The accidental gardener...
Apr. 21st, 2018 12:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
osodecanelaMy mom has a relatively green thumb. There was a thicket of houseplants that hung in her kitchen when we were growing up, her lush micro version of the hanging Gardens of Babylon. That conglomerate of three hanging baskets were suspended towards the window in the corner of the kitchen nearest the dining room. They hung over my youngest sister's seat at the table. Fortunately for Joan she was the shortest at the table at the time. That would change at puberty, but fortunately for her by that time I was off to college, vacating my seat at the kitchen table.
Similarly, the large bay window in the living room was her other indoor garden. Edge to edge houseplants on what I think may have been a tiled surface. The foliage was dense enough that the contents of the living room remained hidden from anyone outside on the front porch. I don't remember mom doing much gardening outdoors (if at all), but then she was a stay-at-home mom with three young children, and household to run, plus a husband that worked one full-time job and one part-time job, at least until I turned nine & she went back to work. Who had time to garden? Still, those houseplants thrived.
I learned a tremendous amount of stuff from mom about maintaining a home. How to cook, how to do laundry, the necessity of putting things in their place; crucial life skills. As I recall I may have been the only guy on my freshman dorm's first floor, who avoided the mishap of baby blue or worse, pink BVD's. I knew you had to sort the colors from the whites on laundry day. I did not however acquire her green thumb. Every last houseplant I had in college did not survive the semester.
Over the years we lived in Guerneville I tried my hand at raising things that would provide food. One spring I put in a dozen ginormous pots across the front of the deck, with a drip watering system strung below the deck, tendrils of tubing emerging through the deck boards into each planter, all hooked to a timer to deliver the requisite water on schedule. I was set on a full harvest of heirloom tomatoes that summer. The results were disappointing. The plants looked like they were thriving, but the yields were negligible, save the two cherry tomatoes then I put in. There just was not enough sun filtering through the redwoods in the forest around us. Moreover my husband was put off by the experience. He considered it a waste of my time and effort, not to mention cost, for what was a very low yield.
Fruit trees that we put in were equally as disappointing. The persimmon seedling rapidly became lunch for the deer. The two Fuji apple trees in the front yard looked healthy but a decade after they were put in had grown very little and certainly had never born any fruit. A third apple, a golden delicious planted out behind the house, did bear fruit though the crop was never particularly large. The Cara Cara orange tree in the front yard disappeared into a thicket of blackberry vines, and the two cherry trees on the property thrived, but the local birds beat us to any crop they bore.
I certainly had not planned to become a gardener in retirement, but then we acquired this property to retire to. The climate is mild, the soil volcanic and productive and the sun is plentiful. Being in the potential fire zone, I feel obligated to manage the plants on this property. While we believe no fires have happened since the house was originally built back in the 1920s given the firestorms that hit Northern California last fall I know better than to push my luck. Indeed, the metallic roofs on on both the house and the barn were major selling points in my book.
This homestead was at one time a working farm. There were mature, if not ancient fruit and nut trees scattered all over this property, as well as 120 feet of grape arbors leading from the house to the barn. The family that once lived here gardened extensively; daffodils, jonquils, tulips, and especially Iris, both bearded and Dutch abound on this property and in the neighborhood that surrounds. California natives like toyon, Jupiter's Beard, Manzanita, Madrone, & live oak are everywhere. There's even one plant I am told is endangered, the Mount Diablo Fairy Bell. It has become quite clear to me it is up to me to help maintain this property. The weeds grow, well, like weeds particularly this time of year. Weeds that were non-existent two weeks ago are ready at a height between my waist and my chest. All of them will be fodder for fire if left in place and allowed to die. So whether I like it or not, I have become an accidental gardener.
Since we arrived I have put in several fruit trees. Three peaches and a cherry all went into the ground last spring. I myself planted two of them. Already the one peach I did not personally plant, has died. When I dug up the withered twig I found the root ball still bound in a rubber band. The laborer we'd hired for the day, and had tasked with planting that tree had not realized the roots needed to be unbound and spread at planting; the poor plant never stood a chance. The guy who assured us he knew what he was doing clearly did not. As they say in the IT world, "RTFM". This county was extremely well known for its pears, though the lion's share of those orchards have given way to vineyards since. Still I could not resist temptation, and a D'Anjou pear has gone in just last week.Garlic that came from a friend in early February finally went into the ground last week in planters next to the patio and in the driveway next to the house. Every last clove has sprouted and broken through the earth, a promising start! Currently four plants sit on the windowsill behind my kitchen sink, sprouted from Bell peppers of various colors that came from the market last fall. Soon they'll be in a planter in full sun just beyond the patio out my kitchen's back door. I figure as long as they remain within visions range of my kitchen they'll get the water they require.
My husband has mentioned several times the thought that we should put in a holding tank somewhere on the property, and fill it with water taken from the lake. We own property right to the water's edge and it grants us water rights to lake water. Given local fire risks I'm down with that. Moreover, I think he's concerned with climate change that this property continues to have a ready water source. As I said, I'm down with that. The uppermost level of our barn was at one time a water tower, I believe once filled with water that came from the lake.
