14 hours ago
Saturday, March 28, 2009
For the first time today at a family gathering I could really see Toot contemplating mobility as she watched an older cousin cruising around, showing off, entertaining the adults assembled. I could almost hear the notions in her head, thinking to herself; "I could do that. Look at how all those big people get a kick out of her. Just cause she gets around. I'm gonna do that too one day and then she won't be the bees knees. I can take her."
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Bernheim uses fire as a tool to help re-establish native grasslands. In my backyard I'm doing the same thing on a smaller scale. Little bluestem, Indian grass, prairie dropseed, Virginia wild rye, bottlebrush grass, river oats, and a bunch of native wildflowers do very well with periodic burns.
To be clear about this... burning like this is ILLEGAL in the city. I have no idea who set my native grass patch on fire?
I'd like to make a formal complaint.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Went to the zoo with Carmen and Little Toot. What fun. Then I came home and continued working in the garden. I can feel my age a little. The first really hard day of gardening was yesterday and today I'm sore. I used to not feel so sore after that first spring day in the yard. The digging gets my shoulders now.
I potted up some longhandled dipper gourds and some luffa sponge gourds and put them in the cold frame. For you few folk that actually read my blog here's a prize for you. I'm giving the first person that comments on this entry a choice of luffa or dipper gourd, and the second can have what's left. And if no one comments...I'll just plant em. And when you come pick em up I'll pour you a bourbon.
Germination on the luffa is 7-14 days.
Germination on the dipper gourd is 10-14 days.
So in two weeks you should be able to come get your plants. That will put us right at the average last frost date. Ready to go out in your yard or nurture a while longer in their pots.
Then we can all stand out in the rain and scrub each others backs with luffas come fall.
A new favorite book.
A little boy named Liam (cool name) lives in a nasty ole town with not much going for it in the way of green spaces or gardens. He explores an elevated railway track and finds a struggling little garden there and takes it upon himself to become the gardener of the little patch. The little patch begins to grow and expand. A moderately reasonable story of succession involving mosses is communicated. (As a bryologist this gave the book a bonus point.)
Evenually the garden takes over the entire rail line, then rooftops, then every abandoned thing ends up as a little oasis. But more importantly, more gardeners begin appearing. The once dreary landscape is transformed.
This book provides some important lessons:
- Start where you are with what you have.
- Start small but dream big.
- Nature wins. Even in our abandoned industrial spaces.
- Succession is your friend.
- Gardening is contagious.
- Transformation is possible.
The Curious Garden by Peter Brown
Little, Brown and Company, Books for Young Readers
New York, Boston
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
I suppose I have been on hiatus. A hard drive crash is a nasty thing.
Not so great with this computer stuff.
Exploring FaceBook. Not sure yet. Addictive to a degree.
Started two group pages:
- Professional Porch Sitters Union - Founders Page
- Louisville Chickeneers (look for the above photo)
Spring gets me to wanting Summer.
I am impatient.
One hundred thirty seven and
one half degrees. Exactly.
Rust, met by air
or blood, empties on the roots
of the helianthus.
Blood does good for roots.
Carmen bends low to pick
a tomato. Then nine.
Curlers in her hair and a dress
that fits loose upon her hips.
Income for the next generation
of kitchen scraps. Then chicken feed.
In late summer sun
the dropseed begins to cede.
I could dig it up and plant
it near the Indian grass. Or the
Iron and oxygen combine.
Hemoglobin. That thing they say
is thinker than water.
Is sweat thicker than water?
I’m watching an orange beetle on
the milkweed. Saddle
bags of pollen caught in anthers must
be the invention of sex.
Carmen calls me in for dinner.
She will give me five of
the nine tomatos.