Caution: Gardenista Driver Ahead

There are a lot of things I planned on doing in my life. College, marriage, children...

But I never thought that my American Dream picket fence would actually be hog fencing and I would be driving down back country roads with an angry line of drivers behind me, wondering why a person with 16 foot fencing hanging off the back of her truck would only go 5 miles per hour over the speed limit. But it's Monday and I thought I'd spice things up a bit.

I'm fighting the sterotype that women can't drive...pickup trucks...with 6 feet of fencing over the cab and six feet hanging off the back, hitting every pothole on the way. Cause I'm a gardenista driver, and we like the potholes....

I bet those angry people don't get enough organic in their diets...

So I got home and frolicked about my garden, which is VERY hard to do when you've got sixteen foot fencing in hand, overhead, teeter-tottering you back and forth in a drunken-esk stupor across a plot of mud. It was so much fun.

It's a bit hard to see, which is sorta the point; drivers hate me but so far my neighbors and I have no quarrel. This is one squash trellis. I can't wait to see how many people get concussions from my garden this year. I may have to hang a warning sign...

This is my bean tepee And probably my second home. I think I need to plant some kind of moss inside or sedum or something that tolerates shade that I can curl up on.

This is squash trellis two. (And the piles of supplies that will hopefully become our patio this spring.)

This is the stump seat from which I will perch and nibble on all things yummy. Poor hubby. He's more apt to get scurvy than he is a fresh sugar snap pea. And the asparagus is growing right behind me, so there's no way he'll get that either...



Those are the posts from which I will hang netting for cucumbers to climb up and over and through, and a rough overview of my garden.

And this is spring, fighting winter and wining. Go Spring!

What are you doing to get ready for spring? Building structures? Planting seeds? Cleaning the yard?

Flirtations

The first time I brought my now hubby over to my parent's house to meet my Grandma, she pulled me aside from Sunday Lunch preparations while he was out on the patio with a family member and told me, "You need to have more flirtations." And then there was something along the lines of "get out there on the patio or I'm going out there." My grandmother was 93 and she's still a crazy spitfire today. So hubby and I had more "flirtations" and then we got married.

Flirting is fun.

Unless you're spring.

And then I expect commitment.
I don't flirt for kicks.

It was 50 this afternoon when I got home from visiting my Grandmother this afternoon. Great! A little nap, a little food, and I'll be out stringing up my bamboo bean tepee. And then somewhere along the line, this arctic chilly blast whistled its way across the little tundra that is my back yard, blustered it's way through the trees- making them moan and howl in protest and startled a flock of geese that was returning north to the "warmer" weather.

Evil Winter. Beguiling, evil winter-- a wolf in a little spring lamb's clothing.

But the afternoon was not a complete waste. I did get that bamboo up and strung, though the chilly air and tangly twine did nothing for my chapped hands. And I got to spend time with my Grandmother.

And I learned that I am from a line of gardeners. Though growing up in the 2o's and 30's, I suppose most people were, in a desperate attempt to feed their families.

But, I flipped through some old photo albums and dug out the few pictures I could find of my Grandfather in front of one of his smaller and later-in-life gardens.

I was small, so I don't remember too much, but I do remember green beans. Behind my grandfather is the apple tree he planted and a small little bare garden in the corner. I remember picking up the fallen apples on the ground each summer, tossing them away and dragging them to the curb in a little tin trash can. Of course, we did eat some when I was very, very young, and I remember eating pears from his neighbor, my great aunt's, property. I also remember that my Grandfather made one of the best horsies ever.

What are your reasons for gardening? Is it in your blood? Or do you just like knowing exactly where and how your food was grown? Share!

Pow(ErErErErErErrrrrrrrrrrrr) Tools.

It is gorgeous outside. With just three or four layers of thick wool clothing and a double up on the socks, one can really enjoy the beautiful nearly 50 degree weather today. It's practically bathing suit season--if you've got one of those head to toe bits from the 20's. And who doesn't?

That's why I had wind blowing in my hair and the rev of the engine cutting through the noise of twittering birds. Until I turned the power sander off. I love that tool, but it does leave a handful of sawdust plastered to the scalp. But today, I finished up that birdhouse I started weeks ago, and plopped it into the yard where it belongs.

If you didn't get the title,
That's my noise impression of a power tool engine.
None of my sisters or I were gifted with power tool impressionism. You should hear my sister's impression of a machine gun. Sad. So sad.

