Vacation's over!

Primroses

It feels like I've hardly had time to think about gardening this past winter-- this is the first year that I've approached a gardening season feeling completely unprepared. It's not that the usual winter tasks didn't get accomplished. Seeds have been ordered, pots have been bleached and cleaned, potting mix has been purchased in abundance. But somehow, I'm adrift. Maybe it's a sort of gardening mid-life crisis? I guess spring will tell.

Last year's garden: a post-mortem:

• The radicchio finally formed loose heads! There is still quite a bit of it in the garden, as the husband does not share my enthusiasm for its bitterness.
  
  
• The pumpkins never ripened fully, and started to rot. If you can imagine 75 pounds' worth of partly-mushy pumpkins leaking their slimy orange pumpkin guts all over the lawn-- well, as much as I wanted those pumpkins, it was pretty funny.
  
  
• Remember those bulbs that I forgot to plant on time last year? So far, the daffodils, at least, are coming up just fine. The fritillarias haven't popped up yet, but I'm definitely seeing some alliums. Happily, 'Splendid Cornelia,' the hyacinth that I forced last winter, has also come up in its new home in a patio container. It may edge out the daffodils as first bulb to bloom this year.

Early-spring gardening:

• We've had a couple of weeks of beautiful weather, and as a result, the second giant clump of rhubarb has finally been divided. Three of the seven resulting clumps were adopted by a co-worker; two more are still looking for homes. I also have several French sorrel plants in search of a new home.
  
  
• Sweet peas and snow peas have been planted on time! I ordered particular sweet peas from a particular vendor this year and was really looking forward to them, and they somehow lost my order! So the replacement sweet pea seeds that I ended up grabbing at the store are some standard variety, but I'm really looking forward to the snow peas, which are a new-to-me variety called 'Carouby de Maussane.'
  
  
• Meet my very first orchid! It's an oncidium, probably 'Sweet Sugar.' So far, it's been in flower for about a month. If I can keep it alive, there's another oncidium that I have my eye on.
  
  
• I will spare you the introduction to my first David Austen rose, as it is currently nekkid (in a bare-root sort of way). I'm planning on acquiring one more, but I've got to find a place for it, first. One of my 2008 garden resolutions is to take better care of the roses this year. I've armed myself with horticultural oil, fungicide, and a fresh bottle of pyrethrin, but already have a nagging suspicion that it will take more work and more chemicals than I can stomach.
  
  
• The Northwest Flower & Garden Show has come and gone. It was my first year attending this huge PNW garden event. A few photos are posted here. The show featured dozens and dozens of plant vendors. I, of course, walked out with nothing but more frakking dahlia tubers :-/
  
  
• Finally, to explain the photo of the day: I did not grow these primroses. They came from the local nursery. However, I am attempting to stratify three flats' worth of primrose seed this year. Last year, my wintersown container of primroses was one of only two failures, so I've divided my containers into three separate batches and will try different methods to get the seeds to germinate. These aren't just any primroses, by the way-- they are mostly species auriculas, along with a batch of candelabra primroses. This task may prove to be beyond my skill level, but if even one of my three trial groups yields plants, I'll be thrilled.

Bullet-point posts are always random and exhausting, aren't they? Well, I'm sorry to unload all of that in one post, but it was time to get the blog all caught up. The 2008 growing season has arrived, and experience is beginning to teach me that there will not be time to wax nostalgic over past moments once things start taking off!

How sweet it is

Carrots - 'Purple Haze' and 'Nantes'

Last year, after being very impressed with myself for having grown my first carrot, I mentioned that I was going to try a variety called "Purple Haze." In the spirit of continuing to show off my carrots, here is "Purple Haze" mixed in with more of the Nantes type pictured in last year's photo. Pretty cool-looking, eh? Root crops are supposed to turn sweeter after frost; these post-frost carrots certainly do seem sweeter than their mid-season counterparts. I wish I'd planted fall beets!

Elsewhere in the vegetable garden, the sorrel is starting to succumb to the cold weather, after all; I'm debating whether to pull out my extra plants now, or wait until spring to give them away. I'm also worried about the leeks; they look fine so far, but I don't know how winter-hardy the variety I planted is. They're too small to use yet, though, so the decision to leave them in is a no-brainer. Finally, the radicchio is still not heading. I may pull out some of the plants and move them to an area that gets more sunlight. If that doesn't work, I'll be starting from scratch with a more sure-heading variety in the spring.

In the flower beds: last week, I cut back the dead dahlias to let the tubers cure. They're due to be dug up and stored next weekend. While I was messing around in the flowerbeds, I put in my fall-planted bulbs and rearranged the perennials to try and "fix" my plant height issues-- next year, I don't want to have to deal with two-foot larkspurs buried behind four-foot high dahlias again. Here are the before and after shots. The difference doesn't look very impressive right now, especially since the dahlias have been cut down and the annuals taken out, but by spring the improvement should be marked.

