herbs

Post Post


Is this now a post post journal in accord with our new post truth environment? I admit to being busy with so many different projects that the will to post has been minimal or rather, non-existent. To blog one has to make time or have time, an idea to flesh and flush out, images to give sight to sore eyes, and an editor -always have an editor. Is it that there is nothing new to report? Hardly -there are too many things to report.



The garlic is in last season's potato bed and even more at the neighbor's sheep farm. We may see Hudson Clove return to small sales next year. The bed of herbs is taking in the glories of climate changes that helped create the longest growing season in our region's written history. Depending on one's micro-climate it was possible to grow throughout November. I believe November 19 or so was the first time it froze long enough to do in the cold-sensitive plants and the brassicas lasted into December.

Our lawn has turned completely from grass to creeping charlie. I may use the language of the walking dead to describe it from now on: another area has turned. I could go into a description of creeping charlie, but a visit to Wikipedia should do. Creeping charlie was likely brought to our place, intentionally or otherwise, by my father in law. Our vegetable gardening created bare patches that allowed it to get stronger. The lawnmower chopped it into little bits; each sprouting into a new plant as the weather permits. Last summer and this summer the weather was all too permissive. It spread far and wide and quite literally there is now no more grass. It's also invading the perennial garden and after we had the dumpster removed from the drive, I discovered it growing underneath. Raking leaves is out of the question, unless you want it to spread wherever you move those leaves. My father in law raked and hauled leaves into the woods, over the slope -a good practice, generally. At slope bottom, however, there is now a large colony of charlie that I have low initiative to deal with. I've seen it in the middle slough, too and then again sliding down the slope into the back slough.


While everyone was lining up to buy things on black Friday, I lined up herbs and flowers to prep for a winter indoors. The rosemary was over-wintered in its pot last year and hung in there, but took until mid summer outside to really take off. Much larger and greener than last year, and not so delicately ripped from its summer bed, I hope it will survive once again. Along with lantana, it will be spending the winter in warm, dry, sunny bedroom window.



The pineapple sage wouldn't have made it to bloom if the season hadn't been so extended (although it may have in the greenhouse). There is nothing this red in November around here, poinsettia excluded (we overwintered and oversummered one from last Christmas). I've cut a few branches for rooting and even brought the whole plant in. I will cut it back hard after flowering is complete and see how it does.

Some Siberian cold (often the coldest place on earth) has been dislodged and is making itself felt now. The Army Corp wisely held up the DAPL so at least some of those protesting the pipeline would be inclined to head indoors. The ridiculously warm temperatures gave those not familiar with the Dakotas a false sense of our climate and would have been hit hard by the forty mile an hour winds and zero degree temperatures of the last few days. The cold and wind forced me to bring our agave and opuntia cacti in from the greenhouse. My educated guess is that these can survive zero degree F temperatures as long as they stay dry, but I decided not to chance it. They will also spend the winter in warm, sunny bedroom window.

I, however, will spend the sunny part of days out and semi-out of doors. You'd be surprised how easy it is to get used to 15 degrees F. I just spent 20 minutes outside this morning, sans jacket, to take some photos. It's the fingers one needs to worry about, especially where there's wind. 


Above is the south side of the studio building we've been working on for the last year. I think the temperature inside has stabilized at 34 degrees F despite the 17 degrees F outside and is warm enough to do some interior framing and insulating (where I'll be after this). With the luck of the longest growing season, the grass seed I planted here in early October not only sprouted, but grew in somewhat. Then, in one of the many furious acts born out of every last day above freezing, I tilled it all but a two foot wide grass strip in order to winter plant a native savanna garden from seed mixes I purchased from Prairie Moon.


I also tilled behind the building, on the west side, where I will broadcast a woodland mix of forbs and sedges. I do not expect this to be as easy as my milkweed experiment turned out to be. Disturbed areas like this are perfect for invasive plants (like garlic mustard) to take over, so I have to act immediately. In the greenhouse, towards late winter, I will also seed five inch deep cell trays with many of the grasses and some forbs. These will be planted directly around the building and elsewhere on the land where large oaks have fallen to create sunny openings.

As I look out the window, I see that it is flurrying again. Till next time.



Garden Report

Potatoes are waning but they're still impinging on the herb bed. As the sun lowers and the potatoes die down, the herbs should reclaim their full sun. In the back left, really tall milkweed.



