Working for Food

The rewards for gardening and raising chickens are not commensurate with the efforts, but even so!  For dinner I had stir-fried snow peas, freshly dug new potatoes and beets and deviled eggs with chives. From the beverages list I selected iced tea with honey. Anyone who regularly is lucky enough to taste fresh food will understand why I don't really like to eat out.



The West Border gets morning and afternoon shade. I pulled up a chair under the flowering plum and feasted my eyes on pinks, Sweet William and Siberian Iris. The latter tended to flop over, so I brought them in to enjoy.

These beauties are food for the spirit. I am well fed. Everyone can see that.

Everything's Comin' Up Peonies

It's Showtime!


These peonies are special because I rescued them from bloom-less obscurity in shady locations. They are like Dog Pound neglected mutts that turn out to be prize-winning purebred show winners.
These ones out front grew surprisingly large. The the irises in the background, perfectly showy in their own right, are vainly trying to peek over them. Also, there is a favorite deep blue iris next to it that didn't even have the heart to bloom at all.  I have promised to move it to center stage elsewhere.

Here are some irises that have been given their own space. I love these nearly silver white enormous beauties with ruffled edges.

The cow fence peonies, just popping into bloom, are the May highlight of this almost-formal bed near the road. They had their own featured story in my blog last spring. All but the dark red one, Red Magic, were snatched from a dismal existence down by the outbuildings.

These enormous peonies are next to the cistern. I am currently painting the milk can blue for this season's petunia pot for the front porch. Peonies grow from nothing in early spring to three feet tall and five feet wide.

Blood-red splotches adorn these jumbo blooms on Festiva Maxima. The other white one is Shirley Temple, also fabulous. They like for me to brag about them, especially their exquisite fragrance.

Looking Like a Garden

Things are coming up, looking promising and resembling a real garden. Some early veggies like the usually easy radishes didn't do well on account of perhaps starting to sprout and then not getting enough water. It was all my fault for being insensitive to what was going on underground.

At any rate, the BSS are thriving. That's what my family always calls Black-Seeded Simpson lettuces.

They are a seasonal treat in wilted lettuce salad, with fresh onions. Like morels, some years they aren't available. They are gorgeous.

The potatoes have been hilled and mulched. The broccoli are getting tiny heads. The chives are in bloom. It hurts their feelings if I don't let them blossom, and they are cheery.

The Early Round Dutch Cabbages are heading up, but the Bravos from Harris want to get bigger and it will take them quite a while to get there. The other two are savoys, with their crinkly leaves. Notice how I gave them plenty of room. They also got a feeding of fish fertilizer not long ago. We had good rains last week but I'll give them some cistern water soon. Growing cabbages from seed never fails to amaze me. All that growth from only one seed; it's a miracle.

At last, I got a good-sized chunk of rhubarb root to propagate. I have high hopes it will provide me with many pies next year. It's put on two new leaves since I planted it in compost in the top tier.

The late frost danger will soon be over and I can get the tomato and pepper plants in the ground. Today. I'll get the Long Season Beets planted, a bit late but I was waiting on the seed to arrive, then I had to wait while the ground dried out a bit.

Most of the compost boards have been put up. I have put enough weeds and chicken poop in here to fill it several times, but the nature of compost is it keeps squashing down, making room for more. Even a two-fisted weeder like me can't fill it up.

Gardening is the best entertainment ever, and promotes deep sleep when the sun finally sets.

Exploring the Great Outdoors

At last, there is enough greenery to let the hens out. Apparently, they feel at home on the range. That's good, because that frees me from picking clover and other greens for them. The apple tree's fallen blossoms get their attention but must not be very filling.

They have wandered through the barbed wire fence into the unoccupied cow pasture. I draw the line at letting them into the garden.

I mulched the entire daylily bed and put up the little fences that I hope will keep the hens from scratching all the mulch away.

Having had my last three remaining hens mysteriously vanish one day while I was away, I only let them out in the late afternoon while I can keep an eye on them. They love their greens but will follow me anywhere for a slice of white bread.

The girls sometimes keep me company while I am kneeling to weed the flower borders. The weather forecast was for rain today, so I was in a weeding frenzy for several days. Even though I can barely straighten up, I consider it a worthwhile energy investment.

