I'm sure my cousin thought I was going a bit overboard at the Plant Sale, but the place was buzzing so I certainly wasn't the only one. I took my trusty wagon — which converts into a dolly and a bunch of other things — and dragged it along to all ...
I’m sure my cousin thought I was going a bit overboard at the Plant Sale, but the place was buzzing so I certainly wasn’t the only one. I took my trusty wagon — which converts into a dolly and a bunch of other things — and dragged it along to all the tables, picking up lots of things that had caught my eye on the sale list, as well as a few more.
The objective is to fill the space around the waterfall/pond/fountain thingie and make it look less like a black plastic abomination. I’m also looking to expand my literacy about natives in general so I can potentially do some beautification hereabouts — which is sorely needed. I even splurged on a couple of water lilies, which I’m hoping will help me turn the pond into a real ecosystem — slowly but surely.
I’ve been working hard this past week on what I’m calling the “dream garden waterfall/fountain/pond project.” After approximately a million aborted attempts (resulting in dead goldfish, among other casualties), a vision that began back in Brooklyn — when we optimistically splurged on a plastic pond liner — has begun to really be realized. Really.
As I pulled the truck around to the garden this weekend, aiming to unload the load of cinder blocks and retaining wall blocks I’d purchased for the project, I hit the brakes when I spied a visitor to our front yard. I wasn’t 100% sure when it was still, but a little movement cemented my original suspicion of what it was.
What does this have to do with living wild, you ask? In honor of the roadrunner (Geococcyx californianus) and everything else that lives hereabouts, I’ve decided to concentrate on adding native plants and building wildlife habitat on our property this year, instead of cultivating vegetables. (Though I’m still tending perennials like the peach tree and the blackberry bushes.)
The decision has brought me a great deal of peace, I have to admit, because vegetables need a lot of care and feeding, while native plants are, by definition, easier to grow in this environment. I’ll be working with the climate and soil, rather than against it. This emphasis will also likely result in a prettier yard and garden in general — something I’ve been needing to dedicate myself to for quite a while.
When you buy blackberry plants, they come in what’s called “bare root” form — that means each plant is basically a root and a tiny stem, maybe 2 or 3 inches long. Or at least that’s what mine looked like. They were kind of pathetic. And they didn’t graduate to being much more than that for many years.
Now, look at what has become of the three bare-root Darrow plants I purchased in September 2013:
Poking around yesterday and bringing in the beginnings of our harvest, I made a few interesting discoveries. First, I found a bird’s nest, made mostly of straw, tucked away neatly within the barbed vines.
And then, another bird’s nest — this one made from sticks.
In all of these pictures you’ve seen lots of green and red berries, but where are the black ones? Oh, you have to look around and, inevitably, they’ll be hiding JUST out of reach.
I decided to leave those to the birds. But I was able to pluck a few — standing on a chair, carefully weaving my arm through the vines, and getting caught on the briars all the same. Then, just as I’d think I’d gotten them all, I’d spot another juicy-looking specimen behind a leaf. That, of course, made me wonder how many others I was missing, so I’d peer at them some more, taking new vantage points in hopes of a ripe one catching my eye.
I remember having adventures like this with my grandmother in East Texas, where we’d go off picking wild dewberries and bringing them back (whatever was left, anyway) for a dewberry cobbler. That’s why I planted these — wanting to have my own little surprise moments of discovery. And the blackberries seem to thrive in the heat of our summers.
So it appears it’s been more than a year since I’ve updated this site. Oh, so busy. I’ll dispense with the excuses and begin with the updates…
My automatic watering system is no more, through no fault of its own. That’s because a hose-end system like mine is dependent on everything being super tight and tidy at the tap, but I never got it quite right and so, when I left the tap open — so the system could distribute the water — leaks abounded. I haven’t given up entirely, yet, as hubby promises he’ll “take a look” at this over the weekend. We will see!
I’m no longer making bread daily. Oh, if only it were possible. Honestly, my kids are nearly teenagers now and are much pickier about the size of their sandwich slices. It was a great experience and perhaps one I’ll incorporate into our lives again at some point.
My garden, however, is thriving. This year, we’ve got 3 raised beds on the go, and we’re working on: tomatoes (6-7 different varieties), Genovese basil, Thai basil, Japanese Eggplant, onions, sweet potatoes (mostly for the greens), cantaloupe, habanero and ghost peppers (not doing very well, sadly, but mostly growing them for the experience), and a little perennial herb section featuring sage, oregano, thyme and tarragon. Meanwhile, the blackberry bed is growing like gangbusters and the little peach tree is actually bearing 2 or 3 fruits.
The baby goats are now full grown and as ornery as you’d expect goats to be. They like to terrorize the dogs, especially a certain little one that has come to join our family recently. I haven’t yet bred our doe, Dulcinea, as I’ve not been ready to commit to a once- or twice-a-day milking schedule, but it’s still a possibility for the future. The short-term goal with the goats is to keep them from eating our house. Easier said than done!
And now, without further ado, some pics of some of the recent action hereabouts.
The cacti are flowering, the blackberry bush is budding out, and there’s a baby peach (I believe) on the tree. This year, I’m growing heirloom tomatoes and herbs — and that’s it, so far. I’ve set out a couple of containers — one with a fig tree and another with native flowering plants, and they seem to be doing quite well. There’s not much else to report about from the garden — I just haven’t been spending the time on it this year.
Meanwhile, I finally got a definitive answer on the identity of that mysterious tree. But, unfortunately, what I discovered was that it’s considered an invasive species. It’s a Bradford Pear, a sub-species of the Callery Pear, or Pyrus calleryana. Oh, well… I’ll enjoy it as long as it lasts, I suppose.