Pepper’s red

A week or so ago frost threatened, so I went out at 11:00 PM to cover my 30 (!!!) fresh new pansies in the mailbox bed and the various things in containers on the front walk.  It was late and dark, and I was tired and chilly, so I basically kicked and shoved the various planters close enough to each other so that I could throw a sheet over them.  Mission accomplished, I retired for the evening.

The next morning, when I uncovered everything, some of the pepper plants’ branches had gotten tangled with each other, and in moving the planters back to their original locations, I managed to knock off a couple peppers with their associated leaves.  Sad day.  They were both still quite green (we like them red), so I took them inside and put one on the windowsill by the piano and one on top of the plant stand in the living room.  I had no idea whether or not peppers continue to ripen once they’re picked, but if not, I figured we’d just eat them green and be happy.

Well, glorious day, the one in the living room is now almost totally red!!!   It will be sweet and delicious very soon.

Seed saving

Now that I am spending a solid three-and-a-half hours a day in virtually constant proximity to Andrew, I find myself am coming up with creative ways to multi-task while at the dining room table.  Today’s little task-ette involved saving seeds.

I’ve been saving marigold seeds since 2007, and they’ve done great the past two years, so I have decided to expand to some other varieties.  Today I worked on extricating and storing seeds of red verbena and pink zinnia.

The process involves collecting the dried flower heads, piling them on one end of a paper towel, and then using fingers and/or tweezers to pull them apart and locate the seeds; which are then piled at the other end of the paper towel.  This kind of work is greatly facilitated by having 20/20 vision, but since I do not, I simply bob my head up and down continuously, attempting in vain to focus on the miniscule seeds.  I have also learned that deep sighing, coughing, and sneezing are all to be strictly avoided while bent over a conglomeration of teeny tiny seeds.

Once a nice little stash of seeds has been accumulated, I deftly dump them into one hole of a seven compartment locking pill box ($0.99 at Wal-Mart) and label the lid with masking tape.  This whole process is VERY labor intensive, so I think I finally understand why am envelope containing 16 seeds costs $1.25.

I’m planning to start a lot of little flowers indoors in January or February, so that I can plant them straight into the flower beds and mulch around them right away.  My goal is to not plant any seeds directly into the ground.  In fact, I have this brainy idea to try starting a few of the seeds now, just to make sure they really will germinate.  Maybe that will be a Friday project.

And now, I shall dutifully wrench myself from this keyboard and tackle the bedroom cleaning that didn’t get done yesterday.

We have tomatoes

They are very small and green, but I am fairly sure they are tomatoes.

Given all my tomato disease problems in the past, this year we took drastic measures.  We dumped the barrels and bought all new soil, peat moss, and manure.  To get optimum disease resistance, I paid dearly online for several varieties seeds that were SURE to resist the dreaded fungal wilt.  However, I got them started inside too late, and I ended up having to go buy some plants at Lowe’s.

I selected “Celebrity,” because it was the only indeterminate variety there that had  VFFNT disease-resistance.  I spent under $4.00 for those nine sprigs, planted them deeply, and hoped fervently that fungal wilt would never attack their green leafy tenderness.

It did and I wanted to CRY!  Only a few weeks after being planted, their leaves were steadily being covered with little brown spots, then wilting and falling off.  One plant was so significantly diseased that I pulled it out and threw it away.  Extremely discouraged, I went online and read all I could about wilt, how to prevent it, and how to treat it.  Copper and anti-fungal chemicals were both recommended.  Back to Lowe’s I trotted.  A very helpful lady in the lawn and garden area helped me find the juice I needed.  It kills bugs as well as fungal diseases. For the price, it should also do the dishes and fold laundry.

The instructions said to apply it once a week till the problem was resolved, then once every two weeks thereafter.  I am very pleased to report that after three applications, my tomato plants are doing much better.  I don’t know if I dare describe them as “thriving,” but they all have healthy green growth and lots of flowers.

The two barrels sit side-by-side, nearly touching each other, and they have exactly the same proportions of the same components in their soils, but the plants in the northern barrel are noticeably fuller and much taller than the plants in the southern barrel.  However, the tomatoes are all on the plants in the southern barrel!  Go figure.  I am just thrilled that the leaves are looking significantly less spotty and there are three miniature green fruits out there.