As the garlic comes out over the last few weeks, the fall brassicas have been filling in. These are brussel sprouts, the first planted, into the space previously occupied by garlic 'Xian.' I've never grown these before, but have planned it for years. Notable this season is a lack of cabbage moths -not complaining!


 
Eggplant fruit coming on now.


Green beans, from purple to roma, prolific and easy as ever.


All peppers are fruiting, some large. Only difficulty is that the plants can hardly hold their large fruit and that I shouldn't be so lazy as to try to break a pepper off the plant instead of going for the pruner. What happens? Well, I break the whole pepper plant in half.



In complete opposite of last year, all our tomatoes are suffering blight. Could have come in on our purchased compost, or maybe because we planted in last years potato and eggplant beds. Hard to avoid poor rotation in a compact garden. Next year I think these beds will be garlic and the garlic beds will be tomatoes. All that can be done now is watch the tomatoes try to outgrow the blight.


More brassica as the Porcelain garlic 'Music' has come out. As two more varieties of garlic are harvested over the weekend, even more brassica will go in. Above is kale started from seed in the greenhouse.


These giant pompoms, hydrangea actually, were moved from the south side of the house last year. We planted them in a great arc around the curving lawn-driveway. They are quite garish, but they keep the plow truck and other skiddish drivers from driving over the lawn and garden in summer and winter (thanks to the long lasting dried flower sepals), and maybe they keep the deer at bay. Maybe.


And we've finally started digging into the soil for new potatoes. Above: Kennebec russet, Pontiac, and Yukon Gold. Thanks to the quantity of compost and straw they came out with little soil and easy to clean.

I've been very busy with many things, from door and sill replacement, old deck removal, job searching and applications, studio building projects, contractors and everything I can't stand about some of them, photographing, studio painting, my class Landscape into Art which runs on the twenty third of July, a bit of socializing, gallery going, and even a music festival in a corn field last weekend. Blogging has had to take a back seat to all this (as well as taking quality photos for them), but rest assured -I was able to plant half of my milkweed over the septic drain field and beyond yesterday. Progress.







Summer Solace

One of the benefits of getting to one's vegetable garden first, before summer's work begins in earnest, is not having to think about the garden at all when you are knee deep in summer's work. It grows itself, mostly, with an intensity only paralleled by the solstice's long day. 


  
One of the beauties of growing garlic is that it's harvest hardly coincides with any garden task other than weeding. By now, the first of the garlic is near completely exhumed (briefly hesitated to dredge up this word), and like any darkling, it mustn't be cast into the bright light. The first pulling is in the shade of the porch, but the full harvest is likely to be dispatched to the cellar. Here, in the midst of harvest, is Xian, a Turban strain, and one of the best for flavor and earliness. Turban's lodge, or fall over, as a way of telling unsuspecting gardeners that they need help -getting out of the ground.



At about the same time sizeable beaks are swirling above the Asiatic strains -here Asian Tempest and Japanese. These will be harvested next, not long after the Turban strains, and sometimes before.



Meanwhile the Porcelain strains have had their scapes (flowering stalk) cut, ready to be pickled or grilled or sauteed or...just don't leave them in the fridge too long before doing something with them. Behind the Porcelain are the Rocambole (shorter in the middle) and Purple Stripe. 



The French Grey shallots have also been pulled. I find that the height of the crabgrass is a useful indicator for timing the shallot harvest. Left behind are the Artichoke and Silverskin strains, those hardy bulbs that we use through next winter and deep into the following spring. 



When the the crabgrass first sprouts, it's the best time to get your peppers in, but I didn't heed the crabgrass this season. No, I put the peppers in a couple of weeks early -listening to the lambsquarters maybe. They're doing fine anyways, although I do think they are showing a little too soon.



Broccoli? Yes! And from seed no less. In spring? Yes! And no cabbage moths to boot. A quick, small-headed variety seed-started on May one and hardly two months later boom -broccoli. Go figure. I've got some of those very same starts in their deep cells holding back growth inside the greenhouse. They'll be put into the garlic beds as they clear.



Green beans? Not so fast. I seed-started these in the greenhouse on May one and planted them out a two or three weeks later. Nice flowers, no beans yet.



Cucumbers before June 21? Why, yes. I purchased a cell pack of four Spacemaster cukes from Shady Acres and planted them in pots raised well off the ground.



They won't ever reach the ground, that's why they're called spacemaster. They do put on an impressive display of cucumbers and have produced a handful of medium sized eaters before the solstice. I've seeded my own, too, to replace these after they give up.



