Baby steps

The weather has been fairly temperate recently (except for the wind), so the garden is progressing appropriately. The onions are hanging in there, presumably putting down roots, as the tops look less than stellar. The garlic and rhubarb have made an appearance....

This past week, I planted peas, snap peas, spinach, lettuce, and radishes. And the daffodils are in bloom.

One problem with gardening in raised beds is perennials have a tougher time withstanding the winter weather since their roots are not deep within the earth proper. So far, I have not had a problem with garlic, which I mulch heavily. Last fall, I neglected to mulch the the asparagus and strawberries, both of which look not-so-good this spring.

I'm not happy with the strawberries anyway - the everbearing variety didn't everbear - so I am replacing them with a June-bearing variety. In all fairness, the strawberry bed probably did not receive enough sun, so it will also be relocated.

The asparagus may have bit the dust, as it is showing no signs of life. I'm not very experienced with asparagus; maybe it is too early? Regardless, I decided to plant more asparagus, a purple variety, which I did yesterday. I also gave the 25 new plants more elbow room room than I gave the previous 20 plants in the current bed. The new bed is also in a sunnier location.

In the never ending battles against rabbits and groundhogs, my SO is helping me build (and by "helping", he is doing most of the work) a garden fence. The idea is to run hardware cloth from the bottom to prevent digging and chicken wire from the top to prevent climbing. There will also be no posts set in the ground, so I can move the fence if need be. (I seem to change my mind a lot about the yard.)

Under the oh-ye-of-little-faith category, I am happy to report that all the indoor seedlings sprouted, with the exception of the 'Abe Lincoln' tomatoes, which I replanted yesterday.

I was planning to plant potatoes and transplant blueberries today, but "they" are predicting snow a few days from now. My gardening muscles are suffering a bit, but not as bad as I expected. Although the back of my neck felt like it was getting burned yesterday, it's not.

How does your garden grow?

Signs of September

The impatiens on the front porch finally look lush.



The red sedum is starting to blush.



The berries on the cotoneasters are fat and juicy.



Nothing says autumn like chrysanthemums!



The late blooming hostas are blooming lately.



Pokeberries!



Starting to put the garden to bed for the winter.



Fall planting of snap peas.



The marigolds have recovered from August.



Serrano peppers looking hot!



Sky candy.



The coneflowers have gone to seed.



What does September look like where you are?

Before I forget

Here are all the things we did today:

Picked snap peas.



Finished lining the chain link fence with chicken wire, to try to discourage the rabbits.

Moved pots of plants around.

Weeded the area around the patio and beside the shed, transplanting some of the mint in the process.

Planted another hill of zucchini. I saw a squash bug on the first planting. Boo!

Planted another short row of green beans.

Transplanted a serrano pepper, Thai basil, and Greek oregano into a big planter.

Dug up two Sella d'Oro daylilies and some yucca for my daughter. She took some of the snap peas, and cilantro and basil, too.

Watered.

And now I am too pooped to write more. So here a a few photos for your amusement.

The picture of evil incarnate:



Japanese beetles like hollyhocks as well.

Bee balm:



And a young bluebird of happiness:

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

At least, I could find the snap peas once I dispensed with a few weeds.

This beauty was hiding as well, behind tall phlox.



And then there is my pet Viburnum sargentii 'Onondaga'. These blossoms fascinate me.



Canada thistle frustrates rather than fascinates, except for how it persists despite years of persecution by me. Tonight I spent about an hour uncovering the Rudbeckia and Coreopsis, and I even found some Crocosmia, too, once the waist high thistle had been yanked out by the roots, fragments of which will send up new shoots as soon as my back is turned. Wish I had a goat.

Too Much Is Never Enough

I once commented to a friend that I could see how one's house could become packed with old newspapers. She looked at me like I was nuts; apparently, she does not let clutter take over her abode. Thanks to recycling, I am less likely to find myself maneuvering around piles of the Journal Gazette these days, but lately I have been saving them to use as a weed barrier under mulch.

Using newspaper in the garden is not a new idea. When I first created the beds along the north and south fences, newspaper went under the mulch. But it did not occur to me to use more newspaper under subsequent layers of mulch. Nor did I think to soak the newspaper beforehand. Thank you, Lasagna Gardening.

In each of the previous two years, I ordered an entire truckload of mulch, its delivery strategically timed with my son's spring visit. Happy birthday, son! Here's a shovel!

I don't know if it is the economy or my energy level, but this year I just could not bring myself to buy a whole truckload. That is a lot of mulch that needs to be dealt with right away. Last year, after watching me struggle to clear what looked like a prop from "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" from my driveway, the neighbor across the street offered the use of his truck in the future. I contemplated taking him up on that this spring, but somehow the urge to purchase mulch never coincided with the urge to spread mulch.

Instead, I bought ten bags of cypress mulch (the cheapest kind) from Home Depot one day. Since my garage was going to be full of the vehicles of vacationing relatives (ahem), I threw the bags around the back yard with the best of intentions. Since then, it has rained almost everyday (0.25" since yesterday). This morning it looked threatening, but I decided to tackle the mulching anyway.

An hour later, I am out of newspaper and almost out of mulch and nowhere close to being done. I asked my SO to bring me his old News Sentinels, but it won't be enough. This is recycle week. Dare I take my bright yellow wagon around the nabe and rifle through my neighbors' trash? That is beyond even me.

