Pretending to Farm

Spitting into the Wind

Inevitably, after planting a vegetable garden, a few things happen. For one, said planter of garden will spend an inordinate amount of time staring at the soil waiting for the tiniest green promise of the plant to come emerge from the soil. Despite donning reading glasses and practically getting on my belly to get close to the ground, like Sergeant Schultz, I see nothing, nothing! I know it has only been since Sunday that the seeds were sown but I have been watering diligently and saying nice things in that general direction. Besides, lettuce sprouts almost immediately. Please everyone, I know you all have power in numbers, will some germination my way, won’t you?

The second thing that will happen is this:

Friday Night

Snow showers likely and chance of rain. Much cooler. Snow level lowering to around 3500 feet overnight. Lows in the upper teens to lower 30s. Chance of precipitation 60 percent.

Get out your burlap, ladies and germs, it’s gonna be a cold one. We are, admittedly, only at around 2300 feet of elevation but you never know. It did snow last March, after all. I do know it will freeze here in the desert southwest and although the brassicas, the cabbage family plants, can handle a touch of frost, I don’t know if that applies when they are the wee bairns that they are. I think not.

Now you might say, “Lauren, what were you thinking planting in January anyway?”

Valid point, yes, but my Maricopa County extension planting calendar says now is the time and I believed them. It’s all about growing as much as one can before Hell comes this way again. Did I mention 2007 is forecasted to be the hottest on record? Brace yourselves, my readers. If you were with me last summer, you know what’s coming.

Perhaps Mother Nature and the big box store home improvement centers are conspiring, telling each other that Lauren does not have enough challenges right now. Let’s throw some more at her. Well, I will not say ‘bring it on’ as we as Americans should know by now what kind of trouble that gets us into. Instead, I will hold my chin up and stiffen that thinning upper lip as I purchase enough burlap to bag two tons of potatoes. Then, I will lovingly and determinedly without complaint cover the sproutlets with care. Adversity, I will smile in your omnipresent face until you determine me unappealing and move on. Anytime (as in now) is okay with me.

Behold the Pint-Sized Garden

Well, it’s been a busy weekend of cementing our reputation as the wild ones in the neighborhood followed by reinforcing another side of our personas, i.e., the vegetable farmer.

First, we said a spirited goodbye to our neighbors Kevin and Suzanne who are moving to Spokane, Washington. We are sad to see them go but perks were involved in their departure. Anthony got a “rad” train table for all his Thomas engines and wooden tracks as a hand-me-down and we all benefited from a looks-like-new trampoline and a large slide. The pint-sized calls these the “jump” and the “wee.”

Early Sunday morning, we headed to your favorite home improvement centers and spent far too much money on bloodhound and rabbit-proof fencing, seedlings, and other various grow-your-own-food supplies. Upon hearing our total at the register, we both agreed we could purchase the vegetables more inexpensively but they would not be full of fresh from the garden, organically grown goodness.

Behold the Pint-Sized Garden:

Complete with very baby spinach,

And very purple red cabbage (plus a few violas.) It has to be pretty, of course.

An inventory of the new digs (ha, ha, I amuse myself so) includes Brussels sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, shell peas, beets, lettuce, and soon, potatoes. (I’m waiting for the bag I bought to begin sprouting.) Also, we planted a perennial herb garden with sage, rosemary, thyme, and oregano. (Are you going to Scarborough Fair?) As the weather warms, various squashes, eggplant, and watermelon will replace the cool weather crops. No tomatoes though, it is too hot here in the summer for them to pollinate. Hopefully we will have a successful yield, that is if we can keep out the birds and chipmunks and the aforementioned dogs and wascally wabbits.

Weeding is for the Pint-Sized

David and I have decided to be more well-rounded farmers. Sure, we raise the ruminants for their fiber and feed our feathered friends for their tasty ovals, but we have been sorely lacking in the grow-your-own-food department, aisle 10. We used to have an impressive garden, both here and in San Diego, but we were weak. We (I) let the heat get the best of us (me) and the garden fell into disrepair and was taken over by fowl creatures. Enter our modern world of numerous e.coli outbreaks, engineered food, and industrial farming. The green thumbed creature hiding deep inside, long dormant, has reawakened only to find a bunch of birds where the garden used to be.

Have no fear. Stubborn man with bad back is here!

