This is what I'm looking forward to most about our first summer here in [our town]:
I have four tree seedlings--two of them rather sizeable, and two rather not.
I really, really, really hope I get at least a few figs out of this.
It doesn't have to be enough to make all the fig things I'm planning--fig jam, fig ice cream, fig pie, roasted fig and blue cheese salad, fig and chevre pizza, etc.
But, you know, some figs would be nice.
What would you make if you had an abundance of figs?
Showing posts with label garden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label garden. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Battle Squirrel 2014
Okay, last year's garden was an unmitigated disaster.
The squirrels ate everything, and everything the squirrels left, the cats dug up, and every thing the cats left the bad soil left stunted and bitter.
But hope springs eternal in the gardener's breast, so I'm trying again this year.
Parsley and broccoli and lettuce, with onions standing sentry around the outside. The bare spot is where I've planted some peas.
Two boxes of broccoli, red cabbage, and lettuce, again with the protective barrier of onions.
Chard, cilantro, and lettuce, plus some overwintered pansies that may be starting to flower. And our good friends, the onions.
I'm really, really hoping that the friend that told me onions repel squirrels is right. But, just in case, all the white powdery stuff is an organic pest deterrent. (Pepper oil and cinnamon oil and such.)
So. There we go. Spring planting.
(Six-year-old added for scale.)
The squirrels ate everything, and everything the squirrels left, the cats dug up, and every thing the cats left the bad soil left stunted and bitter.
But hope springs eternal in the gardener's breast, so I'm trying again this year.
Parsley and broccoli and lettuce, with onions standing sentry around the outside. The bare spot is where I've planted some peas.
Two boxes of broccoli, red cabbage, and lettuce, again with the protective barrier of onions.
Chard, cilantro, and lettuce, plus some overwintered pansies that may be starting to flower. And our good friends, the onions.
I'm really, really hoping that the friend that told me onions repel squirrels is right. But, just in case, all the white powdery stuff is an organic pest deterrent. (Pepper oil and cinnamon oil and such.)
So. There we go. Spring planting.
(Six-year-old added for scale.)
Labels:
2014pics,
garden,
garden2014,
homemaking,
theo,
yard
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Say What?
I love the learning-to-talk stage.
There's something to love about (almost) every stage of your child's life, if you look for it. Some years you have to look harder than others. But the learning-to-talk stage doesn't take much work to enjoy.
New words and sentences come out of Amos's mouth almost every day, and we're constantly saying, "Wait, what? When did he learn THAT?"
We're also constantly saying, "Wait, what? What are you trying to say? I just don't understand."
Like this morning.
Amos said, "Eee pa, grrrr."
"What, sweetie?"
"Eee pa, grrrrrrrr."
"I don't understand."
"Eee PA, grr."
"I'm sorry, I just . . ."
"EEEEE PA! GRRRRRRR!"
"Panda says grrr?"
:points emphatically at the empty middle of the room:
"I'm just not getting it, baby boy."
:points, screaming:
"EEE PA! GR!"
And I finally looked out of the window and saw . . .
The squirrel was eating my lettuce plants.
I'm pretty sure he'd had half a salad while watching me not understand Amos. I think I saw him smirk.
He'll stop smirking when he gets a peek at my google search history.
"Hunting season squirrel Alabama."
"How to field dress a squirrel."
"Brunswick stew recipe."
"Tanning squirrel hides."
Anyway, some days, communication goes more smoothly than others. But it's fun to watch Amos grow in confidence that he can communicate with us.
There's something to love about (almost) every stage of your child's life, if you look for it. Some years you have to look harder than others. But the learning-to-talk stage doesn't take much work to enjoy.
New words and sentences come out of Amos's mouth almost every day, and we're constantly saying, "Wait, what? When did he learn THAT?"
We're also constantly saying, "Wait, what? What are you trying to say? I just don't understand."
Like this morning.
Amos said, "Eee pa, grrrr."
"What, sweetie?"
"Eee pa, grrrrrrrr."
"I don't understand."
"Eee PA, grr."
"I'm sorry, I just . . ."
"EEEEE PA! GRRRRRRR!"
"Panda says grrr?"
:points emphatically at the empty middle of the room:
"I'm just not getting it, baby boy."
:points, screaming:
"EEE PA! GR!"
And I finally looked out of the window and saw . . .
The squirrel was eating my lettuce plants.
I'm pretty sure he'd had half a salad while watching me not understand Amos. I think I saw him smirk.
He'll stop smirking when he gets a peek at my google search history.
"Hunting season squirrel Alabama."
"How to field dress a squirrel."
"Brunswick stew recipe."
"Tanning squirrel hides."
Anyway, some days, communication goes more smoothly than others. But it's fun to watch Amos grow in confidence that he can communicate with us.
Friday, October 18, 2013
During. And more during.
After all the work Stephen and Isaac did pulling down the sickly, thin, and annoying trees, there were still some serious problems with the trees.
There were several trees, like this one, that were just dead or dying.
And most of the rest were hackberry trees, which have a tendency to rot and split and generally make life difficult.
So we decided to take thirteen of the weakest and least healthy trees out.
The tree guys came, and very sensibly marked which ones we wanted gone.
And then on the appointed day, they came, all seven of them, with their bucket truck and Bobcat and ropes and pulleys and fourteen (!) chainsaws.
First they dropped the easy trees. Right in the middle of the yard, without, like, measuring it or anything.
They used the Bobcat to help them cut it into pieces.
Then they brought out the bucket truck.
And we all watched . . .
(some of us more nervously than others)
. . . as they cut down the trickier trees.
