Archives for posts with tag: life’s little mysteries

Over breakfast this morning, we discussed a few ideas for the next growing season. It’ll be here sooner than we think.

First, we’ll move the peas and beans to the fence. We have two trellises now and rather than let one lie fallow (as we did this past season), we’ll plant one trellis with cucumbers and the other with legumes. We sow the peas and beans directly into the ground (as opposed to starting them inside, as we do the cucumbers) and I am pretty sure that there will be enough sun to germinate the seeds.

Second, we’ll plant the tomatoes in the ground only, not in a raised bed. I’m a bit surprised that we came to this conclusion because I was sure that the tomatoes in the planter would do better than those in the ground, mainly due to the soil being older and more conditioned in the planters (see June 8, 2014, part 2). Perhaps it was Murphy’s Law or maybe our tomatoes were contrarian by nature, but the vines in the ground grew fuller and produced more fruit. Go figure.

Planting only in the ground will mean fewer tomato plants—and, possibly, fewer tomatoes—but each plant will have more space. And because there will be no tomato plants in the raised beds, we’ll also have more room there to plant other things.

Which leads me to the third idea for next season: garlic. And now is not too soon to be thinking about it.

Because it turns out that garlic wants to vernalize—to spend a winter in the ground before sprouting in the spring. That means it needs to be planted now. Back in November, we purchased two heads of seed garlic (one hard stem, one soft) from one of our favorite market farmers, Jay. (By the way, seed garlic is no different from the garlic we eat as long as it has not been grown with any chemicals to prevent it from sprouting.)

Jay mentioned that he always waits until it is cold enough to make his fingers hurt to plant the garlic (and his garlic is always beautiful so he must be on to something). Today fits the bill, weather-wise, and I went out to plant. I first had to prepare a spot for it in the southwest corner of the west planter. I cleaned up the old mulch and fallen leaves, pulled a few weeds, added a topping of fresh compost, and raked it smooth.

I broke up the heads of garlic and picked the best cloves of each type. Perhaps we waited a bit too long; some of the cloves were starting to dry out. Still, I was able to get eight soft neck and four hard neck cloves and dropped them in one-inch-deep holes (root end down, pointy end up).

I covered the area with fresh mulch and gave it a good watering. If all goes well, we should see sprouts (also called scapes) in early spring.

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Why does this always happen?

[Note from the future (January, 2015): I will be playing catch-up for the next several days to account for the last few months of 2014. If it is cold and snowy where you are, please enjoy the following summer and fall scenes.]

One of the fringe benefits of a heavy snowfall is that because the ground is continually covered, I can literally track the variety of animals that live in our neighborhood.  Most of them I am already aware of—we see deer, squirrels and birds on a daily basis—but when they leave their footprints in the snow, I can get a clear picture of their movements.

For instance, earlier in the winter I observed a set of tracks leading up to our potted hibiscus plant, now leafless, and then continuing off into the woods beyond our yard.  When I went down to inspect the tracks more closely, I was able to confirm that yes, deer had in fact munched the tender ends of the exposed hibiscus branches.

Similarly, the ground around the birdfeeder is littered with bird, squirrel and chipmunk prints along with the discarded shells of sunflower seed (birds can be messy eaters).  Last year, a flock of wild turkeys added their tracks to the clutter (and they are even less tidy).

But otherwise unbeknownst to me, many of these critters come very close to the house.  The floor of our back porch (a semi-enclosed space) has been scattered with dainty bird tracks in what looks like the aftermath of an avian dance party.  Of course, the tracks alone cannot provide a definitive record of the number of birds involved or when they occurred; for all I know, the tracks were produced by one crazed nuthatch.

I’ve been a lot more interested in tracks left by larger animals that I have found on all sides of the house.  They may have been left by local dogs (one of our neighbors cannot seem to keep their spaniels from getting loose) or cats (there are plenty of feral cats around).  But there is a beautiful red fox in the area and I have seen (and heard) coyotes as well.  Mountain lions have also been reported near here.

Whoever it is, what are they looking for?  Unlike the case of the deer and the hibiscus, there is no obvious answer and I will probably never find out.