a casualty

A giant in shark sandals squashed my strawberry this morning. Only the well-meaning look on his sweet face and the fact that my blood runs through his veins saved him from exile from the kingdom. No, it was an accident. He is two years old. Sometimes, when he is trying to help me, he mistakes the green pepper plants for weeds and yanks at their leaves. I won't lie, though, and say that I didn't experience feelings of disappointment and frustration as I tossed the pulverized berry out to the grass for some lucky bird. It was not my finest hour. Perhaps some Moroccan floor pillows and sunset meditation are in order?

getting to know you: yucca filamentosa

Allow me to open by saying that I can take no credit for this angel, nor can I take credit for her sisters in the backyard. They came with the house; I just took the pictures. Nevertheless, my hope with this project is to better familiarize myself with all the components of my home landscape, as well as to expand my gardening knowledge in general. What kind of gardener can't name the plants in her own yard? Some quick work with Google ("tall plant with bell-shaped white flowers") tells me that what I have here is yucca filamentosa. I am a fan, I must say. I enjoy the incongruity - long spikes at the bottom, soft white blooms at the top - and the way the epic shoot culminating in such bright flowers essentially makes yucca filamentosa the floral equivalent of an orgasm. A pleasure to meet you, darling.

a gramophone in the greenhouse

My seventh grade science experiment posited the question, "Does music affect the growth of plants?" Our teacher suggested we use mung beans, saying they would grow quickly and easily - both important qualities given our timeline. Thus, my long-suffering mother drove me to Bulk Barn, where we picked up what we understood to be mung beans. Whether they were mung beans or something else entirely will remain a mystery for the ages, but know that they did not grow even one bit, even after vigorous doses of August & Everything After and Much Dance Mix '93. (My beans, it seemed, did not agree with the assessment that rhythm is a dancer, and they certainly were not in the mood to jump around.) My science partner and I had to resort to established plants. One was exposed to music, and one was not. As I recall, we noted no significant difference between the growth of the two. Astonishing! Somehow, I still went on to win the science award in eighth grade, most likely for my groundbreaking comparison of the effectiveness of various laundry detergents. I expect that Nobel prize nomination to happen any day now. Anyhow, this is a whole lot of preamble leading up to a realization I made this morning on my daily garden visit: one of my tomato plants (sweet 100 hybrid tomato) is sad, and I need a hero. A hypothesis based on oh-so-reliable empirical evidence viewed by my twelve year old self that would suggest this fella is indifferent to The Beatles means that the Internet will probably have to suffice.

Symptom: drooping leaves at the very top of the plant. The bottom three quarters are healthy, and I even spotted fruit - (yes, keeping with the "scientific" theme of this post, I am putting tomatoes in the "fruit" category).

Theories:

1. blossom-end rot
2. over-watering
3. some sort of nutrient imbalance in the soil

Thoughts: Further observation is required to determine whether #1 is the problem. I have not seen any of the lesions described on the referenced page on any of the leaves. Mostly, the leaves just look depressed or tired, like they have had a rough go of things and need a cocktail or two and a Gossip Girl marathon. #2 and #3 seem unlikely, given that both tomato plants have received the same treatment, and only one is struggling.

Here's the plan: Switch from a daily to a once or twice a week watering schedule. Administer milk and water solution via spray bottle weekly. Research, bookmark, wait, and watch.

A more cheerful customer in region 1 is my strawberry plant.

Finally, I went on a mission to Home Depot the other night to obtain a shepherd's hook and hanging basket for the still far too bare spot at the front of our house (where a giant bug-magnet of a shrub once stood). My secret fear of being impaled by large unsecured objects whilst driving was alive and well as I transported my purchases to the gym and then home, but I am happy to report that there were no freak accidents. Yes, I am still as unhole-y as ever.

impatiens, my friends.

tiny new addition and other dreams

fairy garden toadstool, $1.50 (local dollar store)

This blog is intended to be not only a chronicle of my adventures in the world of gardening, but of my love affair with the little green space that has given me leave to tend to it and enjoy its beauty on a daily basis. Our backyard is straight out of Terabithia. When my husband and I were looking to move out of our apartment and into a house, it was the backyard of our present residence that wooed me first and last.

This is, you may recall, the King of Trees, (as of yesterday).

He is, and has been for some time, in need of a tire swing. He told me so himself.

I have visions of the evergreens that line the berm along the fence lit up with colour come December. Required for this task would be an exceptionally long and sturdy ladder, a gazillion strands of outdoor lights, a power source (or maybe just the mother of extension cords), and an individual (or several individuals) with not an ounce of acrophobia. Anybody know any firefighters?

On a less whimsical note, I need to step it up when it comes to the weekly weeding. Weeds weeds weeds. They are everywhere, and they are infinite. They break up through the rocks and under the zucchini leaves. When we are all dead and long gone, weeds will remain. Consider that for a moment the next time you catch yourself sneering at the crabgrass.

small victories: cilantro

easy butter chicken

Upon second glance at this recipe, I noticed that it read "coriander" and not "cilantro". As it turns out, they are essentially the same thing, with coriander referring to "the dried seed of the cilantro". As the accompanying photograph to the recipe would indicate, it was the author's intention that the leafy cilantro be used by us home cooks rather than the seed. Learn something new every day, you do.

one toe into summer

The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.

