October 2007 Archives

Veggies 2.0

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Our first year growing vegetables in our garden was only marginally successful.  Our unusually wet summer made it easy for the weeds to get out of control, and it was impossible to keep the soil from turning into hard-pack when we tried to pull them.  Our garden is fairly large for an urban yard - 15 feet wide by 25 feet long - which means there's a lot of area to keep up.  And in general, we found it difficult to control our soil conditions.

I decided I wanted raised beds to work with, to allow me better control over the soil and weeds, and to practice gardening in more confined spaces.  I've been taking pages from Square-foot gardening - notice the square-foot sections demarcated with stakes and strings below - and much of the concept  involves planting in groups, rather than in rows, as well as interplanting with flowers and other kinds of vegetables. 

After our watermelon died off, there wasn't much left in the middle of our garden but some spindly corn  stalks, so we figured we'd pull those up and build a bed in their place.  The closer side is planted (in the square-foot sections) with broccoli, lettuce, onions, spinach, and carrots.  The farther side has peanuts that are almost ready for harvest.  When we've done what we can with those sections of the garden, we'll replace them with raised beds, as well, with walking paths in between.

lumber

We started out with three pieces of 2"x10"x8' untreated pine.  The plan called for cedar, which is more weather-hardy, but we had limited time with my mom's larger vehicle (needed to transport the lumber), and our local big-box hardware stores didn't carry cedar any larger than 2"x6".  Next time, we'll do a better job of planning ahead.

We cut the third piece in half, giving us two 4-foot side panels and two 8-foot side panels.  We screwed them together using hinges, trying to get them as square as a pair of ADHD-style gardeners could manage without a T-square or a level.

bags of soil

We bought half a cubic yard of rose soil from the Natural Gardener.  That's ten big bags of soil, which we dug and loaded ourselves, into our Prius.   Our 8' x 4' bed actually holds about 1 cubic yard, but there's no way we could fit all that.  The dirt loading and unloading was probably my least-favorite part of the process - it was a lot of work.

The guy who helped us at the Natural Gardener suggested rose soil because it's a bit more acid than their regular garden soil.  Since the alkaline soil below will leach into the soil, using something more acid to start with gives us a bit more time.  We measured the pH of the soil yesterday, and it's already as alkaline as our garden soil, though, so your mileage may vary.

Tilled bed

Once we got all the lumber cut and screwed together, we arranged it in the garden and smoothed out the soil in and around it, removing larger rocks and trying to fill any gaps underneath the bed. 

lasagna bed

Then we layered the bottom of the bed with about five overlapping layers of newspaper, to block any weed seedlings that might try to emerge, as well as to try to block some of the alkaline leaching.

finished bed

And then we unloaded the rose soil into the bed and smoothed it out a bit.  We've still got room at the top, since we don't have a full cubic yard in there, but we'll fill that with mulch and compost eventually, I figure.

raised bed with plants!

And here are our first little plants, in our raised bed, planted right before the cold front hit Austin.  We've got spinach, buttercrunch lettuce, and strawberries, all beneficial companion plants.  Also throughout the bed, I've planted nasturtiums and garlic, which are said to help repel pests from the other plants.

So far, I'm very much a fan of the raised-bed concept.  I like being able to plant seedlings using just my fingers to dig in the dirt.  Once the seedlings start to emerge, I'm planning to add some flowers to the mix, as well.

Future improvements include attaching a trellis to one side for climbers like peas, beans, soybeans, and cucumbers.

Bloom Day, October

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One of the reasons I finally broke down and began a gardening weblog is that I really wanted to participate in Carol's Garden Bloggers Bloom Day meme.  Since we bought our house with a flourishing garden already intact, I don't know the exact names of some of the species pictured here.

I'm starting off with the vegetable garden, because vegetables are bloomers, too.

gourd blossomAlong the fence, I planted decorative gourds.  They've bloomed like crazy most of the summer, and now the last of the blooms are fading.  This bloom is almost gone, but it's reminiscent of the white silky blooms that covered the vines. I didn't have much actual gourd production for all the blooming that happened; I think our bee population is low, so I'm planting bee-attractors all around the fenced-in vegetable garden to improve the situation in the future.








long gourd
Here's one of the pretty gourds that grew from the vine.  I love its organic curves - it seems very feminine to me.


























round gourdAnd here is the round gourd.  I'm waiting to see how they grow and dry, to decide whether I can do anything crafty with them for holiday presents.

