Pansy killing day!

Yesterday was the much-awaited day--pansy killing day! Wait, you might ask--wasn't I just recently excited for pansy planting day? Yes, of course, but I've moved on. Planting pansies--or better yet, watching last fall's pansies come up in the spring--is a much-anticipated event in late winter that assures us all that spring is coming. Those little pansies give us an excuse to get our hands in the dirt, or, shame on me, clean out the flower pots from last fall that might have been neglected when football season came around. In any case, I look forward to planting pansies every year.

But as the weather starts to warm . . . wait, that hasn't happened yet . . . um, as June rolls around, the pansies usually start to outgrow their little pots and start shooting toward the sky. They start looking lanky and weed-like and much less desirable than all the warm-weather flowers that have since appeared in the stores and nurseries. This year, my pansies took longer than usual to make the transition from cute little pansy to awkward teenager pansy. In fact, they looked great up until about a week ago (some would debate this point, but more about that later). As I walked past the aisles of beautiful flowers at Edwards a couple weekends ago with Mom, I think I was actually willing my pansies to die faster. This past weekend I decided it was time. Either that or I was so sick of the rain that I decided I had to do some planting to stay sane. So the Boyfriend and I headed to Edwards on a dreary, gray, this-is-why-people-hate-Sundays type of day and wandered around the humid, warm, colorful greenhouses. We both picked out some plants--some old standards and some new experiments. Last night, after taking sadistic pleasure in yanking out those lanky pansies, I got the new blooms planted in our "Downtown" planter. (The Boyfriend says it looks like one of the giant planters they have downtown. Aren't we fancy?! Yeah, it was a gift.)

So I have a few side notes/confessions that seem only right to put forth. First, some members of our household have expressed amusement at pulling out living plants just to spend money on new plants. Since the dogs can't talk, I'll let you figure out who this nonconformist is for yourself. Got it? Ok. Well I would just like to state for the record that he also performed this coming-of-summer ritual each year at the townhouse. Enough said. Second, I still have multiple pots full of pansies. Some just look too good to pull out, but I think the biggest reason I didn't pull them out at the same time is because I love buying flowers. We only have so many pots, which means each year I don't get to buy flowers all that often. I'm spacing it out. I'm trying to find as many excuses to go buy flowers as possible. If I did it all in one day, what fun would that be? I see it like this . . . it is like going to the ice cream shop (and who can't relate to the excitement and happiness that brings?). Your choice is to either buy that monster 25-scoop ice cream sundae you see on a Food Network eating challenge show and go once a year, or you can visit any leisurely afternoon you'd like on multiple occasions and savor one or two sweet, creamy, colorful scoops. Yeah, I'll take that.

Monday Update 6.7.10

Today's post is the first in a series (oooo, ahhh!) of Monday updates about the garden. I'm starting this Monday with the hope that the weather is soon going to turn nice and warm and things are going to start growing gangbusters!

The tomatoes have really turned around and are doing quite well. All my tomatoes came from seed this year. They spent a little too much time in small containers in bad soil, so they looked pretty bad there for a while. They turned very purple, which I read means they need phosphorus. After a transplanting and a dose of plant food, they seem to be doing really well. I did most of my tomatoes this year in containers, but stuck a couple in the raised bed where the lettuce will undoubtedly be going to seed someday when it turns warm.

In the front raised bed, the garlic are starting to look pretty scraggly, which I'm hoping means the end is near. The Boyfriend's broccoli are huge and have a couple small heads on them. The spinach in between the garlic finally started growing and the onions are doing well. The poor peppers are just hanging out. I don't think they've grown at all since I planted them weeks ago. It's just been so cool and cloudy.

In the back raised bed, the peas have really taken off. They've grown a lot in the last week, but no flowers yet. In front of the peas (and to the side) are carrots, which are doing really well. On the second trellis my cucumbers died. I put some seeds in but they haven't come up yet. We might have to admit defeat and go buy a couple plants, but I'm going to give them a little longer. Our lettuce is still doing amazing in this cool, wet weather. We even harvested a head of Little Gem romaine-type lettuce this weekend and have a couple more ready. We're really enjoying all the fresh lettuce.

In the new bed along the fence, all sorts of stuff is happening! Everything is pretty small, so the picture is hard to see. But in the front of the picture is a row of corn, then a row of bush beans, then another row of corn. In the middle are a couple zucchini plants that we bought. Apollo and Kira tried to take one out, but it's miraculously hanging in there. Behind the zucchini plants I planted three melon seeds, and I just noticed this morning that one came up. Along the rock wall I planted some nasturtium seeds to bring us some pollinators, and along the fence we have sunflowers coming up. So exciting to have this giant new bed this year!

