Harbingers of Spring. Chinese chives. Asparagus. Anigozanthos #3

These were planted about 3 years ago. Each cluster was one bulb. I keep thinking of the old Carly Simon song, "Anticipation".
The Chines chives are one of the first plants to start growing. They are also one of the first to produce an edible crop in the Spring. I did have some scallions today from a multiplier onion.
Despite the problem of not enough space, I planted some asparagus today. This was a tomato patch this year, but the tomatoes did not do well in this location. The asparagus should at least provide some wispy greenery, and maybe some vegetables in 2 or 3 years.
It's a good thing that I dont drink or gamble. Here is another anigozanthos. The purpose of the trip to Lowe's was to buy new light fixtures for the bathroom project. That led to a stroll into the garden section. This (variety "Kanga red") and a Chinese apricot (for Ning, it was planted in a too-small location but with pruning might do OK) were the result.

Early Spring. No Daffodil blossoms yet.

Today was beatiful, into the 50s. The bathroom remodel took most of my "spare" time. Can't soak into the tub until there is a fully installed to soak in. Today I framed the new wall, with the exception of the supports for the pedestal sink.

In the yard -

No fruit or bulb blossoms yet. The lilac buds are swelling. The daffodils had nice fat buds, just not in bloom yet.

I planted a lily bulb the size of an artichoke. It was purchased last week at the yard and garden show. I forgot to record the variety - an "orienpet" which was listed as being very fragrant.

Hedychiums were planted in potting soil and will be kept in a cool room until they start to grow.

Some Zantedeschias were added to the borders.

That's about all for today.

Weather Statistics February 2007

There were 23 days with at least a few drops of precipitation.

Total precipitation for the month was 7.7 inches.

Two days had less than 0.05 inches.

High temperature was 60 F

Low temperature was 20 F

There were 2 days with snow, but no ground coverage of snow on either day.

Unknown Soldier 1907

  Philipine-American War.

Anigozanthos2. Portland Garden Show.

 

Yesterday Ning & I went to the Portland Garden show. Lots of booths. Many of them (most?) of course, more about grills and hot tubs and decks than about gardening. Not really complaining - this is a business convention center and hippies in torn jeans are not going to finance a big garden show. It was fun to look at the booths. I did my part to support the venders, buying this Anigozanthos ("Kanga", burgundy) and a tuber for a hardy Ginger (Hedychium "Pink Flame", claiming to have the fragrance of apricot jam). I grew a hardy ginger a few years ago, but gave up after 3 years without a blossom. We'll see how this one does.

It's supposed to snow tonight. Will post if it does.

More Random Thoughts. Rambling on roses.

In the previous entries on global warming, I commented about how gardening influences our attitudes about nature, and the importance of feeling connected to the rhythms of nature by gardening. The thoughts today will be about working with the local climate and growing conditions. The example will be roses (because that is where my rambling mind drifted).

When we first started gardening here, we planted a series of rose bushes in the front yard. The soil was compacted, rock-hard clay. The roses were big-box store Hybrid Teas. It was summer. We dug big holes, soaking the ground, digging, soaking, digging. We mixed compost into the clay and added it back around the roses. The roses were watered frequently, and given some rose-food granules. They grew rapidly. Blossoms, black-spot and aphids ensued.

More watering, more fertilizers, more aphids and black spot, more sprays. Not a lot of flowers, although some were big, classic Hybrid Tea blossoms. Ultimately, it didn't seem worth the trouble, and other gardening priorities took over.

I became uncomfortable with this methodology. First, it wasn't very rewarding. The blossoms were not that spectacular, not that many, and they faded quickly. Second, I wanted to grow more edible items, and the idea of eating rose-poisons in my tomatoes wasn't appealing. Third, it seemed too much like work, and not enough like fun.

The roses started to take then 'back burner' as the rest of the yard filled with kitchen-garden plants, trees, and shrubs. Other ornamentals were added. We experimented with David Austin roses and other varieties that were thought to be less chemical-intensive. We started cuttings from rose bushes that seemed to do well locally. We quit the chemicals, went organic, started mulcing and composting, and drastically cut back on the watering. Some varieties died and were not replaced. Others looked so bad, or performed so poorly, that I dug them up.

Others have persisted, and they actually looked better than they did with the fertilizers and chemicals. The blossoms were not as big, but they seemed to last longer. There was less black spot, and fewer aphids. They have been much less work.

I think, that what happened, was an evolution, both for the roses, and for me, in adapting to the local conditions and the inherent capablities of each plant. The ones that were better adapted to this climate and growing conditions, remained. They used less resources, including watering. They required no chemicals, because the chemical-requiring ones either died or were removed.

The result now is a less picture-perfect, but better adapted rose bed. There are still quite a few rose bushes, and I enjoy them more.

This entry is the result of rambling. The photo is a retaining wall, built from a pile of broken-up driveway down the street 2 years ago. I was going to write about reusing local materials, and using locally adapted plants, like the mosses on the stones. I rambled instead into the roses, but left the photo anyway.

More Fig Cuttings. Bulbs & seeds.

On the gardenweb fig forum, there are a couple of postings (and here)about starting fig cuttings by wrapping them in moist paper towels and placing them into a zip-lock bag. So I decided to try that, starting now, with the remaining Desert King cuttings.
After my "eloquent" discussion earlier today about the joys of "non-consumerist gardening", and how wonderful it is to grow plants from starts rather than purchasing them... Here are some purchases today from Portland Nursery. :) At least I don't claim to be "environmentalist fundamentalist" here.

Harbingers of Spring

Daffodils are twice as big as last week.
Ning's garlic sprouts are growing quickly.
Desert King Fig cuttings. Buds have formed. Roots take longer so they need special care.They are in a South window, inside a plastic zip-loc bag, partially open.
The radishes have germinated.

