Thorny things

This isn't a very good picture, but we have a small seating area looking towards the upper pond enclosed by what is meant to be a rose arbor. I got impatient when the climbing roses I planted didn't grow fast enough to suit me, probably because the area is too shady, so I planted honeysuckle vines there as well. To the right side of the arbor there is a Santa Rosa plum; to the left a Bears lime, and behind it is an orchid tree.

Today I worked on removing Bermuda grass from the area at the base of the climbing roses. This task can be somewhat dangerous because (a) I don't like to wear gloves when I'm weeding because it affects my grip and dexterity and (b) it's very easy to grab a thin rose cane along with a handful of Bermuda grass, resulting in (c) the painful realization that unlike Bermuda grass, rose canes are have thorns and express their considerable reluctance at being uprooted by leaving deep gashes in my hands.

This made me think about thorny things. One option would be: Don't plant thorny things. In our yard, this would include not only roses, but also bougainvillea and citrus trees. But then we would miss the fragrance of the roses, the extravagantly vibrant color of the bougainvillea, and the taste of tree-ripened oranges, grapefruit, lemon, and limes.

There's a lot that's thorny in life, especially when it comes to human relationships. People can frustrate, disappoint, and hurt you at times, but I wouldn't want to be a hermit, any more than I'd want my backyard to be a barren wasteland of crushed granite.

It's greener on our side of the fence

Today I noticed the snail vine was starting to creep over the block wall again. I think its cascades of dark green leaves and lavender flowers are lovely, but apparently it's a big no-no as far as our homeowner's association is concerned, so I snipped off the strands that threatened to peek over the wall behind our gazebo. All vegetation must be strictly confined to our side of the fence and not encroach on the HOA side. Our "green wall" consists of snail, lilac, and honeysuckle vines, and they are very vigorous growers. Besides being much more attractive to look at than concrete block walls, the vines cool the area by transpiration and blocking reflected light, making the gazebo an even nicer place to sit and relax. The honeysuckle also has an intoxicating fragrance in the spring.

The plants in the foreground are sweet potato vines. This was the first year we tried them, and we've been very pleased with how well they work to line the streambed leading from the upper to the lower pond. They spread vigorously and are easily rooted, yet aren't invasive. When we first built the system, we made the mistake of letting umbrella plant grow in the streambed. That was a bad decision; not only does it grow tall enough to block the view, it also sends its roots and shoots everywhere and actually caused water to start spilling out of the streambed and into the gazebo. I'm not sure how long these vines will last and how they will handle a freeze, but at the rate they grow, replacing them won't be problematic.

Strawberry fields aren't forever (but mint patches are)

I took a break today from putting up Christmas decorations to mulch the strawberries Mike planted a few weeks ago. We've not had good luck with strawberries in the past, but so far they seem to like the new drip irrigation layout. It's also possible they prefer cooler weather. This is the first time we've attempted to plant them in the fall rather than early spring, and we hope these two changes make a difference. Past plantings have resulted in only a couple dozen strawberries before the plants burned up in the summer heat. By the way, strawberries are delicious in salads. In the cooler months, when we have no home-grown tomatoes, we often enjoy strawberries and/or oranges in their place. I dislike the store-bought tomatoes available in the winter; they taste like cardboard.

This bed also contains broccoli which is beginning to head, and some petunias and nasturtiums for color. What you don't see is the back of the bed, where I planted one small mint plant last spring. It has completely taken over the rear part of the bed, and we had to pull quite a bit out of the front to plant the strawberries. We whacked it off to the ground about a month ago, and it's back stronger than ever; I am quite sure it will be an ongoing battle to restrain it from spreading indefinitely. In case you are thinking of planting mint, take a suggestion I learned too late in a Master Gardener class: plant it in a pot rather than directly in the ground. That way you will have some hope of keeping it at contained. Another idea that I think I may try this year with mint and other invasive but tasty herbs: put it in a hanging basket.

The tree in the foreground is a fig tree, and the one in the rear is a self-fruiting almond. We've gotten a few figs and no almonds so far. Some gardeners make take issue with our trees-in-the-middle-of-the-garden design. Assuming they survive, the trees will eventually produce so much shade that we won't be able to grow the things we're growing now. We know that, but why not use the space now to grow something beautiful and delicious?

Gardens evolve not only with the seasons, but with the years....just like humans, they change and age, and it's good to appreciate what one has in the present moment. Activities I enjoyed in my twenties (skiing and rock climbing come to mind) do not hold the same fascination in my sixties. So I think I'll enjoy the strawberries while I can, and the figs later...but I'll probably be fighting the mint for the rest of my life!

Green beans

I went out today to pick green beans for tomorrow's Thanksgiving dinner, and found more than I expected...and a few more eggplant I'd forgotten to bring in when I pulled out the plants.

While I was picking beans, I noticed quite a few larkspur seedlings coming up. I'll leave them alone and see what happens. They aren't getting much sun hidden away beneath the beans, but the beans won't last forever and it will be nice to have something else to take their place.