Tomatoes, well that's asking a lot, isn't it? But among our six strains (of three varieties -plum, grape, and, uh, heirloom beefsteak?) these grape tomatoes, called Red Pearl, are way good producers.



In fact the deer are warming up for BBQ season by snacking on our Speckled Roman plum tomatoes. I grew these at the Beach Farm, and deer aside, expect them to do really well here.



Dill, cilantro, basil, and at the very bottom, cutting lettuce. In the background -common milkweed that has grown in this spot for eons, or at least since this house was built, so maybe the late nineties. Infringing on their bed are the potatoes. They are so big they require their own post. Look for that.




An Insider's Garden

Winter has gone and done it. We're rising above zero for the lengthening daylight hours, but descending to negative teens deep into the long night. The sun is low, brilliant reflected off the snow, and surprisingly warm at your back.  

Brought on by a concern for agave and prickly pear cactus we were given while visiting New Mexico last April, I've chosen to be a better house plant care giver. As a gardener, most people are surprised to hear I don't care much for houseplants. I prefer plants that take care of themselves and felt fairly confident that the desert succulents would survive outside as long as they were protected from moisture and cool temperatures, in essence -the damp. With all that has been going on, our gardens were not quite ready for such attention to detail, so we brought the potted agave and opuntia in, situating them under the south-facing windows, where only the tree trunks get in the way of their much needed light.


With our extended summer and then autumn, I was able to pot up parsley and cilantro well after a hard freeze. These herbs are tough, out of doors, but inside they have become languid. There isn't a window in the house that could give them all they want.



Betsy had potted Lantana out in the yard, and brought it in. I balked as it dried to a crisp, and then, in utter darkness, new leaves sprouted. Me and my balking. Afterward I recollected all the weedy Lantana growing street side and hill side in Florida during the dry winter.



Rosemary came in, growing as it's snipped, and preferring more sun. The Norfolk pine, Araucaria, somehow, can hardly believe it, survived a move from a sunny-ish window in humid Brooklyn to a dry, very dry west-facing window in our house with only some crispy golden needles as casualty. The purple Oxalis, reaching for the window, has been with me for nearly 20 years. It's been dead several times, or so I thought -a little water brings it back to life. Asparagus fern is in there too, came in from the cold, and is as carefree as the one I had in a pot on a landing in New Mexico. Finally, I should recuse myself from speaking about the Cyclamen because a) this is not my favorite kind (I prefer the gloriously scented variety) and b) I bought it at the Home Depot (never buy plants at the box store). Almost immediately its leaves began yellowing, although flower production kept up. Undoubtedly due to atmospheric conditions in the dry home but maybe light and let's just call it seasonal affective disorder. I think it is unsure what season it is, or not, however we can agree that the Cyclamen is pretty but moody.



We cure ourselves of that kind of difficult with this kind of easy -a hanging planter filled with spider and pothos, Epipremnum aureum. The pothos was ripped from the painted wall of our apartment in Brooklyn, wrapped in damp paper towel. stuffed into a small water bottle, and forgotten in the cab of a truck somewhere in Illinois, overnight, nearly snuffed out from freezing temperatures, then left in a bottle of water for 9 months, until planting it in this hanging basket. The pothos is one tough plant.

All that is required now is to build a proper shelf to support our collection of tough and finicky. Like many things these days, I will think it, and several months later it will happen.




When People Ask Where The Good Food Is


...I usually tell them its right outside.


Four heirloom tomato plants have produced more than most any I had ever planted at the beach farm.



I've been looking forward to the German Stripe, the latest to size up and ripen.


Japanese eggplant, 'Kyoto,' have been exceptionally prolific.


I put my green bean seeds in a little late, but still, they are producing now. 


Although my broccoli starts were a failure. Too late, as always.


But I was saved by this guy (sorry to say that I lost his name with a piece of paper) and Anderson Acres. You see the sign, to the left, that says start your fall garden. Yes! Getting starts together at the right time in summer is challenging given busy summer schedules and difficult weather. Hardly any garden business has starts available at this time of year, probably because there isn't much market for it. I'm so glad to have found them at the Minneapolis Farmers' Market in stall 311.


I bought a handful of these lettuce starts, broccoli, cilantro, parsley, and basil.


The fall lettuce.


Betsy's dill, the pickler that she is.



Our local hardware gave away (really, for free) many vegetable starts in July, most well past their prime. I focused on those sturdy sorts that do well in cooler weather -chard and kale. Small and weak when planted, they are now doing fantastic. We eat them every day.