The new raised bed along the fence has basil (still very little) and two kinds of potatoes. The potatoes are really going crazy! Along the west side of the house we have our "berry patch." Sorry for the blurry photo. We've got strawberries in the square bed that came from the Boyfriend's strawberries up at the townhouse. We have two different kinds of strawberries in the strawberry pot. In the larger rectangular bed are our raspberries. I planted one last year then Erik gave us more this spring, so we've got all kinds in there. I built the trellis myself and successfully used the Boyfriend's power drill without breaking any bits--I was quite proud.

So everything really is coming along. I think if the sun decides to come out we might be on our way to having a pretty decent first attempt garden this year. If nothing else, it's sure fun to watch and we got a few salads out of it!

I'm sorry, did I say spring had sprung?

We have had such a wet, cool spring here in Boise. The highlight was without a doubt May 22, which just happened to be the date of our first BBQ of the year. This is what I get for trying to plan a BBQ 4 weeks in advance. But we only got in one BBQ last year and I really wanted to have people over before the Woodlands had baby numero dos. The morning was overcast but the rain held out. In the early afternoon the sky opened up as if Noah had just completed the ark. The temperature dropped and by 6 o'clock it was snowing. Yes, snowing. On May 22. The day set records for 1) the lowest high temperature and 2) the daily maximum rainfall. The record reported by the National Weather Service was 1.41 inches, which smashes the old, long-standing record of 0.57 inches set in 1965. Excuse me, but 1.41 inches is western Oregon rain, not Boise rain. Never ones to admit defeat, we held RainFest 2010 indoors and the Boyfriend valiantly BBQed our burgers outside. We had a great time, but the next BBQ will be planned for July or August and only far enough in advance that the 7-day forecast can still be consulted.

Although the weather has been cool, all the rain has really made the garden look great. The big news is that we've finished the 2010 garden expansion and it looks fabulous. I got the third raised bed in early in the spring, which was the only addition we really planned for this year. Then, prompted by a small flood in the back corner of our yard--compliments of our neighbor--we had to raise up the level of the soil behind the garden. The Boyfriend engineered a fantastic and structurally sound wall (my attempt had been to throw wet mud at the fence while cussing at the damn yippy dog) that holds a decent amount of new dirt and resulted in a large open garden bed. It gave us the space to do a few things we had no hope of doing in the existing raised beds. We planted melons, zucchini, beans, sunflowers, and corn. We've never grown any of these things and I can't wait to see how they turn out. The next order of business will be keeping the dogs out of the bed, which we inconveniently placed right in the path of their chihuahua chasing track. Ugh.

So, since my last post, we have actually been eating out of our garden. Our lettuce has done so well in this wet, cool spring, and we've had numerous salads from our own garden. It's so nice to wonder what to have with a meal only to realize we can go out and pick a salad anytime we want. Last night we had our first green onions out of the garden, which were quite beautiful if I do say so myself! That's all we've had so far, but hopefully peas and carrots won't be too far behind! The corn and sunflowers sprouted two days ago, which was probably the highlight of this week. The rain has continued to fall, but hopefully with the coming of June we've left the snow and indoor BBQs behind!

Springtime at Big Red

After a week that people insisted on calling Spring Break--although the Boyfriend and I saw neither spring nor break--the long-awaited season finally arrived. Bulbs are blooming, seeds are sprouting, and plants that have been threatening to take over the Boyfriend's office are even getting moved outside.

One of our first tasks was figuring out the world of lawn care. The homeowners' association still took care of our yard last year, so this is a new adventure for us. We bought a lawnmower and trimmer a couple weeks ago and the Boyfriend seems to enjoy mowing the lawn. We got a reel mower--no power attached to that bad boy except the Boyfriend's biking-enhanced quads. I love the whirring it makes as he pushes it along in nice straight lines in the backyard. I put down lawn food in the backyard in what turned out to be a comical undertaking I'm thankful no one witnessed. I was worried the lawn food wouldn't cover the whole backyard. Once I figured out the spreader shoots the food further the faster you push it, I started frantically running around with the spreader trying to make sure I got the whole yard. Then I still had extra (which I shouldn't have), so I just ran around in circles.

The garden is really coming along. We harvested lettuce about 10 days ago and it needs to be harvest again. The peas are up, the garlic is tall, a new succession of lettuce has sprouted, carrots have sprouted, and the Boyfriend planted some broccoli. Even the lackluster spinach and onions from seed are hanging in there.

Mom and I bought some flowers at fuchsia Saturday last weekend, although neither of us got fuchsias. They did great at the Mini, but I don't really have a nice shady place for them here. But we got geraniums and vines and trailing little petunias. I've got them in hanging pots and haven't quite committed to hanging them up yet, since I know the frost probably hasn't left us for good.

