Never Underestimate a Volunteer

When the first volunteer thistle plant appeared in the garden a few years ago (courtesy, no doubt, of an uneaten seed from the finch feeder), I saw it as a weed that sooner or later would cause me pain. I pulled it out and most of the others that followed.

There was one, however, that had planted itself in a place inconvenient to weed, a spot I wasn’t actively planting in. So I left it. And it grew. And grew. And grew. But as I looked up at the thorny plant, I realized that my procrastination had not been such a bad thing. It was actually rather interesting to look at with its upstretched branches and purple tufts.

And then something very interesting happened. The butterflies found it. And loved it. The finches followed, taking great joy in pulling apart the purple flowers, revealing fluffy seeds. That’s when I decided that the big, old thorny weed could stay – as long as it chose a spot a bit out of the way and refrained from attacking me as I worked near it in the garden.

Here I Go Again

Just what I needed: another idea for my garden. Sigh.

When what I really need is to complete projects I’ve started or prepare spots in the garden for plants I want to get (or just get the last of this year’s acquisitions in the ground), I found another plant to add to the garden’s most wanted list. What caught my fancy this time? Hops. Yes, hops. The stuff beer is made from. No, I won’t be making beer. Heck, I don’t even drink beer.

But hops I like after being introduced to the plant earlier today courtesy of another master gardener. It’s a vine – one that will grow counter clockwise around a twine support I’m told. The hops flowers themselves are darned cute (sorry beer makers, that’s my opinion: cute), and cute will get the plant an invite into my yard. And its usefulness is not limited to beer making. My hops guru told me that hops can be used to make a tea or stuff pillows, which are said to aid in sleeping. Hmmm. Food for thought (sorry, I couldn’t resist).

When I got home I did a little online research. Among other things, hops tea is said to have a calming effect and is used to aid in inducing sleep. But would it be bitter? Have an odd taste of any kind? Using the cup of hops flowers I brought home with me, I brewed a cup of hops tea this evening. It turned out quite pale and mild, though the flavor likely would have been stronger if I’d let it steep longer. And while I didn’t notice any physical reaction apart from liking the flavor, it did make a pleasant cup of tea.

Yes, there will be hops in Deborah’s Garden next year. The only question remaining is where in the garden the hops will be. What I do know is that it will be a welcome addition to the garden, a pretty vine with cute cone shaped flowers from which I can make tea or vine wreaths and share the bounty with my beer making friends.

Meanwhile Back at the Blog

It occurred to me the other day that it’s been quite a while since I’ve posted to my garden blog, so I stopped by and read my old posts. They brought back some interesting memories. And it left me regretting that I hadn’t recorded more of my experiences building the garden. Today, here I am, back at the keyboard.

There is still so much to do in the garden, things I’ve started and not finished for one reason or another, things I did and now want to change since they didn’t quite live up to my expectations. And there are the successes, the ideas to be expanded on. So, now that the rain has stopped and the sun is peeking through the clouds, I think I’ll go outdoors, into the garden and get to work. I’ll take a few photos and, later, jot down my thoughts. And the blog will go on.

April's Fool

Proof positive Mother Nature has a sense of humor. 

It was a heck of a winter. The snow pile left by the plows at the end of the street reached over 8 feet high and twice that in depth.  It’s an ice burg that will take a while to melt even when the rest of the snow has gone. And gone most of the snow had by March 31st with the exception of a few stubborn spots. Then Mother Nature realized what the date was.

April 1st dawned snowy. As I left for work this morning, a blanket of crystal white covered everything. Gray skies hung low overhead obscuring the mountaintops across the valley.

By 6:00 p.m., the skies had cleared and the snow had vanished. Poof! Spring had reappeared.

Market Day

Oh, the joy of playing hooky on a Saturday. Yes, the sun was shining, and the rain that’s been sabotaging my weekend gardening efforts took the day off. But then, so did I.

Morning dawned sunny and clear. While I should have pulled on my gardening gear, slathered on the sunscreen and headed into the back yard, I instead made a beeline for the garage, fired up the Jeep and headed south. My excuse? A trip to Home Depot to pick up four more knobs for the dresser I refinished last weekend. Lesson learned: count knobs not drawers – or at least look at the piece while doing the knob count and not wait to decide how many knobs I need until I’m standing in the aisle making my decision on which style to choose. 

While I was there, I did think about gardening – and brought home four more boards to construct another raised bed, the last in the square foot garden currently more on paper than replacing the lawn at the far end of the yard. While the fall selection of plants was tempting (what potted greenery isn’t to me these days?), I was good, for the time being at least. No plants followed me home today.

My prize purchase of the day came from Tractor Supply. Oh, the places I shop now that I’m a homeowner with a demanding garden! I’d glanced through the sale flyer at work the other day and spotted a garden cart that will better tote bags of mulch and such around the yard. With an 800 pound capacity and removable sides, my new “red wagon” is going to be put to good use this holiday weekend. I have plans. Lots of plans for the next two days.