A four pack of heirloom peppers from Shady Acres (whose stall Anderson Acres occupied at the farmers' market) has become quite a bounty of peppers. I've never had such luck. One plant has eight large peppers!



And they're beginning to turn red.



Of course, there are still tomatoes ripening.



These "cherry," or is it "grape," have been fantastic. The name I believe is 'Juliet' -a little sweet, little tart, and meaty -that is the key for me. I do not like watery small tomatoes that pop when you bite into them or crack after heavy rains. These I pick and eat right there in the garden.



With more to come.



The woods has not produced its usual bounty this year, except for the morels early on. Maybe we've missed them, having been so busy with work on the house and field. Of course, we'll keep looking.






Lawn Of Plenty


It was about mid-May when I decided to carve five small rows into the front lawn for this year's vegetable patch. It is the sunniest, flat space on the land here. In the distance, the driveway and a hedgerow of Hydrangea arborescens -a solution to coarsely articulated snow-plowing and a mass of foundation plants in the way of a future house project. Seven weeks from the day the tiller expressed itself, the vegetables are taking advantage of our long, northern days.



My first round of green beans didn't arrive, quite possibly because I didn't water the seeds enough or maybe due to three year old seeds. They were all French beans, ones that trialled well, hmm -three years ago. So I bought new seed from the big box (so many home projects!) and planted those. Meanwhile it had been raining heavily for a few days -that's when some of the old seeds showed up, 'Velour,' I think. So far no problems with bunnies -or deer, raccoons, hedgehogs, and whatever other vegetable munching varmint one can have. So lucky -that's all it is.


One four inch pot of flat leaf parsley has become eighteen by twelve inches of parsley -use it daily.


One four inch pot of cilantro has become two feet by twelve inches of cilantro -makes a nice pesto!


The garlic is still green, but I know well enough to start harvesting them. As these go, their rows fill with herbs, green beans, and eventually those brassicas I fully intend to start one of these days...


Four pepper plants from a cell pack of four heirloom varieties. This one set fruit super early.


A cell pack of Japanese eggplant have provided us with an orb -not the usual thin and elongated fruit. What gives? I do prefer the way less seedy elongated varieties. Oh, Japanese eggplant doesn't always imply elongated fruit? These are 'Kyoto,' a round eggplant, and I ashamedly renounce my ignorance!



One four-cell pack of, hmm, I forget the name, but cucumber. I do recall it saying compact, and this one is definitely compact. We grew them in pots, elevated off the ground in metal pot stands that happened to be here. A couple of things to point out: these four plants in two pots have been productive for their size and have not succumbed to mildew. They have yet to reach the ground and have many flowers per vine. I recall googling the variety at the nursery, Shady Acres! Ahh, they have a plant list- It is Spacemaster. Pick them pickle size for best flavor.

A word about Shady Acres. Heirloom. That's the word. Seriously, Minnesota has some catching up to do when it comes to organic garden supplies and heirloom vegetable starts. It is very difficult to find what I came to expect -even at Larry's on the corner in Brooklyn (Best Deal on Bloodmeal!). I edify every nursery I come into contact with, including Shady in regards to fertilizer choice. I heard about Shady Acres from my neighbor who is busy trying to grow Minnesota's largest pumpkin, and was grateful for the recommendation -they carry heirloom vegetable starts. For me this means they have a variety of tomato beyond Rutgers, Beefsteak or Early Girl for the person who simply didn't get to starting his own.


Potatoes. They grew incredibly tall, so high that they could no longer be soil-mounded. Then a week of heavy thunderstorm rains, about seven inches in all, ensured that they would lay flat until they turned back up toward the sun, which they have, albeit more prostrate than before. They have been flowering for a few weeks now, with new potatoes sure to be available soon. I've decided to wait on those, aiming for the bigger potato of the future.



The tomato plants are some of the healthiest I've grown. Again, an heirloom variety pack from Shady Acres provided the starts. Ours have been in the ground for about five weeks, have grown over thirty inches tall, and some are producing tomatoes. We also have a grape variety, four plants in total. We won't get a ton of tomatoes out of four heirloom plants, but this year required low input, experimentation, and observation.


What is remarkable is the health of each plant. No visible disease, no wilt or cankers, no blossom end rot (can we thank high Cal-Mg soils?), simply robust plants. Look at that impressive stem. It helps to be gardening in a spot that has yet to see any vegetable growing. We haven't had any Colorado potato beetles either, so here's to hoping that our little clearing is protected by the woods and wetlands that surround it.


