Help Name the New Garden

After the Behemoth of 2009, I told Doug we needed to bring this whole “garden” thing down a notch.  Doug, we can’t weed it all.  Doug, we don’t have time to pick them all.  But Daaaaaaahhh uggggg!

Okay, okay. I didn’t whine.  But I did make a respectful request.  Tone it back? Just a bit?

Doug, such a sneaky little devil, started planting when I was away.  When I came back, the yet-to-be-named Garden of 2010 looked like this:

And then a few weeks later, it looked like this:

And now it looks like this:

Before the season began, I had two demands:  1) Fewer tomato plants.  2) The tomato plants must be caged.  It was so sad to see tomato plants laying down in the dirt last year, tomatos rotting away without any support. I suggested we cut the number of plants by, say, half?  We’d still have 15 or so.

When Doug walked in with tomato cages, I jumped for joy. Honey! Won’t this be great? How many do you have there? 25? Well, 25 is better than how many we had last year.  Go forth and conquer.

Now, when Doug walked in with more tomato cages, I did not jump for joy.  I did not jump at all.  I used my lawyering skills to corner him into the answer:  he’d purchased 25 additional cages.

That’s right folks.  Doug has planted about 50 tomato plants in our backyard.

If I thought last year was a “behemoth,” what is this?  Consider this a call for suggestions.

Saturday Special: Artesian Well-Powered Sprinkler System

Last summer I made a wee suggestion that we plant a few tomato plants.  Well, Doug cleared a 50 x 50 foot garden, planted 30 tomato plants, and decided it was necessary to install a sprinkling system.  (Stay tuned for the update on our garden thus far this year.)

Although I tease him for the amount of veggies we ended up planting, the sprinkler system was pretty ingenious.  In addition to improving the house by adding a sprinkler system, we added a totally personalized way to fill the sprinkler system with water.

It turns out we are way too cool to water our lawn and veggies with the city’s water.  Come on now.  We water our goods with pure artesian spring water. Nothing but the best for our foliage.

And the source of this fancy-schmancy water?  This very, very non fancy pipe:

Doug is lucky enough to have an artesian spring in his backyard.  The water gushes like crazy – Doug’s latest estimate is 11 gallons per minute. That’s a whole lotta tasty h20!

An artesian spring is different from other water sources in that the water is thrust upward from below as opposed to running downhill. That makes it super cold and super pure.

Image available here.

Beyond that, all I know is that Jack loves to lick it up.

Doug did all the trenching and pipe laying that is standard for building a sprinkler system. But in addition to all that jazz, he had to build a water pump to pump the water from the spring to the pipes.

(I will pay big money to someone who can disguise this pump. Big money, I say.)

Here’s what’s going on inside there:

The pump fills a bucket full of the spring water in preparation for the sprinkler system. Any overflow is released down a culvert.

At Doug’s command, the pump sends water to the sprinklers and onto the yard.  I must admit that the water pump is pretty magical.  Doug and I like to sit on the patio at night and just watch it water those veggies.  Every once and I while I pat his back with a, “You made that.”  And he did. And it’s awesome.

Now, enough pattin’ our backs.  Who has ideas about covering this really ugly pump?

Tip Jar: The Sharpest Tool in the Shed

Today, our anonymous tipster is sending out love for a gardening tool called the “Hori, Hori.”  She may be spreading useful information, but I’m restraining myself from making inappropriate jokes.  Just know that I’m laughing on the inside.

. . .

The Hori Hori is the creme de la creme of garden tools.  Its unique serrated edge makes it your shovel and saw in one.  I’ve looked and, trust me, you simply won’t find anything that’s comparable. It digs into dirt, cuts through roots and weeds – you can even use it to open bags of mulch. And even better, you won’t need to go back and forth from the tool shed to get a project done.

Frankly, I use the Hori Hori for everything.  (Ignore Tasha’s giggles.)

There are two models of the Hori Hori.  I opted for the more expensive, stainless steel model for about $42.  I bought it last summer at Ward and Child at 678 South 700 East.  The second option is made of carbon steel and is about half the cost.  I haven’t spoken with anyone who has tried it out.

Do you know any fun Japanese words? Am I the only one in love smitten with the Hori Hori?

Let the sun blast down on my grass. Pretty please.

In my second prayer to the sun gods today, I hereby beg for the sun to shine directly on – and with all its might – our yard.  This pesky weather has caused all sorts of turmoil in our gardening attempts, including the sprouting of some very unwelcome fungi in our otherwise green and happy lawn.

I hate to concede any points to the ‘shrooms, but word is that they are actually beneficial to the lawn. Their big root system helps break down organic materials so that nutrients are more easily released to the grass.

Perhaps you’re thinking, what’s the big deal, lady? You’re getting extra nutrients. Well, we have a hairy mutt named Jack that eats grass regularly.  We think he knows that mowing a big yard is lots of work and he wants to help out.  And in addition to grass, he will eat any and everything else he gets his big jowls on – sticks, rocks, leaves, etc.  I have no reason to believe mushrooms are not equally appealing.

Yummy!

Unfortunately, authorities on the subject are clear:  Dogs + fungi = bad news.  Even just licking one can make him sick.  “They” say that parasol-shaped mushrooms and small brown mushrooms are the most threatening to canines.  Well, swell.  Aren’t ours small, brown, parasol-shaped mushrooms? And it doesn’t help that we’ve been ignorantly kicking them out of the yard.  This act spreads the spores, which will create even more parasol-shaped monsters.

So our only plan of action is this:  Reduce the moisture.  Well, duh.  We can only turn off our sprinklers and wait for the sun to shine.  We also need to dig up the existing fungi and  check for new sprouts each morning before we let Jack out.  Yeah, that’ll happen.