"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world."

And the roses were very much embarrassed.

"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you--the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.

And he went back to meet the fox.

"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose--" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose . . ."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember. (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince)

Now that I am a little over a month into this experiment, I thought I would do a quick progress report. Playing in the garden has been a positive experience thus far, aided in part by my attempt at practicing an easy-going, optimistic attitude. For every misadventure, there is a lesson learned.

Misadventures

• The Case of the Melting Peony


• broken/bent stems on the behemoth, one celosia plant, the remaining un-chomped rose bloom. I am uncertain as to the cause of the breaks, but I have a list of suspects: recent heavy rainfall and winds; the local fauna holding careless aerobic sessions in my backyard; our long, unusually harsh winter (in the case of the JFK rose bush only). My salvage mission consisted of extracting the broken out-of-place sunflower and laying it to rest in a yard waste bin, staking the bent celosia (as well as the other as yet upright and healthy sunflowers), and saying a prayer to Chloris for my roses. Also, Miracle Gro (c/o Mumsie, yet again).


• the Irish moss' failure to flourish. The moss seems to be stuck in Garden Limbo - neither perishing nor spreading like the carpet for faery feet that I hoped it would. I am still hoping this problem is merely a result of transplant shock and will resolve itself in time. Until then, a little magic blue dust + water never hurt anyone.

Looking Forward

• Next week: The cilantro is going places! First stop, easy butter chicken.


• I am longing to see the lavender in bloom.


• July garden tour!

more fun with macro function: lilies c/o mumsie

My mother is a robo-gardener. An alpha. One day I will take some photos of her garden, but, until then, know that I will most likely only ever aspire to have the green thumb that she does. Case in point: being blessed with an overabundance of lilies, she offered me some to transplant to my own garden when I commented on how lovely I thought they were. I planted them in the front yard, as these ladies desire and deserve an audience. I sure hope they like it here! Thanks, Mom. ♥

small victories: basil

roasted red pepper cream sauce

Monday discovery: macro function

here there be dragons

I am not much of one for rules when it comes to forms of creative expression. Moreover, my intention in embarking upon this backyard journey has always been to embrace the joy of experimentation I missed out on by being a straight-laced girl with her nose in a book in my youth. (Books rule, though. Just saying.) The late blooming rebel in me, therefore, gardens in maxi skirts or hot pink cropped skinny jeans and plays fast-and-loose with "ideal" growing conditions. Region 2 receives a mix of sun and shade throughout the day. The dappled light lends to the enchanted feel of that little corner of our yard. I, the rebel Gardener (N.B. my theme song), have decided that this area can accommodate plants that prefer "full to part sun" or "partial to full shade". Sunflowers are growing here, albeit slowly. We may trim some of the surrounding trees before the summer is out. Regardless, in region 2, the fairy garden, it's all happening!

More photos of today's plantings after the jump.

murder most foul!

My close-up photography leaves much to be desired, but what follows is a photo of my JFK rose bush, now short of two buds. Note the discarded petals in the lower left corner. Not only are the perpetrators dastardly thieves, but they are slobs as well.

A fresh perimeter of Tabasco was in order. (I made sure not to get any on the remaining bud this time.)

poplar fluff in my coffee

This is what the veggie garden looks like today. (Note the new plastic edging, installed most graciously by my resident beefcake.)

Meet today's MVPs after the jump.

photo post: gardens I have loved before

Shakespeare Garden

Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, California

Japanese Tea Garden

Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, California

in which my imagination trips o'er my wallet

I have, of late, grown quite fond of region 2. The faux mint continues to pop up in small patches, and one day I hope to vanquish it entirely, but it seems to be, at least for the time being, manageable. I pulled and dug out a lot of the out of place grass from this area, and at present it looks a lot neater than it did initially. This is a lovely little corner of the garden, where two trees - the umbrella and the reverse umbrella (not their actual names!) - stand and provide ample shade. Some sunlight reaches region 2, as the baby sunflowers presently poking through the soil indicate. Yesterday, I planted four patches of Irish moss here, with the hopes of turning this area into a sort of whimsical fairy-inspired garden. Speaking of fairies, though, I would love to create a set-up like the one featured on the homepage of this site. Alas, funds are limited, but I can't promise you won't see a set of these in region 2 before the summer is out! Around the moss, I plan to add some colour. There will still be far too much boring exposed soil even once everything has spread. I have very vague plans for this addition of colour - pansies, maybe, and marigolds? I'll know it when I see it, I am convinced.

Other dreams for this part of the yard include a stone bench and some solar paper lanterns to hang from the trees.

In another world, I planted a golden cascade climbing rose bush with the hopes of filling in a bare spot. I suspect it won't be quite enough, but it will be lovely anyway.

