Gardening Vicissitudes

Did I tell you that I gave up on my garden? Well, the yard, really. I keep planting and thinning in the raised bed just so I have something to moan about when the crops don't look incredible as ... my next door neighbor's, who must have the best humus anywhere on the planet. We have a huge yard in front and back and, according to the same neighbor, work has not been done on it for roughly 10 years. Josh and I weeded and built a raised bed. We also pulled out a bunch of dead heather and crazy viney plants that were taking over, and planted flowers and herbs to take their place. We amended the soil. We dreamed.

But those damned weeds are so very good at what they do. I know I have said this before. And crap! how about grass? Why does anyone have grass? I think, if you aren't pasturing a ruminant in your yard, get rid of the lawn! I have been drooling over rock gardens as of late. I'm not kidding! Why bother weeding when it all comes right back? Ug.

But peas make you dream. They just grow so ... easily and fast. Their flowers are so cute - like little bonnets. And you think, when they all flower and fruit like mad, I am a gardener! Look at the life I have created! Look what I nurtured from seed, I say!

Then your beets and leeks and turnips all end up in some sort of strange suspended animation. And the weeds come back with a vengeance. And grass starts to come up from within the wildflowers you plant. And. It's. Too. Much.

But we did have peas. Ah, the peas.

That I managed to overblanche. But they were still delightful with a bit of butter and salt.

Microgreens and other garden wonders

Josh planted a round of veggies in February, when we had a warm spell. They have been growing very slowly since then. The slow growth and small pickings have made me realize a few things:

1. The supermarket has seriously distorted my (our? American?) view of normal size. When I let my radishes get to the size I think they should be, their insides are dust. It's odd. If you slice through the middle, it looks like a snowflake ... and kind of tastes like one too. I picked a bunch of small ones, partly to thin the row and partly to test, and guess what. They were great - piquant radish is one of the best flavors, isn't it? My father taught me to love radishes. The fun thing about picking them so small is that you can eat the greens and all.

2. Microgreens is a racket! Oh, I thought they were so cute and I dutifully paid $10/lb. when I wanted to make the exact salad I saw in Bon Appetit. But now that I have grown my own, I will no longer be duped. I wanted to show you a salad I made almost entirely of microgreens from my garden, but iPhoto, once again, is making my blogging life impossible. Picture, if you will, eensy-weensy beet greens, fennel, radishes, and kale, combined with almost normal size arugula. That was one awesome salad.

3. You must thin mercilessly. Sounds like advice given to a newly arrived wanna be movie star from Iowa. I have been worried that I will somehow choose the wrong sprout to represent its kind in the bed o' produce. This season I have changed my practice and go in, head down, pluck pluck plucking so that the ones left have enough room. That's the point, right? Right. Otherwise I sow nothing. Or only microgreens, I guess.

4. Fertilizer is your friend. Our stuff is growing seriously slow and small. I think I need to just fertilize. I was thinking that it's like giving your plants bovine growth hormone, which is wrong and gross. But maybe it's more like creatine powder, which does help you bulk faster, but is still okay for your body, soooooo.

5. Growing your own food is exciting. It has only been twice now that I have planted veggies and both times I thought, as I dropped seeds into the ground, No way is this going to grow. Who do I think I am? And then it totally grows so much that you have to thin! Seeds are so cool, man. Maybe I can plant one of my rock hard kiwis and grow my own tree. This isn't Mediterranean climate, like I think they are used to in New Zealand, but maybe I can get away with it. Hm.

I also need a fig tree.

Who doesn't love a little herb in the afternoon?

My friend Anita says she reads my blog when I have an interesting title. Perhaps this one has lured her in. Anita? Are you there?

So the garden. Josh went crazy and planted a bunch of lettuce and various other seeds in February! because we had a really warm stint.

Josh: This global warming is great! It just extended the growing season! I'm planting salad greens right now!

Me: We might be in for a cold snap. Maybe you should wait.

Josh: Wait? Cold snap? Do you know how many tons of coal the US and China are burning every day?

Me: Whatever you want, Dear.

Enter cold snap, stage right.

Me: I think the radishes are experiencing suspended animation. Are the leaves supposed to be amber?

Josh: (in know-it-all voice) Yes, I looked it up.

Me: You know-it-all.

I may have made that whole conversation up, but the basic facts are solid.

I can't seem to make this garden my own. Perhaps my subconscious is emanating wariness because of what happened to my last garden. You may recall that, while we were living at 121, I took weeks to plan and execute quite a garden - three raised beds - complete with flowers for attracting the right kinds of bugs and hummingbirds. Yeah, my friends, a Garden. And then the homeowners announced that they would sell the house. This was the end of April, i.e., after all the planting had been done. Bastards.

What am I afraid of here, in our very own house? Dunno. That's the beauty of the subconscious, I suppose. Our next door neighbor told us that we were building the raised bed on the easement. Perhaps my subconscious is a gun-toting member of the Minnesota militia who thinks The Man is going to come and dig up all my carrots. Hm.

Whatever the reason, I just need to get out there. We have a lot of old seeds that I should just scatter and see if they will grow. That way I can start fresh next year. This year, I can just take the philosophy that I will reap whatever feels like sprouting, no big deal. Yeah, right. I am not so good with No Big Deal. I like to create Big Deals, in fact. It's my thing.

If we count my subconscious as one obstacle, than numbers two and three are the weeds and the vines, in that order. I think that all the weeds in Seattle come from our yard. It's that bad. And the grass. Oh, the grass - it's everywhere. I may have said this already, but I think we need to slash and burn. Really. Not kidding. That would also take care of the ridiculous vines that our neighbor said "the old man" liked, for some reason. That old man was the previous owner who is about 3 years older than our next door neighbor. I love the fact that we have a crotchety neighbor who came out to meet us so that he could relate (1) he hates the vines and the old man used to keep them away from the fence, nudge nudge; and (2) we were building the raised bed on the easement.

So, I do this thing where I fixate on an order and want to do it that way or no way. So my order is:

1. Weed the whole property.

2. Get rid of all the nasty vines and plants I hate.

3. Plant garden of edibles.

Yeah, not going to happen. Or, it will happen, but over the course of several years.

Somehow I managed to compromise this order, which I etched in stone, and plant the herbs. I planted a few from seeds and a few from starts. The oregano, tarragon, and chives in the foreground came back from last summer! Wow. I'm going to need more tarragon, though, as it has become my summer crush. You'll see ....