Lastly, the bug-eating army of amphibians can't hurt. And what of the pansies? It hasn't been a very warm summer so far, but plenty of days in the lower eighties. Here it may be that pansies just won't quit.



Gardening at the Boundary


That day, maybe a week ago, it really came down.


I know nothing about late spring snow. Nothing. When I was a child, in New York, it snowed during our Easter break -it was early April. The day prior was warm, even the day it snowed it was warm, so much so that I was out riding my bike in the street with my brother. Although it was cloudy, the big, wet flake snow came without warning.


This snowfall is different, intermittent pellets and flakes. It was windy too, driving the pellets hard. As is often the case, the snow did not stick. The snow was not the trouble at all. It was the cold that presented itself the following night. 


I woke to find a frost on the little wetland.


 Crystals coated all the leafed out, saturated-looking plants in the early sun.



The parsley I had just planted showed crystallization along its veins (interesting that this happens, no?).


The  cilantro.


The Virginia Wetleaf succumbed (but recovered) to the eight or so hours well below freezing.

____________________

The last frost date for our location is roughly May twenty. I do not think anyone would suggest that the last two months have had ordinary temperatures, we haven't. Since March, we have had days that topped out at 10ºF and 82ºF, although most have been in the forties through the sixties. Our March monthly average high temperature was nearly 46ºF and the April average so far is 59ºF. Daytime temperatures have long suggested I should be growing things that California is having trouble providing. Think twice. I watch the trees and the vegetable gardens. Only this week are the oaks beginning to show the chartreuse of spring and there has been zero garden activity.

Warm air masses, heated by their descent from the Rockies and Great Plains, move in from the south and west, and locally there is sunlight warming the thermal mass of land without the cooling influence of great bodies of water. The day warms nicely. At night, however, without the moderating influence of clouds, radiational cooling is strong. I recall a typical temperature differential in NYC to be about 15 degrees. Here, in Minnesota, I have seen 20+ as the norm. Beyond nightly cooling, there is always the threat of a cold airmass coming down from the north whenever the jet stream decides to do something funky. Minnesota is the common entry point for cold air, it is the reason people think this state is cold. 


Which brings me to another weather detail. I noticed the window box of just planted pansies was bone dry. What? I had watered it in, deeply, just the day before. Hmm. Something unusual had happened -dry air, exceptionally dry air. Two days after the snowfall, and the day of the overnight freeze, our relative humidity had dropped to 12%, twelve percent! Our dewpoint was nearly 1ºF by the late afternoon. Meanwhile, our high temperature was 55ºF and the winds were up. The water simply evaporated. Despite this, the pansies toughed out the freeze and drought, as those in the pot above attest.



The dry air, the sudden cold from the north, the high temperatures, the wind, no rain, and of course, heavy rain are all typical. We live at a climactic boundary with little to moderate each influence. This is the education of a gardener.



Fennel Seed, Not Quite



The first cutting came to the studio where it is warm and dry.

But, after a week, I rustled the stems, and I was a little dumbfounded by what fell out.

Gnats. So, naturally I google gnats and fennel, but I found nada. So, my next batch came home with me and was placed in the stove (not doing much cooking lately) on a cookie sheet.

Yesterday afternoon, as I was about to use the oven, I removed the fennel. And, what fell out as it shook? You guessed it. So what gives? My first thought was that the gnats discovered the studio fennel because I left the windows cracked open. My second guess was the more likely, but less desirable, chance that they were already on the green fennel either as eggs or at some stage of maturation.

Anybody have experience with this? And if so, how do you deal? Just shake and shake until gnats no more or does washing before drying take care of them?






Change Of Season



The sun is now setting earlier, yet it feels that summer has only begun. That the peak of summer sunlight does not coincide with the peak of summer is a celestial twist, an affirmation of the skewed order of things. And here a divide in the vegetable kingdom, more pronounced this year than others, and maybe due to the warm spring and wet month of May.

The lettuce have peaked, with outer leaves folding down toward the soil. We've only 5 heads remaining, but wow, what a productive 20 square feet.

Cilantro now fully bolted and flowered, the young to return in a month's time. I wish I cooked enough for all the cilantro that can be grown in 2 square feet.

Snap peas, slow to start, but invigorated by the month of May, are finally letting go of the cucumber trellis. Fennel, finocchio romanesco, is close to flowering and bulbs are being pulled. Carrots here?

The French beans, first planted in the Turban garlic beds. Second planting was last Saturday.

