Tuesday, September 30, 2014

October 2014

Planters Punchlines
Men’s Garden Club of Wethersfield
October 2014

Next Meeting - Monday October 27th  @ 7:00 p.m.

Our speaker is Tedd Somes, volunteer coordinator for the Chrysalis Center – a non-profit with units at both the Rocky Hill and Newington VA facilities.  He will speak about the organization’s plans to create a ˜food forest” that will include berry bushes, nut and fruit trees and other raised bed gardens at their new facility at 815 Wethersfield Avenue in Hartford – and how we and other gardeners can be of help.



Mark Your Calendar:

Saturday November 22: Put the Weston Rose Garden to Bed. 

Monday December 1st: Holiday Party @ the Solomon Welles House.



What is Edible Forest Gardening?
Excerpted from http://www.edibleforestgardens.com

Edible forest gardening is the art and science of putting plants together in woodland-like patterns that forge mutually beneficial relationships, creating a garden ecosystem that is more than the sum of its parts. You can grow fruits, nuts, vegetables, herbs, mushrooms, other useful plants, and animals in a way that mimics natural ecosystems. You can create a beautiful, diverse, high-yield garden. If designed with care and deep understanding of ecosystem function, you can also design a garden that is largely self-maintaining.

Anyone with a patch of land can grow a forest garden. They've been created in small urban yards and large parks, on suburban lots, and in small plots of rural farms. The smallest we have seen was a 30 by 50 foot (9 by 15 m) embankment behind an urban housing project, and smaller versions are definitely possible. The largest we have seen spanned 2 acres in a rural research garden. Forest gardeners are doing their thing at 7,000 feet (2,100 m) of elevation in the Rocky Mountains, on the coastal plain of the mid-Atlantic, and in chilly New Hampshire and Vermont. Forest gardening has a long history in the tropics, where there is evidence of the practice extending over 1,500 years. While you can grow a forest garden in almost any climate, it is easiest if you do it in a region where the native vegetation is forest, especially deciduous forest.



Compostable Matter
By Jim Meehan (originally written November 2010)

I once worked for a guy who liked to speak in metaphors -- especially when he was giving bad news.

One time he was being hectored about the lack of progress we were making on a low-priority piece of work that happened to be the kvetch's pet project.

"Exactly when can I expect to see this task completed?"

"The leaves will come. And the leaves will go. And the leaves will come again." my manager responded. There was a clearly implied "and so on".

For years I thought that answer was the perfect definition of "never". I also believed the passage of time was linear. That, as Saint Augustine said, "human experience is a one-way journey from Genesis to Judgment, regardless of any recurring patterns or cycles in nature."

However not everyone believes that time marches in even increments along a straight line.

Native Americans, Australian aborigines and others conceive of time as circular -- a repetitive process that nonetheless creates infinite possibilities and unique situations and results. Stories and sentences frequently circle back on themselves, with repetition used to arrive back at the same point in time from which the speaker started. Some languages use the same word to mean both "soon" and "recent".
Leslie Marmon Silko, a Native American author, says:

“The Pueblo people and the indigenous people of the Americas see time as round, not as a long linear string. If time is round, if time is an ocean, then something that happened 500 years ago may be quite immediate and real, whereas something inconsequential that happened an hour ago could be far away.”

I had heard about this non-sequential view of time. It even seemed kind of cool in a New Agey kind of way. But I never could really understand what it could possibly mean. Then Mars and I became the owners of a house on a piece of property bordered by several deciduous trees.

We moved into our new abode in the spring, after the leaves had come. Seven months later they went from the branches to the front lawn. Then they went (with lots of effort) from the front lawn to the curb. And then they went into the bowels of our town's long-funneled, truck-mounted, leaf collection machinery (aka Mr. Snuffleupagus).

About one week and two swirling windstorms later, they came again.

And again they went -- this time into the mulching blade of my gasoline-powered lawn mower.

And again they came -- and again -- et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Ultimately the supply of leafage dwindled down to a precious few – luckily at about the same time that my interest in de-leafing also ran out. The seemingly never-ending ritual was actually over. Then the next autumn came. And the one after that,....

But one fall season, a few years ago, I actually thought for a moment that the cycle had been broken.

My perception of the situation was probably warped because I got an earlier than usual start on the rake-to-the-curb routine. The weather was warm, time was available, the leaves were down, and my energy was up. As a result I delivered my first shipment of foliage to the roadside a week or so before the earliest possible scheduled pickup date. Because of this, when the leaves came again (as they did two days later), I felt as if I was merely doing minimal mop-ups - even though I actually partook in four, full-blown, full-lawn cleanups before the cycle ceased and the Snuffleupagus did its thing.

The lawn was then clear for several days. But within a week there was sufficient leaf cover to warrant a walkabout with the mulching mower. Almost fourteen days later, it was again time to fire up either the calorie-burning rake or the carbon-emitting compost-creator for one more spin around my property.  Proving, once more that, “the leaves will come. And the leaves will go. And the leaves will come again.”

Up to the nineteenth century both Science and Philosophy agreed with me that time is linear.

