Favorite New Tools
In a previous post, I mentioned one of my favorite new tools, the CobraHead Weeder. Another favorite new tool is the Smith & Hawken Garden Tool Caddy. I first saw this in Horticulture magazine last year and finally bought one a few months ago. It's wonderful. It holds all the tools we tend to need in one compact, portable stand. It has a ring about three feet off the ground to hold long-handled tools (we keep our small-bladed shovel and narrow spring rake there) and a bucket with a canvas liner whose pockets hold small tools (for us, the CobraHead, two hand spades, pruning shears, a long serrated knife, a dandelion tool, edging shears, and a few other things I'm probably forgetting). The back of the caddy has a removable waste-basket, which we toss weeds into while working.
The caddy saves us the trouble of gathering together our usual tools whenever we go into the garden to work (or leaving them in the big garden cart, which then needs to be unloaded when we want to use it for something it's more suited to). I can just grab the caddy and be sure I'll have the tools I'm most likely to need.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Journal
Yesterday was very humid and hot (up to 90 degrees), though not murderously hot like last weekend. Yesterday evening, thunderstorms blew through, accompanied by about an inch of rain. Today, it's partly sunny, hot, and humid. Fortunately, an intermittent breeze makes the humidity bearable.
I was able to spare only an hour for garden work yesterday. I continued my project of clearing the back rose bed of weeds. I'm in the home stretch now, down to the southern end where the bed curves toward the house. This is also one of the weediest areas, almost indistinguishable from the lawn.
This morning, I worked on our as-yet-vacant dahlia bed. Early in the spring, we paid someone to remove the sod from two kidney-shaped areas in the front yard. Kay's plan was to make both of them dahlia beds. I spaded one of the beds soon after the sod was removed, we mixed in several bags of Black Forest, and then we planted new dahlia bulbs plus those Kay had saved from last year and from her mother's garden.
By the time we had finished preparing and planting the first bed, I didn't have the energy to prepare the other. It has sat all these weeks, growing weeds. Today, I finally covered it with wet newspaper and spread mulch on top of that.
Yesterday was very humid and hot (up to 90 degrees), though not murderously hot like last weekend. Yesterday evening, thunderstorms blew through, accompanied by about an inch of rain. Today, it's partly sunny, hot, and humid. Fortunately, an intermittent breeze makes the humidity bearable.
I was able to spare only an hour for garden work yesterday. I continued my project of clearing the back rose bed of weeds. I'm in the home stretch now, down to the southern end where the bed curves toward the house. This is also one of the weediest areas, almost indistinguishable from the lawn.
This morning, I worked on our as-yet-vacant dahlia bed. Early in the spring, we paid someone to remove the sod from two kidney-shaped areas in the front yard. Kay's plan was to make both of them dahlia beds. I spaded one of the beds soon after the sod was removed, we mixed in several bags of Black Forest, and then we planted new dahlia bulbs plus those Kay had saved from last year and from her mother's garden.
By the time we had finished preparing and planting the first bed, I didn't have the energy to prepare the other. It has sat all these weeks, growing weeds. Today, I finally covered it with wet newspaper and spread mulch on top of that.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Cowbird Serenade
Early yesterday morning, while I was weeding before the sun got too high, a brown-headed cowbird on the peak of the roof behind me sang over and over its "water song" and cheep. I had never heard the water song so clearly before. It was if anything louder than the long cheep that followed it. I had also never seen a cowbird while it was in the act of singing its characteristic song -- it's always an intellectual thrill when you can make a direct connection between the bird and the song.
The water song consists of bubbling, babbling noises, like a brook running over stones or water being poured into a puddle. Starlings can make a similar noise, but theirs has a random, undisciplined feel, wandering all over in pitch and incorporating pops and clicks.
Early yesterday morning, while I was weeding before the sun got too high, a brown-headed cowbird on the peak of the roof behind me sang over and over its "water song" and cheep. I had never heard the water song so clearly before. It was if anything louder than the long cheep that followed it. I had also never seen a cowbird while it was in the act of singing its characteristic song -- it's always an intellectual thrill when you can make a direct connection between the bird and the song.
The water song consists of bubbling, babbling noises, like a brook running over stones or water being poured into a puddle. Starlings can make a similar noise, but theirs has a random, undisciplined feel, wandering all over in pitch and incorporating pops and clicks.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Peony Time
Over the past few days, our peony flowers have opened. I believe the variety we have is 'Judy Garland,' but I can't seem to confirm that anywhere on the Net. The flowers are white with a very slight pinkish blush.
Unfortunately, the flowers are also the size and weight of grapefruit. A stem of oak would be needed to support them once they blossom. Peonies, of course, don't have stems of oak; they have stems of al dente pasta. Without artificial support, ours simply collapse onto the ground.
Each year we get better at supporting the peony. We've tried a plastic-coated metal peony ring -- too flimsy. Stakes and string work better. You can add as many stakes and bands of string as you want, and you can make the encircled area as large or small as you want. The plastic-coated metal stakes (rebar, I think) are my favorites. They blend in well and are stout enough to be pounded with a sledge hammer.
This year, we made sure to start early. We had four stakes in and the first belt of string tied by the time the plant was 18" high. As the plant got taller, I added a second and a third belt of string. When the buds had expanded enough to show the white petals within, I was confident that this year the peony flowers would be held high for all to enjoy. And I didn't do too badly. I could have used yet one more circle of string, just below the level of the blooms. (As it is, one stem has simply folded in half over the topmost string, aiming its bloom like a spotlight at the ground.) Also, I could have used strings crisscrossing through the center of the plant, to keep the blooms from piling together on one side of the encircled area.
