Sprout Update

First seeds to sprout: 1 sunflower, 2 kale and a scabiosa.

Although I haven't been in the garden much over these last few years, I still have a tendency to save seed. Waste not want not I guess. And I always figure that I will get a chance to plant such-and-such so why not grab that discounted seed packet? Or I'll pocket a few seeds from a plant I see that I'd love to have someday. Problem is that I have too much seed now. I was half tempted in the fall to just scatter it all into the yard and see what came up. But I resisted.

When I bought the peat pots, I had a vision of all the little plants I wanted. But sure enough, my filing system is not as good as my dreamy memory. In other words, I have no idea where my Swiss chard seeds are or the mizuna or even a summer squash or two. So, I planted the peat pots with whatever was in the seed files that appealed to me. And I left 3 rows for "surprises". I have a "bring back the butterflies" mix that I purchased at discount. Many of the seeds I recognized by sight - scabiosa, borago, cosmos, calendula, tithonia, lupinus, echinacea. But I was intrigued by a few that I didn't recognize and I popped them into the peat pots anyway. Everyone needs a good surprise.

Mr. Sunflower is going home with me.

If you're in the Monterey/Santa Cruz area, mark your calendar for the Smart Gardening Fair presented by the Monterey Bay Master Gardeners. It will be held in Carmel on Saturday, April 16th ~ 10 AM to 4 PM adjacent to the Crossroads Shopping Village.For more details see: http://smartgardening.org/  I'm sure the weather will be stunning.

Sprouting, burgeoning and spreading

The period of three months in spring is a period of sprouting (burgeoning). Everything in heaven and earth comes to life and flourishes. Sleep late and wake up early. Stroll in large steps in the courtyard, letting loose the hair and relaxing, so that the desire to live arises. Let live and do not kill anything. Give out but do not take anything by force. Reward generously and punish parsimoniously. This conforms to the spirit of spring; it is the right way to pursue the Dao. If one acts against this spirit, the liver will suffer. Then in summer, one will feel cold due to an insufficiency in the vigour of growth. Traditionally the Chinese year is divided into 24 time periods, the jieqi (solar terms). Beginning with lichun (spring commences), sometime in February of the Gregorian calendar, every fifteen days will see a new time period. Agricultural and social activities follow this time schedule closely and observe its special current features (jieling). Spring covers the three months beginning with lichun, the first time period, with the spring equinox (chunfen, March 20 - 22) as the fourth of these periods. The most salient feature of this period is characterized by the term fachen, "burgeoning or sprouting and spreading". Huangdi Neijing: A Synopsis with Commentaries By Y. C. Kong

Strolling in large steps in the garden of late would require waders. Saturday morning we were being doused by torrential rain. I was sad that I didn't have my camera as I headed out to a meeting because I wanted to capture the muddy river that was pouring down our neighbor's private driveway from the strawberry fields. In the fields were there are plants, you could see the berries being washed away with the soil, sprinkled along the muddy sand bars left when the waters receded.

The garden is a sopping wet catastrophe.

And yet, I'm eager to see the sunshine and I'm thinking about what I can do in the minute amount of time I have available. Funds are tight too, but I'm really missing the garden and I got the crazy idea to start my vegetables on my desk at work. After all, I'm there so much of the time and I can baby the starts for the first few weeks before transplanting them. And it would be so nice to share my south facing window with a cute flat of sprouts.

Dear Park Seeds

Why would I want pay you $9.95 for 6 leek plants? Unless of course, they're guaranteed to grow 10 feet tall.

le poireau n'est pas l'asperge du pauvre

Doesn't feel like November

Apple from the Chadwick Garden at the Center for Agroecology (UCSC)

The weather is unseasonably warm. Of course this means that with the little bit of early October rains we had, every weed seed is now happily sprouting. I'm not complaining, at least I can do a little weeding in the warm weather and get a head start on the winter rains. Not to mention, I'm putting in my winter crops. I picked up some "Purple Sprouting" broccoli, Walla Walla onions, hollyhocks, and a green globe artichoke. Not to mention scads of chicken manure (which my husband complained all afternoon about the smell.)

Not to mention, I'm concentrating on lots of fava beans for cover crops. I've got to fortify the soil this winter. My summer growing season really stank this year, and I believe it was depleted soil that was the culprit.

Expectantly thinking of summer

Please spot the nut job. She's standing under the apricot tree, up on her toes, straining to see if there are apricots. The flower petals just recently dropped. The pollen has barely had time to travel down the style to the ovary. Or has it?

Yes, I'm thrilled to say that there are lots of these tiny fuzzy knobs all over the tree. I might actually have to thin this year (fingers crossed). The five I had last year were just enough to wet my palate. I'm terribly excited to see these fruits, so small they haven't burst the flower collar yet.