Next time I plant these, I'll take the pollination into my own hands, as it were, and see if I can get more prolific results.





















peanut blossomThe peanuts I planted, before we even moved into our house, have bloomed all summer as well.  Peanuts make these cute little yellow legume flowers, which then turn into pegs, which burrow into the soil and grow the pods of peanuts we recognize.  Though I mixed compost in to the soil before planting, it still became hard-packed clay very quickly.  The peanuts seem to be doing alright regardless; I dug up one of the outlier plants last week, to find several smallish pods in the dirt.  I left the others in to grow a little longer.  They should be done in another few weeks.





cucumber blossom
The cucumber vine is producing lots of spiky little fruit now, each preceded by one of these yellow squash flowers.  I think this may have been a self-pollinating variety, as it never seemed to have the same difficulty every other squash or melon vine in my garden had with bearing fruit after blossoming.









African basil
And finally, this African basil is planted near my fall tomato plant, to try to protect it from the bugs that might attack it.  (Judging by the progress of my fall tomato plant, it'll freeze before it bears fruit, so this might not matter.)

I took a cutting of my mom's African basil, which was growing very prolifically in her garden.  I just stuck it in plain tap water, came back a week later, and it had produced a whole plant's worth of roots.  That's some easy propagation.

The leaves are fairly mild and a bit minty, as basil goes; the books recommend just using it for its pretty cut flowers and growing Italian basil for cooking with.













bean

This dainty white flower is from another legume: my pole beans.  They vine up the fence like the cucumber and decorative gourds do.  Eventually, I hope to rid the fence of the thick jasmine vines that grew all over it when we bought the house, and to replace them with vegetables and a few vining flowers.

Our green beans have had fair production, though I only tend to get a dozen at a time.  Next year: more green beans.

















Outside the vegetable garden, plenty of things are blooming, as well.  Here are some highlights:

hyacinth bean
I got my hyacinth beans from my mom and planted them mid-summer, which was likely too late.  In my mom's yard, they grow up a utility pole, some twenty or thirty feet into the air.  In my garden, they lack the vertical drive, and rather sprawl over the lawn in places.  I still think they're beautiful.  Their beans are also beautiful.

I'll let them reseed and see if I can get them looking more ambitious next year.



















bat-faced cuphea

Bat-faced cuphea are gaudy, to be sure, but its bright flowers attract bees and butterflies.  I've pretty well ignored this plant since I put it into the ground, but it seems to be doing well on its own, in the part shade beneath our awning.  Slowly, I'm getting other things planted in that bed so that it doesn't look so lonely out there.








geranium
This trailing(?) geranium has a lovely habit, and I have her planted in a big frog-shaped pot on my back patio, from which she spills out in an ocean of blooms.  Quite lovely, and easy to grow, which is good, because I claim no green thumb.






















oxalis
This beautiful white oxalis grows happily in the shade on the north side of our back yard.  Our neighbor's giant ash tree shades that side pretty completely, so the previous owners of our home planted a tropical little bed over there, with a giant philodendron and this little oxalis. 

I transplanted some wood sorrel, which is a wild-growing relative, from my previous garden and into this bed.  Apparently wood sorrel is a weed, but I maintain that it just needs better public relations.  It's a lovely little plant, though it doesn't bloom in the heat of summer.  It should be coming back out again soon.















pomegranate
In the front yard, our pomegranate tree is approaching the end of its fruiting, but it still has a few late-blooming blossoms.  I need to figure out how I can use pomegranates, besides just letting them screen my house from the busy street.









ornamental peppers
These ornamental peppers were a housewarming gift from a friend.  After they had been in the ground for three days, I was fairly sure I'd killed them already - a speed record even for me.  But they've proved me wrong, recovering and growing well in my yard, in the understory of a boring little shrub in front of my house.

I love the color and shapes of ornamental peppers.  They're at least as beautiful as most flowers.






American beauty berry 

My tiny American beauty berry plant isn't large enough for the birds to have noticed it, but it's still making beautiful purple berries this fall.  I can't wait for it to grow next year and become more respectable-looking.





















bulbine

Last, but certainly not least for this entry are my bulbines, which grow in a sunny bed along our walkway in the front yard.  These are some of my favorite flowers, with their beautiful, delicate blooms, their soft succulent stems, and their (generally) polite growing habits.  I also love the combination of orange and yellow in the blossom; I much prefer these to the all-yellow variety.

I interplanted some of the oxblood lilies that MSS of Zanthan Gardens so kindly gave me, and I think their brilliant crimson blooms will look gorgeous with the orange and yellow of the bulbines.  Next fall will be beautiful.

Also blooming in my garden, but not pictured, are a few varieties of salvia, a tiny lantana plant, Texas sage, red yucca, and unidentified climbing varieties of roses, which have made their way up into the neighbors' yaupon tree.

Unpopular opinion

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orange-butterfly.jpg

I feel like I should get the confessions out of the way early on.

I don't like lantana.

Yes, I know it grows very well in Texas, that it loves our soil, and that it deals with drought. I know that it attracts butterflies, and I appreciate that. I even like that the same cluster of blossoms can be more than one color at a time.

But I don't like lantana.

