Well, dang

Something is in the air, or the teeth as it were. Poor Alice at Living the Rural Dream is temporarily grounded from her travels due to dental woes, and my friend Karen who was the "dear old friend" I mentioned in the last post never made it to visit me in Columbus due to...you guessed it, a bad tooth! I really missed seeing Karen, but I made hay in the city while I could, visiting my cute little grandbabies and having that cappuccino with my funny, sweet son. And yes, I made it to a thrift store and scored a couple of summer shirts, the best being an Ann Taylor Loft thingy for a buck fifty. I'll be fancy on the porch this summer after the work is all done for the day : )

Big strong husband has been working hard on the garden.

I helped him put the wire fence up before I left. Ain't no deer getting in our garden, man. The thing is over my head. We could only get it about six inches into the ground due to the hardness of the clay. At first I had wanted it sunk about a foot. The best laid plans, though, change when you hit the stupendous clay base around here. It makes you say, "Aw, &^*k it! That's good enough!" If any groundhogs make a go for it, I'll just shoot 'em. (only kidding.) Maggie at Mamma What The might be shaking her head at the relative permanence of the fence, since she advised me otherwise. However, I have felt it smart to let John do what he wants with this project, given that he's doing it. Not to mention that I'm kind of losing confidence that I will be able to grow much of anything around here except my pampered house plants. I planted up some nice containers last week with annuals that I bought from the FPC plant sale and do you know what? They FROZE in the FROST we had out here last week.

You would think I would know by now that it is a good ten degrees cooler out here in the country than it is in the city. I have felt the truth of it many times. Even the hottest summer days cool off to the point where you want a long sleeve blouse maybe to cover your arms if sitting on the porch after the sun's gone down. I guess I was just feeling entitled to frost-free nights given that we passed the Mother's Day mark. And if I had planted those pots in the city, I bet the coleus would still be perky and the tomato plants a beautiful dark green. Alas, they are looking pretty bad right now. Several tomato plants are goners. I pinched back the coleus and I think they might rally.

Anyway. I'm going to direct-seed most of the things I want to grow in the garden this year, simply because if I bought everything in plant form I would have to take out a small loan, and we all know how that's going these days. I sure hope it works. Next year, when I am sure that the garden is there, I can start the seeds early. This year, it's a wing and a prayer. Keeps life exciting, huh?

In the meantime, check out the Japanese iris (planted by the previous owner, and they need to be thinned) growing next to the old red barn. The color combination knocks me out. You can't get that red from a paint can. And the purple, well...

Look at That Man Go

Ain't he somethin?

That was some hard packed clay soil, people. It is now ready for some fine tilling with the Troy-built, which, theoretically I should be able to handle.

I'm going to keep that husband of mine around, though. He is a super-nice guy and I like him.

My Garden Plans

This is the future garden plot (inside the white square) as seen from the star-gazing deck:

Here it is from the ground, looking south. Imagine you are standing in the arbor, under a prodigious wisteria vine and there is a table in front of you--might as well set it with a lovely dinner and a nice bottle of wine:

It is a 20 x 30 ft. plot. I want to start small so as not to get discouraged (I know me so well). It will have a fence about five feet high, and that descends about twelve inches below the ground. I'm trying to thwart deer and groundhogs, respectively. I hope to make the fence pretty somehow. I may call upon John's talent with bittersweet, or simply grow plants over it. My plan is for a 2 ft. bed around the inside edge, and four, 4 x 8 ft. raised beds within. If I have space, I'll put a focal point in the middle.

It will be a potager--a French word for "kitchen" garden. I want to grow food and ornamentals together, though I'll try to make most of the flowers edible, too.

As you can see, we started tilling. The old Firestone rototiller we bought so many years ago from Emmet Hay, a farmer in Hanover, Indiana, kept stalling, though. I hope we (read: John) can figure it out. Once the soil is in there, I can take over. Sort of like those rocks up at the cabin...remember them?

I need a little help with the initial back breaking work, but then I'm good to go.

I love the placement of the potager plot. It is between the house and the cabin. In the summer, you can sit on the upper deck and gaze upon it. You can walk right out the kitchen, through the screen porch and pick some fresh food for dinner. It sits on the hill, facing south, so it will have a nice breeze and a great view. It is the one thing around here that was a no-brainer for me in terms of location.

Oh, plants are great things! Every year, the gardeners I know are full of plans. Even the experienced gardeners who know that, by August, things will be much different than they envisoned, even they are stoked in April. Even if all you're going to do is a couple of containers for your porch, it's still something to design, something full of promise. You get a fresh chance. Every year.

Winter Waiting

I've been known to say: "If it's winter and cold, there might as well be snow on the ground."

Well, darn right. There is snow on the ground and it isn't going anywhere soon with temperatures in the teens and twenties for the foreseeable future. I do like it. I'm not sure if I'd like it where my niece lives in Minneapolis. We've got about three to four inches covering the rolling hills in a most picturesque way. I'm not sure how many inches she has to dig through to get to her car, but I'm sure it's more.

John and I are pleased that the house is passing the test of its first winter. We stay warm and snug in here, even when the wind is howling and the temperatures are at zero or below. (And we still have some caulking to do!) Sunny days help. The big, south-facing windows catch all the warmth and light available. Everywhere you go in this house, you look out a window. When the snow falls straight down at a steady speed, it looks like we have moving curtains--some kind of groovy thing you might buy at Ikea.

