Dahlia Lounge

Hoping to get these dahlias planted this weekend! J has always wanted dahlias, and I am crazy for the "dinnerplate" ones, in particular — they really should have flowers the size of a big dinnerplate!

We'll move some things around and fit them in a bed that used to be solid daylilies but is now becoming more of a cutting garden and "dahlia lounge" (name of my favorite restaurant).

Planting Vegetables

This past weekend I finished turning the soil in the raised beds and getting them ready for planting. I wanted to do this a few weeks ago but got busy.

Soil Building & the Results of the InterBay Method
The layering of mulch and compost worked fairly well. We got started a bit late on this last Fall, and I think a couple more weeks of aging under the burlap would have been good. We also probably layered in too many leaves, in general. And a lot of our leaves were taken from the backyard, where we have more than I’d like of a neighbor’s sickly pine tree needles around. So I ended up cleaning up handfuls of extra leaves that were dry from between the burlap or getting rid of clumps of things that didn’t decompose as much as I had hoped. And as I turned the soil, I also kept stopping to pull out as many of those darn needles as possible (I have heard that they can make the soil too acidic). I also turned in lime into each of the beds to “sweeten” the soil.

In the first bed on the left, I also mixed in a bag of Harvest Supreme soil amendment, which is an organic mix of chicken manure, bat guano, kelp meal, peat, and all the good stuff you need. I had ignored this bed last year so it needed a little extra attention.

The Plan
For the last couple of years I have tried mapping out a plan before I plant. It seems that I like to plan it out, to help me think about rotation ahead of time, think about how many plants I can fit as I look at my long seed list and consider that I can’t turn down those lovely starts at the nursery. So I draw it out as a draft. Then I head out and start putting seeds in. Things seem to evolve once I’m actually doing it, and things may move as I discover those irresistible starts. And of course, everything needs to take into consideration the tomato plants. I need to pack those in as much as possible when the time’s right!

Here’s the draft plan this year (sorry, I'm still learning how to use the camera). Some of it’s crazy and some of my seeds still have no place to go. But then I know from the past that I can’t count on everything doing well anyway.


And the Planting
By Sunday night, I had finally sown these seeds, watered them in, and covered each bed with black netting to discourage the wildlife from digging and pilfering my seeds before they have a chance. That’s a whole other topic.

I'm happy with my plant ID tags this year. I thought to add the date they were sown, for once. On the backs, I added some notes on thinning and harvesting as I can never remember later. Maybe I’ll remember to look at those when the time comes.

Here’s what’s in the beds now:

Onion, evergreen white bunching
Parsely, Italian flat leaf
Lettuce, bib limestone
Rocket
Mache, winter lettuce
Swiss chard, bright lights
Spinach, smooth leaf
Lettuce, looseleaf blend
Radish, icicle
Radish, French breakfast
Peas, Alaska early bush

Coming Up Next
Here’s what’s happening in the makeshift greenhouse (taken this morning):

True leaves!

Black Thumb Bill of Rights

In case I have given the impression that I am some sort of plant expert who knows what she's doing, I will regularly post evidence and trials of my black thumb.

I've been slowly changing how I deal with this, hopefully in a more healthy way. I've noticed some people easily toss aside and move on, saying maddening things like: “All plants have a lifetime. Guess it was its time.” Or the irritatingly chipper: “Guess I get to buy something new!”

I feel responsible for missing early cues that things were going south and doing nothing, or making uneducated decisions that resulted in destruction and loss of cash. I feel guilt, disappointment, and failure. But what I am discovering about all this annoyance at the tossers-aside approach and my own approach of taking things a little more seriously is that what really makes me crazy is how tossers-aside give the appearance of not even wanting to figure out and learn from what COULD BE their own negligence. I think I should owe it to my victims at least to make some sort of attempt to learn: what went wrong; what did I do; how can I avoid this again.

As my dead plant–count grows, I seem to be coming up with my own easier-on-me black thumb accountability and trial system. I think it will help me to accept death, get through the grief and guilt faster, and move on.

Black Thumb Bill of Rights — Amendment I
"In all prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by a jury of this house and in the garden location wherein the crime shall have been committed, and to publicly admit the plant is totally dead; to be confronted with the witnesses against her and listing of possible causes; to have the chance to name a few actions taken to avoid the killing-off, and to have the assistance of others for the speedy removal and (more educated) replacement of the victim plant."

Me v Totally Dead Austrailian Lavender
For example, I discovered this weekend while I was counting to three and then on "two" ripped the dead lavender out of the patio garden, and handed it to J, asking him to get rid of it quickly, I immediatly spouted off my case and rationalization. I presented the facts and conclusion that:

1. FACT: That variety was from Austrailia and never should have been left outside all winter, uncovered.
2. FACT: This is not Austrailia. It would never work. What was I thinking?
3. And the evidence was corroborated by the second specimen contained in the bed with the lilacs: also totally dead.

