Chain Saw Grandma Returns

I'm concerned that the dog and cats are chilly with the furnace set to sixty degrees at night. Even though it's hard to get out of my cozy flannel sheets, their comfort is such a high priority that I am motivated to get up and get the fire going.

At last, the days are getting cool enough to cut firewood. The road dust is still a problem, but the time has come to run the chain saw.

Today, I cut up the sycamore limb that fell near the pond in the summer. I'm rather fond of sycamore for the sound it makes when knocked together, which is rather like bowling pins. It's quite heavy. I understand it won't split for anything, but I only cut the limbs. They are just my size. I'm not sure where sycamore stands on the BTU's scale, but maybe not knowing is better. Also, it doesn't seem to deteriorate. Best of all, it's very pretty, camouflaged in a distinctive way.

I cut these kindling pieces with the pruner. They are almost too gorgeous to burn. Last fall,  I wimped out and bought fire wood, on account of having that awful lingering cough. I was pretty much wiped out by it.

Now, I'm eager to start cutting wood. Because it's hard work, one load a day seems like plenty. One winter I kept a tally and cut 40 of these carts full.

I could buy wood again, but where's the fun in that?

A National Tragedy

To my readers around the world, I'd just like to apologize for the election outcome. How people could call themselves Conservative and yet vote for such a horrible creep is beyond me. Those of us who voted against Trump are huddled in shock, clinging to the hope that justice in his upcoming lawsuit will remove him from office. Having a loose cannon on deck does not make us feel secure.

Please don't think we are all idiots. He did not win the popular vote.

Tucked in for the Winter

That little bed has been planted. Several dozen daffodil bulbs are tucked in around the three transplanted daylilies and five butterfly weed bushes. To a non-gardener, this must look like some dirt and some plants sticking out of it. However,  I can see the daffodils in full bloom, nodding in the spring rain or even braving the last few snowflakes. It always snows on the daffodils. In my mind's eye, I can see the later flush of bloom from the daylilies and then the gorgeous butterfly weeds in yellow, orange and red, echoed by the marigolds that I'll plant along the edge.

My new auger made short work of planting the bulbs. Much better than the way I once did it. That required loosening the soil, running Tillie, scooping off the soil, placing the bulbs and then dumping the soil back on top. That was such fun that I only did it once, for a very limited amount of bulbs, like a dozen.

Had a little time out from gardening to have pneumonia. I blame the road dust for starting that.

Still awaiting more much-needed rain, but at least the cistern has rainwater and the pump delivers it.

Thinning the new spinach was lots of fun and I got plenty of thinnings to eat now. It's great to have anything growing in the garden after two light frosts. The El Dorado chard were eaten by bugs all summer, but have finally put on some growth. These darling volunteer lettuces may make it, and the garlic will overwinter for next year. The marigolds are still blooming, but another frost is forecast tonight. It's November, for Pete's sake, and they cannot go on forever.

Because the warm dry weather continued, I got a paint project going. Not perfect, but better. The old paint on the structure above the fruit cellar steps has been peeling for years. I decided I can't possibly look at it for another winter. It's the view from one of the windows. The paint was brown, one of my least favorite colors. I went with a pale green, the same color as my living room. The roof needs replacing, but this was what I could do. I scraped loose paint, nailed quantities of loose lap siding, added gobs of caulk, and ripped off the curling top boards.

The second coat was awaiting a bit of rain to dampen the horrific road dust, so I could breathe. I got a break when the wind shifted away from the road. Slapped on the second coat. It's as pretty as new paint.

A Feather Bed

Despite having a three-tiered roost and plenty of fresh straw for bedding down, the little crazies found a place they like more.

This won't work when they get much bigger. The nights are only in the sixties, so they must just want to cuddle with their friends. It doesn't appear that we have a rooster, so this must be a hen party that goes on into the night.

Magic Beans

Last year, I went to town and got a packet of Black-Eyed Peas.

In summer, I planted less than a dozen beans (they only call themselves peas to seem more appealing).

There wasn't anything on the packet to indicate they weren't what I was expecting, namely a bush bean. They started to grow, whereupon it became obvious that I'd been uninformed. First, they twined around a cage of green peppers, then cast an eye (they have plenty) toward the big daylily nearby. I hastily erected an opened-out tomato cage for them to climb up.