“However, in the twentieth century, Gödel and others discovered solutions to the equations of Einstein's general theory of relativity that allowed closed loops of proper time...[which would] allow you to go forward continuously in time until you arrive back into your past. You will become your younger self in the future.” (Time Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy)

In other words, the passage of time could be circular.

But scientists say they’re not sure of that either.  “As far as we can tell today, our universe does not exemplify any of these solutions to Einstein's equations.” (Ibid)

Except of course for those of us with deciduous trees.



Top Fall Blooming Flowers for the Perennial Garden
Keeping Your Perennial Garden Glorious into Fall 
with Fall Plants
By Marie Iannotti (gardening.about.com)


The trick to designing your garden with perennial flowers is making sure you have something wonderful in bloom all the time. Each season has its stars and fall flowering perennials have some of the best. Fall flowers have all season to grow, so many of them are tall and stately. Fall bloomers also tend to blossom in the jewel tones of the season, deep purples, rusts, scarlet and gold. For fall bloomers to be hardy in your garden, you need to plant and establish them earlier in the season. Here are some top picks for fall blooming perennial stars.

       
1. Aster novi-belgii (Michaelmas Daisy): In shades of pink, purple, blue and white, these delicate daisy-like blossoms start popping open in late August and continue on until frost. Pinching in the early summer turns these Asters into mounds with dozens of flower buds.

       
Asters will tend to creep throughout your garden, but their airiness allows them to blend particularly well with other flowers. USDA Hardiness Zones 4 - 9

       
2. Caryopteris (Blue Mist Shrub): Caryopteris is a sub-shrub that is often grown in the perennial garden. Caryopteris slowly blossoms in August with dazzling blue flower clusters. Just try and keep the butterflies and bees away. Caryopteris is cut back in early spring, like a Buddleia, and the gray-green foliage is attractive all season. USDA Hardiness Zones 5 - 9

       
3. Chelone (Turtlehead): Nick-named for their blossoms shaped like turtles heads, Chelone is a carefree fall blooming perennial whose only real dislike is excessive dry heat. Chelone behaves itself, growing in a dense clump with attractive foliage and red, pink or white blooms. USDA Hardiness Zones 2 - 9

       
4. Chrysanthemum: There are many varieties of mums, not all particularly hardy. The plants sold in the fall as 'Hardy Mums' should have been sold to us in the spring, to be reliably hardy in the north. However we wouldn't have had the patience to plant them and wait. Mums and pumpkins are the flag bearers of fall. Try and get your potted mums in the ground ASAP. Keep them well watered and mulch once the ground freezes and you'll stand your best chance of having truly hardy mums. USDA Hardiness Zones 3 - 9

      
 5. Eupatorium (Joe Pye Weed): Joe Pye is one of those native plants we take for granted because we see it by the side of the road, but it makes a wonderful backdrop to a garden border. The newer Eupatoriums have been bred shorter and less weedy but the dense mop heads of mauve flowers still blend in beautifully in the fall garden. USDA Hardiness Zones 2 - 9

       
6. Helenium (Sneezeweed): Helenium is making a resurgence in gardens. They look like small russet-toned coneflowers, in reds, yellows and oranges. Many helenium can grow quite tall and will need to be staked or pinched. Like clematis, they like cool feet and hot heads. Helenium is also a good choice for poorly drained areas. USDA Hardiness Zones 3 - 9

      
 7. Helianthus (Perennial Sunflower): Helianthus is a good natured, jolly plant, branching and flopping on its neighbors. The brilliant gold fluffy daisy-like flowers make an instant focal point and attract butterflies and birds. Helianthus tend to be sterile and can be reproduced by division. USDA Hardiness Zones 3 - 9

       
8. Heliopsis (False Sunflower): Heliopsis is very similar to Helianthus. Heliopsis tends to begin blooming earlier in the season and stays on for 8 or more weeks. Newer varieties have been bred smaller and sturdier, for less flopping. USDA Hardiness Zones 3 - 9

      
 9. Sedum (Stonecrop): Sedum 'Autumn Joy' comes as close to perfection as any plant can. It looks good all year, requires minimal attention and attracts few problems. Its only drawback is that it is not deer resistant. 'Autumn Joy' has been joined in the garden by a growing number of fall wonders like: 'Bertram Anderson, 'Brilliant' and 'Matrona'. No fall garden is complete without sedum. USDA Hardiness Zones 3 - 9

       
10. Solidago (Goldenrod): Goldenrod is finally getting the respect it deserves, especially with introductions like 'Fireworks' and 'Golden Fleece'. Unlike the native solidagos that spread everywhere and never stood up on their own, these newer varieties are sturdy and chock full of fall blooms. USDA Hardiness Zones 3 - 9



Sometimes Invasive Species Are Good
By Brandon Keim (wired.com)

   

Invasive species are the stock villains of conservation biology, disrupting ecosystems and throwing native populations into disarray. But in certain cases, they’re actually quite beneficial, and perhaps it’s time to recognize that.

       
In California, for example, native butterflies feed on non-native plants. In Puerto Rico, alien trees help restore abandoned pastures to a condition suitable for native plants. Even the much-maligned zebra mussel helps filter toxins from lakes.