Sentence
My sentence is that I can't go buy that same type of lavender for the third time, even though I really like how it repeated blooming over and over, and was fast-growing and not picky at all last summer. The dead Austrailian lavender was quickly replaced by a healthier variety that was a bit crowded in another location anyway.

Case closed.

Current Open Case: Me v Tangerine Tree
For today, here is the open case of the once-lovely tangerine tree that J gave me for my birthday last August. It was gorgeous and impressively adorned with two plump fruits.

Exhibit A: Before
(photo taken in December 2006)


Exhibit B: After
(photo taken mid-March 2007)

Are we really really really sure it’s absolutely dead??

Trays of Cotyledon

I am thrilled that we have had good luck with sprouts this year! The following photos were taken on March 16, about 11 days after sowing. Nearly all of the seed types have sprouted. The only disappointing row is the fennel, which shows no signs of life yet. (This happened last year, as well, when I put the fennel seeds directly outside. Never sprouted. Nothing.) I need to check if they just take much longer to germinate or possibly begin to consider that there is something about me that will not allow one of my favorite things to grow here.



Now that it's time to lift the plastic "greenhouse" lid on these sprouts, I am reminded of the terrible dangers now awaiting the helpless sprouts ...

March 16 Blooms

Blooming outside today …


Primula, small daffodils, tulips, pansies in a pot by the front door


Daphne odora by the front door (probably my favorite bloom of the year for its incredible scent)


Plum tree in front of the house


Muscari


White bluebells? Not sure what these are called but they are like bluebells, sort of weedy perhaps


Blueberry buds


Buds on a pretty bush in the back yard (I don’t know what this is yet)


Green plum tree in the back yard


Star Magnolia


Lilac buds



Forsythia (dangles over from the neighbor’s yard)

See also: Camelia

Blooming inside today …
White orchid

First Sprouts

This photo was taken on Sunday, March 11, just a couple of days after the seeds were sown in the peat pots! According to my patented Seed Tray Notation System®, these are the Garnet Oakleaf Lettuce sprouts. Go sprouts, go!

SEEDS!

Thankfully, seeds were 50% off the day I went to pick up most of the new ones. I am going to try using some leftover seeds from 2006, too (these are lying down on the counter in photos). All new seeds are propped up along the back, against the wall. How am I ever going to fit all this potential from the Seed Lab in the yard? I don’t know. Have to figure that out next ….

First Outside — this week

• Onion, evergreen white bunching
  
• Parsely, Italian flat leaf
  
• Parsely, Italian flat leaf (2006) — plant in circle garden
  
• Lettuce, bib limestone
  
• Rocket (2006)
  
• Mache, winter lettuce (2006)
  
• Swiss chard, bright lights
  
• Spinach, smooth leaf (2006)
  
• Lettuce, looseleaf blend
  
• Radish, icicle (2006)
  
• Radish, French breakfast (2006)
  
• Peas, Alaska early bush (shelling)
  

First Inside — already done!
These were started in the peat containers last Thursday.

• Lettuce, garnet oakleaf
• Chives (2006) — most of these will go in the circle garden or in front beds
• Chives (2007)
• Garlic Chives
• Leeks, giant musselberg
• Carrots, little finger (2006)
• Carrots, purple haze (2006)
• Fennel
• Broccoli, green sprouting calabrese
• Broccoli raab
• Cauliflower, early snowball
• Squash, yellow crookneck (2006)

Mid- to late-April Outside

• Eggplant, twilight hybrid (keep under cloche)
• Garden beans, pencil pod wax bush (2006)
• Garden beans, jade

Sow Inside in Later April

• Pumpkin, sugar or pie
• Cucumber, space master
• Cucumber, lemon
• Zucchini, jackpot hybrid bush (2006)
• Zucchini, black beauty bush
• Round zucchini, bush summer squash
• Squash, scallop bush mix
  

Sow Inside in May

• Brussel sprouts, dwarf improved
  

Sow Outside in May

• Garden beans, Blue Lake Bush
• Lettuces, chives (rescatter, if there’s any room!)
  

Sow Mid-Summer Outside

• Endive, green curled
• Lettuces (rescatter, if there’s any room!)
  

Not Pictured
When I get the tomato transplants, I will underplant them with common vetch. We learned in our soil-building class that this can help replace nitrogen as well as reduce weeds and soil compaction.

The Plan for the Peat Trays

I’m using a garden notebook my friend Shannon gave me. So far, I have only graphed the first indoor sowing, as I am saving some rows in the peat trays for next month’s indoor planting.

Last year I devised this patented notation system, creating codes for the seeds since the first time I did this, I didn’t know what anything was when it started sprouting. I also place a patented locator figurine in the trays. These must stay in position so I can stay oriented. This year, I am using dinosaurs — a brontosaurus in Tray 1. A stegosaurus in Tray 2.
Makeshift Greenhouse

The little library/hallway has south-facing windows and a perfect surface to fit the trays. Here’s where they stay. I like to rotate the trays a little over the weeks, though I am sure it probably makes no real difference in the actual light they get.

Warm in New Home
Crossing my fingers for a warm jungle of sprouts soon!