ANYWAY...

Tada! I tried to spray paint the roof pieces with that stone texture paint. I was going for "shingles." Eh, I luv it. I'll go back out and fill the base with bird seed and suet later on.
But first I had to wait for...

...my Quickrete to dry. Which it's doing right now. I hope. But it seemed stable enough when I left it. Alone. In the yard with no additional support. Swaying in the gentle breeze...

I was going to ask for a little help today, but poor hubby is slumbering away on the couch with a dreadful cold. I think I'll dope him up with a bit of NyQuil before I tell him I used a bag of his Quickrete. I'm sure he had plans for it.

Also...

I laid out my little "stepping stone" path, made from stained slices of trunk from the tree that fell in our yard last year. I've been skipping back and forth across it since I laid it down, imagining where the elephants ear is going to come up and where the ferns will be planted and where the honeysuckle will climb up the trunks and where the astilbes and bleeding heart will go...
The path ends at this cute shepherds hook from my mom, bird feeder from hubby and nephews and seed from father-in-law. I've got a super family!

 Not so super- my seedlings. I think they're taking steroids behind my back. One of them grew an inch and a half in 36 hours. I'm off to set up a nanny cam on those little guys.

 Up to anything in your yard? Getting those tools ready? Sowing those seeds inside yet? Share!

Sidebar... Please help me eat this!

This is the fantastic birthday gift, given to me by my employer.

How does one eat a grapefruit this big? How do you eat yours? I can't imagine how much sugar it would take if I dipped this entire thing into a bowl of it.

Suggestions? Droll comments? Care to share a bit of your wit?

Come on lil' fella...

Anyone who has owned a television in the last ten years has probably seen Jurassic Park.

One.

 Not the dozen or so to follow. And not to be confused with that other really popular movie, Sharktopus, which is almost as scary and realistic when it comes to people-eating monsters.

But, getting back on track, there's a scene in Jurassic park where a little tiny dinosaur is hatching from an egg in the confines of a lab. And all the characters coax it on with little whispers of "come one little fella" and "that's it!"
Unbeknownst to them, that dinosaur probably grew up and ate someone in movies two, or three, or four, or you get the point...

And this afternoon, as I was standing, pitcher in hand, water pouring all over the basement floor, shrieking like a cat that had gotten it's tail stepped on, I found myself thinking about that movie scene.

Because there, tucked under the little granules of dirt, pushing it's way heavenward with all the might it's fragile leaves could muster, was a little red cabbage plant peeking it's tiny little self out into the bright bright world of florescent lighting and thermal infrared waves.

Only, my plant won't be eating people.

Too bad... That would make a pretty cool horror film.
You can borrow that one SyFy Channel. You're Welcome.

Anyone else see anything popping out of the dirt that tickles them pink? Flowers? Weeds? Groundhogs? Share!

Anticipa(aaayyyy)tion

Good ole Carly Simon:
We can never know about the days to come
But we think about them anyway

But I'm sure we never thought it would snow, get up to 50, snow, get up to 50, snow and so on...

But forget about the outdoors, nature, and shadowy-sissy Punxsutawaney Phil; I've started my first batch of seeds indoors. I know, I'm jumping the gun a bit, BUT I have those gorgeous cold frames my hubby built me, so I'll move my plants outdoors mid march or so and put them in the cold frames. Between that and my uncanny ability to make things die, the timing should work out just right for anything that survives, and if it doesn't then I'll give myself a bit of time to recover.

But here's how I started my seeds this year...

I started out with my handy dandy bucket. Anything works as long as it's clean. If it's not, most instructions I've read say to wash everything with a 10 percent bleach and 90 percent water solution, especially if you're using pots from the previous year. Unless you want things to catch disease and die.

I got these fantastic all natural seed starting soil bricks. You just add 8 quarts of water and it makes a LOT of soil, all from a teeny tiny lightweight block of dirt. (they are GREAT if you have little space for bags of dirt or are afraid that bugs have crawled inside the big bags and will gnaw on your hand when you stick it inside--it's not an irrational fear)

It's great to get the dirt wet first, rather than plant things in dry dirt and then pour tons of water on top, either floating the seed out of place or risking mold or damping off- or so I've read.