In anticipation of future weed barrier needs, just how much newspaper should I allow to accumulate over the winter? I generate a brown paper grocery sack of newspaper every two weeks. Filter out the slick advertising inserts, and it's maybe a sack every three weeks. From September to April, that's maybe 10 or 11 bags. Hmmm. That's not as bad as I thought it would be. So that will be my strategy for next year. Meanwhile, I'll just limp along, scrounging from those I'm not too embarrassed to ask.

Besides mulching, this morning I was picking as well. The snap peas were planted where they get afternoon shade from the privat. Generally, gardening resources suggest that row crops be planted in north-south rows, to increase the plants exposure to the sun. But it looks like the peas on the west side of the pea fence are less prolific than those on the east side, presumably because of the privat. I will have to keep this in mind next year when I decide what (and where) to plant in this area.



In a previous lifetime, before snap peas were developed, I grew not only snow peas but English peas as well, enough for a family of four to enjoy all winter long. On the negative side of growing peas, they need something to climb, they need to be picked at just the right time, and they need to be shelled. On the plus side, they favor cool weather, so are one of the first veggies from the garden, garden varieties are better than Bird's Eye, and they make great snacking right out of the garden. Shelling peas while watching TV became a family ritual.

My bunny is quite spoiled with fresh greens year 'round, but right from the garden during the growing season.



The mustard greens also grow in the shade of the privat, which I think is keeping them from bolting. Maybe I will have to cook up a mess for myself.

Meanwhile, it's back to the yard, to tackle the Queen Anne's lace.

Early Bird

When I awoke this morning, I could hear rumbling, but once I struggled out of bed, the skies cleared. Today's chore: attack the brush pile.



Backyard habitats are supposed to include a brush pile, but city residents are not. Technically, someone could have reported me to Neighborhood Code Enforcement for this little mess. Wielding my new clippers (which I discovered do not hold a candle to my little Cutco pruning shears that I abused so badly they need a major overhaul), I literally cut the brush pile down to size.



I saved the larger branches for burning in my fire bowl. That's another city thing: no open burning, but we can have fire bowls and chimneas.

My daughter stopped by when I was done, and I proudly said, I got rid of the brush pile! Her response: Now it's in the front yard.



The city trash picker-uppers will not haul away yard debris unless it is bundled or in bins or in bags. I am frequently tempted to buy a shredder/chopper of some kind, so I can recycle this kind of brambly yard waste more easily (and buy less mulch too). Maybe someday.

Anyway, it's a good thing I got an early start, as around noon the skies darkened, the rumbling returned, and we received a good 0.5" of rain. Now the weeds will be easier to pull.

This is only the second year for this Avant-Garde clematis.



The plant is like an adolescent, tall and gawky, and the blooms kind of ratty looking. Unfortunately, it will have to be moved if/when the new room is built. That will delay its settling in.

Proof of snap peas.



It won't be a bumper crop, but should be enough for some fresh eating.

And more tiger lilies.

Disappointment

After bragging about how well my 'Blue Muffin' bloomed this year, I'm frustrated to report there are no berries on the plant. Ditto the 'Onondaga'. What gives? Well, according to my research, research I did now and not before I bought the shrubs, the 'Blue Muffin' requires a cross pollinator, which I apparently do not have, and the 'Onondaga' is not known for its berry-producing powers.

What really aggravates me, though, is when I bought these shrubs, I told the nurseryman that I was looking for berry-producing shrubs for my backyard habitat. He came up with a list of likely candidates, and I chose five from that list. Now I discover that two are goldbricking. I can try to solve the 'Blue Muffin' problem by planting a cross pollinator (which may not be as easy as it sounds, from what I have been reading on gardening forums). But I will never get that beautiful 'Onondaga' to squeeze out more than a few token berries.

To add to my irritation, the serviceberry, which the robins love, has never produced much, while the blackhaw viburnum has tons of berries that the local wildlife is not wild about. At least the chokeberry is choking with fruit this year. I need to protect it better from the marauders that snip whole branches and drag them away.

Not everyone is goldbricking.



I have been diligently plucking spent blooms from my Stellas, in hopes of extending their season. What makes yellow so cheerful?

The name of this groundcover is anything but cheerful: 'Dragon's Blood' red sedum.



The blooms are not very dramatic, but it is a robust grower, spilling over the castle brick retaining wall in front of my house.

One way to prevent weeds is to grow 'em big and grow 'em dense.



The heuchera is barely holding its own against the hostas that ate New York and the volunteer violets. But notice: no weeds in this bed. I just have to guard against grass creeping in along the edges.

While the hostas above are biding their time, this hosta is pushing the blooming envelop.



What is odd about this particular hosta is it shares its bed with a twin. A puny, underdeveloped twin. A twin I planted at the same time. These two plants are less than three feet apart, in an old tractor tire, and one thrives while the other is stunted. Maybe it's a case of sibling rivalry. Maybe they need to be separated.

I was late planting my snap peas, and they probably do not get enough sun, but they are blooming.



I think in years past I was harvesting pods by now.

The following photo, blurry as a UFO picture in a tabloid, is proof that I have tomatoes on the way.



Now I have to tell a story on my co-worker. M asked me if the blossoms on the tomato plant were what produced the tomatoes. Yes. Then we got to discussing his tomato plants. He wanted grape tomatoes, but he thinks he got cherries. He planted them in a container, and some people have told him that he has too many plants for the container. How many cherry tomato plants did he plant? Ten. As in 10. As in Roman numeral X. He lives by himself. I told him he will have to set up a cherry tomato stand in his front yard to dispose of the extras. Or trade them for zucchini.

He is not the only one to end up with the wrong plant. When I bought this tiger lily, I thought I was buying a tiger daylily, aka ditch daylily.



It's still a beauty.