Friday, March 30, 2007

A quick shout-out to my peeps in L.A.

I can't resist passing this link on:

Digital Gardener's Southern California Vegetable Planting Schedule

Sometimes as I'm staring out at our Western Washington winter rains, I wonder what I'd be planting and harvesting if I still lived in Southern California. Well, now I know. It amazes me that the months I spend inside, pining for greenery that ain't a poinsettia, are the optimal months for planting over half the crops on the list.

It looks like it's time for Southern California gardeners to plant summer crops-- tomatoes, squash, corn, beans. I'll be starting some of those crops indoors here, as well, in order to get a head start on our shorter growing season.

I'm jealous of all the Mediterranean and other heat-loving delights I remember from childhood: avocados fresh from the tree, figs, citrus, loquats, and peaches. I even miss the damn bougainvillea that left me nicked up for a week from pruning it. But then again, I remember the days of mournful yearning for a lilac that would tolerate and bloom in zone 9, and the cherry trees in my Washington backyard would probably wither and pout through an L.A. summer, so I guess all things even out in the end.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Getting to it


Dividing rhubarb

I once read that one of Rosemary Verey's favorite phrases was "Get to it." Being a master procrastinator, I'm generally pretty bad about getting things done, but since we just got our first break from the rain in two or three weeks, I finally got started on a long-overdue task: dividing the rhubarb.

The rhubarb came with the house-- planted, presumably, by the previous occupants. There are two large clumps of it, and while they shoot up vigorously in the spring, they've never really produced very well. The stalks are mostly spindly, and we never seem to get more than four or five of them per crown. I've been meaning to divide the clumps since the first summer we lived here, but every year, it gets put off, undoubtedly because early spring up in our parts is almost always rainy and cold.

Today, I tackled the first of the two clumps, dividing it into four smaller clumps. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but the heart of the plant turned out to be a giant, solid mass of root. I'd meddled around the base of the plant before, and had come across more conventional-looking roots... thick, fleshy, but definitely recognizable as roots. As it turns out, beneath the center of the plant, it's one big congealed knot, and in the case of this plant, that knot was nearly a foot-and-a-half around. That was not what I was expecting at all, so I cleaved it down the center with a shovel. I hope it all works out.

Other things I've gotten down to this past week:

  • I pruned the grapes, lavender, and lavatera, and have started working on the roses. I'm a little behind schedule on all of this, but since I'm always late, every year, and the plants have never seemed to mind, I think it'll be okay. Husband helped with the grapes, and as usual worried that I was pruning too hard. He says the same thing about the lavatera, his favorite flowering plant, which he's convinced I'm trying to kill. The lavatera, by the way, is a cultivar known as "Barnsley," which was first cultivated by... guess who? Rosemary Verey, at her famous Barnsley House garden.

  • I have started potting up some of my dahlia rubers to give them an early start on the season. I'm happy to report that no further tubers have rotted since January's tragedy, although a couple seem to have dried out, including some of my divisions of 'Pam Howden.' Luckily, this year's local dahlia society tuber sale falls on a Sunday, rather than a Saturday, so I should be able to recover the loss. I nearly danced around my cubicle at work when I discovered this fact, which may give you some idea of how obsessed I am with my dahlias. I still have no idea where I'm going to plant them all... have I mentioned that I also ordered about ten plants to be delivered in April? *headsmack*

  • My garden auricula is starting to bud, which prompted me to head to the nursery to see if they had any different colors in stock yet. Sadly, they didn't, but that didn't stop me from browsing. I came away with some purple Calibrachoa (million bells) for hanging baskets and... wait for it... more frakking dahlia tubers!

  • I transplanted my tomatoes to larger containers and started more tomatoes in seed cells, as well as basil and okra. This week, I'm planning to start some lettuce and transplant the cabbage and pac choi to larger pots. I've been watering my seedlings with diluted fish emulsion this year; it's not as odorless as the bottle claims, but if it gets me healthier seedlings, I can live with it. Although I suspect that the cats may be drinking from the drip trays.

  • Blogwatch: Gayla at You Grow Girl has written a couple of excellent posts on the subject of seed-starting. Mr. Brown Thumb has been recording the process of saving Amaryllis / Hippeastrum seeds. This intrigues me because although I can't get my existing Amaryllis to rebloom, I've been thinking of taking up Hippeastrum as a hobby, following in the footsteps of George Washington Carver, who was apparently an enthusiast.
I can't believe how late it is now. I hate to rush a post, but it's time for me to hit the sack. I'll bang my head over typos in the morning. For now, I leave you with my favorite find from the garden today:

Glory of the Snow and a volunteer pansy

Take care, all!

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Cross-posted to Vox

Monday, March 26, 2007

Lawn Ornament Tragedy


Oh noes, it's Bambi's mom

Our neighbors claim that their deer lawn ornament has simply fallen and can't get up. Personally, I think it's some kind of Disney allegory about animal orphanhood. Or a warning to any stray deer that should happen to wander into town to nibble on that barberry bush.

Anyway, this little scene of lawn ornament tragedy has been on display in their front yard for almost half a year now. They seem like normal people, but apparently they have a morbid sense of humor.

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Cross-posted to Vox.

Monday, March 19, 2007

Organic fertilizer


Now blooming: forsythia

I know that today's photo doesn't really match the topic of fertilizer, but after two weeks of posting pictures of nothing but dirt, more or less, I figured it was about time for a break.

