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Showing posts with label backyard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label backyard. Show all posts

Friday, April 10, 2015

Garden photos and treelace

After staring longingly at rhubarb pics at Sweet Domesticity,  I noticed her #garden365 photo challenge. This immediately appealed to me for a number of reasons:

1. I take a lot of garden pics. Maybe this will be a way to focus my efforts and (possibly?) make them less boring.

2. A daily photo means I need to take a walk in the garden every day. This affords me some quiet, restful time every day. This is a good goal for a new mother.

3. I have been looking for a reason to start using Instagram other than Mindy Kaling.

Each day, I use a one word prompt to take a pic outside. My favorite pic this week is of the trees in our backyard (#treelace!).

A photo posted by edud5 (@edud5) on



Thursday, March 26, 2015

Looking forward to rhubarb

I derive a lot of pleasure from seeing the first spring growth of perennials. When that perennial is edible, I am nearly obsessed.

Last year we divided and relocated several rhubarb crowns from the "lower" area (down by the river) to the "upper" area (by our house). While I used to do a pretty good job of harvesting all available rhubarb, I am looking forward to 1. more rhubarb, and 2. not having to climb 20 stairs to get it.

divided rhubarb crownKnowing the decision was going to be a fairly permanent one, I chose to plant the rhubarb in an area that needed some foliage, but that I had found to be unsuccessful for growing veggies in previous years. The area has good southern exposure, but sees some animal traffic. I am unsure whether the same animals that enjoy eating tomatoes will enjoy rhubarb, but I figure that if they didn't eat it down by the river, they weren't likely going to eat it near our house...unless they are different animals.

Last year, rhubarb started poking through the leaf cover in late April. I'm looking forward to seeing this year's crop, and how we did in the replanting. We didn't touch the rhubarb last year, as we divided it in the spring. Detailed instructions on division at this blog, which has BEAUTIFUL pics of budding rhubarb.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Figs for Twenty-fifteen

organized part of garden - still a mess

We have messy gardens. Weeds creep on the ground and stick up high in the air, fighting with each other to dominate the various regions of the garden. Wildflowers run rampant where weeds don't take hold. One year a trumpet vine threatened to latch onto my car. I would come out to find it gently touching my car morning after morning, despite my moving it back each night. Snails feast on every plant they can reach. By the end of the summer, the entire garden looks spindly, burnt, and chaotic. Not a charming chaos, either.

So you would think that this presents enough of a gardening challenge for me. Regardless, I find myself drawn to the more unusual, and often challenging, seeds in the catalogue. In past years, I've tried growing loofah (seeded well, but I couldn't make it grow in the ground),  strawberry corn (some luck, though I let it go by harvest time), and white pumpkins (success all around). This year, I think I would like to try growing figs.

While the landscaping of our "upper" backyard (the not-down-by-the-river area) leaves much to be desired, I do dream of a day when a neat green lawn is framed by artfully-planted raised beds. Instead of a dangerous 4-foot drop off a bumpy stone wall, there is a row of wooden benches fencing off the area. Instead of a weed-ridden dirt patch, there is a pergola laden with grape vines, covering a lovely and photogenic outdoor lounge area. Fig plants in massive pots fit splendidly into this vision. We could enjoy the bright rich fruit as we sit under the pergola. Sigh.

It isn't as impossible as it might sound: in our zone (5a), fig plants need to be brought inside for the winter, grown in pots. I can order them online from Richter's Herbs in Groundwood. Moving the pots is probably the most difficult part, for which I can enlist help (probably). The fact that I have hardly eaten more than a dozen figs in my life is irrelevant. Right?