They can't be beat for ornamental additions to the landscape. So lifelike.

Back to the Undisclosed Location

When I said, "Let's go look for morels," Lissa corrected me, saying, "Let's go FIND morels."

The river had been out of its banks recently. My one attempt to check out the area ended with my rubber boots sinking in mud. I turned back, lest I become a permanent fixture on the path.

At the morel enclave, Lis found the first few mushrooms. I couldn't seem to see any, because what I was looking for was not what was there. When I finally changed my sights to silt-covered morels, I started to catch up in the race to capture the elusive fungi.

The river was out of its banks on April 6. The morels must have come up in the last couple of days, and pushed up through the silt the receding river left behind. The mesh bags are to let the spores fall out and make more morels.

We never know if we will find the woodland goodies in April or May. Once, I found some in early May in snow. They are tricky.

Driven by extreme greed, we wandered all over, getting snagged on wild rose thorns. Lis found this dear little bird nest on a bit of brush. Only thirst made us give up the search. It was a humid 82 degrees.

Once they had a bath in salt water and several changes of rinse water, they were ready for the skillet. This was our biggest haul, two pounds and three ounces.

Morels are simply more mushroomy than any other mushroom. The flavor is exquisite. I think it's Mother Nature's way of luring us out into the woods in springtime, to enjoy the wonderful wildflowers.

Down on the "bottoms" the phlox are everywhere, in artistically placed nosegays. Like morels, they are not visible from a speeding car.

Adequate Daffodils

Finally, I have enough daffodils.

How many are enough?  Some existing daffodils down by the woodland garden were crowded and scarcely bloomed. Given their own spot, they are happy and make my eyes glad. Behind them are Surprise Lilies.

Then there are some that I missed when I dug up entire daffodil plantings to replant. Unaware that they were hiding deep in the dirt, I moved some overgrown irises here, seen at lower right.

This is the peony and  daylily bed. The daffodils are the opening act for them. Surprise lilies are by the old wagon wheel. Those guys have bulbs the size of hard balls and probably not worth the effort it took to dig them up and replant them a foot deep. Like daffodils, they multiply like rabbits.

This is the hillside where I transplanted daffodils and daylilies last fall. I've left plenty of room for them to multiply. The cages are to let Beau know I did not create a spot for him to stretch out in the sunshine.

At last, we are getting lovely rain. The broccoli and cabbages are ready to transplant now. They weren't hardened off, due to the high  winds, for weeks. Now all is calm. Fortunately, during the dry spring I was able to till the spots where these will go; all I have to do is dig round holes in the wet soil and pop them in.

To answer the question of how many daffodils are enough, I would say seven separate beds and roughly two hundred bulbs. This bouquet is shown with the Bradford Pear, which is just as beautiful in bloom and a lot less work. Seen near the propane tank are old plantings of, surprise, Surprise Lilies.

Enough Room

I'm trying to change my planting habits. My worst problem, from when I had my first vegetable garden when I was fifteen, is giving plants enough room. This time I used large-square graph paper to plan the garden, which showed me that there really wasn't going to be room for unlimited veggies.

The yardstick allowed me to place these seed potatoes exactly 18 inches apart, and the onion sets have adequate space.  I've even left enough room to be able to till alongside the rows and mound up the dirt after the potatoes start growing. It's amazing, and so unlike me.

The next thing I'm working on is not planting too much of everything. A small garden helps in that regard. When I was living by myself at the farm, a friend suggested I no longer needed to plant the entire 90x90 foot garden. I thought that was heresy.

About a month ago, I planted little blocks of 2x2 feet along the soffit edge of the garden. See the white markers above. Those little wide row plots were for things that can't be put up for future use, like lettuces, radishes and chard.

Snow peas are wonderful fresh but always a bit limp when frozen. Hence, they got a small double row of 4 feet. I used the seeder, which sowed them a bit thickly; I'll thin them later. The pic looks rather dull, but the green shoots seem quite exciting after staring at the spot for a month, waiting for them.

Those early garden goodies have been very slow to come up, due to the area only having ONE inch of precipitation since Jan. 1. It was all to the good, though, when the temp got down to 9 degrees the other night.  Today, I broke down and watered them from the cistern.

