Something's Gonna Pay For This

I was minding my own business tonight after work.  I wasn't looking for a fight.  I was just taking a bag of garbage out when I saw something unusual.  Back by the compost bin I noticed something dark brown on the ground where it was usually light brown.  That light brown is what we drought-stricken Californians call "the new green".  

The picture below is almost too embarrassing for me to share.  It looks so splotchy and gross.  But this is what happens when you can't water your lawn.  The little bit of green you do see is probably just from the veggie garden's drip irrigation.  

At any rate, the dirt you see on the ground just to the right of the fence shouldn't be there.  A closer inspection was necessary.

And this is what I found.  Around the base of my active compost bin, something had been digging.  I have been composting for years and all this time I've been adding kitchen scraps, rotten fruit, and even the occasional dead bug and I've never had anything go after my compost bin other than worms.  

The back side of the compost bin

The front side

A somewhat closer view of the front.

I tried to get a picture of the claw marks I saw.  They looked fairly large but because they were up inside
I couldn't get a clear picture.  

Now I've been having issues with squirrels lately (more on that in the near future) but this doesn't seem like the work of the evil nuisance and bane of my gardening life.  While scratching my head (literally) I happened to notice a hole by the fence line not three or four feet away from the scene of the crime.

Gophers?  Moles?  Voles?  Squirrels?  What do you think this is?  I didn't see any telltale mounds or tunnels because this opening is right at my fence so it's possible that their are mounds or tunnels on the other side.

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Maybe I'm overreacting but I'm suddenly worried that two mysterious plant deaths in my garden weren't just unfortunate and untimely demises.  Perhaps they were sped along their way by some underground spawn of evil?

The Annual Mother's Day Garden Tour Part 1

I've been taking my wife and mother-in-law to a garden tour each Mother's Day weekend for the past seven years.  The tour raises funds for an elementary school in the neighborhood where these gardens are.  

It's a great tradition for us even though we all feel like it's become much more of a "backyard living" tour than actual garden tour.  There were seven stops total and I'll share pictures from most of those stops over the next few days.  

This first house was by far the most "garden like" house on the tour.  

There was no lawn in the front yard.  Only the flagstone patio with the fountain in the middle as pictured above and the flower beds shown in the first picture.

I love rain chains.  I've never been able to get one that worked very well for me but I love the look and the whole idea behind them.

I remember a whole thread of posts on Dave's Garden called "Show Us Your Compost Bins".  I think a lot of avid gardeners avoid composting because they have small spaces and they don't want it to look bad.  But this three-bin series fits right into the yard and doesn't look bad at all.  

The sound of running water is always welcome in the Sacramento heat.

These adirondack chairs were right next to the pond.

A single grape vine growing in this narrow side yard.

This jasmine-covered arbor smelled wonderful.  My wife, who sneezes every time she even happens to see a jasmine plant remarked out loud that she thought it might be worth all the sneezes to have this in our yard.

I'll leave you with a shot of their back porch.  The watering can was a staged item, I'm sure, but it was a nice touch.  

Stay tuned for more pictures in the coming days and happy Mother's Day to all the Mother's out there.

I Really Stepped in it This Time

Fair warning to the reader: if you find the S-word and the C-word (not the really bad C word though) offensive, you should skip this post. 

Anyone that blogs knows that there are some pretty amusing search queries that lead people to your blog.  For my blog, the term "squirrel porn" is in the top 3 of referring keyword searches.  Seriously?  Yep, seriously. 

As disturbing as those of us that aren't into squirrel porn might find that, I can't help but wonder what people would think of my search queries especially when they lead me to sites like that of the Point Reyes Compost Co. 




There's really no need to discuss the terms I may have been using when I landed in this place on the internet.  The important thing is, I found it and I am happier for it.  It provided me with at least 20 minutes of day-dreaming entertainment in which I imagined all the clever things you could say if you worked for this company. 

• When you're feeling sick: "Sorry, Boss, I'm not feeling like crap today so I'm going to stay home."
• When you're feeling totally efficient: "I've got this shit in the bag!"
• When you're optimistic about the business: "I think we'll sell a shitload of product today."
• When the spouse asks how you're feeling at the end of the day: "Totally pooped."

Even though Point Reyes is only a hundred miles from Sacramento, I have not seen this product for sale in my area but a quick look at their "where to buy" page reveals that I just haven't been shopping at the right places . . . most notably/surprisingly, Whole Foods.  So the next time I run to the grocery store I can say to my wife without a trace of irony that "I'm just going to buy some crap and I'll be right back." 

