At Long Last, She Blooms

More than twelve years ago Mrs. Nod and I visited the Vanderbilt estate, Biltmore, in Asheville, NC. While I was there, I fell in love with a tree form Wisteria vine that was overflowing with cascades of gorgeous purple flowers.

Sigh. Beauty is for the eyes to drink deeply.

So ten years ago I bought a purple Wisteria vine that had been trained up into a tree form for my own yard. I planted it, pruned it twice a year, gave it a trellis support and waited patiently. They said it may take up to three years before it started flowering, so I waited.

And waited.

This Spring I finally gave up and tore down the trellis which did no harm as it has been self-supporting for several years.  I had to prune the Wisteria back severely to extricate it. I had planned to dig it up with a shovel, but ran out of time on a Saturday.

A week went by and I went out back to see how to go about digging it up, when I noticed some pod looking clusters that I had never seen before.  I waited another few days and sure enough! those are flowers -- my flowers that I have waited 10 long years to see starting to peek out.

 I was a little aggressive when pruning and actually tore this branch a bit because I was going to chop it down. You can see the plastic zip ties around the branch in the lower left corner of the picture that I used to reinforce and hold it together. All of a sudden it is precious to me.

It reminds me of the parable of the fig tree that wouldn't produce fruit. The gardener begged for one more year of extra care before cutting it down. I don't know that I did anything differently, but God in his kindness has sent me a little beam of hope.  Perseverance has won the day!

At long last, she blooms.

Seeds of Sunshine

Unless a grain of seed falls to the ground and dies, it remains but a single seed ...

But if you plant a single sunflower seed you get a Ga-Zillion seeds back! My girl Nib planted these for me. Proud papa!

Look at this awesome haul from a single flower. Sunflowers are long, tall, strong (I actually broke a pair of kitchen scissors trying to cut the head off of a 6 foot stalk!), and beautiful.

They are pure sunshine trapped in a giant body. They always face the morning sunrise as if to say "We were waiting for you!" And once their glory fades, the massive heads droop down heavily as if in exhaustion saying "We lived to the full, there is nothing left." The mirror of the sun's face is dried up, browns, and crumbles away like ashes of a forgotten fire.

But underneath all this is row upon row of beautiful, black-and-white seeds. Their shells are hard and smooth. Take them out, wash them, soak them overnight in salt water, roast them gently -- enjoy the nutty, warm, roasty goodness that are sunflower seeds by the handful.

Monster Aparagus Growth Spurt

It is hot. hot. hot. out there. So hot that nothing much is growing. My grass is a brown patch in a sea of brown-ness.

Earlier, in spring, things were a lot more green. I planted asparagus late in the season last year, and it's been coming up great as of this year. Next year will be the first harvest. Asparagus takes a long time to establish, but will keep coming up for about 10 years.

The rate of growth on an asparagus fern (yes, they are ferns) is phenomenal. On week 1 I noticed a beautiful purple spear sticking out of the ground (I got a special purple asparagus breed). Isn't she pretty?

At this point this spear was 6-8 inches in length. I came back two weeks later and it was over 3 feet tall and putting out fern branches. It had also lost most of its purple color and was now more the traditional green.

That's an amazing growth rate! In the warm season, asparagus can grow up to 1 cm per hour. That's right, I said per hour.  My asparagus ferns are now around 5 feet tall, but it's so hot that nothing much is growing right now. In the fall, the ferns will die and turn golden in color and I'll mulch them into the soil.

Next spring is harvest time, and I plan on having lots of well-established and yummy asparagus from my own back yard.

My Mistress Beckons

I can't help it -- I went to the garden nursery today to pick up some seeds, and the old longing came over me again. 

I'm starting with lettuce, strawberries, blueberries, banana peppers, sweet red peppers, bell peppers, cherry tomatoes, better boys, parsley, rosemary, thyme, oregano, basil, cilantro, asparagus, purple passion asparagus, ...

Re-posted from 2009.
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I have a mistress to whom my wife bids me go; "Indeed", she says, "you have been away too long".

It is not a lady that beckons, but rather the earth in my garden. For three years she has lain fallow; no crops, no food, no fruit of the earth has she given me. "Alas", I sigh, "my lady lies barren, my mistress comforts me not."