But for today, getting my hands dirty was not on the agenda. Instead of heading back home, I zipped down the road to the farmers’ market. As I pulled into the parking lot, the tops of canopies peeked out from the circle of market goers’ cars. I had arrived. Booths offering fresh baked bread or pastries, soups or home-made jams and jellies were scattered among those containing just-picked corn, farm fresh fruits and other garden delights.

By the time I’d made my third trip back to the Jeep, I was ready to go home. I’d stocked up on sweet potato and spaghetti squash, Macintosh apples, peaches, cantaloupe, red peppers, wild flower honey and a selection of fresh veggies. As I drove off, thoughts of feasting on sweet corn on the cob and home-made potato and leek soup gave way to plans for next summer’s garden. So what if my fall to-do list just got longer?

On the Down Side of Summer

The days are growing shorter. I don’t want to admit it, but I have to. It’s 8:29 and nearly dark. A month ago I’d still be able to work outside. Of course, the up side of the changes in the season are the slightly cooler temperatures, which means I can spend more of the remaining daylight hours outdoors doing something productive. It’s a toss up – a trade of one opportunity for another. The trick is to take advantage of whatever opportunity presents itself and get the job done.

Since I became a homeowner, I’ve started collecting a plethora of tools for both indoors and out, including some pretty nifty power tools – a bit intimidating at first, but they do the work with speed and efficiency. I love my cordless, electric weed whacker almost as much as my old-fashioned, foot-powered reel lawn mower. Shovels and grass clippers, spades and trowels – the list of my acquisitions goes on and on.

The one tool that I most often forget to bring with me when I venture outdoors is arguably the one I miss most when I don’t have it. From nearly the beginning, I’ve been documenting the changes in the yard (not always to be classified as “progress”) with my trusty digital camera. Long after the flowers have faded and the grass is covered by winter snows, I’ll be able to remember and share my gardening adventures. It’s also proven an invaluable way to remind myself of how much I’ve accomplished on those days when all I can see is what’s left to be done.

Much to my chagrin, I don’t always bring it with me and, more times than I care to count, I’ve wished I had. Just yesterday I was admiring the cluster of three bee balm varieties near my bird feeders. A quick motion caught my eye. At first I thought a small hummingbird was flitting among the flower heads just a hand’s reach away. I looked more closely and realized it wasn’t a hummingbird at all, but a moth whose green body and rapidly fluttering wings mimicked a hummingbird to perfection. If I’d had the camera with me, I’d have a picture to post with my blog entry. Alas, the hummingbird moth (Common Clearwing, Hemaris thysbe) is an opportunity lost. Maybe it will return another day when I’m close by, camera in hand. I hope so.

I’ve discovered that more often than not, the garden is forgiving of my human failings, whether its forgetfulness or neglect. The garden wants to grow, visitors come and go, and I’m here to do my part.

When It Rains . . . It Hails

I absolutely love a good thunder storm. It’s not your kinder, gentler Mother Nature, the one I see in my garden every day. There’s not a gentle breeze, singing bird or buzzing bee in this scenario. Nope, this is brute strength, Gaia unbound.

After days of record heat and unbearable humidity that forced me indoors and cancelled any attempt at working in the sun-drenched garden, the gathering haze on Friday morning came as a welcome relief. As the temperature dropped during the late afternoon, I dared to venture outside for a go at the unruly weeds and lawn. The day drew to a close, and gathering clouds swallowed what was left of the sun. A quick current of air ran through the tree tops, descending to ground level to play with abandoned pots and empty mulch bags.
The first large drops of rain caught me on my knees spreading mulch. I glanced at the sky, recognized the storm drawing in a deep breath, preparing to exhale. I smiled, stood, wiped my hands, gathered tools and headed indoors. By the time the mower was stored away, the drops had become more insistent, beating down on the patio’s corrugated roof. And then the sky let loose. Torrents of rain beat against the house with machine gun rhythm. The sound grew deafening and, I realized, it wasn’t just rain. Hail pelted the house, the ground, every leaf and blossom all around, bouncing like miniature ping pong balls in all directions. Wind whipped through the trees; lightning and thunder sparked overhead. The lights inside blinked, flashed and failed.

Out came the emergency flashlights and candles, just in case the power outage stretched on into the night. Once the rain subsided, I ventured into the yard as night began to settle in. The storm had left behind crisp, clean air and the sound of the trees sloughing off the remnants of the storm. Around me, it looked for all the world as though someone had strewn mothballs across the grass and the mulch-covered beds.

I shared Gaia’s joke, gathering a sampling of the frozen spheres in my hand, laughing as they melted between my fingers. A taste of winter in August. But why not? At one point this past January, there wasn’t a snowflake in sight and I spent a day in the yard mulching beds I’d neglected when the weather turned cold last fall. The temperatures dropped and the winter snow returned soon after, just as the remains of Friday’s hail storm disappeared long before morning arrived. But it was fun and quirky – a garden rarity gone in the blink of an eye.