All that said, I looked at seed catalogs yesterday and became giddy at the prospect of my garden. I bundled up and went outside to pace off my potager plots in the snow. I think I have it figured out. Gardens are funny things. The distance between your dreams and reality is huge. The garden in my mind is gigantic and lush and varied with surprises around every corner--well established in other words. I know from past experience that I need to start small and build it slowly over several years. If I try for gigantic the first year, I'll be overwhelmed and disappointed. That probably won't stop me from overreaching, though. Gardeners are a hopeful lot.

After pacing off the garden, I took a walk to the back pasture to fetch a winter bouquet for the table. There was a hush in the fields as dusk fell and a few snowflakes blew eastward. The air was moist and fresh. I was content to rest in winter waiting, but I felt the flame of spring flickering deep down--deep inside both me and the world. It is a warm and delightful feeling.

Garden Update & Check it Out!, Part II

There is one thing I got done before fall hit, and that is the rock garden on the side of the cabin. Remember when I was moaning about my lack of farmwife fortitude when it came to moving rocks that were sunk into the earth after years of neglect?
Well, here is the same garden today: Ta Da! I am pleased enough. John dug up all the rocks and I put them into formation and hauled away (almost all) of the little ones as agreed. Our partnership worked pretty well. Next year, this is where the cinnamon ferns and hostas and hydrangeas will live. I transplanted the Shooting Star hydrangea that my sister, Kathy, gave me on the Fourth of July. I hope it survives. I had it in a large pot all summer, and just put it in the ground last week. Not sure I’ve given it enough time to establish itself in the big cold world. I will protect it with burlap this winter and keep my fingers crossed.

On to antiquing successes—we found a clawfoot tub for the new house. If you’ve ever looked for a clawfoot tub, you know that there are plenty around. It’s just that they come in a variety of conditions. John bought one several weeks ago and hauled it home in the back of the truck. Trouble was, it was six inches shorter than the standard size. I sat in it and my legs could not extend. (I’m not that tall.) This simply wouldn’t do. I am a hot bath girl in the winter time. I love the ritual of filling the tub with lavender salts, lighting candles, and sinking into the amniotic embrace of hot water. I’ve saved a good deal of money on prescription anti-anxiety drugs with hot baths over the years. So, the search continued.

We had to go to Lowe’s (again) on Saturday, and I suggested we stop at the antique stores on the way to see if they had a clawfoot. Can you believe it, but they did! And it was the right size and it had the most spectacular, original crackled finish I’ve ever seen. I kept marveling about the crackle finish and John warned that we better tell the guys not to scrape it off. He said he could hear them saying, “Hey, we scraped most of that chipped paint off for you. There’s still a little more to do.” And sure enough, when they were getting it out of the truck on Monday, the guys laughed that it was the first thing they said when they arrived and saw it there—“Well, it needs to be scraped, but it’s okay on the inside.”

A few more treasures from the antiques stores... Another red & white plate for my random, red & white plate collection (posed with a kitty):
And a bowl with gold polka dots, hel-loh!


So, if you are in the market for a clawfoot tub to wash your kids in (or if you are 5' tall or under), let me know. I've got just the thing for you.

Garden Fever

It’s that wonderful time of year when everyone shares the overflow from their gardens with neighbors, friends, and heck even enemies when it comes to zucchini. This yearly act of generosity always makes me think, dang it—next year I’m having a garden!

I never did get one at our Columbus house. The backyard had a gigantic oak tree in the middle of it, and a mature maple in the corner. It made for shady sitting on hot summer days, but really terrible vegetable gardening. The front yard was blazing sun and would have made a great site for a potage garden where vegetables and herbs grow alongside ornamentals in lovely arranged beds. I knew myself too well, however, to let the fantasy of a well maintained potage garden, the likes of which you see only in glossy garden magazines, turn my front yard into a thing that would have the neighbors complaining anonymously to the city officials.

But next year…my garden is going to “kick ass” as the Anne Taintor button says. The site is all picked out—you’ll be able to look down on it from the star-gazing deck. You’ll meander through it when traveling up to the cabin from the new house, and back again. It is going to have a rustic arbor in the middle of it with wisteria (or grapevine, haven’t decided) growing over it and a table in the middle of it for al-fresco dining. It will have some raised beds for tender things and I’m going to start amending the in-ground beds this fall with leaves and cover crops. I’m going to have potatoes, melons, peppers, carrots—you name it.

And it will have a fence. A good fence that goes underground to thwart the groundhogs and that has little sacks of human hair hanging from it like shrunken heads to ward off the deer. Because, actually, I did have a little “garden” this year…our builder, Tom Shingary, brought me some tomato plants in the middle of July. They were leftover from what he planted of the leftovers from another person’s garden. I was not optimistic about getting tomatoes from plants put in our hard clay ground in the middle of July, but what the heck. They surprised me by growing quickly and steadily. They had several flowers and some green fruit and all was going well until one morning when we walked down to water them (they are in front of the new house) and our jaws dropped open. Regard the carnage wreaked by the “Fearsome Five,” our little band of deer that visit the meadow every morning and evening: They even ate the pokeweed nearby. It was dessert I guess. Since we have an apple orchard and a few pear trees already, I’m reading books about growing fruit and I admit to a modicum of despair. It seems technical and picky and so very hit-or-miss. But, without doing one thing to our trees, look at the bounty they are bestowing on us newbies: Along with the tomatoes, cucumbers, sweet potatoes, plums, and yes zucchini that my friends and neighbors are sharing with me, I have also been inspired by the book I’m currently reading: It is eye-opening, and often jaw-dropping. Read it if you dare to understand where our food comes from. And look out, it might just make you want to start a garden of your own.