One thing I love about my office is looking out the window when it’s light outside. I see all manner of things going on, including what critters are hanging around what.
Yesterday, I again found myself leaning forward and peering through the window a bit perplexed as it seemed a hummingbird was drinking from my larger flowering basil. Continue reading “Basil and hummingbirds.”
I first learned about scarlet runner pole beans (Phaseolus coccineus) in The 2 Hour Garden book by Roger Grounds. I honestly did not research them much beyond his mention, and rather impulsively fit them into our $20 seed budget instead of kidney beans. Back then, I knew very little other than they were a pole bean with at least 6′ vines (I’ve seen up to 15′ listed), and should be one of the first things in our kitchen garden once they arrived. I read in that book that apparently most Americans don’t like the beans, while others consider them a gourmet legume. (Apparently the shell is a bit tough for some, and at least one site recommended cutting the pod before serving, other sites say forget the pod and shell the beans.) Continue reading “Scarlet Runner Beans and Hummingbirds”
I mentioned before picking up some trellis for free that we plan to use for the volunteer grape we found on our property. (Likely seed brought by birds from a multiple section chain link fence length of grape just under a block from our house.)
My partner suddenly decided at gloaming last night that it was a fine time to put it together. I pointed out that he’d be drilling the pilot holes and screwing them together in the dusk if he was lucky, and the dark if he wasn’t. I’m almost afraid to see what it looks like come morning. We did not paint it as I wanted because no budget for such at the moment. Continue reading “Grape Trellis Project Part 2”
And why are they in my kitchen garden where I’ve never noticed them before?
I haven’t planted any new seeds in that bed in weeks. They seem to like the bean teepee as a perch, but aren’t bothering the plants that I can see. The basil has started to flower, and one wildflower I let be might be starting to seed, but still.
Seriously. I think I’ve counted six individuals flitting about so far. Some seem to be juveniles, but I’m not a bird expert. Normally I only see two max.
*thinks* So what do you call a bunch of bluejays? *goes to search* Oh good grief. I just looked it up, and apparently I had a small party of blue jays in my kitchen garden. Can’t help but laugh at that!
I updated the 2018 Plantings page.
We’ve had another casualty, but some success as well (one noted by image yesterday). We also ate our first blueberries and raspberries of the season (red and black). It was still a bit soon for the blueberries we taste tested. The strawberries keep getting raided by the critters before we get a chance. To be fair, we have a lot more raspberry canes than we do fruiting strawberry plants so far.
A fickle weather report resulted in arid night soil. Despite the humidity, I know the kitchen garden’s thirst is likely as strong as my desire to grab a flashlight and go outside to fill the can and do what would have been done had I checked again earlier and saw the cloud shift.
How can I expect them to survive, these children I one day hope to eat like Cronos did his own? I feel as cruel as he, though my planned timeline for their demise is longer than he gave his own. Yet I have greater fear of even the whiff of the skunks I know wander through at night than I fear for their health and wellbeing.
Hold fast, young plants! Water will come to you with the dawn. Forgive this terrible mother, and don’t let one night’s scarcity stem your growing selves.
(Yes, I know my brain heads in odd directions sometimes. Other times, my thinking seems to take a more even path, too.)
I made a decision about how to mark the survivors of this year’s planting. I’m also trying to keep track of how many grew from how many seeds (when I can recall).