Now in the other corner of the garden, this is what you don't want the cabbages to do:

You can tell that a cabbage is about to bolt when the leaves start to feel loose and "fluffy" versus tight and compact in a ball. A cabbage that is about to bolt can be slowed down by grabbing the head and twisting it so the root rotates in the ground and breaks some of the roots. But, if a cabbage seems like it's about to bolt, it's better to harvest it. My problem is that they look so enchanting in the garden. They are lovely, gigantic rosettes and sometimes I'm too enamored with them to harvest them.




I guess I kept hoping it might get bigger. Oh well. But it does make an interesting pattern.


The tomato seedlings are up and I'm now brushing them everyday. Brushing them involves lightly running your fingers over the seedlings, almost like tickling them. Outdoors, of course, this slight motion back and forth would be caused by breezes, and the stress strengthens the stems so the plant is stronger and stockier. I was taught this technique by another gardener who loved my seed starts, but felt they could be a little stronger if I had added more light and brushed them regularly. My first ones would fall over at the slightest hint of a breeze. A few have their first true leaves, so I think next week I'll start to pot some of them up.

Picture taken on 21 March just after I arrived home from work. They're leaning towards the last rays of sunset.

Strolling in the garlic forest?

The picture is this year's crop of elephant garlic or Allium ampeloprasum. They won't be ready to harvest until July or August. But I was amused by this point of view. I've raised this batch over the years I've lived here. I got them from a gardener, years ago. I didn't have a yard, so I put a few of the bulbs in my father's yard. They've been growing and flowering there for 6 years while I lived in Aptos. Then, when Mr. C. and I moved to Elkhorn, I went by Dad's to see if I could find any bulbs. There were only 2 left. For the last 3 years I've been increasing their numbers. This year there are 15 plants, and I will finally get to have some elephant garlic this summer.

Elephant garlic has larger bulbs than regular garlic and a milder flavor. In fact the plant is more closely related to leeks. Don't make my mistake of growing both together as I couldn't tell one from the other until harvest. Also, a benefit to growing your own garlic year after year is that the plants become more adapted to your specific growing conditions, making stronger and bigger bulbs. Save a few of the biggest for planting next season.

Elephant garlic makes a lovely flower, but it's best to cut them out to get bigger bulbs. You can sauté the scapes (unopened flowers) in butter or olive oil.

Although, with the sniffles that have been going on here, I was wishing I had more now. Garlic is a good expectorant and helps with chronic bronchitis. Although I think if I grated it into honey (as is the recommended procedure for coughs), Mr. C. would run out of the house as if I was trying to poison him. I guess I'll just have to slip some garlic chives into his eggs for breakfast.

Cabbage

Not bad for a cabbage that was full of holes in November. This was the cabbage the caterpillars were bent on devouring (see my previous post "what's bugging me".) Now it is ready to pick. It's not as solid as I could have wished for, and it only measures 7-inches across, but I'm glad to have a cabbage. Four more are about to follow - that is if the sow bugs don't eat them before they are big enough. I was out hunting snails and slugs tonight and noticed dozens of sow bugs eating one of the lower leaves. I looked for the "salad bar" sign but found none.

I wish I could find the tag in order to remember the cabbage variety.

The rustling of leaves

October slipped by. This blog has become a cobwebsite. I thought that I could talk endlessly about plants and gardening. But of late, I've been pre-occupied with other thoughts and tasks. None of which have been about the garden. Well, mostly.

A few of the things I have been doing:

1. Working on a dune restoration project. Sunset magazine featured an article in September (which I haven't been able to find - I need to stop by the library) about the Monterey Dune restoration project. Currently, I have 2 trays of California dune natives that are sprouting (ever so slowly). One tray is beach aster (Lessingia filaginifolia) and the other is Sagewort (Artemisia pycnocephala). Once they get their true leaves, I'll be able to thin the seedlings down to one plant per cone. They are planted out in January and February. Sounds like cold, wet, windy work. And I'll probably be there.

2. Going to evening lectures at Cabrillo Horticultural Center about Sustainable Landscaping. I missed the first two classes, but have attended the last two and the final one is in a couple of weeks. I have some interesting notes; maybe I'll share them. (I hate promising that I'll write an entry and then never do it, so I'm hoping that I really will write up what I learned at the lectures.)

3. Trying to put away the harvest and take down the tomato vines. Rather dull work, but it needs doing. Don't feel like blogging every time I go out on a pruning or weeding expedition, because what more can you say about it?

4. I put some cabbages into bed 3 a couple of months ago. The sulfur butterfly caterpillars have devastated the poor things. They look more like lace than cabbages. I don't seem to have the heart to pull them up. But I just might have to.

