A Gardener's Lament

It’s happened again. I am re-reading Tender by Nigel Slater, a beautiful book about growing and cooking vegetables. Slater lives in London and grows fruits and vegetables in his backyard. The chapter titles are vegetable names, arranged in alphabetical order. The first chapter is asparagus, and right off the bat, I am aggravated, yea verily infuriated by the suggestion of pairing asparagus with fresh roasted tomatoes. Are you kidding me? I don't know about London, but in northern Illinois, there are a good four weeks between the end of asparagus season and the first blush of red on a tomato, and a cherry tomato at that. It’s closer to 6 weeks before even the Early Girls will begin to ripen. And then it hits me: I have gone around the bend.

It’s not that I think it is bad to buy vegetables at the grocery. I don’t judge those that do. Part of it is the vast difference in quality. I offer as evidence the time I gave a perfectly ripe cantaloupe that had separated from the vine of its own free will just that morning to my friend Kim. She later remarked with a good deal of sarcasm, “Thanks a lot! You have ruined grocery store cantaloupe for me forever.”

Most of it, however, is that I just forget that it’s possible. I have been gardening so long that the seasonality of produce has infiltrated my world view. Asparagus with tomatoes? Absurd! After asparagus, radishes are next, followed by lettuce and peas. At some point during the winter, I have an epiphany that I could, in fact, have a fresh salad if I would just pick up some lettuce at the grocery. It’s not as good, but in the midst of dreary February, something green is better than nothing.

I am the same way about eggs. When the hens are slacking off, my mother has been known to buy eggs. Hilda is retired and cooks eggs for breakfast sometimes. I don’t have time for that. I eat my breakfast (usually a muffin) in the three minutes between pouring hot water over tea leaves and straining the resulting tea into my sippy cup. Thus, when egg production is low, I just wait. There will be more eggs in a day or two. Buy eggs? Ridiculous.

Spring continued for most of a very pleasant week. More and more butterflies emerge. This red admiral was sunning itself on the patio furniture.

Red admiral on the back of a patio chair

When I mowed last weekend, I scared up a duck from the Nanking cherries. Odd place for a duck, I thought, right there next to the road. Later in the week, Terry told me there was a nest there with 11 blue-green eggs. Although he did not want me to disturb the female again, I had to get a picture.

11 duck eggs on the ground beneath the Nanking cherries

Thursday morning, I drove by slowly to see if I could spot the duck. I thought I saw a duckling running around in the brush. That evening, however, all the eggs were still in the nest. I got a good look at the mom when she flew away and identified her as a mallard. I was hoping for a wood duck. Mallards are so ordinary. I hope she knows how far she’s going to have to walk those ducklings to get to water. It would be very cool to be home when she begins the parade, but the likelihood is not high.

I’m thinking if a duck has eggs under the Nanking cherries by the road, that fox I saw two weeks ago does not live around here. Must have been just passing through. That’s both a relief and a disappointment.

The weather changed yesterday, which was notable for being not only the first farm-to-table food of the year but also a late-season blizzard. Before the snow started, I ran out to pick some rhubarb to make rhubarb coffee cake.

Farm-to-table rhubarb coffee cake (with leftover rhubarb)

I can never get the right amount of rhubarb. Because the weather was about to turn nasty, I ended up with exactly twice what I needed. I am left with half a pound of rhubarb and no plans for what to do with it. I put it in a bag in the rotting bin (a.k.a. vegetable crisper drawer). Eventually I will find it either dried up or molded and swilly, and I will put it in the compost.

I hope this is the last snow storm. Terry is glad for the moisture, as April and May are critical months for tree growth, which won’t happen without water. April has been unusually dry. The snow started about 10:30 but didn’t start sticking until late afternoon. By dinner, visibility was low and the snow was piling up rapidly. Still, I was surprised to find at least 5” of accumulation when I walked out to put the girls to bed. I am worried about the duck nest. I didn’t check on it because I didn’t want the hen to fly off and leave the eggs to get cold. I’ll check when it gets warmer.

Blizzard conditions in the evening--5" of accumulated snow

The sun came out this morning, and most of the snow melted by mid-afternoon.  We’re supposed to be in for a rainy week. Soon Terry will be complaining about the flooding. Never happy, that man.

Spring arrives

We cannot get over how much difference a week makes. Last weekend we were in the middle of a snow storm. Today temperatures rose nearly to 80°. Suddenly I found myself with spring and summer chores to do. The garlic is sprouted, and we needed to remove the row cover that kept the straw from blowing away in the winter storms.

Hilda removes the earth staples holding down the row cover

Garlic sprouts rising above the straw

The onions are sprouted in the greenhouse.

