So I figured I'd just throw everything at one post. It's kind of like if you came over and innocently answered, "Sure!" when I said, "So, you want to see the garden?"
Bwaaa haaa haaa.
There's more out there these days. An overview first, from the deck! This was the day after we got 4" of rain. (Just trust me; I didn't take pictures of the rain gauge.) The new beds are all installed, but the back ones and the front left/west one aren't full of soil yet. Neither have I finished cleaning up the half-done patio area, or leveling, weed-blocking and mulching paths, and the laundry line looks a little . . . well, declasse. Oh well, I'd be talking so much you wouldn't get to say anything, anyhow.
The first stop for my morning rounds is the chicken coop. They crowd the wire, demanding some kind of treat -- in fact, I think I need to refill the feeder tomorrow. They also occasionally flip the waterer over. Eric and I are going to have to talk about retrofitting or rebuilding that coop. It's not holding up to the weather and spilt water. Lessons learned, I guess.
Sometimes it's leftovers; sometimes it's weeds or thinnings, but they're pretty appreciative.
I have enthusiastic help gathering the eggs. Cat is getting almost tall enough to check all by herself. In fact, she's pretty enthusiastic about most gardening . . . for a few minutes.
She points out new-sprouted peas (very back right bed, unfortunately where the oregano still is). Canoe and Alaska, both short varieties are in there. Canoe is supposed to have a lot of peas per pod. I may put some brushy sticks there but not a huge trellis.
She also weeds and is getting much more able to tell a grassy weed from a carrot seedling, which, admittedly, can be a challenge. This is the spinach/beet bed, down where "anything green is a weed; I haven't planted here yet," as I told her.
Patiently waiting the arrival of the soil mix that's going to top off the old bean bed is the flat of different-length broccoli seedlings. You can see where the best water and light were happening under the light unit. I'm working on increasing each shelf from 4 light bulbs to 6 to avoid the dark spots on the edges. I think it will help (and it was fun to kind of MacGuyver it some). I have high hopes for broccoli. Oh, and I'm trying something new -- I'm marking the plantings with little stakes made of old blinds, and on each stake is the variety name, date planted, amount planted, date sprouted, percentage (roughly) sprouted, date transplanted, and on the back of each stake, the days to maturity according to packet. If I carry a sharpie and keep up with this - and don't forget what day it is - that makes a good record backup for my garden log.
I may also punch holes and tie tags to certain plants with notes, such as "save for seed."
Front right bed -- Danvers half long and Nantes half long carrots, and . . .
Pretty lacy red kale. I hope it tastes as good as it looks. Still so small compared to the big kale planted much earlier!
The "Cute Fancy" zucchini is still going gangbusters. Who needs male flowers? I guess it figures it might as well throw everything into fruiting. The leaves are big enough to serve as umbrellas. Just the first bitty bits of powdery mildew on the lower leaves.
Next to that -- and these are both older preexisting beds - is the pepper patch. Still going well. Today I was wondering if I liked any of them enough to try to keep them over the winter. The Poblano/Ancho, probably. If digging it up or building it a mini-greenhouse made it get going faster in the spring, I might consider it (a greenhouse would make crop rotation tricky). Very very nice pepper. It's sort of in the middle with the dark green peppers, behind the ruffled pimento.
To the west of the peppers, the happy happy True Siberian kale. I've got some other stuff seeded past it, but only a few things have sprouted. The kale almost vibrates with vitality. Huge leaves, and so very tender and tasty. Only a few aphids and such, too. Sweet peas towards the house (that's what all the strings are for). I hope to have nice smelling bouquets in the spring.
Past the kale is the Asian greens bed. Tat soi (pictured), carrot mixes (pictured, just in front of the last, powdery mildewed zinnias), komatsuna, and pak choi and Napa cabbage. I may have to reseed some as I'm getting spotty germination.
Turning to look back toward the house, you'd see the tired tomatoes. I think tomorrow is P-day for them, as I pull them out readying the bed for the Snow Pea Invasion. Hmmm. Our window looks crooked. I hope it's a camera trick and the house isn't listing.
The Lacinato kale/transplanted lettuce bed. This is a good view of how I've tried to use the soak hoses as well as possible. The outside corners are dry for seed starting, but any bigger plants would do okay with reaching, I think. There are definitely sweet spots. though. I'm looking forward to being able to fine-tune the system, and maybe run it off a pump from the water bins, which are full from that storm!
These tomatoes, Stupice and Cherokee Purple, were planted late, but have done well. Stupice is still trying to flower. I may pull it just because.
On the other hand, someone is eating well among the tomatoes.
Finally, when you really wondered if I would ever. stop. talking. I would turn and there would be the whole thing laid out the other direction. The west side, with the chickens and bees on your right,
And the east side, with our lovely neighbor's house and the tip of the earthquake supply trash cans.
Then we'd go inside and have scones and tea and you'd tell me to finally finish the porch and clean the place up, why don't you?
Some were quite large.
I'm not a big hot-pepper fan, so today I had to process over a pound of jalapeños that have gathered in the fridge. I pickled some with tiny potatoes from the garden and carrots (all prepped on the beautiful cutting board Kevin made for me of reclaimed redwood, black walnut, and cherry).
Some I just canned with lemon juice. I'm not sure the latter is officially sanctioned; I'll let you know. Pretty, though, isn't it?
And as we prep the back bed, we've given the chickens their first field trips. They're such dirt monkeys! And they left their first contributions to the soil.
Turning to look back toward the house, you'd see the tired tomatoes. I think tomorrow is P-day for them, as I pull them out readying the bed for the Snow Pea Invasion. Hmmm. Our window looks crooked. I hope it's a camera trick and the house isn't listing.
I have harvested many pounds, though. The last two batches became slow-roasted tomato sauce, just because it's easy. I discovered if you forget about the sauce in the oven, what you get is more like slow-roasted tomato paste, which is pretty, um, intense.
I've never eaten a Lakota. Considering the poundage, I hope I like them.
That apartment building is such an eyesore, and it feels strange to thin our optical barrier. The difference in the garden is noticeable, though, and that means more to eat. We have our priorities in order.
The effect, while lovely, was also sun-blocking, so off came the branches, out came the 4x4s, and up came the tree.
It now lives near the remaining bamboo closer to the fence. Since it stretches toward the light, we're hoping it'll reach back toward its original site, again forming that lovely archway, but without stealing light from the garden. I love the carpet of lavender blossoms underneath in the spring. Fingers crossed.
The result of all this work is that the yard currently looks something like this:
We have lots of 20-plus-foot lengths of bamboo to build with---heck, maybe we can refloor the house---and a lot of cleanup to do.
And after Kevin's egg joke, it was gratifying to return from a weekend away to find this:
And lastly, a surprise treat in the harvesting basket:
That's Dodger, our pest control. I've been on him to get the rats that have been scuttling around outside our bedroom window, belittling his paltry mouse offerings. I think he finally took it to heart, because last night he showed up with two startlingly large bite marks under his arm, and this morning we're off to the vet.
