GARDENING, WEIRD WEATHER, AND INDOOR APHIDS

So here we are already in the month of May after what’s been an outright strange winter here in New England – and that’s even before we consider some broader and admittedly frightening American political developments. Whew! (I suppose.)

First off, those who scoff at the predictions of climatic instability should note that our region of the world just had its warmest winter on record, and while I’ve welcomed the break from shoveling tons of snow from our driveway, it comes at a price in terms of pests that would have normally been killed off and of perennial plants that took early hits as a result of false starts. I could point to my beloved fern beds or asparagus as cases in point, or the daffodils, which were poised to blossom when they were nipped by a night that dropped to 17 degrees Fahrenheit. It pains me to think of the way they buckled mid-stem and drooped. The only truly positive outcome I’d accept to date is the fact that our compost bin is not still frozen too tight to turn, sift, and spread on our beds. On the other hand, our state’s ski industry took a hard financial hit, affecting regions that already could use substantial relief.

As for maple syrup? I hate to think of the price tag  when my current supply is emptied and it’s time for the next. It was a short run of sap from everything I’ve heard.

When I call this an nontraditional winter, I should add that I’ve been in the midst of some major home maintenance and interior remodeling, which I’ll detail in future posts, along with some other dramas of a more private nature. Family’s what it is, after all, along with some public affairs of a more local nature. Oh, yes, we had to go without supplementary wood heat, at least until that chimney’s fixed. Have I said anything about household expenses and supporting finances?

None of that’s kept us from looking ahead to summer, even if we wound up getting many of the seedlings started later than we would have liked – we did, after all, get the portable shelves and grow lights up in what’s otherwise our front parlor (aka the “library”) and then delighted in watching the green sprouts appear. At least until the next shock.

What we hadn’t previously encountered was aphids, first in the peppers and then the basil before they spread as far as my African violets. We’ve been using a soapy spray as an organic counteraction, but it’s still unsettling.

At least our early peas are in the ground and looking happy as they pop their heads up underneath their elegantly stringed frames in the side of our yard we call The Swamp.

As I draft this, James Levine is making his final appearance as music director of the Metropolitan company in Manhattan and from the overture of Mozart’s “Abduction from the Seraglio” as I listen to the broadcast, let me add my vote to his laurel as the greatest opera conductor ever. The details, to my ears, are amazing. All of this takes me back, too, to our shared roots in southwest Ohio and rumors of his budding talent. So much as transpired since then.

Random impressions, then. Now, back to whatever is in front of us!

HEDGES AND SHRUBS ABOVE, WHO KNOWS WHAT DOWN UNDER

If you garden, unless you have a pickup truck or access to one, you’ll have to decide what to do with the limbs and branches you trim. Bagging them for the dump’s a pain. One thing you don’t see in the colorful gardening books, of course, just may be essential. I’m speaking of the brush pile. Especially if you can’t get a burn permit due to neighborhood density.

The wood breaks down over time, however slowly, but the pile does provide refuge for small critters as well as kindling for our wood-fired stove through winter.

It’s all part of working our plot, with an emphasis on composting and natural balance.

In an urban setting like ours, rejuvenating the soil itself can be a revelation. Items keep coming to the surface from somewhere underground – stones, glass, costume jewelry, bits of metal or plastic objects. Nothing prepared me for the spaceman, though – the one holding a pair of pliers. No, he topped the toy horse and the Neanderthal with a club, for certain.

 ~*~

Garden 1For more on the book and others, click here.

 

 

ADJUSTING FOR INFLATION, OF COURSE

The cover of a small paperback kicking around our house these days keeps catching my attention: How I Feed My Family on $16 a Week.

I know it’s an old book. When I was head cook in the ashram, back in the early ’70s, I faced similar constraints and ours was a vegetarian diet. This one has a subtitle that amuses me – (And Have Meat, Fish or Poultry on the Table Every Night). From a vegetarian point of view, it’s all flesh – that is, all three are meat with no distinction.

That aside, I looked for the original price of the book, $1.75, and the copyright, 1975. Prices have gone up in the intervening years. In this case, those groceries would cost $70.52 today if the general inflation calculator holds. Some food items, like seafood or lamb ribs, have shot up much more. Others, though, like boneless chicken breasts, have gone down in relative terms. Still, as the food economist in our household points out, you couldn’t do these recipes on that adjusted budget these days – it would be mostly beans and no meat. The bottom line’s less than a food-stamps allotment.

And I thought I was doing well on $40 a week for just me – 30 years ago, when I gave myself a sabbatical. Hate to think what that would cost now!

TWO MORE SIGNS OF CLIMATE CHANGE

While flipping through the Burpee seed catalogue, my wife came across the chart of frost-free dates.

She realized that the longstanding cutoff in autumn has shifted from September 15, where it was when we moved into the house and no doubt forever before that, to October 15 now. We’ve picked up an additional month of garden harvest that way.

But that’s not all.

The spring date has shifted from May 15 to April 15, meaning we can plant everything a month earlier.

Think of it – our growing season is now two months longer, allowing us to consider a much wider variety of varieties to choose among.

It’s one more piece of evidence for those who have scoffed at the scientific predictions from the mid-’60s on. And, in the bigger picture, it’s scary.

COLORFUL BENEFITS

The poems collected in my volume, There is no statuary in our garden except for the plastic spacemen occasionally surfacing, come together as a set of field notes of my experiences, especially, in reclaiming the city lot where we live. We have a small kitchen garden on one side of the house and a larger one, “the swamp,” on the other. The lessons never seem to end.

the garden looks great, so luxurious to have cut flowers indoors
a second sprig of laurel in my lair
against the deep velvet of Siberian iris
now we’re sinking to detail …

a bucket of strawberries, to the office

 

Garden 1 For more on my poetry collection and others, click here.

 

WHERE DO YOU ORDER YOUR SEEDS?

Yes, we know all about the catalogs and the pondering that happens each January, along with the flurry of ordering. If you’re a gardener, you’ve wrapped all that up and have the seed packets in hand.

So where are your favorite sources? And why?

And if you need inspiration or simply want company or comfort, consider the experiences in these poems:

Garden 1  For more on my poetry collection and others, click here.