As a final note, we pruned the grapes this past weekend. Do not try this at home! Grapes are normally pruned in spring, but since the recent frosts killed off most of the foliage, and since my husband doesn't like the way that the vines trap humidity against the garage, we now have two naked, scrawny trunks on either side of a wooden arbor, defenseless against the impending cold. Husband wants to move the grapes next year; I think they're going to be too much trouble to move, and would prefer replacing them with a more flavorful variety, or maybe even wine grapes.

Even though I'm not very fond of red seedless, I have to admit that owning our own grapevines has increased my interest in and respect for viticulture. The grapes in particular have taught me to be a vigilant and merciless pruner; every year, we cut them way back except for a very few of the strongest vines from the previous year, and the plants always seem to bounce back with increased vigor. Even though we neglected the vines after pruning this past year and let the birds get most of the year's bounty, in a way, the business of pruning is its own reward. There is a calm to it, a sense of purposeful effort that I enjoy.

There are still bulbs to plant, tubers to store, and gardening supplies to be cleaned. I keep thinking that the gardening season (and thus, my blogging season) is done, but it still seems like there's always something to do. I once joked to a greenhouse grower that I couldn't have a greenhouse and do the four-season gardening thing because I needed the winter break! But there really isn't a break-- just a slowdown. And I think I like it that way.

October thoughs

Fall container

I know I said that the garden was dead a few posts ago, but the rumors have been... well, slightly exaggerated, anyway. It's true that the majority of the summer vegetables are done now. I spent a day last week pulling out all the tomato plants, the tomatillos, the beans, and the squash. But in the process, I harvested a number of green tomatoes that will hopefully ripen all right indoors.

And after the tomatoes came out, I put some raspberry canes in the back bed as a temporary holding spot until I'm able to build them a better one in the spring. The raspberries were being given away by someone at work, and I couldn't resist.

Elsewhere in the garden, the dahlias are still going strong-- the frost that got the tomatoes didn't touch them. Admittedly, my dahlia collection was based around autumnal colors (predominantly oranges and reds with muted yellows and pinks), but they're really producing some gorgeous seasonal bouquets.

Also going strong? The leeks and radicchio... finally! I'm beginning to understand that I planted them at the wrong time of year. In theory, they're supposed to be planted in early spring, or fall. I suspect that I planted mine too late in spring, because the leeks stayed spindly, and the radicchio green and floppy, all spring and summer long. But now the radicchio is turning red and looks as if it might actually form heads, and the leeks are starting to look almost leek-like. I'm very pleased. The sorrel is still going strong, as well. I'm going to have to thin out the plants before frost, so there is a large pot of cream of sorrel soup in my imminent future.

Today's photo is of a fall planter that I crammed together. I've never thought much of asters, but this year I'm into them-- they're autumnal without being chrysanthemums. If that heather makes it through the winter, it's going into the front yard.

If you are a gardener, you might want to check out Folia, an exciting website that's in beta testing at the moment. I don't know how long the waiting list is for an account, but it's very fun-- a plant journal, social website, photo album, and garden brag sheet all in one ;-) It doesn't look as if pages are open to the public yet, but if you snag an account, you can find me listed under the username Satrina0.

Halloween (and the average first frost date in this area) is coming up fast! Hopefully I'll be able to sneak in another post before we really get into the winter doldrums.

Pirates, peppers, pears, and... honeybees

Dahlia 'Weston Pirate'

Today's photo is for my sister: it's Dahlia 'Weston Pirate,' which I bought solely for the name. Oh, and its bold, swashbuckling, scarlet hue.

But mostly for the name.

Back to business: two new crops are coming up in the garden: jalapeño peppers and Seckel pears. The jalapeño peppers are a standby: they never seem to fail, and after all the guacamole and salsa has been made, there are always enough left for a big batch of jalapeño poppers.

The Seckel pears, on the other hand, are something new. The tree has been in the yard since we moved here, but it has never fruited until this year, despite producing beautiful blossoms in spring. There are about twenty pears on the tree now. We were disappointed to discover how grainy they were, but now I'm thinking about either cooking them or turning them into pear wine, which has revived my enthusiasm.

Elsewhere in the garden, the brandywine and green zebra tomatoes are ripe, pumpkins are starting to take on a russet tinge, the squash is on its last legs but still producing, the pole beans are sad, and the few edamame plants look like they might actually bear pods. But that's all fodder for future posts.

But before I go, I can't forget to mention the honeybees. You may have heard about so-called "colony collapse disorder," in which colonies of bees see unusually high percentages of their populations die off. Beekeepers in the U.S. were hit hard by collapsed colonies last year, and there has been worry that that if left unchecked, the problem could lead to a shortage of bees to pollinate orchards, especially in areas where agriculture is a major industry.