The garden is pretty dismal. As the evenings are darker and time is shorter after work, I never get around to watering. I don't have things set up on timers. Maybe next year. I've lost a few plants, but so far, nothing that I'm upset over. I was even thinking of a Thursday 13 meme of what plants I've killed this year.

I had a short visit by Bambi one week. He took every single autumn rose bloom off, and de-nuded a couple of plants. But again, not much of a hit so I am thankful. I need to spray the back part of the yard again with the nasty anti-deer spray. So far, there's nothing they are interesting in. Or the neighbor's dog is keeping them spooked. (Good dog!)

I have been haunting the garden center on occasion, hoping to spot a 6 pack of walla walla onions. I really loved the crop I produced this year, and I was hoping to get another run on them. I finally found a set at a natural food store, and I purchased them with a 6 pack of Japanese red mustard and ruby cabbages.

Rain started on Thursday, but I barely received an 1/8th inch. But apparently Aptos/Cabrillo college (their weather station site) had only seen 0.26. But driving through La Selva/Freedom on Highway one in the morning, you would think that there would be more in the rain gauge. And although I was enjoying the small warm spell, I am looking forward to the rains and the greening of the landscape.

Seeing more red in the garden

Beauty Lottringa

Cynthia described this tomato as so beautiful that you will bring visitors down into the garden just to look at it. It's so true. Her tomato stand is open now, if you want a really tasty heirloom tomato! She will be open Saturdays, Mondays and Thursdays from 9 to 6. And there's more than just tomatoes to enjoy. It looks as if she'll have a variety of vegetables and dahlias for purchase.



The "pumpkin" is finally ripening. Again, I can't believe I have a tomato that is this big. I wonder what it will weigh? Can you see that it has grown?

See me jumping up and down

like a kid at Christmas.

The first sign of a blush has shown up on three different plants. The one pictured here, which is the Ukranian Heart, the Jaffe's Cherry and the Japanese Oxheart(#2). I didn't know if the Jaffe's Cherry was red or some other color. I guess I will find out soon. It's looking like a red.

The Florida Pink, remains green and continues to swell. Mr. C thinks that I've mistakenly planted a pumpkin. It has set a number more fruit, but I'm trimming it back heavily so I can at least get into the greenhouse.

I keep telling the greenhouse tomatoes that it's no good growing to their grand and luxurious greatness if the gardener cannot come in and give them refreshing drinks of water and nutritious supplements of compost tea, fish emulsion and liquid seaweed. I sometimes think I should write them a little book, Lessons of the Wild Tomato; a Cautionary Tale.

All of this exhuberance is due to a heat wave they have been enjoying. For me, it's a little uncomfortable, but livable. Flowers seem to be staying and fruiting instead of the usual drop off. When the temperatures regularly see 55°F (or lower) blossom drop is to be expected. But we have been staying at 60°F or higher in the evenings. A high pressure system is parked over the coast and the predicted temperatures are expected to rise and stay through the weekend. The weak onshore flow is creating humidity so there's a stickyness to the air that is really unusual. So I feel that the "experiment" has been blown. But if predictions are what they claim to be saying (as there is no snow on Kilimanjaro and there might be trees growing in Antartica soon), this might be the upcoming "norm".

ooh. I've scared myself......

But there's a blush on the tomatoes! :D (attention span of a kid, I know)

Will one of you just ripen already?

I was reminded of my college years this evening. I had a roomate while I was at UCLA who used to warm up her dinner in the microwave while softly chanting "hurry up already, hurry up already".

I'm feeling just as impatient.

Tomatoes are still green, all of them. The Florida Pink in the greenhouse is frankly the very largest tomato I've ever grown here. Ever. Probably the largest I've ever grown in my life. Everyday it seems to swell just a bit larger. I'm half expecting it to burst like a balloon that has been blown up too far. I'll come home, trot down to the greenhouse to find little green tomato bits blown everywhere. But not yet. It too is completely green and shows no sign of changing color. My prediction for having ripe tomatoes in two weeks may be off the mark. Sigh.....



But what really reminds me of my roomate and the microwave is the black beauty zucchini. The 2 female flowers opened on Sunday and the male flowers were not open. I looked in another bed where I popped in a mystery squash. I have sworn time and time again not to grow mystery squash that arise from the compost pile. You never know what hybrid genetic catastrophe you'll get. Last year I had these pumpkin looking squash but the shells were so tough you had to use a hatchet and then the insides were like a spaghetti squash only more tasteless. I felt it was a waste of growing space. But Mr. C convinced me that his little volunteer was worth saving and that was lucky because it had male flowers in bloom. I "borrowed" one to hand pollinate the black beauty. Now the 2 zukes are swelling, and even though they are growing amazingly fast, I can see myself standing in the garden with a knife softly chanting "hurry up already, hurry up already".