The front of the house looks beautiful. The Boyfriend has spent portions of about five weekends spreading fresh bark in all our beds. The tulips are booming, along with the crocus, some mini daffodils, and I think some regular daffodils, although I've yet to make a final call on those mystery bulbs yet. Our clematis is shooting upwards and we even bought it a new trellis this weekend. The strawberry and raspberry plants are green and full and seem to be loving their "berry patch" portion of the backyard.

Last weekend I looked out my office window and I saw the Boyfriend mowing the lawn in his cowboy hat. I realized this place has really become our home and there is no place else I'd rather be.

Tulips and "Tulip"

I shouldn't really be writing right now. Work is piling up on both sides of my small desk. Books have spilled over onto the floor since the dining room chair I was using to hold them had to be returned to its proper place in the dining room. Now when I put my giant history textbooks down they echo with a resounding thud throughout the house, sometimes prompting the Boyfriend to come check on me to make sure the books haven't won. That being said, some days you just know you have to write. Or I do, anyway. I get this tightness in my chest and it's hard to get a full breath. I get antsy and jittery in ways that aren't attributable to the coffee. That's when I know it's time to write.

I have nothing in particular to give you today. No gems of wisdom or sage advice. Oh wait, I never have those. But nothing in particular. And no pictures today. Trying to successfully load them into Blogger just makes the tension come back and today is all about calming, not stressing. It's gray and flat outside, which kind of fits my mood and makes the coffee taste even better.

This week has been busy, like they all are lately, but I've enjoyed watching the zinnias sprout in my office window and the tulips grow outside my window. A couple of the tulips are sending up stems with swollen nubs on the end, which means I think we're going to have flowers one of these days after all. The yellow pansies that overwintered in the pots have finally opened and some new additions in shades of red and purple have perked up the patio and front porch.

Speaking of tulips, one almost brought me to tears the other day. Now keep in mind I said "tulips," because "Tulip" is a whole different monster who often brings people--or at least me and the water company guys--to tears. Tulip is the name of the Boyfriend's rose bush in front of his townhouse. I think it's named Tulip because when the Boyfriend first moved into that house, he honestly didn't know the difference between a tulip and a rose. Alright, he probably could identify a rose, but definitely not a tulip. He knew irises--which were the first flowers he ever gave me--but that was it. So as we were walking one spring and I was talking about the tulips (because what else would I be talking about?), he pointed out to me that he had no clue what a tulip was--it could have been a type of rose for all he knew. Well, somehow the giant rose bush, which will probably be thriving along with the cockroaches and goatheads long after the apocalypse, was dubbed Tulip. But Tulip is really a whole different story. I digress . . .

We were on our way home from the Boyfriend's parents' house after some hard manual labor. (Ok, ok, he did hard labor while I ate pizza, drank beer, and looked at plants.) Since it was still light out at 7 o'clock, we drove by the Mini on a reconnaissance mission. Last year I planted a tulip by the light post out front of the Mini. It was already blooming, but I figured it would provide some nice color and then maybe even survive for next spring. Well, the nice color part didn't work out so well. It wasn't in the ground long before it looked like someone whacked the whole upper part of the plant off. As it turns out, I think it was one of the deer that roam around Boise's east end from time to time. The numerous hoof prints left in the wet spring dirt make this assumption more than just a hunch. In any case, when we drove by last week, there it was. It hadn't flowered yet, but the deep green leaves were standing tall, looking fully alive and uneaten.

I was thrilled and completely surprised. (Remember, I always assume plants won't grow or I will kill them.) I think I might have teared up a bit. Although I blamed it on missing the soft serve ice cream at the Roosevelt Market, it was really because I was happy to see that I had changed that place. I left something beautiful in a place that left me with wonderful memories. That's what the idea of place is all about--it's a give and take. I pictured whoever is living there now coming outside one morning--maybe to walk downtown or maybe to get a latte from the Roosevelt Market--and seeing that tulip coming up, promising that spring was coming. She didn't know there was a tulip there and yes, I realize she probably doesn't really care, but that's not the point! The point is that I know it's there and that from now on that tulip will appear every spring in the place that I called the Mini. Or at least until it succumbs to the creatures of the East End, but hey, even they are part of that place.

The Perfect Week

I've heard many a real gardener say that vegetable gardening really begins on St. Patrick's day. So here on St. Patrick's day eve, I'm here to give an update on all the spring happenings at our casa. It was 65 degrees today and it couldn't feel much more like spring. What a great week--a beer drinking holiday smack dab in the middle of a week bookended by daylight savings time and the first day of spring. This might just be the perfect week. To document this perfect week, I had to include numerous pictures.

First things first: the dogs got their first outside baths of the year today. I would just say first baths of the year, but that might gross some of you out, so we'll stick with first outside baths of the year. I've included pictures of the clean puppies only because most of you have probably never seen them this way (and probably won't ever again). Just imagine the vanilla scented dog shampoo wafting through the house and it'll be just like you're here!