I really don't know if their claim that their poop is "premium" holds water, but I'm willing to trust them on this one if for no other reason than I appreciate both their humor and their attempt to do something good with what might otherwise be a shitty problem.  How could I not want to support a company that proudly states, "our products are mostly crap"?  On the "About Us" page they explain their motivation for the company saying:

When the economy turned to crap, it dawned on Teddy that perhaps he should do the same. After all, his wife’s family owns a ranch full of animals providing some of the best manure under the sun. By creating a premium compost company, Teddy could make a living that came from and gave to the land, while spending more time with his wife and kids.

Throughout his career life, Teddy has always felt strongly that people need to learn how to financially nourish themselves and sustain their businesses by using what nature and the land provides. And that’s exactly what he’s doing with Point Reyes Compost Company – taking regional products and investing them back into the land, creating an endless lifecycle while providing backyard farmer products that are used by other backyard farmers like Teddy. Ain’t poop grand?

Indeed, it is Teddy.  And I write that with a shit-eating grin on my face too. 

We Do One Thing at the Cost of Not Doing Another

A Stanley Marsh 3 road sign pretty well sums up
my view of the way time is passing.

I keep staring at my blog and thinking, “It’s been two weeks since I’ve written something. I should write something.”  And then I see on my blog roll that someone else has updated their blog and off I go. 

It’s not that I don’t want to write something or that I don’t have things to write about; I do.  It’s just that I’ve been busy with some things and lazy about other things. 

William Barrett wrote in his landmark study of Existential philosophy, Irrational Man, that “we know one thing at the cost of not knowing another.”  I concur.  But I would add to this that we could replace the words “know” and “knowing” with several other concepts and it would still be true.

We do one thing at the cost of not doing another.

We esteem one thing at the cost of not esteeming another.

We love one thing at the cost of not loving another.

This truth has been acutely evident in my life lately.  I have played in softball tournaments at the cost of not having Saturday’s in the garden.  I have spent lunch hours running to the Post Office to mail off eBay sales at the cost of not snapping garden photos.  I have spent those extra two minutes here and there playing Words with Friends at the cost of not taking the food scraps out to the compost bin.  I have been reading "A Year of Wonders" and "The Monsters and the Critics" instead of "Fine Gardening" and "Horticulture." 

How people spend their time and their money is the most visible barometer of what matters to them.  And lately, I have to say that I’m not feeling all that great about how I’ve been spending my time and I'm ready to get back to what feels right to me.  But first I have some commitments this weekend.  I will help a friend bring home some bookshelves (the curse of owning a truck), I will celebrate a wedding and I will attend a meeting.  These are good things, of course, but they take time.   

So I am also going to take a day off and make it a 3-day weekend.  And I plan on using at least some of that extra time to do one thing (gardening) at the cost of not doing several other things.

And I can hardly wait. 

Spreading It On Pretty Thick




I sift my compost into a large bucket and
I use a shovel to spread it on thick.

 Here’s a quick list of things I like to spread on pretty thick:

• frosting
• Nutella
• cheese
• sarcasm and
• compost 

Unfortunately, only one of those things is really good for me though.  I could argue that sarcasm is good for me but as a college buddy used to say, “Sarcasm is the devil’s tool against intimacy.”  And I think he was serious.  Sometimes it’s hard to tell if someone is being sarcastic.

While I love frosting of all kinds on all kinds of things and Nutella is the spread of the Gods, I’m trying to keep my waistline in check.  So instead of slathering up a graham cracker with butter cream frosting yesterday I decided to remove myself from temptation and instead check on my compost. 

It’s mid-July so there’s not a lot for me to do in the garden except make sure things are watered and the sprinklers are all working; wage war on my weeds; deadhead flowers; pick strawberries, tomatoes, and zucchini; consult with arborists; battle more weeds, patch rusty gutters; mow and edge the lawn; knock down the spider webs around the front door; cast dirty looks at the neighbor that refuses to do anything with his weed farm; research new stepping stone options; and smell the roses.  When I said there wasn’t much to do in the garden, was I being sarcastic?  Pretty much everything I can do in the garden should be done this time of year except the most fun thing which is, of course, putting in new plants.  

 

My "Biostack" composter.  It's not pretty, but it comes in pieces that you can stack on top of each other.  I have
two of these so, in theory, my compost bin could be twice this tall but that would make turning it a real chore.

But is July the right time to spread compost? Is there a wrong time to spread compost? I’m sure there are better times to do it (like before you put down 2-4 inches of mulch in the spring) but my compost is mostly ready now and, believe it or not, it won’t be that long before autumn’s leaves start falling and I start filling up my Biostack composter. So I wanted to make some room now.


My compost bin is right next to a sitting area.  Soon the black bamboo in the wine barrel should do a better job screening it.

So if I can’t buy new plants the least I can do is treat the plants I do have with an indulgent snack of black gold.  Compost has to be the plant kingdom’s version of chocolate frosting only with more nutrients.



My composter is in plain sight throughout most of my "back garden" but I've tried to use plants to screen the view some.

