Wednesday, December 9, 2015

How does my garden grow


We're having a whacky winter in Texas. It feels more like spring. My asparagus needs to go brown and dormant, so I'm crossing my fingers for consistent cold temperatures in the coming month.

I threw together some row covers last week for my broccoli, cauliflower, brussel sprouts and garlic.

Supplies needed:

  • thin-walled, flexible PVC
  • PVC cutting tool (my husband had one handy and I have no idea what it's actually called)
  • 2 ft rebar
  • frost covers
  • old t-shirts 
  • rudimentary sewing skills

I found 8-foot, flexible PVC in the plumbing section at Lowe's and cut it into 4-foot lengths. The PVC fits perfectly over the rebar stakes, shoved halfway into the ground. The resulting arches are surprisingly sturdy.


I cut 20 strips out of old t-shirts, and sewed 2 rows of 5 parallel loops into each frost cover.


I'm not sure how many seasons these will last... If I'd given this whole project more than 15 minutes of thought, I'd have made the strips out of an old shower-curtain instead of t-shirts. 









Tuesday, June 16, 2015

It's difficult to describe the peace that envelopes me when I step outdoors to be in my garden. I love to walk slowly in it. To be carefully observant. To allow myself to enter into this quiet world as a steward. It is in me to be a tyrant. But gardening has taught me over and over again that I am not in control.

I wanted this post to be about something else... but I'm a bit too overwhelmed for details today. Instead I'll post some recent glimpses.

A baby watermelon
My asparagus forest
A currant tomato somehow self-seeded from last year's crop
has demanded a place among the onions and carrots (and weeds).
I'm both baffled and amused as I watch it grow.
I'm thrilled that the pumpkin plant I've given up for lost several times seems determined to grow.





Sunday, January 11, 2015

a not-so-dormant garden


[dor·mant (dôrmənt): as if in a deep sleep; alive but not actively growing]

My chronic case of gardening fever sets in again in late December, and I start itching to order seeds. I buy a fresh 1-subject notebook and start sketching spring gardening plans. I devour seed catalogues as they come in the mail, occasionally flying across the house to grab a gardening book (or five) to aid in my planning. When I get impatient with dreaming and planning, I walk outside with an errant thought to stir up a little patch of ground and plant something early... but after a minute of FREEZING my butt off, I huff back into the house. 

This year though, I have a handful of edibles that have grown quietly throughout the fall and winter. They inspire me with their simple beauty and fill me with hope for the season to come. 

Lovely lettuces and a random bit of cilantro

My side garden doesn't look like much passing by. But it houses my dormant berries and a smattering of greens that are very much awake.

Arugula. My favorite green.

I think this is tatsoi...
But it might be spinach.


More cilantro. (When did I even plant all of this?)