It is planted

It’s Friday, April 17, and I have spent the morning planting.  Yay!

To the front bed, I added a “winky blue” columbine, a hosta, and nine impatiens.  The new back bed received a two-tone, yellowish green and green plant that requires total shade, but which for some reason no longer had its tag, a hosta, and nine impatiens.  Those were the plants, and then came the seeds.

I had purchased several packets of shady mix wildflowers and a couple of sunny mix, and since rain is forecast for the next couple days, I only put in half of each of those – the shady in the back, and some shady and some sunny in the front.

I transplanted my tiny-and-not-looking-so-good-yet red pepper seedlings into the window boxes that will sit along the front steps.  In the two grey pots of crocuses out front, I planted some additional miscellaneous flower seeds that I had around from last year, and I planted seeds for some little white flowers (can’t remember the name) in the watering can.

In the mailbox bed, I planted marigold seeds for the border and morning glory seeds to climb the mailboxes.  I also transplanted a rebellious yellow pansy from the mailbox bed (which is full of exclusively purple pansies now) to the front bed, where it looks much more appropriate.

Just for fun, I loaded a big pot with good soil, placed it next to the tomato barrels, and sowed it with watermelon seeds.  Then I went around and watered everything, cleaned up my mess, and put stuff away.  It was almost three hours of gardening fun.

Now I just need my special disease-resistant tomato seed to SPROUT.  I was late ordering them, and this weekend I really should be planting some 4-inch high tomato plants.  Instead, I wait, because the tomatoes available at Lowe’s (or Wal-Mart or Home Depot) aren’t resistant to a wide range of fungal infections.  Disease has really slammed my tomato crop the past two years, so I guess I will keep waiting a while longer.  Surely late tomatoes will be better than no tomatoes!

Meanwhile, I do need to grind up all those eggshells on the counter and work them into the tomato barrels.

Suicidal daffodils

Some five years ago, in the fall, we planted a bunch of daffodil bulbs along both sides of our front walk.  I have dreamed of having seeing them arise each year into nicely mulched beds, but so far, they just plow through the sod and bloom.

I was told that one shouldn’t whack them off till about six weeks after they’re done blooming, so as to allow the leaves to make a lot of carbs and such for the bulbs to store for the following year’s show.  That makes sense, but it causes a lot of problems for our bedless bulbs, because by the time they are done blooming, mowing season has begun.  I always admonish the lawn care team to “Not Mow Down or Weed-Eat the Daffodils,” but in spite of that, about half of them (the daffodils, not the lawn care specialists) succumb to gas-powered blades of one type or another.  Then those (again, the daffodils) that are left standing are surrounded by high grass that can by definition be neither mown nor weed-eated.  This means that for five or six weeks every spring, I spend quite a bit of time sitting on a milk crate on the front walk, using my scissors to trim the grass between the surviving daffodils.

I really like daffodils, and I figure that squatting and snipping is easier than the work that would be required to dig out two long skinny beds, so I usually complain a little and then get to it.

Thankfully, we had real live snow a few weeks ago, and it was on the ground for almost a week.  HEAVENLY!  However, the temps this week have been up into the low seventies (it is February, for crying out loud!), and I have been concerned that the little daffodil bulbs might incorrectly think spring is here and jump the gun.  Each morning, when I go out for my constitutional, I closely examine the dead, matted grass along the walk and confirm that there are no daffodil probes in sight.  Each day I’ve been relieved to know the daffodils are using the sense God gave a centipede and staying in their subterranean hideouts.

Until today.  Yesterday there were absolutely no signs of daffodillian activity, but this morning, all along the walk on both sides, one to two inch blades of green daffodility have shoved their way skyward.

Poor daffodils.  They’ve never been to Punxsutawney, and they don’t know that they’re cutting off their noses to spite their faces by springing up so jauntily.  I truly hope they get to bloom, but I fear they may freeze their buns off before that happens.

Butterflies!