A man comes from the earth, made by the effortless hand of God; a man toils in the earth to bring forth its fruit by the sweat of his brow -- such is his doom. And yet the garden is his refuge, he longs to feel the land beneath his feet; to plant and to furrow; to take delight in the tender shoots from the earth; to reap and to gather the work of his hand.

If God in His mercy sends His rain in due season, yet shall she bear forth. My fields are plowed, my garden prepared -- let the sowing begin! "Come.", my mistress beckons, "Come and let it begin again."

Corn Time

If you've never been to Indiana and Ohio, let me save you a trip: it looks like corn. Lots and lots and lots of corn.

We pulled off the highway looking for gas somewhere along Rte 90 and it looked like this.  Our GPS took us to the middle of a cornfield and then said "Now turn right and go off road". We opted not to do this.

But corn is good and corn is plentiful. Every year I attempt to plant 4 rows of it in my garden. This year was no exception. Only 2 1/2 rows came up properly, but I planted late and had general problems with the Nodlings knocking my seedlings off the deck before I could transfer them. Even with all that travail, I still got corn and it still tastes every bit as sweet as the stuff at the grocery store.

Since I don't use chemicals, I have to compete with corn earworms, but that's what knives were invented for - I just lop off the tips if the caterpillars got there first. Don't you wish every problem could be solved so easily?

Groundhog Grits

I don't know if there is such a thing as groundhog grits, but I might be willing to find out just for spite.

I saw the big, fat, no-good whistlepig varmint today sneaking about my garden. Since I'm on injured reserve I couldn't chase the rodent. I've never been a redneck, never lived in a trailer, I'm not from the South but I don't quite qualify as a Yankee -- but I will spear the critter with my pitchfork given the chance. It's up to God and St. Francis to spare him if they want him.

In the meantime, the Frugal Yankee has a boatload of woodchuck/groundhog/whistlepig recipes.

The Seeds Of Expectation

Every year I say I'm going to get a head start on my garden; most years it doesn't happen. It doesn't help that my garden is 650 square feet of largely red clay.

At one point it was appreciably better amended; at one point I was appreciably younger too. But when we expanded the house to fit all the Nodlings, a lot of fill dirt got dumped in my garden which puts the lousy soil on top -- oh, and rocks, HOW we've got rocks (did I mention the rock quarry down the street?)

So I had to wait for the rains to begin in order to till the garden, otherwise even with a front end rototiller it's impossibly hard. What I need to do is haul half the dirt out and replace it with grade-A topsoil. In the meantime, I just keep amending and tilling.

So that part is finally done; now I've got seeds in their starter pods. I think I was trying to make up for lost time, because I overbought on seeds. We've got bush basil, purple basil, savory, beets, cantaloupe, zucchini, cow peas, black beans, green beans, peas, leeks, sweet yellow onion, parsnips, corn, yellow banana peppers, cucumbers, Bibb lettuce, strawberry, and celery.

I still need tomatoes, bell peppers, and yellow squash. The kids want pumpkins. Sigh. I've got to fit all that into 650 square feet.

To let you know how I feel about my garden, I was planting in the rain. Here is my post from last year when I was waxing poetic (an original!).

---

I have a mistress to whom my wife bids me go; "Indeed", she says, "you have been away too long".

It is not a lady that beckons, but rather the earth in my garden. For three years she has lain fallow; no crops, no food, no fruit of the earth has she given me. "Alas", I sigh, "my lady lies barren, my mistress comforts me not."

A man comes from the earth, made by the effortless hand of God; a man toils in the earth to bring forth its fruit by the sweat of his brow -- such is his doom. And yet the garden is his refuge, he longs to feel the land beneath his feet; to plant and to furrow; to take delight in the tender shoots from the earth; to reap and to gather the work of his hand.

If God in His mercy sends His rain in due season, yet shall she bear forth. My fields are plowed, my garden prepared -- let the sowing begin! "Come.", my mistress beckons, "Come and let it begin again."

Kill The Wabbit -- er, Groundhog

Or in my case, Kill the Groundhog.

Normally, I am a very peace-loving guy. But there are a few things that will make me go from 0 to 60 in about 3 seconds. One is anybody trying to hurt my kids. Another is wanton destruction of something I put my own blood, sweat, and tears into -- literally.