May 28th: veggie garden, WIP

Cleaning up the backyard, I decided, would have to be an ongoing project, and it could take all summer to pull all the weeds and other undesirables. I would have vegetable plants, and I would have them as soon as I could get my butt out to a store that sold such things. Without a real plan or budget in mind, I traipsed off to Wal-Mart (the ninth circle of Hell) and loaded my cart up with the following:

• cherry tomatoes
• green peppers
• red peppers
• lavender
• cilantro
• basil
• strawberries
• blueberries
• a peony bush
• daisies
• zucchini (seeds)
• sunflowers (seeds)
• two bags of topsoil
• pretty printed gardening gloves
• one metal watering can

(I also bought a copy of Inception on DVD, a pair of underwear, a shower cap, and a bottle of Diet Pepsi, none of which are relevant to this particular project. Ahem.)

My husband provided most of the muscle on planting day - (though he shook his head at my request he appear shirtless and leaning wearily on a dirty shovel in a photo for this post) - by turning over the sod to expose soil. I followed close behind, digging with my trowel and putting green leafy infant plants or seeds into the earth. The children ran wild through the yard like sprites with plastic shovels and watering cans in hand, eager to help Mommy and Daddy. A late start and a gloomy sky meant we had to rush just a bit, hence the messiness. My intention was to line the garden with plastic edging, but I had been unable to locate any at Wal-Mart, so that would have to wait.

The majority of the planting was done in region 1, but I also planted a few of the sunflower seeds in the recently cleared region 2. Another note: don't tell PETA, but I sprayed a combination of Tabasco sauce and water on the grass all around the garden and directly on some of the plants, so as to ward off any hungry invaders. It had no effect on most of the plants, but I may have overdone it by spraying the peony, as it eventually discoloured. What a pity. I felt and still feel quite a fool for that move, and I hope the bush grows more flowers, which I vow to leave unseasoned. Pretty please?

Onward germination and photosynthesis!

another random thought for Gardening Saturday

I must imagine myself a more fantastical existence than what reality allows when my first thought upon discovering peanut shells in the garden is, "Elephants."

that sounds like a personal problem

I think I put too much Tabasco sauce on my peony.

May 22nd: mint-pocalypse*

*Title is c/o the husband.

(source)

In region 2, there grew some frightening plants I once not-so-affectionately named pseudo-mint and the vine monsters. Not the latest indie band, kids! A warm day in late May saw me ripping the "mint" from the soil and cursing under my breath before setting to the challenge of digging up the first monster. After approximately one hour of digging and yanking, I pulled it free from the soil and held it aloft, declaring loudly enough to unnerve the neighbours, "I HAVE SLAIN THE MIGHTY BEAST!" This boast made and the creature tossed aside, I looked down and saw its brother with roots as thick as corn cobs snarling up at me. Blast.

before photos: aka, what the f#@k was I thinking?

Note: These photos were taken in the middle of May.

hey now. it's not all romance and watering cans.

My kingdom for a bowl of fresh primavera! Let us be real for a moment here: myself being caught somewhere between Mary, Mary Quite Contrary and Isabella of Pot of Basil fame, my gardening dreams were always of the hopelessly aspirational five-years-down-the-road-when-they-figure-out-a-way-to-grow-free-time-on-trees variety. Past flirtations with horticulture have included the following: scattered perennial plantings that forgot they were supposed to be perennial; tulip bulbs that bloomed beautifully, only to be promptly beheaded by rabbits or squirrels with voracious appetites and return the following year as beds of leaves (half-hearted tulips); and an unknown number of house plants, all of which met an untimely end. I have always had the best of intentions, but what finally prompted me to buy a new pair of gardening gloves was not merely the fact that, in the nearly five years I have lived in my home, its backyard had gone from pristine Better Homes & Gardens' photo spread material (a state to which it was brought by its former owner) to a screenshot from Life After People, was a Giada De Laurentiis recipe for pasta primavera. It is simple and delicious - the quintessential spring meal - and it resurrected the Food Network fangirl in me and made me dream of making the dish with vegetables fresh from my own garden. Would Ina Garten simply go out and buy herbs for the fabulous dish she plans on serving her Italian friend (what's his name again?)? Nonsense! She goes on a leisurely stroll through her expansive exquisite garden and gathers all the green she needs. Then, it was decided: I would have a vegetable/herb/berries garden, and it would be modest but delightful. This initial plan, however, was met with some resistance by my husband, who said that a vegetable garden, though lovely, would perhaps look amiss in our suburban jungle backyard, and that we should concentrate on cleaning up the vines and weeds and evicting the pack of feral dogs before even contemplating brilliant beds of zucchini. As is my custom, I took his resistance and doubt as a challenge, stating that I would complete a total overhaul on the yard, in addition to planting the garden. Thus, here I stand, trowel in hand and floppy sun hat cocked (to the left). I'm not going for Martha Stewart. I just want some damn cilantro.