       
“We predict the proportion of non-native species that are viewed as benign or even desirable will slowly increase over time,” write ecologist Martin Schlaepfer of the State University of New York and colleagues in a paper published Feb. 22 in Conservation Biology.

       
According to Schlaepfer’s group, biologists are often biased against invasives, and decline to notice or report instances of beneficial invasions.

       
They support their unorthodox perspective by reviewing dozens of papers on plants and animals introduced, accidentally or otherwise, outside their historical ranges. A variety of underappreciated invasive roles are described: providing ecosystem services, replenishing human-damaged regions, and generally helping to sustain some semblance of natural health even as many ecosystems struggle to survive.

       
Schlaepfer and colleagues admit to a certain bias of their own. “Negative roles listed here are not exhaustive and include only those that directly oppose the listed positive roles,” they write. “Many of the non-native species listed have other negative effects on conservation objectives.”

       
Their goal, however, isn’t to do a conclusive analysis of the pros and cons of invasives, but to encourage a more open-minded consideration of benefits — and not just cost — for species often described in militarized, even xenophobic terms.

       
After all, many now-beloved native creatures were once invasives. Among them are dozens of honeybee species introduced to North America since the 16th century. Far from declaring war on bees, people now worry that these invading aliens might vanish.



“Types of Gardeners”
Posted by teejay2039 7a (teejay2039@yahoo.com)



It was too hot to garden and I was bored so I made a list of the types of gardeners I have found of the Florida Garden forum. I mean this to be a funny and not serious. I think the people who post here are the nicest and most helpful on Gardenweb. See if you can add any more to my list.

     

"Types of Gardeners on Florida Garden Forum"

     

1. The Clueless Gardener, A.K.A."The Beginner": This poster is new to everything having to do with gardening. He may have recently visited a neighbor’s fabulous garden or saw a gardening segment on the morning news. For whatever reason he suddenly has the urge to GROW! He lacks even basic knowledge of plant biology principles such as the fact plants need light and regular water to grow. His posts are usually titled "Help me I am a beginner" or some variation thereof. He would like to know everything there is to know about gardening in 5 sentences or less. The Clueless Gardener eventually either evolves into a different gardening type or quickly abandons the idea of gardening after finding out it involves work, dirt, and sweat. A subspecies of this type is the Northern Transplant.

      
 2. The Landscaper: Wants his yard to be perfectly balanced in form, color, and theme. Is willing to use whatever pesticides and fertilizers necessary maintain his perfect yard. Has a broad array of gas powered lawn equipment to tend his lovely St. Augustine lawn.

       
3. The Zone Challenger: The Zone Challenger refuses to accept the fact he lives in Florida. He has no interest in growing plants that thrive naturally in Florida. He mail-orders hostas, lilacs, peonies, cashew trees, and coconut palms from far away places. He may, in addition, design the garden to look like and English cottage garden, a Japanese rock garden, or a garden at a Tuscan Villa.

       
4. The Martha Stewart: Her yard looks like it is straight out of Desperate Housewives. Her garden has the same look of perfection as the landscaper, but has just enough extra creativity to make it unique and uncopyable. Plants are always in bloom and never show disease or insect damage. She replaces plants at night under cover of darkness similar to the way it is done at Disney World.

      
 5. The Yard Farmer: While not a professional farmer per se, he grows enough crops to feed a family of four for a year. His bounty includes a nutritional and culinary balance of many herbs, fruits, and vegetables year round. He may or may not have livestock.

      
 6. The Collector: This poster makes it a point to grow one of everything. Due to space limitations he rarely grows more than one of each plant. His garden lacks a coherent design or theme, but could serve very well as a college level plant biology classroom. The Seed Exchange is his favorite Gardenweb forum. He is always searching for something new to add to his grow list.

      
 7. The Specialist: He only focuses on growing one type of plant. He may plant a couple of shrubs to keep the neighbors happy but his real passion is his favorite plant. He knows the entire history of the development of said plant back to the Stone Age. He knows every named cultivar and all the current developments in breeding. He can identify every conceivable pest or disease the plant might face. Frequently the object of his affection is roses, tomatoes, peppers, or orchids.

       
8. The Ecologist: Knows every theory of organic gardening. Has three kinds of compost piles because he believes the beneficial merits of each method of composting are unique. Has several rain barrels linked together in a solar powered pump system with micro emitters. Raises ladybugs and lacewing insects. Thinks the term organic pesticides is an oxymoron. Fertilizes with excrement and urine from various sources. Knows the names of every single bird, turtle, and snake in his yard.

      
 9. The Forum Police- They are the keepers of the forum rules. They remind posters when they should be posting in an alternate forum and advise when photos have exceeded size guidelines. They post links to earlier discussions on topics.

       
10. The Pretty Picture Poster-They post a picture of their garden at least once a day. Frequently these photos also include cats, dogs, and kids. My favorite poster type:)

       
11. Mr. "I want it all!"- Observes the other types of posters and sees the merits of each. Attempts to emulate all of them. His mixed results. Drives himself crazy trying to reconcile the principles of The Ecologist and The Landscaper. This is me.