Fertilizer may not be much to look at, but it does wonders for a garden. Up until now, I've relied on compost, manure, and Osmocote to keep my veggies going, but this year, I wanted to break my dependence on Osmocote and switch to something more organic. The cost always seemed prohibitive in the past, but luckily, last year I started working for a chain of farm-and-feed stores that sell lawn and garden products, and our year-end bonuses came in the form of a generous gift certificate. A sane, non-livestock owning woman would probably have gone after a nice new coat, or expensive tools, or even patio furniture with that kind of money to throw around.

Not me. I wanted fertilizer. The equivalent of over two hundred dollars' retail worth of it. *headsmack*

This would not be a funny story except that I vastly overestimated how much I would need for my plot, which figures at about 100 square feet of workable space. And anyway, it was essentially free!! fertilizer!! Maybe I just didn't read the application rates closely enough. Long story short, I bought cottonseed meal, bone meal, kelp meal, alfalfa meal, dolomite lime, garden lime, greensand, and gypsum, but in such outrageous quantities that the store employees raised eyebrows at me. As I hauled the fifth bag of seed meal into my car, it should have occurred to me that I had overdone it. Alas, no.

Oh well. I didn't need that patio furniture, anyway.

To sum it all up: I have enough ingredients to keep me in fertilizer for the next eight years. If you're interested, the recipe I used was Steve Solomon's "complete organic fertilizer" blend, which is available on the Mother Earth News website here (I added some greensand for additional minerals). Solomon's Gardening West of the Cascades was an excellent research tool; I also referred to Eliot Coleman's classic Four Season Harvest. My first batch was whipped up last month, and I'll be amending my beds just as soon as the rain lets up... which the weather report tells me ain't gonna be happening anytime soon.

In the meanwhile:

  • I've been working on entering my seed-starting data into a spreadseet over at EditGrid. So far, I'm happy with the site-- it's free, and the interface is pretty intuitive for anyone who's familiar with spreadsheet applications.
  • My wintersown larkspur seedlings have set their first true leaves! And the two flats of columbines that had one seedling each mid-week are definitely sprouting.
  • The crocuses have finished blooming, while the clumps of Dutch iris received from a co-worker and planted last fall have started sending up growth.
  • I spotted my first bumblebee of the season today, making eyes at the potted hellebores on the porch.
  • My ever-growing to-do list: 1) Dig up rhubarb. 2) Enlarge center bed. 3) Amend beds with fertilizer. 4) Replant rhubarb and strawberries; move herbs as necessary. 5) Prune grapes, lavatera, rhododendron.
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Cross-posted to Vox.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Fresh from the deli aisle


Wintersown delphinium seedlings

A quick update on those wintersown containers that I blogged about in January: 4 out of 10 trays have sprouted so far! It looks like I'll have plenty of pansies, delphinium, and larkspur in the garden this year. As for the latecomers, I'm still hoping that the columbines, at least, will make a show. So far, there are only two seedlings in the four trays I planted. I love columbines, but haven't had much luck growing them so far. Thank goodness I spied this thread at GardenWeb-- at least I know I'm not alone!

I went out and cleared mulch from the vegetable beds today in preparation for making them slightly wider and longer (in theory, to accomodate all the new seed varieties I bought this year). I was hating Daylight Savings this morning-- I have enough trouble getting out of bed without having to get up a whole hour earlier-- but in the evening, when I realized that there was enough daylight left at 6:30 PM to hit the garden after work, boy, did my attitude change! I'm looking forward to getting the beds reshaped by the end of the week-- then I can get started on moving the rhubarb and working in fertilizer.

I still haven't told you my fertilizer story yet! I guess that'll be one for next week.

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Cross-posted to Vox.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Time to get my garden on


Seed-starting tray

We've got a storm headed our way, with eight inches of rain expected over the next three days, so apparently winter's not quite done with us yet. Warmer weather seems like a far-off dream, but I'm not going to let the chill outside dissuade me from commencing with spring gardening indoors. My seed-starting chart tells me that now is time to begin sowing vegetable seeds up here in my corner of the Pacific Northwest, and in answer, I have gone forth and filled my seed trays! (Yea verily!)

I have a nifty new seed-starting gadget this year, a Christmas present from my husband: it's a seed-heating mat, which holds a temperature 10 - 20 degrees above ambient and is used to improve germination rates. Back when we lived in Italy, we had a tiled ledge in our bathroom that was built in right over the wall heater; even trays of notoriously difficult lemongrass seeds sprouted easily in that spot. I'm counting on the mat to get my tomatoes and peppers going; later in the season, I'll use it to give my African violet cuttings a boost.

So far, I've got pak choi, cabbage, sorrel, beet, chard, and tomato seedlings popping up, with fennel, parsley, and jalapeno yet to break ground. Tomorrow, I'll be adding leeks and flower seedlings. I have a feeling I'll be needing more windowsill space... but I'll just have to deal with that problem when I come to it.

Outdoors, sweet peas are sprouting (yes, I finally got them planted) and the crocuses are in full glory. Up and down the street, ornamental cherry trees are coming into bloom, and our forsythia looks like it's ready to burst into flower. Once this storm is over... it might actually be spring.

I can't wait!

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Cross-posted to Vox.