Give peas a chance

Many people have commented on the amount of work Arizona Backyard Eden must entail, and to some respect that is true. For us, it's an enjoyable hobby- work yes, but pleasant work. However, I think people underestimate the amount that can be accomplished in small increments of time, over time, and that's something I'll try to demonstrate in future posts.

In accordance with my "15 minutes a day" theme for this year, today I went out and picked snow peas. Some of the ones on the bush varieties were really past their prime as the hulls were yellowing, but they still needed to be picked to encourage more blooming. These plants are the vining type, and were planted at approximately the same time as the bush variety, but have been slower to produce. They're in the area of the last year's hollyhock jungle, and probably don't get sufficient sun this time of the year. (Although lack of sunlight apparently has no effect on hollyhock growth)

Mike built the tent-shaped trellis, which is approximately 8 feet high, after the tomato cages we'd used for our first pea planting proved inadequate. It hasn't really gotten a good workout yet. The first crop I planted there was pole beans, which never produced a single bean in spite of prolific vegetative growth. I then tried snow peas in a fall planting, which were choked out by the invasion of the hollyhocks. This year's crop seems to be doing better, although I've had to reseed areas twice where the seeds did not germinate. We ran two drip lines with 6-inch spacing for the emitters down each side of the tent, and planted two pea seeds at each emitter. I'm tossing vegetable waste and other compost materials in the center of the tent...but no hollyhock residue this time!

New Year's Resolutions

I think I read somewhere that most New Year's resolutions have to do with (a) losing weight (b) exercising more (c) giving up unhealthful habits. Most people find that they are spectacularly unsuccessful in keeping them beyond a short period of time. So instead of making resolutions for our Arizona Backyard Eden, I'll submit a few observations about what went wrong and what went right this year.

1. Attempting to spend at least 15 minutes a day doing something outside...even if it is making a circuit of the yard- good idea. Even if it is insanely hot, I usually find that I will pull a few weeds or notice a problem with the drip irrigation. I've been a fan of the Flylady approach for inside-the-house tasks for several years, and she really is correct in saying "you can do anything for 15 minutes" and that "15 minutes a day over time will make a difference". It works in the garden as well as it does in the house.

2. Mulching with semi-composted ground-up hollyhock stalks- bad idea. Two years later, I'm still pulling up baby hollyhock plants from what is supposed to be a vegetable bed.

3. Following master gardener mentors Pam Perry's advice to pull vegetable and flower plants up when they are past their prime and "just let them die"...good idea. I've gotten more edible yield this year by following this suggestion. Tomato plants rarely "come back" after the hot weather, but I got a nice crop of bush beans in the same space after I yanked the struggling tomatoes out. Oh, and though you may have read that some annual plants can be perennials in this area, you won't get a second crop of broccoli from the same plants.

4. Fall planting of tomatoes- less than successful two years in a row. In our area, you're supposed to be able to plant tomatoes in late summer, provide shade through the hot months, and pick tomatoes in late fall.  The first time I tried this idea, the plants were loaded with dozens of beautiful green tomatoes just in time to be hit by unseasonably cold weather in December. Green tomatoes will ripen on the kitchen counter, but they do not taste as good as the ones ripened on the vine. This year we put a couple of plants in large pots and wheeled them into the garage when frost was predicted. The plants lived...barely....but green tomatoes take forever to ripen in the short days of winter.

5. Revamped drip irrigation system- so far, good idea. It is less prone to clogging than microsprayers and waters the intended area more evenly.

6. Planting cattails in the upper pond...bad idea. They have escaped their intended confinement to the perimeter shelf and are crowding out the water lilies, as well as blocking the view of the waterfall. And they are very difficult to remove from the center of the pond, which is about three feet deep.

7. Planting sweet potato vine around the lower pond next to the gazebo...good idea. I planted two and they spread prolifically in spite of the summer heat, through the fall, and well into the winter. It was only today I noticed any signs of frost damage. They are easy to propagate, too.

8. Planting blackberry vine, roses, and asparagus in the same bed...not a good idea. It was nice the first season or two, but now the plants have grown to be too much for the area.In all fairness, I hadn't taken the Master Gardener class when we started on this adventure, and wasn't aware of the mantra "Right plant in the right place". We're going to attempt to transplant the blackberry plant to a more appropriate location where its spreading habits will not be such a thorny issue.

One of the nice things about gardening is that it doesn't lend itself well to New Year's resolutions. It's an organic, ongoing process. Trying new things and seeing what works and what doesn't, planning and dreaming and making improvements...that goes on all year long!

