[embedded video: Squirrel versus Sunflower
Tag Archives: gardening
Revenge of the Creature
We had a row of trees planted along the side of our yard.
The trees looked too austere all in a row, with nothing else around them. I’m up to my ass in Shasta Daisies and Coneflowers so I did some transplanting.
In the months since I moved them, the plants are doing extremely well and have been multiplying and flowering like wildfire.
All except one. One of them died.
I planted another one. That one died.
I amended the soil and planted again.
Tonight as the sun was starting to set on my yard we joked that some ancient evil had been buried in that small spot in the yard.
Then I remembered…something did happen there. That’s where I buried The Creature.
Terrific. Now I apparently need an opossum exorcist. Why is gardening so hard? Martha Stewart never warned me about this.
Part II: more on “those” neighbors, with a digression into why I shouldn’t garden
So, after blogging about Dana’s post about being “those” neighbors, I’ve realized we really are “those” neighbors.
I was showing off our swanky new exterior lifestyle areas, or whatever it is you call patios these days, to one of our neighbors. We rounded the corner and encountered the large walnut bookcase Husband and I have had propped up in the yard for weeks.
That’s right, kids, intellectuals don’t put cars on blocks in their yard. They put bookcases on blocks instead.
We’ve been waiting to get rid of the bookcase because it was damaged during construction. Spring is a busy time for our contractors and they just haven’t had a chance to haul it away for us. I’d better keep on top of this though, because time slips by pretty fast and if I don’t make sure it gets taken care of we’ll start ignoring it and the next thing we know the grandnieces will be building a fort on it while we sip our hot toddys on the porch and yell at them to get off the lawn.
Oh, the lawn. The accursed lawn. The lawn is a swatch of hay-covered parched clay because we can’t bring ourselves to shell out for sod yet. I’m sure the yarn gives the neighbors something to talk about now that we’ve made the rest of the place presentable. To be fair, we have very little lawn area left, what with the giant porch and lifestyle accessory zones and the flower and herb gardens. Still, there’s enough to be an eyesore.
Mostly, I ignore the desolate wasteland that is the lawn because I have bigger fish to fry. We had 16 arborvitae planted and until they get established, they need to be watered.
My spiritual advisor, Roger, also planted lots of sunflowers, but those need surprisingly little water. I make every effort to plant as few things that need regular (non-rainfall related) watering as possible.
Aside from the herbs and the trees, the rest of the plants are pretty drought and MeanLouise tolerant. I planted a shasta daisy seedling in 1998. Every year I divide and give away as many of it’s spawn as possible. I started out with that one little shasta daisy. Last month when I started dividing them I found I had 97 of them. These things don’t need full sun or water or, apparently, any attention whatsoever. Shasta daisies, like honey badger, just don’t give a shit.
The trees are another story. This year, they need water, and we haven’t gotten any decent rainfall at our house in a while. According to the local rain gauge we’ve gotten about .10 inch in the last month. That means the trees aren’t the only things that need watering, because some idiot who lives here planted lots of tender herbs. The perennial herbs are troupers. The annuals like basil need water.
That involves hoses.
I have become like Wile E Coyote with the fucking garden hoses.
Dealing with garden hoses is going to break me.
For reasons I cannot even begin to explain – but trust me, there is a logical explanation – this is the hose situation as of today: We have 8 hoses connected to various bibs, winders, soaker hoses, sprinkler hoses, other hoses, and possibly my neighbor’s water feature.
I can’t be sure anymore.
What I can be sure of is that I must be supplying some form of comic relief to the neighborhood when I’m out in the yard swearing and fussing. Some of the neighbors are new, they haven’t acclimated to my tenuous relationship with both earthworms and reality vis-a-vis the wonderful world of gardening. I believe I may be frightening them, but they’ll learn. Or move.
I am simply not designed for this kind of domestic horseshit.
If I have to buy another splitter, connector, washer, winder, holder, nozzle, sprinkler, watering can or divining rod I am going to lose what little is left of my mind.
And now, to take my mind off gardening, let’s all have a moment with honey badger:
Maybe soon I'll have my own republic
I haven’t blogged about my most recent gardening adventures. Although I had a really extensive herb garden this past year, it was all crammed into one small area because most of our yard was in the throes of various renovation projects. I tried to document it by periodically leaning out an upstairs window and taking an overhead shot to annotate for future reference. I neglected the rest of the yard. Most of it was getting trampled or excavated, anyway. Plus, my gardening activities aren’t pretty or graceful, so I wasn’t terribly gung-ho about gardening while the place was full of contractors.
Despite my neglect, our mini-banana plantation flourished.
A few years ago, I planted a banana plant. I bought it at Home Depot on a whim and expected it to die at the end of the season like all tender annual herbs do. (Yes, bananas are herbs). I’m far too lazy to dig something like this out of the ground and harbor it in the house, so until I get a greenhouse, that’s just the way things are here.
I certainly never expected it to survive, let alone multiply. But multiply, it did.
The second year, there were three. The next, five. This year there were seven, plus lots of babies that friends dug up and carted away throughout the summer.
Through the magic of micro-climates, the banana plants didn’t die back until a frost got them in late November. Usually we then pull off all the dead leaves and hack the plants back so they’re less ugly. This year by the time they died it had gotten bitterly cold and we haven’t had a reprieve. I just haven’t had a chance to clean up the mess, so this is what they look like today:
A few weeks ago, we were hanging some Christmas lights outside and I was being a fussy perfectionist so Husband wandered into the backyard to get away from me. He returned with this:
We had no idea one of the plants had flowered and fruited! It’s blackened because of the frost and it’s frozen like a popsicle. Still, it made me happy. It’ll be interesting to see what happens next year. Maybe I’ll have the dead leaves cleaned up by then…
Screening of "The Garden" to benefit DC's 7th Street Garden
Eva sent me the link to the website for, The Garden, which won best documentary at SilverDocs this year. If you missed the movie at SilverDocs this year, you can catch it November 19th when it will be screened in DC as part of a fundraiser for the 7th Street Garden Project.
About the film:
The fourteen-acre community garden at 41st and Alameda in South Central Los Angeles is the largest of its kind in the United States. Started as a form of healing after the devastating L.A. riots in 1992, the South Central Farmers have since created a miracle in one of the country’s most blighted neighborhoods. Growing their own food. Feeding their families. Creating a community.
But now, bulldozers are poised to level their 14-acre oasis.
The Garden follows the plight of the farmers, from the tilled soil of this urban farm to the polished marble of City Hall. Mostly immigrants from Latin America, from countries where they feared for their lives if they were to speak out, we watch them organize, fight back, and demand answers:
Why was the land sold to a wealthy developer for millions less than fair-market value? Why was the transaction done in a closed-door session of the LA City Council? Why has it never been made public?
And the powers-that-be have the same response: “The garden is wonderful, but there is nothing more we can do.”
If everyone told you nothing more could be done, would you give up?
About the fundraiser (from the 7th Street Garden website):
Screening at the Goethe Theater (812 7th Street, NW).
Doors 6pm.
Film Starts 6:30pm.
Seasonal foods and drinks will be served.Tickets $20 each (though more is appreciated). Available at the door OR online at America the Beautiful Fund’s web site. **If buying online you must write in the Comment box that you are purchasing tickets for The Garden movie.**
Sounds like great event, I hope to be there.