I will admit that I got a little nervous at this point, too.
The guy in the bucket seemed less concerned for his safety than, perhaps, he ought to have been.
He kept leaning right out of the bucket, with the chainsaw in one hand, just lopping off big old branches.
I mean, he was really leaning. Really far out of the bucket. Using a chainsaw one-handed.
I found this a little stressful. (But nothing went wrong, and we're all grateful for that.)
There were a few trees that needed an even more elaborate setup.
There were pulleys and anchors and a bobcat pulling rope and all kinds of fun stuff . . .
. . . so that they could drop the individual branches slowly and carefully, before taking the trunk down.
It was a fascinating process.
The Bobcat had a lot to do, in addition to anchoring ropes and lifting big trunks to be cut up.
It hauled all the trees to the curb.
There was a rather big pile.
So big, in fact, that they needed even more heavy equipment to come haul it away.
(I'm pretty sure Theo and Amos had the best day of their lives. And I feel really stupid for failing to take video. We could have made our own episode of Mighty Machines, and it could have been about two hours long.)
Theo hung out with the guys whenever they took a break.
Because, you know, he's Theo. I'm pretty sure he wangled a job offer out of them.
And, finally, it was done.
We went from this:
. . . to this:
(Still not a huge change.)
This:
. . . to this:
This:
. . . to this:
And this:
. . . to this:
Alas, once more, the improvement left us feeling even more depressed and unhappy.
All the light finally flowing in to the yard only served to point up all its deficiencies. And as hard as they tried not to destroy anything, you can't bring all that heavy equipment into a place without tearing up the soil.
We tried working with it. We thought about ways to go piecemeal--a little grass seed on this side, a little mulch on that side, a few bushes here until we could get the ones we really wanted there.
But after a few weeks of trying to wrestle it into submission, we surrendered.
We got even more professional help.
There were several trees, like this one, that were just dead or dying.
And most of the rest were hackberry trees, which have a tendency to rot and split and generally make life difficult.
So we decided to take thirteen of the weakest and least healthy trees out.
The tree guys came, and very sensibly marked which ones we wanted gone.
And then on the appointed day, they came, all seven of them, with their bucket truck and Bobcat and ropes and pulleys and fourteen (!) chainsaws.
First they dropped the easy trees. Right in the middle of the yard, without, like, measuring it or anything.
They used the Bobcat to help them cut it into pieces.
Then they brought out the bucket truck.
And we all watched . . .
(some of us more nervously than others)
. . . as they cut down the trickier trees.
I will admit that I got a little nervous at this point, too.
The guy in the bucket seemed less concerned for his safety than, perhaps, he ought to have been.
He kept leaning right out of the bucket, with the chainsaw in one hand, just lopping off big old branches.
I mean, he was really leaning. Really far out of the bucket. Using a chainsaw one-handed.
I found this a little stressful. (But nothing went wrong, and we're all grateful for that.)
There were a few trees that needed an even more elaborate setup.
There were pulleys and anchors and a bobcat pulling rope and all kinds of fun stuff . . .
. . . so that they could drop the individual branches slowly and carefully, before taking the trunk down.
It was a fascinating process.
The Bobcat had a lot to do, in addition to anchoring ropes and lifting big trunks to be cut up.
It hauled all the trees to the curb.
There was a rather big pile.
So big, in fact, that they needed even more heavy equipment to come haul it away.
(I'm pretty sure Theo and Amos had the best day of their lives. And I feel really stupid for failing to take video. We could have made our own episode of Mighty Machines, and it could have been about two hours long.)
Theo hung out with the guys whenever they took a break.
Because, you know, he's Theo. I'm pretty sure he wangled a job offer out of them.
And, finally, it was done.
We went from this:
. . . to this:
(Still not a huge change.)
This:
. . . to this:
This:
. . . to this:
And this:
. . . to this:
Alas, once more, the improvement left us feeling even more depressed and unhappy.
All the light finally flowing in to the yard only served to point up all its deficiencies. And as hard as they tried not to destroy anything, you can't bring all that heavy equipment into a place without tearing up the soil.
We tried working with it. We thought about ways to go piecemeal--a little grass seed on this side, a little mulch on that side, a few bushes here until we could get the ones we really wanted there.
But after a few weeks of trying to wrestle it into submission, we surrendered.
We got even more professional help.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
How to Grow an Avocado
In which Theo explains how to grow an avocado.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch . . .
We've been away from our house for the last week (not just away from the blog).
I was really hoping it would rain. I mean, it rained every day in July, practically, and I was really hoping the weather wouldn't pick the week we were gone to stop watering my garden for me.
Happily, it did rain a little, and my plants survived. (Well, the outdoor plants did. The indoor plants are another story . . .)
I think the watermelon missed me so much it tried to come knock on the back door and find me.
Tomatoes are looking . . . okay. They're not growing as fast as I would have thought.
The pumpkin is vining out nicely.
And the green beans are great.
The collards, on the other hand . . .
Well, we had some uninvited visitors while I was away. :hostile stare:
I was really hoping it would rain. I mean, it rained every day in July, practically, and I was really hoping the weather wouldn't pick the week we were gone to stop watering my garden for me.
Happily, it did rain a little, and my plants survived. (Well, the outdoor plants did. The indoor plants are another story . . .)
I think the watermelon missed me so much it tried to come knock on the back door and find me.
Tomatoes are looking . . . okay. They're not growing as fast as I would have thought.
The pumpkin is vining out nicely.
And the green beans are great.
The collards, on the other hand . . .
Well, we had some uninvited visitors while I was away. :hostile stare:
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