I have been really concerned about this story-- I don't know if it's just paranoia, but it seems like I've seen more dead bees than live ones in my garden this year. I generally try to avoid anything yellowish and buzzing, thanks to formative childhood experiences, but bees are a gardener's friend and sometimes even entertaining, so I've been hoping that the cause, and maybe even a cure for colony collapse disorder would be found.

Today, the news is that scientists have identified a virus that may be (partially) responsible for the bee deaths. It's encouraging to have some news, but on the other hand, it's not particularly encouraging news. With no way to inoculate or otherwise give the bees a fighting chance against the virus, will the slow demise of local populations be obscured by rising numbers of replacement colonies from foreign species? Will the bees in my garden today-- who have given me a bountiful crop of tomatoes, squash, and pumpkins-- be replaced in a few year with Australian immigrants? The prospect makes me sad-- and really, not so much for biological diversity, which would at least lend my mood some kind of nobility of reasoning, as because I'm silly enough to anthropomorphize my pollinators.

Prior to news of the virus, my favorite theory was that high-fructose corn syrup from genetically engineered corn was causing the problem. I'm really growing to detest HFCS and artificial sweeteners of all types in general, so that particular theory, I have to admit, made me almost cheerful. Alas, if only the world were so simple. And greater alas for the bees, who've received the short end of the stick in any case.

Diurnality (or: August and Everything After)

The cucumber stands alone

One of the sad facts about gardening in the Pacific Northwest is that while the days turn gloriously long in the weeks leading up to the summer solstice, our precious hours of sunlight decrease rapidly over July and August. Right now, I'm harvesting crazy amounts of vegetables, but everything seems to be losing its lushness. As soon as I remove a few yellowing leaves from the tomatoes, twice as many spring back in their place.

My books reassure me that this is normal. I spent the last few summers agonizing over powdery mildew and decreasing productivity, but this year, I'm prepared to accept the inevitable. I water the garden, pluck out the ripe produce, bring it indoors, and then run back to pluck out the dead foliage and toss it into the yard waste bin (Would I throw powdery mildew into my compost pile? I think not).

Other observations:

1) Next year, I need to do more to keep my cucumbers and beans healthy-- although I have the right number of plants, they ended up shaded by the excess rhubarb, and they're just not producing very well.

2) The 'Tromboncino' squash vines, on the other hand, pumped out seven healthy squash. That number may sound low, considering that I had three plants, but one of those squash was thirty-two inches long!

3) 'Sunburst' pattypan has proven to be a consistent performer, as its AAS award would suggest; it's my third year growing it, and I always look forward to it (especially picked small, halved, steamed, and tossed with herb butter).

4) The okra never really materialized (I have six stunted plants and one okra pod so far), but that's in part because the plants were overshadowed by the PUMPKINS! By fall, it looks like I will have five of them, and I'm really excited. They're gorgeously shaped, exceedingly large, and look like they'll start turning orange any day now.

5) Twelve tomato plants for a family of two is really TOO MANY TOMATOES! I'm growing seven varieties this year, and plan to do a special "tomato wrap-up" post later in the season, once the Brandywines, Green Zebras, and San Marzanos have ripened.

P.S. My dahlia madness has not abated, and the blooms are really starting to come into season. Have a look at a couple of the latest bouquets: Spartacus & Ruskin Marigold; Mystery Day, Joycie, & Sean C.

Dahlias, dahlias, dahlias

Dahlia cutting


If you've been following this blog, you know that I have a Dahlia Problem. The problem is, I keep buying dahlias every spring, and have nowhere to put them. :-/

Well. I bought more dahlias this year, and suffice it to say that January's rotted tuber disaster may have turned out to be a blessing in disguise, since I went even more overboard than usual. This year, aside from my normal sources (the local dahlia society and packaged supermarket tubers), I tried something new and ordered dahlias online from a specialty grower in California. I was really excited about this-- in fact, I put in my order on the first day that the catalog opened last fall to ensure I'd get the varieties I wanted. And aside from one acceptable substitution, I was not disappointed.

The photo at top shows one of the dahlia plants that I received from that grower last week. These plants were grown from cuttings, rather than tuber divisions; I love this photo because you can see a baby tuber already forming in the tiny little plug pot. I could hardly believe how efficiently the plants were packaged-- these plugs were tucked into plastic containers not unlike the kind used to package fresh herbs at the supermarket, and everything arrived in excellent condition. If all goes well, I'll happily recommend the grower.

I won't list every variety I ordered, but have to mention that one of my purchases from that source was Ruskin Marigold (magnificently photographed by Eric of SF on Flickr), which I've been after since seeing it displayed at the South Bay Dahlia Society show in Southern California a couple of years ago. My order also came with two bonus plants... never let it be said that crack pushers nursery vendors aren't kind folk.

Now I just have to find the time to get my new babies into the ground! I've been so busy potting up and transplanting my wintersown flowers that I haven't had time to breathe... but that's a subject for another post!