You may remember that this year I undertook a rather significant enlargement of the “ring” flower bed around a tree in our front yard.  I want to eventually have several perennials in there and mix in various annuals from year to year.  This is also the first time I have ever used mulch.  Mulch is a wonder drug, if you ask me.  No weeds, less watering, nicer look.  It’s all good unless you sow seeds in a to-be-mulched bed.

A few things came up from last year in that bed:  two of my three purple chrysanthemums and a couple clumps of pinks, but I wanted much more.  I planted a lot of impatiens (pink, white, and purple), several pink vinca, and both purple and red verbena.

I had saved seeds from my last year’s voluminous crop of marigolds, and I sowed them around the edges toward the center of the yard.  I splurged probably too much money on a lovely hosta.  It’s supposed to be a perennial  and I fervently hope it survives the winter and comes up again next year.  It did make a tall column of delicate pale purple flowers early in the summer.

In addition to the saved marigolds, I also wanted to buy some different seeds, but I was having a hard time finding seeds for flowers that thrive in shade.  (It’s shady under that tree.)  I looked in several places, and finally found at a Wal-Mart garden center one and only one package labeled “shady mix.”  Evidently the last of its kind, it was a jumbo pack, and I snatched it up.  After all the hauling and mixing and dumping and digging and planting, my back was sore, my legs were sore, and I was hot and sweaty.  I did not have the energy or inclination to dig neat little rows in which to sow that final pack of “shady mix” seeds.  Instead, I dumped the whole pack into my tired right hand and flung them across the bed.  Highly scientific.

What has come up is a thick, dense bed of flowering plants, full of color, and of varying heights and textures.  I love it!!  And so do the butterflies.  Yes, some of the unknown “shady mix” plants have crowded out several of my impatiens, and there is a relatively bare spot on the driveway side of the tree, but there’s plenty of variety, plenty of colors, and plenty of butterflies.

There are two of the same type that come around a lot.  I think they may be Eastern Black Swallowtails.  I don’t know how to tell if it’s the same pair, but they (or their look-alikes) spend a lot of time sucking nectar from our flowers.  They like the tall “shady mix ones” and they are particularly fond of my marigolds.

I have tried to take pictures of the butterflies, and it is a challenge, to say the least.  However, I have learned that when they are really hungry (or is it thirsty?) they are so busy sucking that they will let me move the camera in quite close – sometimes less than a foot!  Of course, I do have to take 326 pictures to get two good ones, and I have yet to get them out of my camera and into lickr, but when I do, faithful readers should be duly impressed.

It should also be noted that pictures from Jessica’s and Andrew’s Children’s Theater Workshop performances are now in my Flickr sets.  S-L-O-W-L-Y but surely, I am getting my photos organized online.

Today Josiah asked me how many pictures I had on my computer in my shared pictures.  I thought perhaps 2000.  I was wrong.  He told me I have just shy of 11,000 pictures saved!  When did I ever have time to even TAKE 11,000 pictures?  Oh, I guess it was when I was standing next to the tree bed shooting butterflies when I should have been doing something more useful.

But housework will be with me always, right?  The butterflies might not be.  Not to mention children.  But I can’t think about that, because I am not scheduled to cry again today.

Beware the the dreaded fungal gnats

Last time Scott was gone on a trip, I re-potted two of our sentimental plants that were completely root-bound and nearly dead.  One was a philodendron that I have had since 1984, making it 24 years old.  There’s something about keeping it alive that just appeals to me.  The other was given to Scott in 2002 when his dad died, and he’d like that one to live also.

So I bought new potting soil and did the deal.  Each of the existing plants (and believe me, they were only barely existing) ended up being divided into three new pots, thus providing us with six potentially beautiful plants for the price of potting soil and some pots.

I tended them carefully, watering them diligently, and wishing them back to vibrant life.  For weeks, they all just looked like dead sticks.  It was rather depressing.  Then I caught a glimpse of fresh green on one of Scott’s, and v-e-r-y  s-l-o-w-l-y all six have been returning to life.  However, a few weeks ago, I began to notice what appeared to be fruit flies crawling on the soil of a couple of those plants.  I didn’t worry too much, as we do bring in fruit flies from the grocery from time to time, although not usually this early in the year. . .