Keep the vegetables coming this fall
News-Times, The (Danbury, CT)



Plant more vegetables! Now is the perfect time to plant cool season crops for fall harvest. Like a rain dance to the gardening gods, it's like planting hope.

       
Continuous planting of vegetable seed needs careful planning. You have to think ahead. Several beds should have freed up some space after the harvest of the spring crops like broccoli, garlic and onions, as well as the first summer plantings of squash, beans and corn.

       
Clean those beds out and get them ready for the fall crops. September is a great time to plant a short season salad mix like lettuce, spinach and mustard greens.

      
 These crops don't like it too hot. Although it seems hot now, in a few weeks things will be much different. Cool nights and warm days will quickly push out a leafy mix of tasty greens.

       
Plant leaf lettuce so harvests can be picked several times. Head lettuce varieties may not grow fast enough to fully develop. Some of my favorite varieties are Red Sails, Deer's Tongue and Salad Bowl but there are hundreds of varieties out there.

       
Lettuce comes in many different shapes and sizes. Some grow loose heads that have large, broad leaves while others have deep lobes called oak leaf types. They also range in color from deep, ruby red to a mix of red and green to all green. Grow many types for an interesting salad or unique garnish.

      
 Another simple and hardy fall favorite is spinach. It's extremely cold tolerant and is the easiest cold tolerant crop to over-winter. Spinach comes with smooth or savoyed (puckered) leaves that offer a more textured look but are harder to clean the dirt off.

       
Other members of the goosefoot family are beets and Swiss chard. It's probably too late to grow beet roots but you can use the leaves for salads and cooking. Surprisingly, beets and Swiss chard are not hardy to very cold temperatures and are nearly impossible to over-winter.

      
 Root crops are not out of the question though. Two members of the cabbage family, radish and turnip, grow roots very quickly in autumn. It only takes about a month until radish harvest and just a bit longer for small, white turnips. Both are very cold hardy and will live throughout the fall.

       
Another mainstay in the fall garden for me is a wide variety of plants collectively called greens. Some of the more common ones are tat soi, arugula, mizuna, cress and mache.

       
These greens are grown for salad or cooking. They add a unique twist to salad mixes because of their deep green color and variety of shape, not to mention the taste. Some are mild and some are spicy hot.

       
Read the seed descriptions carefully so you know what you're getting. Some can be extremely hot and spicy.

      
 Growing vegetables in colder weather requires some extra inputs. The fertilizer or compost that you added during the summer is probably spent. The good thing about compost or manure is that it acts like a slow release fertilizer.

      
 There are some nutrients available right away and some that are released later when the soil microbes continue to break down the remaining organic matter. But in the fall garden the soil is cold and the microbes stop working. You need to add completely finished compost so most of the nutrients are readily available.

       
As autumn progresses some fall crops may need protection from the cold weather. Floating row cover is a spun-bonded plastic fabric that is used for season extension, frost protection and insect control.

       
The lighter covers, measured in ounces per square yard, are good for early spring crops, like brassicas, that don't need much cold protection and are at the mercy of flea beetle attack. The light cover will add 2 to 4 degrees of night temperature while allowing 85 percent of the light through.

      
 The mid-weight covers only have 70 percent light transmission but give a frost protection of 4 to 8 degrees. The heavy weight cover will reduce light transmission to 40 percent and is strictly used for frost protection. Plants won't thrive under such low light.

The heavier fabrics also last much longer, resisting tears. These fabrics are light enough to rest on the plants without any support though I use wire hoops that hold the cover one to two feet off the crop to create a mini greenhouse.

       
All the crops mentioned above can be over-wintered. The next step in cold protection is a cold frame. This is a great way to extend your season even longer or over-winter crops for early spring harvest.

       
A cold frame is a wooden box made of a two-by-twelve on the back and sides and a two-by-eight on the front. This gives the top a slight angle to it. Place the frame in a sunny location. Cover with window frames. I got mine from the dump.

      
 If you have tall trees, consider the location carefully. What is a sunny location in September might not be in December when the sun is much lower in the sky. Last year I placed my frame in a location that got seven hours of sun in September. By Dec. 21, the shortest day of the year, the sun was so low in the sky the same location was completely blocked from any sun.

       
As a comparison, last year I planted scallions, lettuce, spinach and some different brassicas (Asian mustard greens) like tat soi, bok choi, arugula and mizuna in the cold frame and under row cover, leaving it for the winter. Only the spinach survived under row cover. In the cold frame, all the crops survived.

       
So, for the vegetable gardens 'second season' the time to start is now.



Horti-Culture Corner

The Oak and the Rose
by Shel Silverstein

An oak tree and a rosebush grew,
Young and green together,
Talking the talk of growing things-
Wind and water and weather.
And while the rosebush sweetly bloomed
The oak tree grew so high
That now it spoke of newer things-
Eagles, mountain peaks and sky.
I guess you think you’re pretty great,
The rose was heard to cry,
Screaming as loud as it possibly could
To the treetop in the sky.
And now you have no time for flower talk,
Now that you’ve grown so tall.
It’s not so much that I’ve grown, said the tree,
It’s just that you’ve stayed so small.