Anyone who knows how I feel about my garden, knows that over the last 10 years, I have lost all sympathy for the furry menace known as the groundhog. These oversized rodents have been pilfering and razing my precious vegetable plot every year despite hundreds of dollars and scores of hours trying to prevent it in a humane and natural way, including humane traps, fences, repellents, and scare tactics. The deer and the rabbits I tolerate and am largely successful in keeping them away. But the groundhog I hate.

Now I have nothing but rage for the varmints. Recently, after wiping out my peas, beans, and lettuce -- did you know those suckers can climb trees and fences? -- I caught a young adult groundhog idling by my trellis. I grabbed my pitchfork -- yes, really, a pitchfork -- and chased tubby down over a half acre. I winged him with the flat by launching it like a spear, and if I'd been half a shade faster and more callous, I'd have stabbed him through. You PETA-types can take a flying leap; this is man vs wild.

Neighbors have tried trapping and releasing them, but the problem is they never take them far enough away to make a difference. Duh, they just walk home in a few days or hours. Next humane trap volunteer is getting swimming lessons -- with the cage.

Now that I've vented my spleen, take a look at this Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd clip of "Kill the Wabbit". I've got to go find some other windmills to tilt.

Mortification Sometimes Tastes Good

We attempt to keep our Fridays meatless as a mortification.

Catholics in the US used to be required to not eat meat on Fridays all year round. Nowadays the discipline has been relaxed to performing "some kind" of mortification on Fridays and no meat on Fridays in Lent.

Many people have interpreted that to mean that nothing is required on Fridays anymore: not true. Since Friday is the day on which Christ died, it is appropriate that that is the day of mortifications so we may unite our little sufferings with His redemptive suffering.

Of course that makes the Lord's Day (Sunday) a mandatory party day: no fasting. "Can the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them? As long as they have the bridegroom with them, they cannot fast." (Mk 2:19)

The compelling reason (for me) to continue to fast from meat on most Fridays is a practical one: I can't come up with other creative means of mortification on a regular basis. I don't want to have to "remember" to think about it. That, and since Mrs. Nod isn't fond of fish, it ensures we get some on a semi-regular basis.

These things aside, my "dinner" consisted almost entirely of things from my garden. A bit of red lettuce, a few leaves of spinach. A small zebra tomato, an Italian sweet pepper, and a tiny yellow squash. Parts of these were a smidgeon under-ripe, but I have been impatient to taste these delectables.

I have to say, for a penitential meal, it tasted awfully good. I followed up with half a dozen quartered mushrooms, sauteed in a dab of butter and a dash of Old Bay. Call me crazy, but I like it that way.

Waiting On The Goods

I like planting and growing fruits and vegetables.

My little crops are at that agonizing stage where I can see the fruits, but they are not ripe yet.

I see little squashes and zucchinis, tomatoes and (surprise!) okra, peppers and spinach. Hurry up, you cucumbers and melons. Grow, you corn! Where are the peas, please?

I'm getting impatient for my own "fruit of the vine, work of human hands".

Apparently, It's Going To Rain Forever

This is the week's forecast. It has already rained an appreciable amount in May and June. Not like other years when it was near drought conditions.

This weekend Wynken and I went over plans and measurements for the Ark. Sadly, the only animals that will be coming with us are a family of groundhogs -- and that's just because we can't get rid of them. They eye my garden vegetables with avaricious delight.

I just want to be able to enjoy the fruits (and vegetables) of my labors.

My Mistress Beckons

I have a mistress to whom my wife bids me go; "Indeed", she says, "you have been away too long".

It is not a lady that beckons, but rather the earth in my garden. For three years she has lain fallow; no crops, no food, no fruit of the earth has she given me. "Alas", I sigh, "my lady lies barren, my mistress comforts me not."

A man comes from the earth, made by the effortless hand of God; a man toils in the earth to bring forth its fruit by the sweat of his brow -- such is his doom. And yet the garden is his refuge, he longs to feel the land beneath his feet; to plant and to furrow; to take delight in the tender shoots from the earth; to reap and to gather the work of his hand.

If God in His mercy sends His rain in due season, yet shall she bear forth. My fields are plowed, my garden prepared -- let the sowing begin! "Come.", my mistress beckons, "Come and let it begin again."