Time for Flowers

A couple of weekends ago, I popped in to my favorite local garden center, just to do a little browsing. I didn't expect them to have much in the way of stock. I almost didn't even bring my purse in. It was, afterall, only April 18th. I turned the corner into the main plant display, and holay guacamolay! The place was filled to the brim with flowers and veggies of every kind. I grabbed a cart and practically jogged up and down every aisle, wild-eyed and hyperventilating a little. (I think you could safely say I was a little greenery starved. :) And from the way the other folks were being all grabby-handed about things, I think the feeling was wide-spread.) I crammed that cart full of marigolds and impatiens and petunias, plus some unusual stuff like the gorgeous Lilac Spoon (below, upper left) that I had never seen before in my life, and the Spiral Rush (below, upper right, planted in front of the garlic), which is actually a water plant but will survive in the ground if watered well and consistently. The photo to the right shows just a portion of what I purchased - I don't have a wide-enough angled lens to capture it all!
My tulip beds are winding down, but I'm still enjoying the beautiful blooms. "World's Favorite" (below, lower left) and, my favorite this year, Crispion Sweet. Ahhhh. Flowers.

Tomatoes are Growing Up

I find myself in a kind of odd holding pattern at the moment. Spring garden is self-sustaining. Too early to plant much new outside. I got a late start on my tomato and pepper seed sowing, so while everything is doing great, they're not ready for the big outdoors. (Actually, it wasn't really a late start, as I timed everything to coincide with zone 6's last frost date (May 15), but the weather has been so utterly fantastic this Spring, I feel like I'm running late.) Flowers are ready to go in, but I need to plant the veggies first, as the flowers will be placed around them. (Part of my master "landscaping with vegetables" plan....)

One practice I've embraced in reducing the frustrations of waiting for seeds to germinate is maintaining a rather aggressive reseeding schedule. I sow everything in individually labeled cells (whether it's Jiffy strips or peat pots or seed pellets) — can't do the broadcast method in a large flat; I'm the world's wimpiest seedling thinner-outer, ever ("No, no, I can't kill it ...") — so, I know exactly what has and hasn't sprouted. If a seed doesn't sprout within its germination guidelines, I'll stick another seed in the same cell and make slight adjustments to the environment. I'd rather have too many seedlings than not enough!

I sowed 12 varieties of heirloom tomatoes, and now, at the end of April, have ended up with at least 2 of everything. For some reason I don't really understand, the original seed will often sprout at the same time as the reseeded seeds. Weird, but, right now, I have Black Cherry triplets that needed 2 reseedings, spread out over 3 weeks, that all sprouted at the same time, and are cutely shoving out identical leaves in the same directions. (I'm resisting the urge to dress them all in matching onesies.)

For me, personally, there is no downside to this practice. Yes, my tomatoes are at different stages of growth — I have several that are past due being ready to go in the ground ... d'oh! (this weekend, for sure) — but a seedling well-cared for is amazingly prolific and will grow like gangbusters once it settles in to its earthy home. By July, you won't be able to tell which tomatoes sprang from the original sowing versus the third sowing. And I have yet to have any difficulty finding homes for the extras.  :^)


Three Radiator Charlie's Mortgage Lifters on the left; a variety of other yummy heirlooms on the right, all graduating to their 4" Cow Pots.



Summer garlic wonderfully tall and lush (left). Spring radishes poking their shoulders through the soil (right).

Planting Onions

If there's anything I love as much as heirloom tomatoes, it's anything from the Allium family. Onions, garlic, leeks — me likey. Me likey a lot. One of my favorite parts of making soup (although, to be honest, they're all my favorite parts) is the first 8 minutes when the aromatics are simmering in their butter bath. Mm mmm mmmm.

Last year, I was mighty sad when I used up my last onion long before it even had time to go rotten or sprout — cleary, I didn't grow enough. Not the case this year. No sir. I've committed considerable area in my gardens to alliums: 3 varieties and over 4 dozen onions, 2 varieties and 6 dozen garlics, a dozen shallots, 2 varieties and 2 dozen leeks. (And actually, I'm not done — as I mentioned in a previous post, I secured a spot in a community garden, where I'll be planting even more onions and shallots. I ordered onion plants, which come in bundles of 50-75, so, I have plenty leftover from the Spring planting.)