Monday, September 8, 2014

September 2014

-->
Planters Punchlines
Men’s Garden Club of Wethersfield
September 2014
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Garden Club Kicks off 2014-15 Season
Monday Sept. 22 @ 7:00 p.m. 
Pitkin Community Center



Our September meeting will feature Jim Woodworth speaking about the Great Meadows Conservation Trust – incorporated in 1968 by concerned citizens of Wethersfield, Rocky Hill and Glastonbury as a non-profit tax exempt land trust to protect and preserve the Great Meadows.  Open to the public – bring a prospective member!



V.P. John Swingen is regretfully leaving the Garden Club as he and Anne are moving to Carson City, Nevada in September where Anne, has been offered a new job as the State Administrator of Ag Education.  Best of luck to a good member and friend and we look forward to hearing about the future adventures of the Men’s Garden Club of Carson City.



2014-2015 Club Officers



President:  Tony Sanders                  
Vice President: open       

Secretary: James Sulzen                   
Treasurer: Richard Prentice



Compostable Matter
By Jim Meehan



We are on the cusp of autumn and our pokeweed is in full bloom and dripping with ripe berries

       
Some of you may recall the initial appearance of this poisonous perennial from two summers ago when it popped up in the unintended sun garden that began creating itself after we reluctantly had to remove some of our major shade-producing trees.  I circulated a photo of our newest unknown resident amongst my garden-savvy friends.   

Several plant people easily identified our intruder.   One close friend – a Master Gardener and a guest at our son and daughter-in-law’s wedding – pointed out to me that “the very creative flower arranger used pokeweed, with those beautiful purple berries, plus some other stuff, including something that reminded me a little of lunaria, altho it was different and someone mentioned that it was an invasive weed. Gorgeous arrangements.”

       
Neither Mars, nor I, nor our son and (very horticulturally on the ball) daughter-in-law remembered.  Depending on where your mind is at, what’s decoration to some can be the focal centerpiece to others.  That’s probably why there are wedding planners to take care of some of the details and make certain that it all comes together.

       
Based on the feedback we decided to keep the plant and see what developed.  In fact its arrival and the need to replace our fried shade plants with some more solar-thirsty varieties prompted Mars and me to seek out other berry-producing/bird attracting bushes.  (We assumed, without really checking, that the pokeweed’s toxicity would not affect the avian guests we were hoping to attract.  Based on the lack of feathered corpses at the base of the flower we apparently were correct.)

       
Some of the newbies, such as Little Henry, were purchased.  Most just showed up.  Also this summer I made a concerted effort not to prune back any shrub until I was absolutely certain that it’s floral/fruit life cycle has run its course – rather than trying to maintain that neat, trimmed appearance.  Fortunately none of the areas got that close to the abandoned property look. 

       
We did have our arborist come and trim away all of the small competitive trees that were stunting the growth of the unpremeditated flowering crab that showed up a few feet down from the Pokeweed.  When we bought this house thirty-seven years ago there were three such trees – a pair at the opposite end of the property and one in about the middle. 

       
The duo was more bush-like than tree-like and every couple of years I would basically lop them to the ground and watch them reassemble themselves into a slightly different configuration of intertwined berry-bearing branches.  It was an every other autumn activity that I actually looked forward to – relatively hard outdoor work on a relatively cool day with a definite result.

       
The third one was our bird feeder holder until disease caused its flowers to disappear and its wood to crumble.  They are all gone now but their branches still pop up pretty much everywhere.  This one that we are now nurturing has the good fortune of being someplace where we want it at a time when we are switching to a more bird-centric landscape design.

       
The biggest surprise of this summer however was a four-foot tall plant with a thickish green stem at the end of which was a large (about the size of my hand) white composite flower head much like an oversized but more delicate Queen Anne’s Lace – or maybe (since I was hungry at the time) one of those Munson chocolate nonpareil candies.  I noticed it sometime in late July.  In August it suddenly vanished.  And in place of the pale petals were tiny red fruits – one per former floret, or so it seemed.  It was a magical illusion worth of Penn and Teller – performed without any paranormal trickery or human sleight-of-hand.

       
Not realizing the dramatic change that was coming I didn’t think to take a picture of the plant’s floral incarnation to send to my panel of gardening gurus.  Internet searches haven’t worked either.

      
 Meanwhile the birds seemed not to care that their latest source of nutrition remained unidentified.  Depending on where your mind is at, what’s decoration to some can be the focal centerpiece to others.  That’s why Mars and I are letting Mother Nature take the lead in this garden plan.



You Know You’re Addicted to Gardening When… :
author unknown, submitted by Walt Kiser
 http://www.growyourownnevada.com


Your neighbors recognize you in your pajamas, rubber clogs and a cup of coffee.


You grab other people’s banana peels, coffee grinds, apple cores, etc. for your compost pile.


You have to wash your hair to get your fingernails clean.


All your neighbors come and ask you questions.


You know the temperature of your compost every day.


You buy a bigger truck so that you can haul more mulch.


You enjoy crushing Japanese beetles because you like the sound that it makes.


Your boss makes “taking care of the office plants” an official part of your job description.