Before long, actually it was while I was sleeping, they had twined right up that. Next, the weight of the huge vines, leaves and long pods of beans caused that fence to fall over, blocking the path for the remainder of the summer. Since I love black-eyed peas, I let them continue.

The disappointing part, however, was most of the beans were tinged with brown flecks due to our humid summer. Hulling them was a lot of bother when most were spoiled.

They were trying. The kindest thing to do was to let them carry on until frost. Today, I started cutting them free from the fencing and the pepper cage. That's when it became apparent that I had in fact purchased Magic Beans.

Most of the vines were over ten feet long, great strapping monsters that probably would have reached the clouds if they'd had something like a cell phone tower to twine around.

Tossing the remainder of the packet out of the window, I vowed to never grow them again.

Frost Tonight

Frost warning, so that's it for the summer garden. The chicks will be sad because they have been feasting on largish zucchinis for some time now. The baby cantaloupes set an extra round of melons but most won't ripen. Even the possum isn't interested in them when they are under ripe.

The green peppers are always in fine form finally when the frost finishes them off. From an avalanche of vines, these tomatoes were the only ones that may ripen in a dark closet. The potatoes were a lovely surprise. I didn't get them all dug in a timely manner, so they put on new plants and gave birth to babies. I'll enjoy new potatoes and old potatoes, too.

The last blooms of summer were the tall zinnias. They took their sweet time in growing, for some moody reason. Now that the end is near, they burst into bloom and have loads of buds that will be zapped tonight.
Dahlias and Gaillardias were still growing strong, too.

The spinach and mystery Toy Choys are up, so winter isn't here yet. It always seems a short time between the heat of summer and cold nights. Probably because we have basically two seasons, hot and cold. However, there will be some lovely days between now and the first snow.

It's a Start

After some nice rain settled the road dust, I'm back at the Great Hillside Project. The bees were finished with the White Heath Asters. One bee did come around while I was cutting them down. I did a little dance to show her there were lots more in the nearby fields. However, I don't believe we both have the same choreographer.

Before the rain, I ran Tillie over the hand-dug parts. I transplanted four of the Butterfly Weed shrubs, now dormant. I was surprised to find they have big roots, most of which are still in the ground.

I started them from seed one year. They were pretty. The next spring, I guessed they weren't going to show up, so I planted some new daylilies there. Surprise! Not wishing to play favorites, I let them all try and duke it out.

Now they can have enough room. I'll plant some of those daffodils around them, so I'll have some pretty blooms while waiting for them to break dormancy, rather late. They are like me, not early risers. Perhaps they are also into astronomy that keeps them up late.

The scrawny bamboo markers show the curve of the planned bed. Most of the weeds now are English Plantain, a solid carpet of them. The moles have kindly helped with the excavation and will no doubt come back when I have everything planted.

Speaking of planting, today I found the seed packet from the Toy Choy bok choy. Wish I'd seen it before I used the saved seeds to plant lots of them the other day. I thought  they were open pollinated, but they are hybrids. Who knows what I'll get for all my trouble. I did plant some Melody spinach for spring. It always does better with a fall planting, if I'm not running terribly late. The heat just passed a few days ago.

It was 36 degrees this morning, so Jack Frost is probably going to call soon. The sweet potato vines have taken over the tomato planting and lots of the garden. Hopefully, there are a few tubers in there.

These marigolds in the garden make my eyes glad to look at them.

From four plants, I now have many square feet of autumn blooms, really finer than mums, which are so fleeting and lots more expensive. These are Hero Mix, a much better bargain, $1.50 from Pinetree Garden Seeds. They've been in bloom all summer. Rich, beyond my wildest dreams.

Surrendering to the Road

The road dust is thick again, with huge combines and grain trucks roaring by. The dust is not good for my lungs, so I avoid it. Perhaps a sign borrowed from a boat marina would help: LEAVE NO WAKE.

My front border has suffered from neglect on account of the dust. My house is too close to the road. So, I made a decision to stop trying to have annuals there. This has only taken me years to figure out. It suddenly dawned on me that having a pretty show of flowers for the passers-by was ridiculous. For one thing, everyone zooms past so fast that all they see is a blur, or my backside as I work the soil.