Thoughts on Gardening and Global Warming II.

Here is the second "installment" of somewhat random thoughts on gardening and global warming. Again, the issue of 'connectedness'.

I was thinking about the difference between BUYING a plant for the garden, and STARTING my own. And why it matters.

Somehow, in the 'consumerized' version, a tree, or shrub, just seems like an item that has been placed there in the yard, like furniture. Maybe, if it is purchased at a small size, a sense of nurturing takes over, and the plant seems to belong. This is especially true if it is planted and continues to develop over the years.

I have a different sense for a plant that I start myself. If started from a cutting or seed, it feels more like it is part of me. If started from a plant that was passed down from my family, or a gift from a friend, or a 'rescue' from the street, then even more, I feel like I am connected to this part of nature, and it is connected to me. It's not just something that I bought at a store.

The ginkgo tree in the back yard was grown from seeds that my Dad collected from Herman Degee's yard in Quincy Illinois. That was the ginkgo tree that I was taught was special, when I was 10 years old (special due to the primordial character of Ginkgo biloba). My dad has a seedling tree from that original source in his yard, and now I have one in my yard as well. I feel completely different about this tree, than any other item in the garden. I really WANT it to grow and flourish.

Less intense, but similar, is how I feel about the fig trees that I started from cuttings (mailed in exchange from garden web members, or rescued from a neglected tree on a vacant lot), and the forsythia that I grew from a small pruning (picked up on the street while walking the dogs), and the mint that I grew from a sprig seen in rescued yard waste that had been discarded in the dog park (and which turns out to be more flavorful - really - than the plants that I bought at a local nursery). Then there are the Chinese chives, grown from seeds from plants that were grown from seeds, 3 plant-generations from seeds that Ning brought here from China. This variety is more robust and stronger in flavor compared to the nursery-grown ones (probably because it was a local agricultural, not horticultural, variety). A separate set of Chinese chives came from my parent's yard, having grown there for 35 or 40 years as a weed. I don't know how they will taste yet. Others - roses, one started from a bouquet brought to work, another 'rustled' from an abandoned telephone-pole rose that is no longer there.

An additional step removed, are the vegetables and flowers grown annually from purchased seeds. I think that if I saved my own seeds (obviously, not from the hybrids), the connection would be stronger. But as it is, they are still a little more 'mine' than ones bought as plants at the store.

What does this have to do with global warming? Again, if we don't feel connected to nature, then it's difficult to be motivated to conserve out natural world. And that connectness is a lot stronger, for me, if it comes from the heart, instead of the wallet. If we could "un-consumerize" and "re-connect" to the life growing around us, we might feel more strongly about wanting to do something about it.

(photo above, a ginkgo on Mill Plain, source of more seeds that I planted for the past 2 years, and now I need to find homes for the seedling trees).

Thoughts On Global Warming. New (old) Worldview Needed.

Here are my thoughts today about global warming.

The process of global warming is partly due to the alienation of humanity from nature.
In a culture that involves isolation of people from the rhythms and forces of nature (good and bad), there is little motivation to make change that will re-route global warming. In our current suburban and urban dominated, automotive-commuting, consumer-based system, people are not connected to the soil, the trees, the sun, rain, and snow, rivers and streams, birds, bees, frogs and turtles, and they are not able to see the connection of nature to their future and to their children's future.

There was a time when most people did experience the weather, the dirt, the smells of the farm and garden, the wealth of nature, the hazards of climate, and the rhythms of life. Some of that connection made life easier, providing income, food, and recreation. Some threatened life, or made it harder, with drought, storm, blizzard, tornado, or pestilence. In all cases, there was an intimate connection between humanity and nature, which is lost in the air-conditioned, seat-warmed, cup-holdered, surround-sound bumper-to-bumper SUV of the modern commuter.

One property of gardening is that it does connect us back to nature, if we let it.

We can learn the soil, and see the transformation that occurs with organic enrichment of an abused ground. Last week, I dug an extra foot around the tomato bed, discovering light brown sticky muck under the lawn, while a few inches away the tomato bed was friable and black, easily turned and earthy in aroma. The difference was 2 years of compost and mulch. Seeing this change, I am more able to appreciate the reverse transformation as well, when land is abused by poor farming practices.

I have learned to watch for frost that might damage tender buds or seedlings. I watch the rain, and worry about whether there is enough, or too much. There have been many mornings when I brought seedlings indoors for protection, and fussed over protection for tender tomato plants. I wander around the yard now, looking for buds on the aprium and peach trees, hoping to see the daffodils welcome the Spring rain, searching for unpruned fig branches that could use just a little more grooming. Observing these changes, I do feel connected to the weather and forces of nature, in a way that I never felt when living in the city.

In the Spring, happy to see the bees pollinating the fruit trees and berry brambles (or in the case above, the Chinese Chives). I'm annoyhed by the aphids, and it still surprises me to see that an organic spray can wash them away and leave a healthy crop for dumplings. Frogs have moved into the compost bins, with welcome frog-songs telling me that they are not extinct, yet. Hummingbirds visit their favorites as well, and a pair of robins built a nest in the roses last year. Watching this relatively small suburban yard fill with life, where there was little to speak of in the former clean lawn, taught me some differences between working with nature, as opposed to against nature.

I think that if more people gardened, then not only would they be better off for their health (better foods, less sedentary live, less passive, and more contemplative) and their peace of mind; it would also change how they feel about what happens to the earth's natural rhythms. That change is needed if our society is to have a will to survive and make the changes that are necessary to conserve a climate and nurturing world for future generations.