In short, we are completely at the mercy of Mother Nature.

Have you found any way to rid the yard of mushrooms when the sun goes away? Any tricks to keeping a inquisitive dog away from them?

Let the sun shine on your vines!

The front of our house is brick with one window centered facing the street. Terribly predictable, if you ask me.  When I first moved in, I pulled out two awful tam bushes flanking either side of the window and felt like a super hero.  It was ten times more gratifying than any day in court.

But we still needed to find a way to add interest.  Enter Mama Judd.  MJ is a vast resource of gardening know-how.  One summer day she took her trimmers to a ho-hum shrub in our yard and Edward-Scissorhanded that thing into a hip umbrella-like masterpiece. (Yes. I just turned Edward Scissorhands into a verb.)

Next we needed some height and color to pique interest on each side of the window.  We found a weeping cherry tree that fit to our required dimensions. It  was planted to the right and miraculously survived our tyranny and the winter.

And for the other side?

Mama Judd talked me into a Clematis, a vine “they” say is very difficult to grow. The next day she talked me into a second Clematis. I was very much the proverbial deer in the headlights.  But armed with her encouragement and some serious persistence,  I babied those vines.  I massaged them gently into submission to our custom trellis.  Nonetheless, at the end of the season both were looking sad and resistant.

This spring, I almost did a cartwheel on our front lawn when I saw a green bud on one of our Clematis vines.  One bud turned into two, two into three, and suddenly, it seemed like even the weakest vine was – gasp – growing.

On April 20, our strongest vine (the vine on the right) had reached the third rung of the trellis.

Victory! I felt like a real gardener.  Slowly the vine began to shed the dead and life took hold.  And quickly, very quickly, the vine began to sprout.  By mid-May, the vine doubled in size, reaching the sixth rung.  Go ahead and marinate in that . . . It doubled its size in less than a month.  And it’s getting thicker by the day.

Pretty soon we’ll have blooms.  Look at the beautiful flowers it already produced early this spring!

I credit its success to sand-like soil that allows thorough drainage and a shaded base. With a protected base and lots of sun on the vines themselves, you’re bound to have beautiful blooms.

Are the bases of your vines shaded? Have you ever tackled a tam bush?

Tip Jar: New Petunia Breed

Petunias are an easy-to-grow annual that even I feel comfortable growing!  And according to our mystery tipster today, there’s a new breed that might be just perfect for your garden.

With only 11 days left until the first day of summer, it’s high time you finished planting those flower beds!  Lucky for you, there’s a new kid on the block that’s sure to impress your summer guests.

Although the name suggests otherwise, the “Pretty Much Picasso” is not a best-selling biography or an abstract art show.  It’s the newest petunia by Proven Winners.  Apparently there are awards given out for petunias and this one is sweeping them all.

Because it is supposed to thrive as a spiller plant – and because I’m not one to be left out – I just planted one in a container on the porch.

So far I’m thrilled with it.  I love the contrast between the purple buds and green edges.  But perhaps best of all, this is supposedly a self-cleaning petunia, meaning no dead-heading is necessary.  (Although, I must admit I enjoy the satisfaction of purging the dead buds.)

For you go-getters: If you don’t want your petunias to run out of steam by late summer, include some slow-release fertilizer when you plant them.

Anyone else planted one yet?  Any criticisms?

Urban Gardening: The Behemoth of 2009

Me:       Why on earth would we plant 30 tomato plants?

Doug:   Because we can. (Silent “Duh.”)

I live with my boyfriend, Doug, in the 1950s house he’s owned for several years.  It sits on a very narrow, very long lot that is about 1/3 of an acre.  The backyard is fantastic — stay tuned for landscaping pictures and projects all summer long — and is surrounded by mature trees, an artesian spring, and a creek.  (Ok, it’s not really as glamorous as a creek, per se, but the point is we have running water and it gives me lots of options.)

One day last spring I mentioned that I wanted to plant a few tomatoes and a sprig of basil.  I could not have foreseen the result of such a simple suggestion.  Soonafter, Doug waged war on the terribly overgrown back 1/3 of the yard.  He tilled.  He imported manure by the truckloads.  He created rows for crops. In his words, he got “nutty.” The final product? A garden 50 feet wide by 50 feet long.

The Garden was so big that family members started claiming space and donating plants.

“Squash? But, Doug, we don’t even like squash.”

The final product was nothing short of a spectacle. Here is a diagram of the garden, hereafter referred to as the “Behemoth of 2009.”

Corn is off the photo on the left, but didn’t take root anyhow.  Here is a closeup:

We had approximately 30 tomato plants, which were so populous that we couldn’t keep the fruit from rotting before we got to them.  They were also very difficult to reach since the aforementioned squash weaved its evil tentacles in and out of their stems.

Me:  How far apart should I put these squash seeds?

Doug:   Oh, well, they probably won’t grow anyway. Just put them all in.

But we’ve learned from the trials and tribulations of last summer and are ready to hit the ground running this year.  Doug’s been fine tuning the water pump (more info on that improvement later) and has our peas in the ground.  If it weren’t for the horrible weather, we’d have a whole slew of other veggies planted, too.   My only request is that we plant a fair ratio of plants-we-eat to plants-we-don’t-eat.  On our first stop, we’d already amassed a healthy stock:

Armed with the history of the Behemoth of 2009, you’re now ready for the invaluable lessons we learned.  I’ll share them while we execute the Garden of 2010 in my upcoming posts.  Plan also on me begging for help on the lessons we have not yet learned.

Anyone with a similar disdain for squash plants? Anyone else with a partner that has an unhealthy affliction for “going big”?