 

Pulling back a few feet, it's hard to see the composter at all from this vantage point along the pathway.

 





The Winter Yawn

Well, we got those winter holidays out of the way, didn’t we?  Now I’m ready to get down to the business of spring.  If only time and the weather would cooperate. 

Truth be told, the weather has more or less obliged my desire for some outdoor activity.  It’s been unseasonably warm and shockingly dry here during months that are typically cold and wet.  Except in the crisp, blue-sky mornings . . . man, it’s been cold in the mornings.  Like actually below freezing cold and not just wimpy Californian cold. 

Lamb's Ear - You have no idea how much restraint it has taken to not prune the dead leaves.

Which leads me to a minor confession:  I have taken a perverse pleasure in surveying the frosty carnage in my garden.  Let me be clear, I don’t want any of my plants to die but checking on their health is the closest thing I can get to actual gardening these days unless you count turning the compost pile and sowing cool season vegetable seeds.  Sure, sowing seeds is, by definition "gardening", but it doesn’t feel like it.  It feels like poking something in the ground and then waiting for two weeks before anything happens.

This is a picture of Flat of Italy onions.  Only you can't see them because it's just potting soil and seeds right now.  Doesn't look like gardening, does it?

In spite of the warm and dry weather there isn’t much to do but dream, and yawn, and wait.  Every gardener not living in San Diego knows this and deals with it in their own way.  We either read gardening books, try to find a gardening show to watch on TV (good luck with that), plan the destruction and rebirth of another section of yard, or order way too many tulip bulbs and seeds.  I am guilty of all these things. 

The waiting is, in fact, the hardest part.  It feels like a burden.  It feels like a punishment for loving something forbidden.  It feels like a long-distance relationship before there was e-mail, Skype, and Facebook.  But I am trying to make the best of it.  I’m telling myself that these times are necessary.  Absence makes the heart grow fonder so perhaps winter makes the garden grow better?  (I’ll let you know if I ever start to actually believe that.)         

This Lady Fern was a beautiful green until about two nights ago.

As I write this, dark clouds haunt our skies.  Rain is finally coming.  Proof that nothing lasts forever.  Not even winter. 

Daffodils have emerged.  I hope they know what they're doing.

Little Victories

One of several buckets of compost
this year!

I like to know that what I’m doing is correct.  If I think I’m doing something wrong, there’s a pretty good chance that I’ll freeze in my tracks and do nothing.  This applies to most areas in my life but it was especially true in my life as an inexperienced gardener.

Not knowing when to prune the azaleas (or if you prune them at all) meant that they didn’t get pruned.  Not knowing when to plant cool season vegetable seeds meant that I bought my carrots from the grocery store.  And not knowing when my compost was done meant I just kept adding to it and made it so that it never was, in fact, finished composting.

But I’ve been learning more about these types of things over the years and gaining confidence as a reuslt.  It’s always a little surprising to me when I actually learn something that is halfway technical - a botanical name, for instance.  But what is more surprising than eventually learning a few impressive sounding names and when to perform specific chores was the realization that as far as hobbies go, gardening is pretty forgiving and it doesn’t matter if I do everything right.  The expert advice may say to plant your Japanese maple in the fall, but if you decide to plant in spring, everything should eventually work out.  I like this about gardening.  It keeps it relaxing to me and makes it more than just a scientific experiment with a strict set of rules that need to be followed.    

I like that I can buy the wrong plant for the wrong space and that my penance for the mistake might be nothing more serious than having to dig up that plant and put it somewhere else or give it away to someone who has the perfect spot for it.  How many other hobbies do you know where you can turn a mistake into a gift? 

Compost ready to be spread.

Although I’m upfront about my lack of a scientific background I have fallen in love with the very scientific act of composting.  I am pretty sure that composting is the only thing in the world that could make me interested in learning about carbon to nitrogen ratios.  It’s amazing how you can fill a bin with shredded leaves and lawn clippings and come back in a couple days to a steaming pile that has shrunk in half. 

Just how hot is your pile, anyway?

And I’ve finally gotten it down “to a science”.  I’ve finally gotten in tune with the way my garden produces debris and I’ve finally made it work for me.  This is my little victory.  I finally timed it so that I could harvest my compost bin in its entirety before the leaves of autumn began to fall. 

Spread out nice and neat - at least until the leaves fell.

That means that I have not only been able to add to my yard buckets and buckets of beautiful worm poop and whatever else makes up compost, but I’ve freed up all the space in my bin for my garden’s busiest composting months just in time. 

And if I do it right, all this should be ready for a new harvest when spring, at the opposite edge of time’s orbit, finally circles back around. 

This is a newly renovated section and that space between the Japanese maples is begging for a few
more plants.  I apologize for the over exposure.  This photo was taken with my phone at midday.