Everything you touch turns to “fertilizer.”


Your non-gardening spouse becomes conversant in botanical names.


You find yourself feeling leaves, flowers and trunks of trees wherever you go, even at funerals.


You dumpster-dive for discarded bulbs after commercial landscapers remove them to plant annuals.


You plan vacation trips around the locations of botanical gardens, arboreta, historic gardens, etc.


You sneak home a 7-foot Japanese Maple and wonder if your spouse will notice.


When considering your budget, plants are more important than groceries.


You always carry a shovel, bottled water and a plastic bag in your trunk as emergency tools.


You appreciate your Master Gardener badge more than your jewelry.


You talk “dirt” at baseball practice.


You spend more time chopping your kitchen greens for the compost pile than for cooking.


You like the smell of horse manure better than Estee Lauder.


You rejoice in rain… even after 10 straight days of it.


You have pride in how bad your hands look.


You have a decorative compost container on your kitchen counter.


You can give away plants easily, but compost is another thing.


Soil test results actually mean something.


You understand what IPM means and are happy about it.


You’d rather go to a nursery to shop than a clothes store.


You know that Sevin is not a number.


You take every single person who enters your house on a “garden tour.”


You look at your child’s sandbox and see a raised bed.


You ask for tools for Christmas, Mother’s/Father’s Day, your birthday and any other occasion you can think of.


You can’t bear to thin seedlings and throw them away.


You scold total strangers who don’t take care of their potted plants.


You know how many bags of fertilizer/potting soil/mulch your car will hold.


You drive around the neighborhood hoping to score extra bags of leaves for your compost pile.


Your preferred reading matter is seed catalogs.



And last but not least:
You know that the four seasons are:


Planning the Garden

Preparing the Garden
Gardening ~and~
Preparing and Planning for the next Garden.



The Secret To Making The Best 
Tomato Sandwich In The World
The Huffington Post  | By Julie R. Thomson



It's here. Tomato season. The plants have been growing since March, but the fruit just arrived in July. And now that August is finally here, those green globes are turning shades of red, orange and yellow and slowly sweetening. When the fruit turns ripe, the tomato problem quickly shifts from being without to stocking an overwhelming abundance. It's a great problem to have.

       
With tomato salads, tomato sauces and tomato salsas to be had, there's a good many things to make with the bounty of summer tomatoes. But all those recipes pale in comparison to the tomato sandwich (of which you should be eating at least one a day during the month of August). This is not a sandwich with tomato in it, but a sandwich made of nothing more than summer's sweetest fruit. Thick, summer-ripe tomato slices and white sandwich bread (with mayo, of course). That's it.

       
Blackberry Farm's master gardener John Coykendall, a genius on the topic of heirloom tomatoes, shared the secret to building the best tomato sandwich: "To me there's one requirement. Of course you have to have tons of mayonnaise and salt and pepper, but the true requirement is you have to have that old, cheap, white bread. The kind you wouldn't ordinarily touch in your daily life. It's the one thing that it was created for, tomato sandwiches. You stand over the sink [eating it] and it runs like Niagara Falls -- it's wonderful."


Horti-Culture Corner
Tomato Haiku by John Egerton



Beefsteak behemoth,
Cover my entire sandwich
With a single slice.

Invasives in the Garden: ‘You’ll Love It. It’ll Spread!’
http://nourishingwords.net



Most gardeners have been there at some point. Whether faced with a tiny yard or wide open spaces, filling our newly dug garden with perennials seemed a daunting task. Heading to the local nursery to get the job done is often not feasible, depending on the size of the garden.

       
Sharing plants and plant wisdom is one of my most favorite things about gardening. Gardeners are generous people by nature and seem to love to share plants and to teach each other what they know. I was a blank slate when I moved into my current home and started carving gardens out of the sandy soil, and my friends were there to help.    Not only do I remember and recognize every single perennial in my garden that was given to me by a friend, but I remember the odd little stories that go along with each.

      
 I’m famously bad at remembering plant names, but I have one plant in my long perennial border that, at least ten years after receiving it from a friend, I still call the “specimen plant.” When she so generously arrived with one more in a series of boxes of confusing balls of soil and roots, she pulled one clump out, saying, “this one is a real specimen plant.”

      
 I’m sure I’d be a better person if I knew its real name but this makes me smile every time, remembering the many plants she shared with me to help me get that forty-foot border started.

      
 Unfortunately, not all memories of plant gifts make me smile. In fact, a few make me curse.

       
A gardening coworker, about fourteen years ago, offered me white violets that she was supposedly “dividing” in her garden. Recalling early childhood garden moments spent picking tiny bouquets of purple violets and johnny jump-ups, I envisioned a similarly pleasant scene in my new garden. Encouragingly, she said, “You’ll love them; they’ll spread.” I don’t think she had love in her heart when she made that offer.

       
Those blasted white violets are the most invasive plants my garden has encountered. Any attempt to dig them up only causes them to retaliate by multiplying. Allowing them to show their sweet little blooms is sure to result in thousands of tiny seedlings the next spring. Their knobby roots make them ridiculously hard to remove.

