Not So Secret Garden

Bathroom greenhouse

Today's post is about "'leadership'". Just kidding, it's actually about one of our family group projects, gardening. Our gardening exploits so far this spring have come in a variety of phases, from Dad creating herb planters out old cement pipes; to my sister planting the garden with plants Mom got from the hardware store, to my other sister helping me plant some seeds. So far everyone has found some time to play in the dirt.

Cement her planter

The initial surge in gardening was partly boredom, partly because one of my sisters is taking plant science, and partly irritation that grocery stores were running out of food. In other words we were skirting the border that leads too crazy prepper territory. You needn't fear though, since I spearheaded half the effort after the initial surge, the momentum has died down.

Proof the seedlings were once happy

The seeds which started out strong growing in our bathroom (it was cold outside, ok), have started to droop and look pathetic as they hold out hope they will be planted soon. However all is not lost, the corn did get put in the ground recently, as did the beans. The reason the rest of the baby plants haven't made it to the garden is that we do not enough space on the current drip line. Hopefully we'll remedy this soon and plant the tender shoots before they kick the bucket. While I hate seeing work go to waste, (yes, I know it's the reoccurring state of my garden) we have tons of seeds we can replant with. Apparently I have this habit of buying more seeds before using the ones I already had.

I have a problem...

Moving on from my charming quirks, my "plan" is to plant what we have and then see where and what else we might be able to grow. The coming weeks will show how the transplanting went an if any more of our baby plants made it to the garden before giving up the ghost.

When it Rains it Pours

Puddles, clouds, and hope.

Since everyone is housebound and bored, I figured I should dust the old blog off. After a coughing attack by the layer of dust, and repeated reassurances that “I don’t have Corona Virus!” to my family, I sit before you excited and eager to see how many posts I will actually create in the upcoming weeks. (Smart money would be on not a lot.)

The original purpose of this blog was to share my trip to Europe with my family and friends stateside. Almost 10 years later the focus has shifted to everyday life events and random musings that pop into my head. Although the content has changed, the concept that it’s for friends who don’t live near me has remained. As most of us are stuck at home, looking for things to do and human connection, I figured it was time to throw my pennies in the fountain and see what emerges.

Which brings us to todays topic, one we have pondered for a couple weeks now in CA, what the heck is happening? I’m not just talking about being at home on lockdown, I’m talking about the weather. It’s April and it’s raining! Not just a single day of rain, but days and days with thunderstorms and occasional hail. Enough rain to create puddles in the yard! 

Wild poppies are having a great year!

But with the rain comes green. The rye, the flowers, the grass and the weeds. Growing up a farmer’s daughter late rains were always appreciated and dreaded. Rain does not discriminate which plants get life, so while the sweet potatoes benefited from the moisture, so too did my mortal enemies, mustered, pigweed, nightshade, puncture vines, nut grass, crab grass, that stupid succulent, and sting weed. 

Rain sustains life, and right now it makes it easier for everyone to stay home. As the days get warmer, I suspect staying in is going to become harder and harder but that is a worry for tomorrow. (Or Saturday if the weather doesn’t change again.) And who knows, maybe like the rain this lockdown holds some kind of bizarre, hidden, silver lining. As the dog demonstrates daily, one can always hope.

Hotbeds: 'tis the Season

I was recently trying to explain hotbeds to a young friend of mine and realized about an hour later that I did a horrible job. So I decided an explanatory blog post might be in order. I don't know if you'll ever see this, but M, this one's for you.

Spreading Cotton Trash

For those of you who frequent this regularly, and have heard me go on about hotbeds before, you might want to skip this one. For those of you who have no clue what I'm referencing, the farmers daughter in me is delighted to 'splain.

In case you didn't catch it, it's hotbed season. A hotbed is basically a temporary greenhouse we create each year to grow the shoots for planting. Here's how it works:

First a level bed is scraped into the dirt.

Sweet Potato "Cobblestone" 

Then cotton trash is spread on the bed and covered with more dirt. This is the insulation that helps keep things humid.

Next sweet potatoes kept from the previous harvest, known as seed, are laid down. Once a bed has been laid it ends up looking like a cobblestone, or brick road and another layer of soil is applied covering the potatoes.

Finally, bent metal rods are placed over the beds and covered with plastic. On one end the plastic is covered with dirt, on the other it's held down by sandbags. This allows the bed to be opened for watering and air movement.

The tricky thing is you don't want the hotbed to get too hot or two cold. Sweet potatoes are susceptible to freezing temperatures, however if things get too hot you can actually burn the plants and that's not good either.

Inside View

Which is why mid Sunday mornings find us opening the beds. My Dad doesn't have his guys work on Sunday which means it's up to us. Some years we've had to open and close more than others. The best is when you hear, "ends and windows" because it means less work.

To uncover the hotbeds you pull the sandbags off and roll the plastic placing a sandbag on top of the rolled plastic at the each end of the bed and two in the middle. This helps keep the plastic in place if a breeze kicks up. May I just add if you roll right, you feel it in your forearms!