Mound up the dirt to the top, even creating a convex bubble at the top, since the dirt might sink down a bit when it gets watered.
I got these peat pots at the Christmas Tree Shop -$.25 for 20 last fall. I like them because they show when they are wet and dry very easily. It's the idiot's best friend for determining when to water.

Use a pencil, a stick, a carrot, rolled up dollar bills, whatever you want, to push a little hole at the center of your pots. Put in one or two seeds. I do two because I am paranoid that one will never grow. Push a little bit of the soil over the seed. VIOLA.

Label your pots and water. FROM THE BOTTOM. That probably explains why nearly all of my seedlings died last year. I always watered from the top (when I watered) until they were nearly floating. My seeds were like Noah's ark, adrift in a giant ocean of water, with no land in sight.

I put my grow light and heat lamp on during daylight, and turn them off at night. I should probably get a thermometer to check the temperature, but i made sure my heat lamp wasn't so close that it was roasting the seeds.

So far, I've got Spinach, Broccoli, Cauliflower and Brussel Sprouts. I'm crossing my fingers on this venture. I have a tendency to kill anything not permanently set in the ground. These poor little guys... Hopefully blogging will keep me honest and watering. I'd hate to disappoint the dozen or so of you who have somehow misinformedly determined I am knowledgeable enough to give advice. :)

I'm looking forward to starting the rest of my indoor seeds in the next few weeks, though I typically do well with direct sowing rather than the indoor method. But here's a view of the handy-dandy spring planting planner I got from Organic Gardening Magazine.

The left column lists the vegetable, the center lists how many weeks before or after the last spring frost seeds should be sown, and the right column is blank so the dates can be filled in according to zone. It takes all the guesswork out of it, for those of us who really wonder if we have to wait at all.

Hey, Lowes is putting everything out, it's time to get going, right?

Anyone have any success with starting seedlings indoors? Dismal failures? Warnings? Helpful hints?

Pretty! Awful...

I adore "Global Warming." And now that it seems to have gone away for the week, I miss it a lot.

I know it's still winter.  I know I'm selfishly wishing it away. Somewhere out there was a little kid holding a sled, staring out the window, over the barren wasteland of hibernating grass, praying for snow. And today, that child is shrieking with laughter, running up hills and sliding down them at break neck speed.

And I'm at home, tucked away in a corner of my basement, wrapped in the largest scruffiest sweatshirt and slippers, plotting my indoor batch of spinach. And when I find that child come summer...

Though I have to admit, it is beautiful outside.

But i'd rather enjoy it from a distance. So maybe I'll curl up instead with the world's largest marshmallows bobbing around in a cup of homemade orange zest hot cocoa and page through my "Complete Illustrated Book of Herb" book, for fantastic gift ideas for next year. I want to be my own little apothecary...

My poor hubby...

I Miss You...(Not so Savage) Garden

You'd have to have REALLY lived through the 90's to get that title... or you'd have to have access to google.

But I missed you, blog and blog readers, more so than you missed me I'm sure. Life has been a topsy turvey roller coaster of events. Or maybe that's the vertigo that comes with the ripe old age of 27, of which I now am.

And it's also February, which is one month closer to full fledged gardening than January, which is the most despised month of the year. (this is my blog; I create reality here)

Seed starting season is baring down on us and it's time to rinse out those pots, pull out the soil mixtures and roll around in all those packets of seeds. (I'll have to use something else to stuff my mattress)

So I put together my little seed station- in the basement because my husband evicted me from the living room. So I HAPPILY frolicked down the basement stairs, eyed a flock (?) of spiders up and down, and set about unplugging important things (freezer? washer? Pfttt...) to make space for all the trailing mess of cords I needed to use. And TADA...

It's a rough slap-together job, and I'll adjust it more when I actually start my seeds, but I was too excited to wait. It's a recycled laundry station from Walmart. Pots and things on the top shelf, heat lamp, grow light and seed table in the center, and a hodge podge of storage on the bottom. It's not the cutest thing ever, but it has wheels on the bottom and makes an excellent dancing partner. Also my hubby has decided my hobby takes up to much space, so I can shuttle this around corners and hide it behind things when he looks in my direction.

I got a cheap heat bulb from Lowes and popped it in a cheap contractor clip light. My hubby begrudgingly (and yet lovingly) gave me this fantastic florescent light fixture for my grow light. I used 'S' hooks and chain to hang it since I want it to be adjustable as my plants grow taller or if I use different pots or seed trays.