      
 At about the same time, I wandered into a not so reputable nursery, in search of cheap perennials. I found a pretty, variegated plant, that the owner told me was a groundcover that “would spread beautifully.” He told me it was ajuga, although I’m sure he didn’t specify what variety. I really only heard the words “spread beautifully.” I bought one.

       
I’ve spent hundreds of hours, I’m sure, digging ajuga from all corners of my yard. It’s now growing behind my yard in the woods, not seeming to care if it has sun or not. I have since learned of, and acquired, a couple of very well-behaved, small purple ajugas, but this one would eat my shed if left alone. It spreads by sending out runners, then putting down roots wherever it can, which is anywhere.

       
If I were at all entrepreneurial, I’d probably dig all the ajuga plants in my yard up (as I imagine that nursery owner must have done), pot them and sell them from a fly-by-night roadside stand. I could make a big sign saying, “Perfect Plants: Will Spread Like Crazy!”

       
A north country friend is establishing a new shade garden and I’ve offered to share a few things from my garden. Of course, I love the idea that she might walk through her yard one day and remember a story about a plant I passed along. Mindful of having been wronged by at least one generous gardener of the past (not a friend–friends know they’ll be around when the cursing begins years later), I’m considering giving her a box of my favorite all-time ground cover, sweet woodruff.

       
Sweet woodruff does spread. It blooms in May into a beautiful flotilla of tiny white blossoms. In my garden, it spreads in a slow, predictable way. It doesn’t burrow under the foundation and appear on the other side of the house, or leap through the air. It just spreads a little more and becomes a little more dense each year.

       
Can I be assured it will behave this way in another garden? As long as she’s not planting it in a very wet area, it should behave itself. It’s a little risky, but it’s a beautiful plant, so I’ll take the risk. If I hear my friend cursing in a few years, I’ll be there to help.



The Race to Grow the One-Ton Pumpkin
By Julia Scott The New York Times



“When they are really at their peak growth, they'll make a sound,” said Don Young, a competitive pumpkin grower in Des Moines. To water his crop takes 27,000 gallons a month, and 80 sprinkler heads.

       
Don Young of Iowa grows his pumpkins by grafting double sprouts. He also raises hanging long gourds.

       
EARLY one morning about a month ago, Don Young peeled the floral bedsheets off the giant pumpkins growing in his backyard. Tiptoeing around the jungly vines, he carefully checked for holes. Then, bending his ear down over the nearest gourd, which was as high as his gut and wider than a truck tire, he gave it a solid smack and listened intently, like a doctor with a stethoscope.

      
 “This one’s thumping pretty good,” he said with a grin.

      
 Mr. Young is one of a number of amateur gardeners whose heart’s desire is to raise a pumpkin bigger than anybody else’s. These enthusiasts have always been obsessed, but now they are especially so. With the current world record at 1,810 pounds (a Smart car, by comparison, weighs 1,600 pounds), these growers can see the most important milestone of all on the horizon: the one-ton pumpkin. Galvanized by the prospect, they are doubling their efforts and devising a raft of new strategies involving natural growth hormones, double grafting and more, to become the first to reach that goal.

       
This fall’s pumpkin contests have begun, and as many as 14 amateur growers have won regional weigh-offs with entries tipping the scales at more than 1,500 pounds. The contests are far from over — they continue in force over the next two weekends — but already one pumpkin, raised by Dave Stelts of Edinburg, Pa., has come within three pounds of beating the 1,810-pound record set last year. Rumor has it that a record-breaker may emerge in California.

      
 The extreme summer weather this year has somewhat dampened the prospects of many growers in the Midwest, including Mr. Young. Still, he plans to enter a couple of 1,300-pounders in a weigh-off in either Wisconsin or Minnesota this weekend, and true to his hobby’s compulsive form, even as he prepares for those contests he is busy mapping his strategies for next year.

       
A professional tree trimmer by trade, Mr. Young, 47, spends $8,000 a year on his pumpkin hobby, money he admits he does not really have. His modest one-bedroom house is smaller than his backyard.

      
 “If you try to make a living growing pumpkins, you better have something to fall back on,” he said about his day job.

      
 Mr. Young has set state pumpkin records in both Iowa and California — in 2009 Conan O’Brien smashed one of his giant pumpkins on television with a monster truck — and he is a leading figure among those who are fashioning new growing practices. He has invented a grafting technique, for instance, that pushes the food and energy of two pumpkin plants into a single fruit. Other top pumpkin competitors are experimenting with ZeoPro, a synthetic cocktail of supernutrients developed by NASA to grow lettuce and other edible plants in space.

       
This year, several growers have also tested out a pink powder bacteria that converts a plant’s methane output into a natural growth hormone found in seaweed. Called PPFM (or pink-pigmented facultative methylotrophs), the substance is not even on the market, but the lure of the 2,000-pound pumpkin prompted those growers to obtain samples from RTI, the company in Salinas, Calf., testing the bacteria.

       
“These guys will try absolutely anything to get an edge on their competitors,” said Neil Anderson, the president of RTI.