EDIT: The peony isn't 'Judy Garland.' Kay informs me that we had a rose called 'Judy Garland' that didn't make it through a previous winter. The peony is supposedly 'Sarah Bernhardt,' although it seems to be lot paler than the pictures on line.
Over the past few days, our peony flowers have opened. I believe the variety we have is 'Judy Garland,' but I can't seem to confirm that anywhere on the Net. The flowers are white with a very slight pinkish blush.
Unfortunately, the flowers are also the size and weight of grapefruit. A stem of oak would be needed to support them once they blossom. Peonies, of course, don't have stems of oak; they have stems of al dente pasta. Without artificial support, ours simply collapse onto the ground.
Each year we get better at supporting the peony. We've tried a plastic-coated metal peony ring -- too flimsy. Stakes and string work better. You can add as many stakes and bands of string as you want, and you can make the encircled area as large or small as you want. The plastic-coated metal stakes (rebar, I think) are my favorites. They blend in well and are stout enough to be pounded with a sledge hammer.
This year, we made sure to start early. We had four stakes in and the first belt of string tied by the time the plant was 18" high. As the plant got taller, I added a second and a third belt of string. When the buds had expanded enough to show the white petals within, I was confident that this year the peony flowers would be held high for all to enjoy. And I didn't do too badly. I could have used yet one more circle of string, just below the level of the blooms. (As it is, one stem has simply folded in half over the topmost string, aiming its bloom like a spotlight at the ground.) Also, I could have used strings crisscrossing through the center of the plant, to keep the blooms from piling together on one side of the encircled area.
EDIT: The peony isn't 'Judy Garland.' Kay informs me that we had a rose called 'Judy Garland' that didn't make it through a previous winter. The peony is supposedly 'Sarah Bernhardt,' although it seems to be lot paler than the pictures on line.
Monday, June 2, 2008
"Rommel, You Magnificent Bastard, I Read Your Book!"
That is, of course, a line from the movie Patton, exclaimed by General Patton (George C. Scott) as he realizes that he has outmaneuvered Rommel in a battle in North Africa. The line occurred to me the other day while weeding. I felt -- even if only briefly -- that I had an advantage over the weeds because I've been reading "their" book.
The book is My Weeds, by Sara Stein. Stein gives her subject the same dedication that other gardener-writers have shown toward clematis, perennial borders, ornamental grasses, or rhododendrons. In a way, her dedication is even greater, because she seeks to understand weeds the way a conscientious general seeks to understand his opponent. She appreciates what they can do; she looks at their strong points realistically. She acknowledges that overconfidence in the face of weeds will cost you.
Her advice on how to deal with weeds mostly takes the form of highly entertaining war stories. She describes how she manages particular weeds in particular settings and occasionally how her acquaintances or relatives have succeeded with different techniques. These anecdotes inspire me. Stein's writing lends a certain glory to the unpleasant, underappreciated, yet indispensable task of weeding.
That is, of course, a line from the movie Patton, exclaimed by General Patton (George C. Scott) as he realizes that he has outmaneuvered Rommel in a battle in North Africa. The line occurred to me the other day while weeding. I felt -- even if only briefly -- that I had an advantage over the weeds because I've been reading "their" book.
The book is My Weeds, by Sara Stein. Stein gives her subject the same dedication that other gardener-writers have shown toward clematis, perennial borders, ornamental grasses, or rhododendrons. In a way, her dedication is even greater, because she seeks to understand weeds the way a conscientious general seeks to understand his opponent. She appreciates what they can do; she looks at their strong points realistically. She acknowledges that overconfidence in the face of weeds will cost you.
Her advice on how to deal with weeds mostly takes the form of highly entertaining war stories. She describes how she manages particular weeds in particular settings and occasionally how her acquaintances or relatives have succeeded with different techniques. These anecdotes inspire me. Stein's writing lends a certain glory to the unpleasant, underappreciated, yet indispensable task of weeding.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Good Weeding Weekend
The elements combined to make this weekend nearly perfect for heavy-duty, two-fisted weeding. Yesterday was cloudy in the morning, letting me get in two hours of work before thunder showers moved in around noon. In the late afternoon, the sun came out and began to dry the grass while I put in another two hours. Today it's sunny, but it's clearly not summer yet. Just when the sun starts to be too hot on my back, a high cloud passes in front of it or a breeze rises up. The soil, meanwhile, is still soft from yesterday's rain.
I've started at the eastern end of the back rose bed and have worked westward, mulching at the end of each day's work. I alternate between kneeling and sitting cross-legged, depending on how my back and legs feel. The Cobra Head, which I scoffed at when Kay brought it home from a flower show, is now my preferred weeding tool. It has the perfect angle and shape for loosening the dirt, it's long enough to give you a foot of extra reach into the interior of beds, and flipped on its side, it combs through loosened dirt and uncovers missed weeds better than my hands can do.
The elements combined to make this weekend nearly perfect for heavy-duty, two-fisted weeding. Yesterday was cloudy in the morning, letting me get in two hours of work before thunder showers moved in around noon. In the late afternoon, the sun came out and began to dry the grass while I put in another two hours. Today it's sunny, but it's clearly not summer yet. Just when the sun starts to be too hot on my back, a high cloud passes in front of it or a breeze rises up. The soil, meanwhile, is still soft from yesterday's rain.
I've started at the eastern end of the back rose bed and have worked westward, mulching at the end of each day's work. I alternate between kneeling and sitting cross-legged, depending on how my back and legs feel. The Cobra Head, which I scoffed at when Kay brought it home from a flower show, is now my preferred weeding tool. It has the perfect angle and shape for loosening the dirt, it's long enough to give you a foot of extra reach into the interior of beds, and flipped on its side, it combs through loosened dirt and uncovers missed weeds better than my hands can do.
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