Asclepias syriaca in bloom; scented evenings at the beach farm.

 Always worth a closer look.


Early Autumn Herbal




While at first the basil was taking poorly, all those August rains spurred on lots of growth.

The Salvia elegans is blooming now, earlier than the one at home.

Sage anyone? These are known to get quite large here at the beach.




Chive about to bloom, a flame.

The continuation of cat deterrence. I moved the daylilies to the back, along with some asters. Both are tough and spreading, helping to keep the cats from pooping back there. When the siding guys come (it's been years in the making), I think these plants can get stepped on a lot and will still bounce back. In front -the other perennials and the mesh. Now it's clear to me -everything's the same green. Time for flowers, no?

These two herbs have never survived a winter in my garden -until this winter. Snow cover, snow cover, snow cover saved last year's (now this year's) parsley and rosemary.

Every plant suffers some underneath the dry shade of the yew tree. But the monkshood, Aconitum, is just loving it, growing bigger every year. The phlox and lilies don't complain much either. I think I'm finally getting this side yard figured out.



Beach Farm: Week 16.5 -Beyond The Garlic



Snap peas.

Some flowers.

Broccoli growing in its tent.

The sound of birds at Ft. Tilden needs to be heard to be believed. This is the season for birders, and the south shore of Long Island, the tidal marshes, are major stopping points for migratory birds.

Rosemary in bloom, unusual here, reminding me of its cool weather bloom in New Mexico.

Still harvesting greens and radishes.


The Borage Report



The side yard. The cosmos are to the right. That leafy plant center bottom is borage -I got seeds for free from the BBG. Alyssum in the path. Evening primrose in yellow.

The borage is about to flower. Apparently it can be eaten and has medicinal properties. Also, it is said to have positive effects on nearby tomatoes and legumes. How lucky for me to have tomatoes and beans planted right next! Notice all the little spiny hairs -they don't quite sting like nettle.
The tomatoes are growing rapidly (is it the borage?). To the bottom right, brandywine, the center top, sweet 100 cherry, and to the left an unknown orange variety given to me by a neighbor.

The brandywine is putting out flowers rather early (is it the borage?).

The Italian flat leaf parsley has sprouted -we put it in kind of late (not the borage).


Poor Man's Patio Part 2



This is poor man's patio, one week later. I went to my corner hardware store and bought their cheapest ($4.99) bucket of gray, unsanded indoor/outdoor grout. In a bucket, I mixed some sand with the grout (which is basically portland cement). Then I shoved the mixture into all the gaps around the stones, pushing it into all the open spaces formed from a week of settling sand.

I wet the mixture with my watering can and got sloppy smoothing the wet cement with my broom. A day later, sufficiently cured, I rewet the surface to begin cleaning the grout residue from the surface of the slate. I wouldn't advise anyone to make a patio this way, but it works -in a devil may care sort of way. As I said in patio part 1 -if I were doing this right, I'd prepare a proper bed of gravel underneath the patio and then use crusher fines directly beneath the slate and in between the stones. But this is a cheapo patio.

A week back I planted the perennials around the patio. This weekend I applied a layer of cedar mulch. I did this primarily because this is what is advised given the amount of heavy metals in my soil. It so happens that in building my patio I turned a lot of the old soil over and onto the surface. The soil dust blows around, settling on my herbs or in my lungs. It can get pretty dry in my yard, as I rarely water. So the mulch keeps the dust down, or that's the theory anyhow.

All the perennials, no matter their location, are quite far along this season. The ferns I transplanted from the front yard were mere bumps a week ago -now fronds.

Dicentra eximia, a native of N. American eastern forests, exploded after replanting.

Brunnera macrophylla, or false forget-me-not or Siberian bugloss, variegated. This was barely hanging on underneath the old vegetable planters. It'll probably come back quite vigorously next year.
The potted chives are sending up its flowering stems.

The thyme is alive and well, if coming up much later than its neighboring oregano.


The Nearness of Spring

Hard to miss over the last few days, despite the remains of past snowfalls lurking in shadowy places, is the return of spring. Its in the air and the garden calls. I have not, as anticipated, planted any vegetable seeds for this years garden. We're going herbs and flowers in the side yard.

The side yard is a mess as always and now it has a pile of yew branches. A quick clean up of this winter's city garbage, a swift shoveling of the cat scat, and we're on our way. Some wooden planters will be disposed of, one or two will be kept. The compost pile might be transferred to a large nursery tub. Herbs will stay in pots. I do hate the tainted soil.