Rain

It's been raining and fairly cold (as Phoenix goes) for the past few days, so I haven't gotten much accomplished. The grass in the pathways is dormant and brown and more of the yard is in shadow more of the day. Some of the beans appear to be frost-nipped, although it hasn't actually gotten below freezing. Most of the deciduous fruit trees have dropped their leaves, the asparagus fronds are yellowing, and the tomatoes I planted in large pots as an experiment...well, let's just say they are surviving and leave it at that. I only planted one pony pack of broccoli this year, and I picked that (and enjoyed eating it my favorite way, roasted with a little olive oil and a squeeze of fresh lemon)

We like rain in the desert, and will take all we can get whenever we can get it. It's better for the plants; our tap water here is very hard and salt damage is a major problem in the summer because we have to rely mostly on irrigation. A good rain helps leach all that stuff away from the plant's roots. This time of year, it's also fun to go out and see all the different wildflowers that have begun sprouting. It is not so fun to see all the different weeds that also prefer to germinate in cool, moist soil.

The circle of life (botanical edition)

I always think of my mother-in-law's garden when I see marigolds. She had an abundance of them which arose spontaneously each year, and I can remember my then-two-year-old son being fascinated by them. I haven't done so well with them here...this was the only plant that survived the summer out of what was intended to be a border of them. I've been collecting the seeds as the flowers dry up, and sprinkling them on the drip emitter lines in different places. Quite a few have sprouted, and I hope to have better luck with them this year.  You can also see nasturtiums coming up, which is what we had along the border prior to the marigolds. Now that the weather has cooled, they are coming up all over the place. So are weeds, unfortunately. You can see one of those in the picture, too. I didn't plant the nasturtiums, or the weeds for that matter; they came from seeds dropped last spring.

So far, we've been pleased with the new drip system. In most beds, we've laid it out in a grid with lines about a foot apart, and each line has a 1 gph drip emitters spaced a foot apart. We plant seeds right under the emitters in a variation of  the "square foot gardening" method. This seems to be more efficient and effective in getting water to the plants where they need it than the minisprayers we had previously. In some of the raised beds where I want a flower border, we have also run 1/2 gph drip lines with 6 inch spacing along the edges.
 

Zinnias in the cleft of the rock

"He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock"

Most of the zinnias are gone, but this one, nestled up against the boulders that make up a rock waterfall next to our pool, is still healthy and blooming. It made me think of an old hymn with the line "He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock" that my grandfather used to sing.

When I think of "hiding in the cleft of the rock" I think about shade in a desert climate, or perhaps a refuge from predators. In this case I think the rocks heat up during the day, and radiate that stored heat back at night, making this tiny spot a more hospitable microclimate for the zinnia plant at this time of year.

What not to do with basil

"Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us."

This picture shows what you are not supposed to do to basil, or for that matter, most herbs. You're supposed to snip off the flower tops, because letting it go to seed will diminish the quality and flavor of the leaves. I was reminded of that this morning when I read this article on storing and preserving herbs. Fortunately, we typically won't get basil-killing freezing weather in the Phoenix for several more weeks, so if I cut them off now, there's still time for new leaves to sprout.

In our church, we recite the Lord's Prayer each week before communion. Perhaps that's why this thought came to me this morning while I was giving this basil a haircut. Gardens are more forgiving than we as people tend to be. That's fortunate for me, because I make lots of mistakes in gardening.

"All flesh is grass"

A voice says, "Cry out." And I said, "What shall I cry?" "All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field.

I pulled the last of the zinnias up and chopped them up into small pieces. Rather than putting them in the compost bin, I put them in a bare area where I think zinnias would look nice, and I'm hoping their seeds will sprout in the spring.

As I was cutting them up (I just use rose pruners for this task; it's time consuming but effective) I thought about how transitory human life is. I learned this week that a friend from our seminary days had died, a victim of pancreatic cancer, which had also killed her father before her. I thought of her beautiful voice, which was like an angel's, and I imagine her now singing with them.We lost another friend several years ago, and a former coworker who retired at the same time as I did  is currently battling this disease, These beautiful souls were/are about my age, healthy and active, and now two are gone and another is fighting a battle I cannot begin to imagine. Then I thought about all the other people who I once knew and loved who are also gone.

We really are like the flowers of the field...here today and gone tomorrow. May the time we have be as beautiful as the zinnias were this summer, and after our time has gone, may we what we leave behind produce something beautiful for future generations.