One of several trays of onion seedlings. These are Walla Walla

Terry told me that our little tulip tree had Promethea moth cocoons hanging all over it. We first saw these over at the Mary Ann Beebe Center when we lived there. I brought one in to see what it hatched out as. 

Promethea moth cocoons hanging on a tulip tree sapling

The caterpillar spins the cocoon inside of a leaf. I couldn’t think of a jar I had that was big enough for the moth, so I left them be. 

The cocoon can be seen by looking at the top of the rolled up leaf

I mowed the lawn for the first time. I love mowing the lawn. The whole lawn didn’t need to be mowed, but I definitely had to do the apple orchard because we moved the girls to their summer pasture Saturday night. There was much squawking and flapping of wings when we took them off the roost in Coop 1, but the settled down in Coop 2 pretty fast.

In the morning, all of the two-year-old chickens, who spent last summer in the orchard, charged out of the coop as soon as I opened the door. Carmella and Madeline, being more adventurous, followed the experienced hens. Bianca, Amelia, Miss Clavelle, and Simone cowered in the corner of the coop and had to be forcibly evicted. After I tossed them gently out the door, however, they began exploring their new environment right away.

The first order of business is always scattering the mulch that Terry so carefully spreads beneath each apple tree. I wanted to get a video of several hens all flinging wood chips here and there, but as soon as I went into the coop, the girls were all certain that I was going to give them something good to eat. I hung around as unobtrusively as possible until Amelia finally went back to work.

Amelia scratching through the wood chips

By yesterday afternoon, the hens had made a dust bath near the coop’s wheel. Here is Rosa Dolores resting in it.

Rosa Dolores in the new dust bath

And a video of Carmelita dust bathing, at least until Juanita pecked at her. Juanita is so mean!

We had a bit of a storm this afternoon. Terry would have liked more rain, but somehow his orders are never fulfilled in exactly the way he’d like them to be. Had the girls gone into the coop, I could have closed the door and kept everything dry. But no, they wanted to be under the coop. As soon as the storm passed, they ran around like crazy looking for worms. Or something. There wasn’t enough rain for the worms to come up, regardless of what the girls were looking for.

The best thing about the changing weather and working outside again is that I felt more like myself than I have since Dad died. Grief will come and go for awhile yet, but we will in fact carry on in his absence.

Winter relapse

We didn’t have nearly the amount of snow that folks got down south. Jane sent me pictures of 8” of snow piled on her bird feeders. We got maybe half that much. It certainly looked winter-like.

April blizzard

I thought the best way to cope with an April blizzard was a chocolate cream pie. Jane, Pat, and Nancy were coming to dinner, but Jane was snowed in. The company that removes the snow for her homeowners’ association had already taken the plows off the trucks and put them away for the winter. Pat and Nancy were north of the Big Snow and made it without too much trouble. I promised to make another pie for Jane sometime. I can’t see a downside.

Chocolate cream pie

Today started sunny but cold--22°F. By afternoon it was edging up toward 50°, and the backyard looked like the snow had never happened, except where the fifth oak cast a shadow.

Like the snow never happened, except in the shadows

Two week ago, Hilda and I went to GardenFest at the College. The keynote speaker talked all about moss gardens. We were very excited to see moss growing in one of Terry’s pots in the greenhouse.

Moss growing around the edge of a pot

Here’s a close up of the sporangia (spore forming bodies).

Close up of sporangia

Terry was not excited. “I hate that damn moss,” he grumbled. “I just have to pull it out.”

Well. I think it’s beautiful.

Finches and ground squirrels

This is a short post today. Hilda and I spent Saturday at GardenFest, and it threw me off my usual blogging pace. Plus I couldn't think of a lot to say. 

Spring is trying to come. You wouldn’t know it today. I had an inch of snow on my car when I left work, but it was wet enough that I didn’t have to scrape. The wipers were enough to clear the windshield.

The rhubarb leaves are beginning to unfurl.

Rhubarb

The goldfinches are congregating by the sunflower seeds.

A flock of goldfinches

The males are looking brighter that they were a week ago.

An almost-completely yellow mail

The first ground squirrel emerged early last week. It was hungry from the long winter. I watched it for quite awhile as it ran to the sunflower seeds on the ground under the bird feeder.

Seeds! So hungry after all winter

Stuffed its cheek pounches…

Nom, nom, nom!

Until they looked about to burst….

Can't fit any more in those cheek pouches!

And then ran back to its tunnel to unload. A few minute later, it was back, stuffing its cheek pouches again.

Monday morning about 6:15, I saw a fox run right by the house. It was too quick for me to get a picture. It was headed right for the chicken coop, but the girls were still safe inside. We are going to have to start plugging in the electric fence and waiting until the sun is fully up before letting them out. The fox can have as many ground squirrels as it likes, but it needs to leave the chickens alone. I hope it understands the rules.