David dug deep into the hill o’ compost and filled wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of the golden brown to black broken down remains of hay, straw, poo, coffee grounds, and fruit and vegetable scraps and hauled them to the no man’s land south of the kitchen patio where we will attempt to get the winter garden growing in as short a time as possible. We will grow broccoli, cauliflower, and cabbage, as well as the less cruciferous but still tasty beets, carrots, and a million and one lettuce varieties. It’s a good thing, Martha.

To top it all off, we purchased a kitchen counter-top hydroponic garden to grow fresh herbs and greens in the summer when one can only cultivate melons, eggplants, and wrinkled skin outdoors. I am getting a wee bit giddy, like it was Christmas all over again, just without the stress, shopping, and pocketbook sucker punches.

At his diminutive height, I am counting on the pint-sized farmer to be a formidable weeder. I think some seedling identification flashcards are in order, don’t you?

One Man's Trash is Another Woman's Garden

Beauty is found in the most unlikely of places.  As I emptied the trash this morning, I was amazed to find this lovely flower growing on its own behind the dumpster, especially when I cannot seem to grow a darned thing out here.  In fact, I have almost given up on the whole idea of landscaping/gardening which is very unlike me.  I used to be the great vegetable grower.  However, when all my tomatoes, green and very numerous, began shriveling in the summer heat and all the corn just dried and died on the stalk, I halted my efforts.  I keep saying I’m going to grow a fall garden, plant some broccoli and cauliflower, lettuce and spinach, but since the turkeys live where my garden was I don’t know where to plant.  Apparently I should try the area behind the trash bin.  Unfortunately, though, the aesthetics have a bit to be desired. 

As I had the camera out, I had to take a few chicken pictures.  It’s in the Rancho Laurena bylaws.  I think I have more pictures of chickens than I have of my own children.  Great parenting, huh?  This is Slick, part Brown Leghorn, part Silver Spangled Hamburg.  Hasn’t he grown into a handsome rooster? 

  As I was taking Slick’s picture, Bill Withers decided to “horn” in on the photo shoot. 

Next, Inge posed prettily for a picture.

Lastly, as I was heading back to my by now heavily neglected and much-needed coffee, I spied this guy riding the pool vacuum hose around the pool.  He jumped off as I approached with the camera, but I managed to snap a quick shot of this Sonoran Desert Toad.  I’ll tell you more about them in a later post but for a little teaser, their skin is toxic and full of hallucinogens, which means dogs can die from chewing on them and the more unbalanced college students lick them to get high.  Fortunately, our dogs are too slow moving (and witted) to catch them and our kids, who I wouldn’t exactly call balanced, aren’t that weird.  Thank heavens for large favors.

Good Defenses Make Good Beverages

“When somebody tips back a glass of wine, they should be thanking caterpillars,” Dr. Wagner, an ecologist said. “You should be raising a toast.”

I read this quote in the New York Times this morning.  As someone who has tipped back a glass or ten of wine, it intrigued me.  A humble caterpillar was somehow responsible for that red glass of goodness?  I read on.  Dr. Wagner said caterpillars deserved appreciation for their indirect benefits to the world.   In addition to feeding a variety of creatures, songbirds included, it is to defend themselves against caterpillars that plants have developed many of mankind’s favorite chemical compounds, including nicotine, caffeine and tannins.

After reading this, I wasn’t so sure who to thank, the caterpillar for attacking the plant or the plant for developing the defensive chemicals.  Frankly, I’m leaning toward the plant.  If someone attacked me, and I somehow fought them off, I think I’d credit myself.  Plus, caterpillars are pretty darned gross and I don’t want to think about them when I try to enjoy a glass of wine or a cup of coffee.  There.  Argument settled.

Speaking of plants, outside our home we have a few bushes that, for the majority of the year, are rather unnoticed gray green shrubs.  However, after a good dose of rain, the Texas Sage explodes in a riot of purple, attracting every bee and bird within miles and miles.  My front porch sounds like we are being invaded by a squadron of Japanese Zeros.  The ocotillos change as well, though in a different way.  Most of the times, they look like thorny sticks growing out of the ground, but given enough moisture, they sprout little green leaves up and down their stalks.  This is called drought deciduousness.  Pretty cool, huh? 

A toast to plants, provider of wine and coffee, crops and shelter.  Here is to your adaptability,  enviable as it is far better than mine.  Slàinte Mhath!