometimes it seems like everything I plant dies, and I am wasting hours of my time.  It seldom actually saves me money, rarely produces in quantities large enough to be called bounty, and is utterly unforgiving of vacations.

But then, sometimes there are days like today, when I walk out the front door in the morning and pick fresh strawberries with my son before loading him into the car, stop to water my newly sprouted squash plants only to find new plants popping up all over the place, come home to pick fresh sugar snap peas while checking over mouth-wateringly gorgeous broccoli buds, and walk in the house carrying a fistful of fresh, fragrant cilantro, completely oblivious to the mud and sweat and mosquitoes trailing behind me.  And I glance at my son gorging himself on still more fresh strawberries and think, "Hey, maybe those other bloggers have it right after all."

I just love spring.

Spring, You Devil

The tough thing about blogging about a garden is that the best time of year is also the worst time of year.  There's so much great stuff going on right now and I'm in my garden so much and think of all these great things I could blog about, but have so little time to actually do it.  So here's another random collection of photographs with woefully little dialogue.

These little flowers look like grapes; I have no idea what they're called - do you?

Some cilantro and parsley made it through the winter!

This lilac bush went from leafless to covered in flowers in about a week.

The elusive may apple blossom - will I get to see it this year?

Pea sprouts!

Strawberry blossoms forming

My temporary upstairs light setup.

Mid-spring garden photo

Seasonal Color

The trees are starting to bloom...

 For all the ex-Marylanders who read my blog, here is a taste of spring. 

...as are the flowering bushes...

...and the Easter lilies are coming up.

Even the grass is starting to grow.

A Seasonal House

One of my sisters lives in a big old farmhouse in northwestern Missouri. She and her husband intend to eventually build a newer one on some adjacent land, but last year when she was pregnant they broke down and made some upgrades to the room that now serves as their nursery: they replaced a drafty window and walled over the door to the old "sleeping porch". A sleeping porch is just what it sounds like - a porch made for sleeping on. It is accessible through a door off of the master bedroom upstairs, and would have been used on summer nights before the days of air conditioning when it was just too hot to sleep indoors.

I'm thinking about the sleeping porch today because I cleaned my grill recently and started thinking about how much climate-controlled homes deprive us of the natural rhythm that used to pervade our lives. N and I have owned our home for four years now. It has no ductwork: the heating is a gas-powered boiler that warms radiators in every room, and there is a window air conditioner in each bedroom. After our third summer here we realized that the lack of air conditioning in the main part of the house was having a negative effect on our family relationships, and decided something had to be done: either we would go to the expense of installing ductwork, and central A/C, and probably some additional electrical capacity to run it, or we would make some adjustments to the way we live.

Being pretty broke at the time, we ended up going with option two. Back in the day, in houses like my sister's, the farmer's wife would often have a separate space for outdoor cooking during the summer, to keep the house from getting too hot. Following suit, N and I bought a nice gas grill, and a crockpot (which we can plug in on the screened porch). We started using the A/C unit from the downstairs bedroom to cool the air in the kitchen. As long as I don't cook indoors this keeps the kitchen temp below 80 F for most of the summer. We even changed our diet a bit, choosing to eat more foods that didn't require much cooking or could be cooked ahead (like at 10pm the night before). The effect of these small changes on our comfort level was pretty remarkable. I won't say we don't mind the heat - we both lived in Florida for several years and I would say that other than less frequent rain the summer weather is very similar, except in Florida almost nobody tries to live without A/C. But I think the seasonal variation in behavior has improved my life in some additional ways. I actually feel more connected to my world, more aware of the passage of time, more in tune with my own internal rhythms. I don't wonder where the year went the way I might have five years ago, because I made note of the passage of each season. When the days began to shorten and the leaves began to turn brown there was a blessing that came with what I normally find to be a very depressing time of year: the opportunity to bake a cake for my son's birthday, and make hearty soups and casseroles and mashed potatoes. I never noticed before this year that so many of the foods we prepare for Thanksgiving warm the house in their preparation. What a wonderful world we live in.


(For those of you who may be wondering, N and I did try sleeping on our screened porch once, before his parents gave us the big window A/C for the master bedroom. It was significantly cooler, but the raccoons rooting through the soda cans in the recycling bin were not conducive to sleep.)