I picked up this handy dandy timer to plug my lights into so that I don't have to run up and down the stairs several times a day. (I did mention those spiders, right?) Now it's just a whole lot of inner turmoil and fingernail tapping and waiting for that perfect seed starting date...

And then there was my birthday.

3 1/2 years ago a fantastic man asked if he could spoil me for the rest of my life with practical things like love and garden hods. Of course I said yes. (Though he may not have actually mentioned anything about the garden hod) And for the past few holidays and birthdays he has gone above and beyond that little promise and kicked me out of the basement so that he could "clean without interruption" when all along he was building me some of the coolest gifts ever.

This year I got my garden hod. (Though I think I convinced my nephews that it was the worst bee-keepers mask ever) I can't wait to gather up my veggies and hose them down in this fantastic little contraption. Did I ever mention how much I love my hubby?

Suprise Packages and Tropical Treats

I don't think I've mentioned my sister yet (either of them) but I've got this one who broke with tradition and moved far away to a little tropical paradise she calls Northern Cuba, though technically, it's Florida.

And while we are here in the most confused winter season ever with nothing to pick or grow, she is romping about the southern part of the States, gathering the yummiest fresh produce, tucking it in boxes, and shipping it to this miserable northern  region. And I don't think I can tell you how giddy I was to open that box and pull out all those citrusy and tropical treasures- papaya, passion fruits, sapodillas, and fresh key lime juice- but there was dancing and frolicking in my kitchen. Thank goodness my husband was at work; I think it scares him to see those crazy outbursts of childish emotion.

And since I'm suffering from the January blues, scraping my spoon along the bottom of last year's jam jar supply, it was defiantly time to celebrate with more Jam.

Passion fruit Jam.

If you haven't had it, you MUST try it... unless you don't want your taste buds to sing like a canary bathed in the light of a 7am sunrise. I don't think anyone has not considered the benefits of being a canary.

Making passion fruit jam is a two day process, so prepare yourself. It's going to take a lot of will power not to eat the passion fruit the moment you cut it open and that rich tangy smell envelopes you as the seeds dribble across your counter top. The recipe is as follows:

First you slice six passion fruit and scoop out the yellow seedy flesh, reserving it in a covered bowl. Then place the shells of those fruits in 2 cups of water and let them sit covered in your refrigerator overnight.

The next day,place the reserved passion fruit shells in a pot and cover them with water. Bring them to a full boil and let them boil for about 15 minutes.

The shells will get soft, soaking up a lot of that water. Dump the remaining water out of the pot and let the shells cool down until they can be easily handled- about ten minutes.

Scoop out the remaining pulpy insides, all the way down to that thin papery shell. I try and get as close to the shell as possible- as a bit of the red color from the skin will bleed into the pulp and give the jam a gorgeous ruby color.

I tucked aside a bit of my passion fruit. I'm making passion fruit curd later.

Blend the pulpy insides with a little bit of water- just enough to get it going, no more than a 1/4 cup. Measured out all the yellow seedy part of the passion fruit and put them in a pot, then added as much of the pulp as  needed to get 2 1/2 cups.

Add equal parts of raw, unprocessed sugar. It's okay people. You're not going to be drinking this down by the cupful. A little slather on a piece of toast or a cracker will get you by each day without killing you... maybe.

Put everything into one pot and add a good squeeze of lemon juice. Some people like lime, I use what I have on hand. Let it come to a full boil and let it go for 15 minutes, stirring it every so often so it doesn't burn to the bottom. You don't want to waste a drop of this.

I put a lid on mine. This stuff will splatter all over if you're not careful. You want to eat it, not burn tattoos of it in your flesh.

In 15 minutes it should have a nice, thick texture. That's when it's time to put it in those sterilized, warm jars. (If you put it in a cold jar the temperature shock might make it explode, or so THEY say)

Leave a little bit of head room (about a 1/4 inch) and put the lid on finger-tip tight. Process in a water bath.

But leave at least one jar unsealed. Why waste the effort when you're going to be dipping your spoon in and out of this for the next hour? Enjoy. Don't share. People can make their own- if they've got one super great sister in Northern Cuba.

Put on "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" while you make jam. Nothing says "Mmmm, jam day" like Alfred Hitchcock.