Enough navelgazing for now. I have worked to get done and chores to do
Similarly, the large bay window in the living room was her other indoor garden. Edge to edge houseplants on what I think may have been a tiled surface. The foliage was dense enough that the contents of the living room remained hidden from anyone outside on the front porch. I don't remember mom doing much gardening outdoors (if at all), but then she was a stay-at-home mom with three young children, and household to run, plus a husband that worked one full-time job and one part-time job, at least until I turned nine & she went back to work. Who had time to garden? Still, those houseplants thrived.
I learned a tremendous amount of stuff from mom about maintaining a home. How to cook, how to do laundry, the necessity of putting things in their place; crucial life skills. As I recall I may have been the only guy on my freshman dorm's first floor, who avoided the mishap of baby blue or worse, pink BVD's. I knew you had to sort the colors from the whites on laundry day. I did not however acquire her green thumb. Every last houseplant I had in college did not survive the semester.
Over the years we lived in Guerneville I tried my hand at raising things that would provide food. One spring I put in a dozen ginormous pots across the front of the deck, with a drip watering system strung below the deck, tendrils of tubing emerging through the deck boards into each planter, all hooked to a timer to deliver the requisite water on schedule. I was set on a full harvest of heirloom tomatoes that summer. The results were disappointing. The plants looked like they were thriving, but the yields were negligible, save the two cherry tomatoes then I put in. There just was not enough sun filtering through the redwoods in the forest around us. Moreover my husband was put off by the experience. He considered it a waste of my time and effort, not to mention cost, for what was a very low yield.
Fruit trees that we put in were equally as disappointing. The persimmon seedling rapidly became lunch for the deer. The two Fuji apple trees in the front yard looked healthy but a decade after they were put in had grown very little and certainly had never born any fruit. A third apple, a golden delicious planted out behind the house, did bear fruit though the crop was never particularly large. The Cara Cara orange tree in the front yard disappeared into a thicket of blackberry vines, and the two cherry trees on the property thrived, but the local birds beat us to any crop they bore.
I certainly had not planned to become a gardener in retirement, but then we acquired this property to retire to. The climate is mild, the soil volcanic and productive and the sun is plentiful. Being in the potential fire zone, I feel obligated to manage the plants on this property. While we believe no fires have happened since the house was originally built back in the 1920s given the firestorms that hit Northern California last fall I know better than to push my luck. Indeed, the metallic roofs on on both the house and the barn were major selling points in my book.
This homestead was at one time a working farm. There were mature, if not ancient fruit and nut trees scattered all over this property, as well as 120 feet of grape arbors leading from the house to the barn. The family that once lived here gardened extensively; daffodils, jonquils, tulips, and especially Iris, both bearded and Dutch abound on this property and in the neighborhood that surrounds. California natives like toyon, Jupiter's Beard, Manzanita, Madrone, & live oak are everywhere. There's even one plant I am told is endangered, the Mount Diablo Fairy Bell. It has become quite clear to me it is up to me to help maintain this property. The weeds grow, well, like weeds particularly this time of year. Weeds that were non-existent two weeks ago are ready at a height between my waist and my chest. All of them will be fodder for fire if left in place and allowed to die. So whether I like it or not, I have become an accidental gardener.
Since we arrived I have put in several fruit trees. Three peaches and a cherry all went into the ground last spring. I myself planted two of them. Already the one peach I did not personally plant, has died. When I dug up the withered twig I found the root ball still bound in a rubber band. The laborer we'd hired for the day, and had tasked with planting that tree had not realized the roots needed to be unbound and spread at planting; the poor plant never stood a chance. The guy who assured us he knew what he was doing clearly did not. As they say in the IT world, "RTFM". This county was extremely well known for its pears, though the lion's share of those orchards have given way to vineyards since. Still I could not resist temptation, and a D'Anjou pear has gone in just last week.Garlic that came from a friend in early February finally went into the ground last week in planters next to the patio and in the driveway next to the house. Every last clove has sprouted and broken through the earth, a promising start! Currently four plants sit on the windowsill behind my kitchen sink, sprouted from Bell peppers of various colors that came from the market last fall. Soon they'll be in a planter in full sun just beyond the patio out my kitchen's back door. I figure as long as they remain within visions range of my kitchen they'll get the water they require.
My husband has mentioned several times the thought that we should put in a holding tank somewhere on the property, and fill it with water taken from the lake. We own property right to the water's edge and it grants us water rights to lake water. Given local fire risks I'm down with that. Moreover, I think he's concerned with climate change that this property continues to have a ready water source. As I said, I'm down with that. The uppermost level of our barn was at one time a water tower, I believe once filled with water that came from the lake.
Enough navelgazing for now. I have worked to get done and chores to do
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Date: 2018-05-04 05:01 am (UTC)You and I have a mutual friend in El Paso who has rain barrel(s?) attached to his roof’s rain gutters specifically for gardening uses. This strategy has also crossed my mind for use here.
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