Second bloom

Although we lost several roses during this long hot summer, we are enjoying a nice second blooming season on the ones that survived. Our roses look best in the spring and truly awful during the summer. This is the first year I've remembered to do a fall fertilization, and these Queen Elizabeth bushes rewarded us by rebounding nicely.

We think the reason we lost several bushes this year was drip irrigation failure. (We also lost a Santa Rosa plum and a cape honeysuckle planted in this area) We had 4 gph flag drippers on them, but as part of our overall drip revamp this year, put circles of drip tubing in wells created around each bush. They should get the same amount of water, but it should be distributed better around the drip line.

In January, we'll do major pruning and fertilization but we should be able to enjoy roses through the Christmas season.

Tomatoes, take two

Last year we were disappointed with our fall planting of tomatoes. Per Master Gardener handbook instructions, we put out transplants in late summer and babied them through the hot weather with shade and mulch. When the weather cooled off, they set fairly large quantities of fruit, but we were hit with an early freeze in December (usually we don't have a freeze until January or February, if at all). We had six plants, two of which I attempted to protect with frost cloth, two of which I uprooted and hung upside down in the garage, and two of which I picked the green tomatoes and left them to ripen on the kitchen counter. The frost cloth was ineffective in protecting the first two plants, but most of the others ripened eventually. The fruit was not as good as summer tomatoes ripened on the vine, but it made an adequate tomato soup,

This year we are trying two short-season heirloom tomato plants in large pots, Glacier and Taxi varieties. The idea is that if frost is predicted, we can wheel the pots into the garage as we do with our plumeria trees. It generally doesn't dip below freezing for more than a few nights in a row here, so being in the dark for a couple of days shouldn't be a problem. At least that's my hypothesis. We also have a couple of volunteers that came up in the garden...one appears to be a Sweet 100 cherry tomato, and I'm not sure what the other one is yet. We'll see what happens to them as well.

Surprises amid monotony

Today I cleared another patch of primrose-infested ground under the apricot tree. Weeding is a monotonous, Sisyphean job. By the time I work my around and attend to all the places that need weeding, the first place needs weeding again. However, if I don't do it, primeval chaos is certain to overrun our backyard Eden.

Weeding is boring, but it's fun to walk around the perimeter of our yard and see what's new. Today I saw the first tiny head of broccoli beginning to form, gladiolus shoots poking their way through what appeared to be a barren dirt patch near the lower pond, and an errant sugar snap pea that decided to sprout in a gravel pathway. The ones I so carefully planted at the proper depth, right under a drip tubing hole and next to the sturdy trellis Mike built for them, germinated poorly, and are still struggling to reach the first rung of the trellis. Yet here is one, carelessly dropped in a seemingly hostile portion of the yard, stubbornly growing and apparently healthy. Gardening, like life, is surprising and unexplainable at times.

Time to uproot, time to plant

There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot

Today I pulled up these eggplants. It was time. I planted six plants from a pony pack in late spring, and although the plants looked surprisingly healthy throughout the long hot summer, they didn't produce much until September, and really took off once the weather began to cool in October. In addition to enjoying eggplant lasagna, eggplant parmigiana, and eggplant souffle during the past few months, I froze several quart bags and gave some away. Although the plants look as healthy as ever, they have ceased bearing as the days have shortened and the nighttime temperatures have dropped. Therefore I decided  it was time to let them go and plant something else. They really had extensive root systems...it took some effort to pull them out.

What to plant? According to my gardening calendar, mid-November possibilities include transplants of broccoli, brussel sprouts, cabbage, cauliflower, celery, chard, kohlrabi, and lettuces, and seeds of beets, carrots, collard greens, endive, kale, mustard greens, peas, radishes, rutabagas, spinach, and turnips.

Starting small

 What shall we say the kingdom of God is like, or what parable shall we use to describe it? It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest seed you plant in the ground. Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds of the air can perch in its shade.”

It isn't that I haven't been doing anything in the garden...it's that I haven't been writing about it. Among other things, we completely reworked the drip irrigation system this summer to what will hopefully be a more effective and water-efficient plan. We harvested massive quantities of tomatoes in the early part of the summer, and an amazing number of eggplant this fall from only one six-pack of transplants, and I've tried growing some things I've never tried before. I've put up some rather impressive amounts of our produce, and tried some interesting recipes. Although I've frequently thought about writing, I've managed to also find various excuses not to do so. Either I couldn't come up with a good philosophical observation relating life to gardening, or I couldn't think up a clever title for the post, or I was just plain lazy. So today I decided to start small, and post about what I did today, even if is rather mundane.

Today I decided to tackle a neglected part of the garden which has been overtaken by the Mexican primrose I planted as a drought-tolerant border along a fence well before we converted the backyard to raised beds. I wish I had never planted the stuff...it spreads by stolons, seeds, and runners, and is as impossible to eradicate as Bermuda grass...but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I pulled up plants and used a spading fork to turn over the soil in an area of about five square feet, and pulled out as many of the roots and stolens as I could. Now I'm considering what to plant there.

Only a small thing....but small things add up over time. So it's a start.