Surprisingly, I found that two Red Norland seed potatoes gave me enough starts for there to be plenty for fresh eating all summer. Actually, one big potato would have done it.

Now that the grandkids are no longer coming to Grammie's for strawberry picking, I merely dug up 6 plants from the old weedy patch and gave them their own cute little bed. Molly, the youngest child, now grows her own strawberries. My freezer still has quantities of sliced strawberries and freezer jam.

Some rain and/or less strong wind would certainly be welcome. I put the broccoli and cabbage plants out to harden off in the sun for a scant few minutes yesterday. It took them the rest of the day under the grow lights to recover and straighten up. I overheard them making critical remarks about the dusty wind and my judgment.

The fun of gardening is we get to keep trying different approaches. I find that in any given year I have either a good early garden or a main one, but rarely both.

Beauty Pageant Hen

This is Betsy. She is an Americana, born in the USA. Quite the most beautiful hen in the run, she will not deign to associate with me. When she was a chick, I thought she was skitty, but now I believe she finds me repellent in my gaudy hot pink sweatshirt. So unsubtle.

Sporting exquisite feathers with  magnificent shading, she would be a prize-winner in any show. Even her feet are an unusual gray-green.

 Betsy is now producing the most gorgeous eggs of all. She was only in the house one day when she was a chick, but she apparently remembered the color of my living room walls. She has the true artist's eye.

The First Take-Cover of the Spring Season

Yesterday, when the winds continued very strong all day, and the temps got up to 75, things got a bit squirrely. In fact, I saw a squirrel leaping from tree to tree to reach a safe hole in the big oak.

These weather changes are hard to keep up with. Just the other day, when it was 72 degrees, the weather radio was still playing their old records, possibly 78's, advising us how to avoid frostbite.

My computer does have the radar image, which is good because I am not near any big city and have no TV reception.

Last evening, I was fixing my usual late dinner after dark when the weather radio announced that the tornado watch turned into a tornado warning. A tornado was reported to have touched down a little to the southeast. Time to put on a jacket and rubber boots, grab the flashlight and my purse and get down to the fruit cellar. It's always chilly down there, but the outside temperature had dropped 20 degrees rather swiftly.

Once there, I discovered my new cell phone, purchased for such an eventuality, refused to work without me giving them more money. I had it set up to automatically deduct from my Visa, so don't know what that was all about.  The idea behind the cell phone was if my manufactured home became airborne and landed on the cellar exit, I would have a way to reach someone to come get it off me.

Outside, there was lightning, thunder, heavy rain and hail. The wind continued to howl. I regretted that I didn't bring a book to read, having finished the four mysteries I got from the library recently.

It's moments like that that I really think I should do something to make the place more pleasant. Perhaps some posters of sunny island paradises would help. I did tear out the sagging plywood shelves years ago. The problem is the cellar is rather damp in the tornado season, hence the boots. Soft furnishings were definitely not the answer. The stored rain barrels did add a touch of much-needed color. Indirect lighting was provided by my trusty LED lantern.

The jugs are old kitty litter containers full of rainwater for the plants. Once I got the cistern pump, I forgot about using them.

Before long, the peepers in the pond could once again be heard as the storm moved off. I returned to have my dinner.

Snow is forecast for the weekend.

Digging in the Dirt Once More

Temperatures any day here in February can be variable, a wild understatement. This week in 1979, the low was minus 21 degrees. I was milking goats in in the barn in that bitter cold, so I was inordinately grateful for 63 degrees a couple of days ago. The tiny blue wildflowers are blooming!

Some of the weeds in the flower beds were in loose soil, so I spent the day pulling them. The chickens got lots of greens.

It was time to cut old stems on the hostas and peonies. Some red shoots were starting up in the peonies, a good sign that they will be shaking off winter with a new wardrobe any day now.

The garden was too wet to disturb, but I couldn't resist digging up some of the over-wintered parsnips. I don't know why some of them were a little on the scrawny or leggy side. I was careful to not cultivate around them, gave them plenty of room and talked to them nicely. These are Gladiator hybrids from Stokes. The bigger ones were delicious. All American Parsnips are my favorite, but I can't find the seed anywhere. So much for hybrids being a big improvement.

If I wasn't already getting all excited about spring, I heard the first Robins and Meadowlarks. I couldn't be happier if I had good sense.