To close them you take the sandbags off, flip up the plastic, cross to the other side of the bed, pull the plastic down to the ground, plant your foot on it and drag a sandbag on top. Usually about mid season you only have to place a sandbag other rod.

Over the years various friends have participated in joy of opening the hotbeds. As a kid it was especially great because that meant less work. Now that there are 4 adult children hotbeds have gotten less miserable and time consuming; what use to take an hour plus now takes about 45 minutes on a slow day.

Covered Hotbed

Hotbeds are also the reason we now go to Saturday night church because no longer does my Father have to worry about when to open the beds or them frying before we can get out there. (If you're used to attending service on Sunday, you find yourself going "No church? What am I gonna do?" But that's an entirely different conversation....)

Around 11ish on a Sunday all of us kids who are in town gather to help out. Doesn't matter how old you are, or what your normal job is, Sunday's, during hotbeds, mean helping out on the farm. 'Cause that's what families do.

I'll leave you with this brilliant "Irish blessing".

May the frost never afflict your spuds. 

May the leaves of your cabbage always be free from worms.

May the crows never pick your haystack.

If you inherit a donkey, may she be in foal. 

Oh and in case you're wondering, doesn't matter he's almost 60, when it comes to covering or uncovering hotbeds, Dad hands down, kicks our butts.

Lifeblood

Almond - ah-muh nd,

noun 

1. the nutlike kernel of the fruit of either two trees, Prunus dulcis (sweet almond) or P. dulicis amara (bitter almond) which grow in warm temperate regiouns. 

2. the tree itself 

January is almost gone and I have posted nothing in this fabulous new year. “Fabulous?” I hear you ask, a raised eyebrow emphasizing the question mark. “Fabulous.” I reply flatly.  The new year is a time for new beginnings and hope. Granted I don’t always think this, some years it seems to be more of a reminder of never ending drudgery and time passing by waaay to swiftly. Not this year. Can’t say why exactly, but I think events on New Year’s Day helped keep my perspective from being cynical.

Pruning

For most people New Years Day is a time for recuperating. When they finally stumble out of bed they lurch to the couch, turn on the TV to enjoy the Rose Parade or countless hours of college football. A typical New Years Day and exactly how I started mine. But it didn’t end there, instead it turned into something more for two reasons; 1) the Rose Bowl was only on cable so we couldn’t watch it; 2) I’d gotten a tempting invitation the night before and I decided to accept it.

The invitation I received was to help finish planting an orchard. Okay, okay, I didn’t really help, I more hung out, but by the end I was helping a little...

While grazing the buffet New Year’s Eve, I exchanged pleasantries with our neighbor Steve Moeller. During the conversation and he invited me to come out to the orchard they were planting and take pictures. Unbeknownst to him, (or myself until that minute), I have decided to accumulate a collection of farm life photo’s and this was the perfect opportunity.

Trees packed in sawdust

New Year’s Day, after watching the Rose Parade with my little sister’s I decided to head out to the orchard and hang out with the Moeller clan. I made just in time to watch them plant the last row of trees. It’s a fascinating process and I learned quite a bit.

First off, orchard planting is a family, all hands on deck, affair; from Uncle Delmar all the way down to young master Stevie.

Planting 2014 style

Secondly, the orchard has two different types of trees Nonpareil and Carmel. Two varieties are necessary for cross pollination. Each variety blooms and is harvested at slightly different times. Nonpareil are the almonds usually what you buy in the store and serve on your table, Carmel are usually used for baking and found in things like chocolate almond candy bars.

Planting old school

The young trees are packed in saw dust to keep them from drying out. Back in the day planting an orchard meant manually digging a hole for each tree. Thankfully these days there are machines that make things a little easier. As you can see in the picture, it’s not so much a hole that’s dug as a trough that’s created for a tree to be planted in. (The pvc was to mark where the next the next tree was to be planted).

Packing down and pruning

After planting, the trees need to be packed down and pruned so they look like sticks in the ground. I’m not sure why they’re pruned like this, but I think the more branches there are the more nutrients go to those limbs and less to making the trunk and roots strong. It allows the farmer’s to shape the tree’s growth. I was to afraid of my destructive skills to pick up some shears and prune, but I greatly enjoyed walking along chatting in the warm sun shine.  

The last step to planting an orchard is to put milk cartons around the trunks so rabbits don’t eat them. That’s what I did (hence no pictures). It’s always been a dream of mine to do that, so when I got the chance I took it. I must admit, it was strange to be tramping through the dirt, barefoot in January, but it was so awesome. I really cannot state enough how alive one can feel working outside. Don’t get me wrong, farming is hard work, in this case I didn’t have to do any of it, and yet when I was out there, I was still a part of the family, I was accepted and belonged. And because of that I will always have a vested interest in that orchard.

My New Years Day was spent planting an orchard. Frankly, I don’t think there’s a better way to celebrate a fresh start and the hope of a new year.