Well, I should have worried a lot sooner.  It turns out that these little beasties are not fruit flies but fungal gnats (or guh-natts, as we like to call them, in honor of my dad’s reading of The Snaystorm Surprise, wherein Mrs. Cat receives a kuh-nock on her door).  Anyway, they don’t do much if any harm to the plant, but they are obnoxious and evidently quite fertile.  The adult guh-natts lay “two to 300″ (!!!) eggs in the soil, where their little larvae feed on “decaying organic matter” in the soil.  Their full life cycle is about four weeks, and the only way to control them – if you are not a professional nurseryman with rights and access to industrial chemicals, which I am not – is to try to kill all the adults with Raid-type spray and let the soil dry out completely, which will kill the eggs and larvae.

Therefore, you can find me twice a day religiously spraying the heck out of the soil, the plants, and the areas around said.  I surely wouldn’t have watered twice a week if I had known I was aiding and abetting a few thousand guh-natts, and I do wish there had been a way to know that my brand new “sterile” potting soil was infested.

We were on a camping trip recently in which the mosquitoes and other flying critters were especially vicious.  We had a saying that what we did most was “sweat and swat.”  Now we spray and slap, and may the houseplants win!

Plants, planters, and planting

The Tupperware beach towel combo saved all my plants except one puny tomato that was probably on the way out anyway.  We did have a full frost, but all is well in the gardening realm.  So good, in fact, that today I planted more flowers (mostly impatiens in the big shady bed), more tomatoes, AND I repotted two horridly root-bound houseplants, separating each into threee smaller versions of itself.  It was a full afternoon of gardening joy.  Now I am just hoping most of those plants recover from the shock of being torn apart, shoved into new dirt, and given a cold bath.

Fashion tomatoes

So I planted the tomatoes and flower seeds a week after the average date of last frost, when it was 75 and sunny, and the 10-day forecast showed nothing below mid-40s.

Tonight there is a widespread freeze warning for lands to our north and a widespread “hard frost” warning for lands to our south.  We straddle the line betwixt the two.  What’s a gardener to do?

The old bedsheet that I usually have on hand to cover plants has gone AWOL, so I pulled out all the beach towels and used them.  Each whiskey barrel is ceremoniously draped with its own colorful towel (not unlike a coffin, and that’s probably apropos, as all but two of the tomato plants seem to have gone to their reward, compliments of our most recent deluge), the mailbox bed sports three mismatched towels, nicely overlapped, and the big bed has only one beach towel but is tastefully accessorized with two upended Tupperwares, each covering one of my beloved trailing verbenas – kind of like pheasant under glass.

A couple mornings ago, there was clear evidence of critters having visited the big bed overnight.  (Can’t blame ‘em; I visit a big bed EVERY night.)  I wonder what the armadillos will think of the new decor?

The frost/freeze warnings expire at 9:00 AM.  Until then, all the folks going to work will have something – ummm – dazzling(?) to brighten their morning as they zip by.

And just to keep us guessing. . .

The push mower has stopped functioning.  Yes, that would be the same push mower that we just had serviced a few weeks ago, and for which we returned our brand-new, only-used-once push mower from Wal-Mart.  Now our sleek red beauty has decided that it will not burn gas directly from the tank.  Rather, it will only burn gas that is pumped in by manually pressing the primer.  This means that you must first prime the mower, then pull the started cord.  When it starts, you can mow for about 2.7 seconds, after which you must bend down and press the primer.  If you stand up again really fast, you can get in about 1.8 more seconds of mowing before stooping to prime it again.

This style of mowing actually has great potential as a weight loss regimen.  Think what all that stooping and bending could do for one’s thigh muscles – not to mention the innate cardio-vascular workout provided.

The bottom line is that Andrew can’t mow right now (boo hoo) and Josiah has to do the whole place with just the rider and weed-eater.  This can be done – and was done for years by our neighbor, Reggie, as mentioned in an earlier post – but for Josiah, it slows the process considerably.  The grass is tall and he will have to mow within the next couple of days, so we shall see how his skills develop.  I am wondering if we should have kept that cheap Wal-Mart mower as a back-up.  Do most landowners keep multiple mowers in case one breaks down, or are landowners by definition people who service their own mowers?