the tallest sunflower, or, you win some, you lose some

The garden, as I greeted it this afternoon:

The bad news first, then: The rain must have washed away my Tabasco sauce barrier, as my JFK tea hybrid rose, which seemed, after a weak beginning, to be regaining some healthy green in its one sprouting cane, is bereft of its bud. Bother.

The rest of it is sunshine.

These are my best growing sunflowers, and the one at the end is the tallest. (A fourth can be seen peeking out from behind the overachieving zucchini leaves. I staked it; we'll see what happens.) I'm hoping August will bring out the big golden flowers; how perfect will that be?

I can almost smell the zucchini bread baking!,

I go away for a week, and my baby (pepper) is nearly ready for harvesting upon my return. *sniff* They grow up so fast!

like a boss

the zucchini, today's MVPs

Happy Canada Day!

I celebrated our nation's 144th birthday by putting some work into the beautification of the very minute percentage of her I have on loan. For the most part, this involved a great deal of weeding. Funny thing about weeds, I have a rather unorthodox policy when it comes to dealing with them. That is, if they are pretty and look as though they might serve as a parasol (or midnight snack) for beings with wings and/or pointy appendages, they get to stay. (I have always been of the opinion that dandelions are underrated.)

Case in point:

yellow oxalis

Another maintenance item I was able to take care of today was the staking of the tomato plants.

Tomato plant B (on the right) is still suffering from a case of droopy leaves. Yet, it has actual tomatoes growing on it, while plant A does not. Curious. Henrik the gnome is giving them both the thumbs up, anyhow.

I picked up the stakes at Walmart, as well as five new moss plants - Scotch, this time, to replace the Irish, which was starting to look dry and beige at the roots and just not spreading at all. I'll have to take more care with this stuff - make sure not to over-water and all that. Scott asked if I plan to feed it whiskey, and, really, that's not all that bad of an idea. Desperate times, desperate measures.

Kidding.

Oh, and these are some wild mulberries growing between our neighbour's fence and ours. Isn't it nifty how nature just does its own thing? Respect.

In conclusion, I leave you with these few parting thoughts/lessons:

1. Dear Pale Woman, No amount of diligent application and re-application of sunscreen will keep us from you. Accept that a tan and likely some sunspots are in your future. You say you have SPF 40 and a hat with a wide brim? Ha ha. It is to laugh. Sincerely, The (UV) Rays.


2. When spraying oneself with insect repellent, take great care not to neglect the bum cheeks. It should come as no surprise to know that mosquitoes have no sense of personal space. ("Oh, excuse me there. I'm famished. Might I have a drink of your blood, please?") They will not hesitate to fly up your shorts.


3. The first thing to do before driving a shovel into the ground is to check for buried power cords. (No shocks, thankfully, but a definite whoops! moment.)

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.

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!

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.

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!