In the meantime, I thought I'd share my photos of how I plant my onions. Most folks, I imagine, dig skinny trenches, line the plants in the trenches, then scrunch together the soil in the trench to fill in the gap. But since I don't plant things in rows, I have to improvise.

I love the Candy Hybrid and Walla Walla varieties. They're sweet, so they don't store well, but frankly, they won't be around long enough to overwinter....	I found a piece of doweling in my garage, just the right width to "drill" some holes. A conveniently placed bar code on the dowel provides a visual guide for the correct depth.
I had previously turned over and amended this bed, so the soil was quite fluffy and diggable — creating all the holes across the entire bed was quick work, especially with the bar code depth guide.	I dug the holes first so I could eyeball the layout and make sure everything is nicely spaced before committing the plants to their homes.
A Candy Hybrid prepares to get all snuggly in his new home.	Voilá! Some 2 dozen onions went into this bed. Cayenne and de Arbol peppers (for making ristras) will also share this sunny, front yard spot once the last frost date (May 15) passes.

Little Red Grows Up - Why I Find Gardening So Amazing

For many years, gardening was just an after-thought for me. Something everyone did every May: you plant some petunias, some impatiens. You plant some tomatoes and peppers. Maybe some cucumbers, if you're feeling ambitious with a trellis. Things get watered now and then; fertilized maybe once. You feel oddly proud when you get a dozen fruits, even though it was more luck than anything.

It wasn't until I started growing things indoors from seed that it — "It" — really kicked in. "It" - you know what I'm talkin' 'bout, or you wouldn't have made it this far down in this blog. It. The click of the lightbulb - the "Oh, that's what gardening's all about."

I think "It" must come from the same area in your brain where your feelings about, and the compulsion to care for, your children, and family, and friends, and pets reside. That need to nurture, and the amazement that comes from the result of that nurturing.

Whoa. That's more philosophical than I usually get. But, that's the conclusion I must draw, because something compels me to drag myself upstairs to my finished attic at the end of a long day of work to check the moisture levels and growth progress of my seedlings (juicy, drippy, succulent tomatoes ... and that heady scent of tomato leaves on your skin ... seem very far away in the dreary twilight of a late March evening, so I know it's not that. It must be something more primal).

Seeing your efforts come to such vivid life makes it all worthwhile. Observe this season's basil starts. The very, very first seedling to emerge this year was a Red Rubin basil. Shocking, it was, because he sprouted a mere two days after sowing, and basil is notorious for having a spotty germination record. He was so cute, so insistent on thriving, that I decided to photograph Little Red's progress through the season. The first picture was taken on February 18th; the most recent, April 4th.

Gardening in Cincinnati

Hi Everyone!

I'm so happy to be participating in The Tasteful Garden's blog!  My name is Karen, and I live in Cincinnati, Ohio, zone 6. I'm an avid (rabid, even) vegetable gardener (and, as you can tell from my screenname, a soup fanatic - a nice outlet for vegetables, don't you think ;^).  

2009 is promising to be an amazing year for the Ohio Valley zone 6 gardener.  Spring arrived early and, except for an oddly-out-of-place snowy day on Thursday, Apr. 9, there has been a lovely balance of rainy and sunny, warmish days.  For the first year in a long, long time, it actually feels like a real Spring! Everything's in bloom, and my gardens are off to a strong start.

Double Rip Van Winkle Narcissus

Wendy Love Tulips

I have an oddly configured and shaded yard that makes the traditional big-rectangle vegetable garden impractical.  So, I spread my plantings over seven different plots scattered here and there, along with some container gardening on my deck.  I love the idea of landscaping with vegetables — flowers and rocks have a home in the same bed as peppers, or tomatoes, or basil, or cucumbers.  As the season progresses, you'll see this in practice in my photos :^).

I also secured a plot this year in the local community garden (below), which happily and oh-so-conveniently borders my property.  I'm running out of sun-drenched land to grow my beloved heirloom tomatoes (these things grow like crazy in good soil — last year they climbed up and over a 7 foot fence and then stretched back down to the ground.  That's 14 feet of tomato vines (and 14 feet worth of tomatoes!).  I need the elbow room.  :^)

Lots to catch you up on in the coming posts, as seed-starting is in full swing, and the Spring cool-weather vegetables are already in the ground. Stay tuned....