I know this makes me strange, but hear me out. I hate that it grows huge and ungainly. I like plants with a "more compact habit," as the horticulturists say. I hate that the stems get so woody, that it has to be sheared back or else it'll take over the sidewalk. I hate that it gets so huge.

Texas lantana is called Lantana horrida in Latin. Horrible lantana!

I like civilized flowers, ones that stay more or less in their place.  I try to plant natives in my Austin garden because I know all the benefits: they're better suited to our climate and our (lack of) rainfall. They serve as food sources for the native fauna. But I harbor a love for sweet nasturtiums, tidy pansies, and dainty violas.  I can't help it.

I like wildflowers, especially the delicate-seeming ones like winecup, which are remarkably resilient even in drought.  I love daisies and low-growing miniature zinnias. I lament the fact that so few bulbs grow well in Texas, though I'm so looking forward to seeing the reemergence of the oxblood lilies that MSS of Zanthan Gardens gave me last week.

I like soft stems and delicate blooms and sweet fragrance. I like plants that attract butterflies, as well as bees. I like ladylike flowers, and lantanas are such tomboys. I like suggestions, too.

What flowers would you recommend for my garden?

Germination

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germinating.jpg
While we waited to close on our new house, I was driven by this obsession to start planting things in the front yard, in preparation for our ownership.  Scott seemed to think that the previous owners might not appreciate my proactive approach, and I managed to wait until the keys were in our hands before I actually did anything to alter the garden.

The first things I planted that very first night were some ornamental sweet potatoes my grandmother gave me, which I positioned along the fences in the back yard.  Second, I think, were some orange and yellow bulbines, brought from the garden I'd cultivated at the little duplex in central Austin, where I lived for five years. 

The next week, as I waited for a service call, I started my planting in the fenced-in garden.  The peanuts were planted first in mid-June, and by July 4th, we'd added pumpkins, watermelon, gourds, and beans.  July 15th, we added corn, and I planted some heirloom tomatoes in a seeding tray (seen here).

To be fair, neither of us has much practical vegetable gardening experience.  Aside from some knowledge of how to pull baby carrots, the only things I have any experience growing are tomatoes.  Scott's family actually does a fair bit of gardening, but that's all well above the 49th Parallel, so most of what he knows doesn't apply here in central Texas.  So this is our learning year, and while we won't pretend that we weren't disappointed when our watermelon plants vanished entirely after a promising start, or that our pumpkin vines never bore fruit despite growing ten feet long and blooming all over the place, we're willing to chalk up our failures in the vegetable garden as a learning experience and move on from there.  In our defense, we didn't get to start planting until well into the summer, and this year was rather bizarre from a weather standpoint, with enormous amounts of rainfall for the first few months we were here.  Ultimately, the weeds were growing faster than we could pull them, and we fell behind a bit in our cultivation.

I have harvested a couple dozen green beans, and a few older pods for seeds for next spring.  We have one heirloom tomato plant on target to (hopefully) produce some fruit for us this fall, and our cucumber vine has sprouted a few small, funny-shaped spiky cucumbers.  And now we've cleaned out part of our garden to attempt some cooler-weather plants like broccoli, onions, and lettuce, which I planted yesterday.  For this new planting, I demarcated four square feet of space, staking and marking it off to try my hand at some square-foot gardening.  I should be able to weed four square feet of garden, and it will be easier to cover that amount when the weather gets colder.  I'll add on when we're ready to plant carrot seeds and whatever else we plan to put there.

Gardening is much like life, isn't it?  We can act strategically to improve our gardens' fortune with careful tending and attentiveness, but we have to accept with grace the factors which we cannot control.  Fortune still has much to say about the future of my fall garden, but I'm fortunate in that I can begin the cycle again from scratch in a few months.

A very good place to start

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When I was three years old, my parents had a vegetable garden in the back yard.  I don't remember everything they grew back there, but I remember carrots and mint.  The carrots never got to full size, because I'd pull them when they were a couple of inches long, wash them off in the garden hose, and eat them fresh.

That was my first experience with gardening.

As a kid, I never grew anything more complicated than marigolds, and in my young adulthood, apartment life (not to mention my short attention span) never really lent itself to cultivating a green thumb.   But I come from a family of gardeners, and so I've always hoped that I'd gain the skill by genetics or osmosis, if not from practice.

When Scott and I started looking for our first home, I began to fantasize about what I could grow there.  Before we'd even closed on the house, I had checked out every book I could find from the Austin library about growing native plants, about vegetable gardening, about what works well in central Texas soils.  I didn't even know whether our yard would be black clay or limestone.

It was to my great benefit that the previous owners of our new home were gardeners themselves.  They fenced in a vegetable garden of their own, did a fair bit of landscaping, and left the garden in good shape when they moved.  I don't always agree with their choices in plants, but I've got a great canvas to start with.

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