Camelia Bloom

The Pineapple Express

Taking advantage of the Pineapple Express weather pattern we're in (warm and wet, direct from Hawaii), Saturday morning we zipped around the yard, trying to get the lawn work going before the supposed days and days of rains started to fall, perfect conditions to start the seed, we hope. In a couple of hours, we mowed, raked up the grass and debris from the winter, overseeded the whole thing, and applied Dr. Earth (organic fertilizer).

Hope the constant rain means we don't have to run around with a sprinkler to help the grass seed go this year. That's my least favorite thing about the yard. I am sure I will whine about this at a later date.

Now I can't figure out how we're supposed to get the rest of the work done, when you're not supposed to walk all over the grass seed...

The Seed Lab

Earlier this week I set up the seed lab in the dining room. Along the back counter you can see all the seed packets lined up. The bright green tags hanging above them note when I should start them, and if I’m going to start them indoors or outside, directly in the soil. So if you count the green tags, I’m supposedly going to do seven plantings.

The black trays on the right are for the indoor sowing. The table contains various books and a notebook to help me map out my Plan.

Last year (and all other years, really, that I’ve been trying to do this), I get seriously disappointed. I think my garden and seeds are doing okay. They’re alive! But then I walk by somebody else’s parking strip plot of haphazard plantings only to see gigantic pumpkins! Oodles of tomatoes! Such dark, dark green and stout vegetation! What the hell. How come my corn turned out to be the only pygmy corn, never getting taller than knee-high? Whoever heard of that?

I always buy plants from the nursery to transplant in later, too. Things I can’t resist, and always overplanting tomatoes. (You just can’t really do well in our climate unless you let the greenhouses handle getting these going. Not warm enough, and our season is shorter.)

This year, I am really making an effort to pay attention to the info on the packets about when to plant. I’m also trying to stick with the guidance of the Maritime Northwest Garden Guide. This means I’m starting less inside, and being choosier about those things. I’m planting more things directly in the beds, but many of my favorites I’ll actually do later than I usually want. (I always thought it had to be better to start early and give them more time!) Maybe things will look better and be healthy this way.

And then I went to the nursery a day later and was given MORE sheets on planting times and companion plants/antagonistic plants…. So I have some cross-checking to consider. (I’ll post my current plan in the next blog entry.)

I have used these seed-starting tabs in trays for about 4 years or so. I think they’re fun, and they don’t look too bad sitting out in the house.

Before you add water:


After you add two quarts of water per tray (72 peat tabs per tray):

Waking Up

The raised beds are still covered and cozy in their burlap blankets this week. Big plans for them in the next few days!

Last Fall, we took a class from the Seattle Tilth called “Putting Your Gardens to Bed.” We learned about a soil-building technique, which we’ve tried here, called the InterBay Method. It was very simple and promises to replenish the soil naturally and grow lots of beneficial, hardworking microorganisms.

Basically, we layered “greens” and “browns” on top of the existing soil, wet everything, and then placed burlap (free from the coffee roaster) on them. We just left them alone all winter. The greens and browns are things like leaves, other garden matter, compost, and used coffee grounds (free from the Starbucks down the street). We also kept a few things in the garden and kept gaps in the burlap — lavender plants and some parsley. They said leaving some things like this can help reduce soil compaction and also put good things in the soil, too.

I haven’t even peeked under them yet, but J has and says it looks like great black stuff under there.

Spring is in the Air

This past Sunday (March 4) we headed out for the first real day of gardening! Only a few days earlier, we had about four inches of snow but by Sunday all had melted, and the air had warmed and cleared. My tactic this year is to approach the yard section by section for initial clean up and some pruning, as well as finally deal with a few projects we haven’t quite been getting to.

So we started right out front by the street. This is the area under the plum tree, where we had a sick --- but beautiful --- very old rhodie removed about a year ago. We also had a completely overgrown patch of what we were told are irises, though we have only seen the small, orange berries since moving in two years ago. Although I seem to have a vague memory of seeing one or two flowers, we are fairly sure they just haven’t bloomed. I guess this is because they were overcrowded.

These irises are called “Stinking Iris.” I read a little about them. Supposedly when you bruise the leaves, the emit a bad odor, usually described as roast-beef-like and that can be smelled from a good distance away.

Although I haven’t eaten roast beef in about 18 years and have never cooked one myself, I am pretty sure I know what that smell is. And I don’t smell it! (Well, maybe just a little but I’m not certain that isn’t just from the suggestion.) Or maybe we are just used to it, and everybody on the block knows us as the Roast Beef People.

For 6+ hours, we raked leaves, weeded, and pruned. J focused on those irises. And he replanted them in a new pattern to help fill in. (Hoping for a new bush of some sort soon to add, too – and eventually really spruce things up with a full, mixed hedge and dwarf fruit tree!)

It felt great to get outside and make some progress. Yay for Spring! I am looking at (and smelling) the new deck furniture in the basement every time I go down to do a load of laundry. Can’t wait.