Garden Variety Therapy

11.09.19

To quote Bananarama, which I do quite often, it was a cruel cruel summer. Also, I heard a rumor, but that’s a topic for another post. The summer-that-wouldn’t-die finally did and it would appear that autumn has breezed right past us and we are headed straight into winter as we’re expecting our second freeze in as many weeks in just a couple of days. No matter, the earth’s crust has cooled, the rains have returned, and it has set the stage for seasonal planting.

This will be my second attempt at a fall/winter garden. I’m a bit more organized this year and have the beds grouped by cruciferous vegetables, leaf vegetables, and herbs. Some of the solid performers from last year; broccoli, cauliflower, chard, arugula and various types of lettuce, return. Against my better judgement I’m planting Brussels sprouts again (they were the size of marbles last year) because I really like them and want to be able to tell people, “These are MY Brussels sprouts Momofuko!” Kale didn’t make the cut this year (sorry, Karen). First time entries include Chinese cabbage, spinach, kohlrabi (mostly because I like saying it) and the one I’m most excited about, celery. Yes, I’m excited about CELERY.

I have extolled the virtues of gardening before. It isn’t just about growing your own food or even better, sharing your bountiful harvest with others. It’s a great lesson in managing the things we can control (types of plants, soil, fertilizer) and rolling with the things we can’t (weather, pests, critters). And if it results in the perfect garnish for a Bloody Mary then I’ll drink to that. Just make mine a virgin.

09.15.19

For an avid gardener like myself losing a plant, especially a tree, is both frustrating and a little sad. I find myself asking, “What did I do wrong? How did I fail you?” Putting aside for the moment that that probably says more about me than I care to own up to, it also reaffirms that some things are just out of our control.

I had a little olive tree that was planted by the builder who built my house three years ago. I say “little” but it was actually a pretty nice-sized tree at the time. The landscape designer who I work with estimated that it would retail for around $700. It was healthy and had a beautiful shape (not all olive trees do). It stood proudly by my front door and grew rapidly. It even produced a fair amount of olives though I never did realize my dream of pressing my own olive oil.

Then this past Spring something happened. Even though it bloomed and put on fruit, half the leaves began turning yellow and falling off. It did put on some new growth, but it was sparse. As summer set it in it began to lose the rest of its leaves making it easier for the mocking birds and opossums to eat the fruit that was still hanging on. Now it is, by all appearances, at death’s door. It’s worth noting that olive trees thrive in harsh climates so Austin Summers (which is my new dating profile name btw) are what they are used to unlike their human counterparts. I still hold out a smidgen of hope that once the weather cools down and we get some much needed rain it might be revived, but even if it does I fear it would never be the show piece that it was on the way to becoming.

So I’m a bit blue and my thumb is a little less green, but I shall rise up from the compost to garden another day. Plus, I now have a new online opening to try out: “Going out on a limb; Austin Summers seeks experienced arborist.”

02.14.21

I’ve said before that one of the lessons that gardening teaches us is to accept that some things are just flat out beyond our control and boy, Mother Nature is holding the master class on that subject this week. You can water during a drought to the point that you have to double check the decimal point on your utility bill. You can (responsibly) try to eradicate pests. You can build all kinds of elaborate barriers to prevent deer, squirrels, etc. from helping themselves to your precious crops before you do. And you can protect your plants from the cold. But when the temperature drops into single digits, and for extended periods of time, at some point you have to realize that you’ve lost the battle. And make no mistake, the loss this week will be tremendous for everyone.

I feel certain that my Meyer lemon tree will not survive the next few days. I’ve covered it and put a 60 watt light underneath it, but in the face of 6 degrees that is like trying to save a boat from sinking using a soup ladle. But oh, what a glorious finale it had! 85 lemons that not only I enjoyed but others did as well. I gave many (most) of them away that were in turn used to make lemon curd, limonocello, lemon-blueberry cake; all of which came back for me to enjoy. And that is why I love growing things. It brings me joy to grow it, it brings others joy to create with what I’ve grown and that joy then gets returned to me. Circle of Lemons.

I know that I will be back in the Spring to start all over because, well, it’s what you do if you love plants and gardening. I’m already researching citrus trees online. Who has a good key lime pie recipe?