 I shall now confine my efforts for my eyes only.  The weedy hill out back will be my new area of interest/challenge.

At the moment, however, there are bunches of wildflowers there that the bees are working. Shrub-like White Heath Asters have taken over spots not already choked by English Plantain and foxtails. Usually, I avoid yanking out flowers in bloom. They don't like it and I feel bad. However, the surrounding fields are crammed with them. I believe the cows don't eat them, preferring to just smell their lovely fragrance and admire the tiny daisy-like flowers.

Now that cooler weather has finally arrived, I can fling myself headlong into transforming the hill into a blooming showplace. That's how we gardeners always start out, with plans that are a tad beyond grandiose.

As I've mentioned, the soil is lovely on that hillside. That's why it's choked with weeds. No need to dwell on that.

To this end, I have ordered a bulb planting auger for my drill. Here are quantities of daffodils that I dug up recently because they needed to be divided. There are some daylilies that I want to transplant in the manner of White Flower Farm's expensive Daffodils and Daylilies collection.

My plan is to also transplant as many of the robust plants as possible. Here are the sage I mentioned earlier. They have lovely blue flowers in springtime and shade out weeds that try and grow under them. Bees and hummingbirds love them. Parts have sometimes died out in a really cold winter, minus twenty degrees, but they have always rebounded.

Best for me to begin with Square Inch Gardening. Today, I started at the end closest to the back of the house and began the slow crawl forward.

Getting the roots out required several things, like the shovel, claw and kneelie. Another was the lawn chair and jar of iced tea with basswood honey.

The beauty of this bed is it gets morning and late afternoon shade. Heading in a northerly direction, I came upon the Lost Iris Planting. The weeds have infiltrated it and the irises will all have to be dug up. That four-foot wedge of dirt was about two hours' worth of digging and sorting. Soon, I'll be able to work the soil with the Mantis and proceed with the Grand Plan, hopefully before the fall rains start.

The Door Opens on a Wider World

At first, the chicks were afraid to come out when I propped open their door. Chickens are not renowned for their bravery.

Waiting to see how big a zucchini would get, I decided that this was it. I split it open and the chicks came out to get it. Lots of weeds have grown up in the run since there were any chickens using it. It was over the babies' heads and must have seemed like a jungle to them.

As long as I was sitting on my half cinder block watching them, they stayed out. Every few minutes, they would look up to check that I was still there. It was like when I had toddlers; the eye contact was reassuring to them.

They scurried back into the coop when I left to go inside. I had to order a camp stool from Amazon.

A Short Rant About Honey Prices

Checking honey prices in the supermarket, I was astonished to find the dark honey labeled "raw" and sold at premium prices. Dark honey is at the bottom of the scale for great honey, right next to road oil.

Here's the deal with honey. Honey is graded by color. The lighter the color, the more value. Any honey from a local beekeeper is no doubt "organic" and not pressure filtered. Raw just means it hasn't been heated. In a small operation, there's no need to not let gravity cause the honey to drip through the mesh strainer. "Raw" sounds unfinished to me.

Not only that, she goes on, but I really can't believe that honey labeled raw and organic and from Brazil is really all those things. What it is is dark and medicinal-looking.

Doing some calculations of what my honey is worth, according to the various jars and bears, I get a range of a minimum of $11 for the quart jar, up to $16.50 for organic and raw. If I were to part with any of the specialty honey, the basswood, I would expect to get $20 for a quart jar, for the premium light color and unique flavor. Anyone who had tasted basswood honey (and could afford it) would be happy to get it.

I used my new spiffy digital kitchen scale and discovered that a quart jar holds not three pounds, but two pounds and twelve ounces of honey. So my calculations were based on that.

One other factor, in addition to all the expense of equipment, is the glass jars, which cost almost a dollar each. From all the above, it is apparent that I intend to sell some honey but don't want to haggle with those who want the price to be cheaper than Walmart.

These jars, filled yesterday, are all the same batch of light, exquisite honey. The ones near the window just have more light shining through them. Beekeepers frequently use the flat-sided glass honey jars to make the honey look one grade lighter. Those jars are lovely but even more expensive than the canning jars.

Fine honey is like fine wine, expensive.