Now for a tour of the garden . . . We've got lettuce and radishes in one of the cold frames and transplanted onions in the other. We've been opening them a lot and the last few days of sunshine have really got the lettuces and radishes going. I've tried to artfully not get the third raised bed in the picture, because that's my duty to finish and I haven't quite got around to that. (I will, Boyfriend, I promise!) I put the trellis up today and planted sugar snap peas this afternoon. Our garlic has really started to grow in the last couple weeks too.

Two weeks ago the Boyfriend built us an incredible compost bin, and I've included a picture of his handiwork. We are such legit hippies now. The Boyfriend says we're probably the weird couple in the neighborhood, which made me so proud I was smiling ear to ear. Mom and Dad have even donated some of their lawn waste to the compost pile, so it's truly a community compost bin. Here's hoping the worms feel equally involved and find their way to our trash heap soon!

Elsewhere around the yard everything is coming to life. The raspberry canes I planted last fall have actually made it through the winter. At first we could only see a couple green leaves at the base (which I was obviously ecstatic about), but now it seems as if little green leaves are appearing everywhere. I also included a picture of my much-loved hydrangea and its slow but persistent march towards spring. Even last year's fall-planted pansies have turned from brown to green and some have little yellow buds that look ripe for opening by the first day of spring.

While lots is happening outside, we might have even more going on inside. As luck would have it, our house has only three south-facing windows. One is in my office but the overhang over our entryway (is that called a portico?) means it gets shaded quite early in the afternoon. Another is in the bonus room, but the dogs called dibs on that one for their lookout spot. They "look" with their paws, which makes putting tender plant starts there a bad idea. The remaining winner-by-default window is in the Boyfriend's office and he has generously donated his windowsill--and increasingly his futon--for the sake of our veggies. In the picture you can see lots of little pepper plants and I've also got tomato seeds and basil seeds (hopefully) sprouting soon.

There you have it. It's almost like you're here, no? Now we must get on to the St. Patrick's day eve festivities. The Boyfriend says you can't turn every holiday into a two-day holiday by celebrating the "eve" of everything, but I say the world could use a little more celebrating and I could definitely use a beer!

March 8

Today was a day for reflection. It's amazing how much can change in a year. Last year on March 8 I was planting Grandma's irises in a big concrete pot in the snow at The Mini. I was trying to be hopeful and optimistic, because being realistic was just too sad. I didn't know when I was planting those irises that my uncle would pass away that day, that Grandma would pass away that summer, and that those irises would come to be a happy reminder of a sad year.

This year on March 8, the weather was suitably gray and the skies full of rain that didn't give way until the afternoon. It was a good day to reflect on the past year. The quiet of a gloomy day seemed a fitting tribute to those who were in my thoughts today. It gave me time to think. I felt oddly connected to so many other friends and family who I knew were thinking the same things. I didn't feel alone, even though I was alone most of the day.

So much has changed in a year. This year, instead of planting at The Mini in early March, I have watched my irises come up at our new house. I planted them in the fall like I was supposed to and hoped all winter long that they would come up. When their little green tips broke out of the clay soil a few weeks ago, I felt like a proud parent. Nevermind that they're just doing what they evolved to do. I was so happy to see them. They didn't remind me of the sadness of last March 8 at all. When I saw them, I heard Grandma laughing and my uncle playing the guitar--none of the sadness. It's like they sang to me of all the happy things they reminded me of.

This past weekend, the last of my bulbs that were expected to make an appearance for my long awaited homeowner springtime finally showed up. They were the three little daffodils I planted in front of the rock by our entryway. They came from one of the arrangements that I cherished so much after the funeral. I cut the leaves off, put them in sawdust, and waited patiently until last fall to plant them for the first time. Thank goodness nature works even after you chop it up, put it in plastic, move it across town, and make it take root in the construction refuse that is our yard.

As if all these wonderful signs weren't enough, my hydrangea seems to have pulled through the winter. Erik cautiously told me there was a good chance it wouldn't make it--he knows how much I have been pulling for this little survivor. Our cold snap this winter was particularly harsh for Boise and it likely caused fatal damage to many perennials that can overwinter here. He even supplied me with two new beautiful hydrangeas last month. Well I'm happy to report that I think we'll have three hydrangeas now.

I don't know what to make of the last year. It's had some incredible highs--which you undoubtedly know if you pop in here every once in a while--but also some of the deepest lows. I've finally come to understand that I will never be able to wrap my head around some of the things that happened last year--I will never be able to make them make sense. But I've also come to realize that finding hope in the springtime, memories in my flowers, and so much love in those around me is an okay way to deal with that loss.