      
 In fact, growers typically feed their pumpkins a compost “brew” so rich — the water is mixed with worm castings, molasses and liquid kelp — that the fruits can gain as much as 50 pounds a day.

       
“I like to say we’re just a big bunch of obsessive-compulsive people,” said Mr. Stelts, 52, the president of a group of giant-pumpkin enthusiasts called the Great Pumpkin Commonwealth. “The stuff we do to get pumpkins to this size, it’s out of control.”

       
Sometimes, Mr. Young said, he will just sit among his pumpkins.

       
“This is going to sound really crazy, but when these are really at their peak growth, they’ll make a sound,” he said. “You can feel it. It’s something surging in the pumpkin. Bup. Bup.”

       
When the season ends, growers like Mr. Young often tow their creations to a fairground or botanical garden for display; with walls a foot thick and low sugar content, the pumpkins are not fit for pie. But this inedibility has not deterred contractors, doctors, midwives and other amateurs from growing them.

       
BigPumpkins.com, the Facebook-like forum of the giant-pumpkin world, now gets more than a million unique hits a month. And according to the Great Pumpkin Commonwealth, the number of officially sanctioned weigh-offs has grown from 22 to 92 in seven years, and now includes competitions in Italy, Finland and Australia.

       
With the right seeds and soil preparations, veterans say, it’s fairly easy to grow an impressively large pumpkin. But the hobby’s elite, while still amateurs, operate on a different playing field. These growers spend hundreds of dollars on laboratory analyses of soil and plant tissues to help them decide whether to add more nitrogen, say, or calcium. And they speed photosynthesis by spraying their plants’ leaves with carbon dioxide.

      
 “We’re taking a natural process and we’ve got complete control over it,” said Steve Connolly, 56, a grower in Sharon, Mass., whose pumpkins consistently rank among the world’s 10 heaviest.

      
 Taking control begins with pollination, a process that growers have wrested from the bees. In early summer, they cross-pollinate the pumpkins themselves, selecting a male flower from one plant and rubbing the pollen onto a female flower from another. Other budding pumpkins are eliminated so that the main vine supports only one plant. As extra vines sprout, they are likewise removed. The patch is more than tended. It is manicured.

       
But it is the seeds, a strong indicator of a pumpkin’s size, that are the most bankable factor in the quest for giants. Last fall, Chris Stevens, 33, a Wisconsin general contractor who grew the 1,810-pound pumpkin, sold a single seed from it for $1,600, by far the most anyone has ever paid for a pumpkin seed. Its descendants may prove just as valuable.

      
 Seed trading has helped set new world records almost every year since 1997, when a pumpkin first broke the 1,000-pound barrier. The Giant Pumpkin Commonwealth bestows special leather jackets on those who have grown a pumpkin over 1,400 pounds, a club that includes fewer than 50 gardeners. But Mr. Stelts said he was raising the minimum to 1,600 pounds because of the escalating competition.

      
 “We’d like to award everybody,” he said. “But you know what? It’s not the Boy Scouts. You’ve got to prove yourself.”

       
MR. YOUNG keeps his pumpkin trophies, ribbons and plaques in a corner of his living room. Cash winnings are reinvested in his hobby. But there is no award for what may be his greatest accomplishment: dual grafting.

       
To explain, he crouched in the dirt, pointing to a double stump that he grafted together in his kitchen last winter. Each stump is the size of a beefy forearm, and the root systems bring in twice the nutrients.

       
“They told me it couldn’t be done, they told me that for years,” said Mr. Young, who had to sacrifice 300 pumpkin seeds before he discovered the best way to fuse two young pumpkin sprouts. He borrowed a surgical knife from a hog farmer to shave the stems and then clipped them together with hair barrettes. Soon he and his wife, Julie, had to avoid knocking over pots and heat lamps spread around the kitchen counters.

       
Next year, he plans to grow all his pumpkins with grafted double sprouts. “With good weather, I can really set the world on fire,” he said. His competitive spirit is also extending beyond pumpkins; he has started to grow championship long gourds that are as thick as a bull snake.

       
Mrs. Young, 46, supports her husband’s hobby and has even won a trophy herself for pumpkin growing. “It’s exciting,” she said. “He doesn’t do anything small. He’s all in, like in poker.” She added, “People don’t realize that there’s gardening, then there’s extreme gardening.”

       
Extreme gardening involves money and sacrifice. Mr. Young wakes up in the middle of the night to check his pumpkins. He uses 27,000 gallons of water a month — nearly enough to supply a family of four for a year — and he has 80 sprinkler heads. He runs heat lamps all night after planting seeds in the chilly April ground, and cools his gourds with fans in sweltering midsummer heat. He can’t remember the last time he took a vacation.

      
 Still, for all the work, heartbreak is inevitable. A gardener can pamper his gourds for months and vigilantly stave off rot, disease and bad weather. But sometimes the giant fruits are so juiced up that they do not know how to stop feeding themselves.

       
Mr. Connolly remembers with particular sadness one morning a few years ago when he left his pumpkins to go to church. He was gone for less than an hour, but he returned to find that his biggest pumpkin had exploded under the force of its own growth spurt.

       
“There was a footlong crack through the rind,” he said. “It just blew up.”