Too Much of a Good Thing

Before the nitrogen fertilizer.

They say the best defense is a good offense.  Why do "they" always have all the answers?  I spent days offensing offensively with my best offense.  In real terms, I dug up the whole front bed that cuddled the horsetail.   Then squeezed a few chicken amendments into it along with lots of ammonium sulfate.

One day after application

See the results of too much of a good thing.

Roots of the not-preferred plant were dug out.
 Area received a heavy dose of nitrogen fertilizer.
It will be easy to take care of any growth that springs up.

I'm thrilled and my heart sings through the Things I get to do today.  The digging, the sifting for threads of roots, the redoing of my iris bed and the area around my rose--it's all just play, because I'm using sweetness and goodness to outwit and outpower something that I prefer not to have. Simple as that.

Righting the Rain Barrel

Dried mud-coated landscape fabric "carpet

"Sweep and mop the garden paths" was not on my list.  But I did it anyway.  I'm not OCD, but convincing the woman walking by on the path (rather quickly, I might note, saying only "Hi.") would have been difficult.

Things I get to do today included, however, checking out the rain barrel.  But it all started here: Some years ago landscape fabric was placed between the garden beds as weed control. Changes in the garden had left slimy puddles in the paths and borders of weeds. A willing weekend guest offered his outdoor services, and we went to work, pulling up all the fabric, leveling the surface underneath, folding the fabric "inside out," and tacking it back down.  The bottom side of the fabric had a thin coat of mud on it.  How that could happen in Oregon is no mystery.

Barrel, listing slightly to the left,
leaking it contents into buckets

Here's where I get to vindicate myself.  I am totally fine with the mud on the path carpet.  As it dries on a sunny day, I'm OK with the dusty dirt.  But the rain barrel was listing to one side, and we had already had soil shear failure this past week when my rhubarb leaf bird bath tipped over.  If the rain barrel goes over, the damage is real.

Empty, plumb and ready for rain

Righting the rain barrel means it has to be drained first.  Using the available hose on the barrel tap was so slow that the predicted rain would fill it up before all the water had dribbled out.  I decided to let it flow directly into buckets.  But what to do with 55 gallons of water when nothing in the yard is thirsty?  I sloshed it on the garden paths--all seven of them--and broomed them down while the next bucket filled. I was just finishing up when the woman walk hurriedly by.

Swept and mopped.
Ready for bare feet in the summer

Perhaps there should have a sign on the fence that says:

RELAX.  

SHE REALLY IS HARMLESS.

Cinderella Planters

We got high-centered--all of us--caught on the fence between winter and spring.  Our hearts surge forward, wanting to plant, garden, and flower; and then it snows on us and pours so much rain that every step toward the garden leaves miniature foot-print-sized lakes behind us overflowing along our route.

Neglected, frosted, ugly planters

But what is a heart to do?  Mine was pumping with the emotion of earth and beauty for the Things I get to do today.  And before me, while the rains held back the tears measured out for today, were the dregs of several planters--left behind--too ugly to be invited anywhere.  Surely I could be distracted from the garden-spring thing by coming to the rescue of these tired plants.  It's an opportunity to make something from nothing.  That's the sort of juicy challenge any Handy Andy would adore.

So get to work.  Grab the gloves.  Pull out all frost-killed plants.  Remove all dead leaves and leggy stems from the remaining live ones.  Divide clumped and overgrown plants.  Repot them like a group photo shoot: short ones on the front edges, medium and tall in the center and back.

Added kale (new dress), primrose (sparkle) and parsley.
The rest (slippers) were salvaged from the two "uglies"

The winter was rough on the houseplants that had migrated into the original arrangements. Even combining the two planters there were not enough growies to fill the larger one that sits on top of my rain barrel.  A little wandering through the yard, however, yielded part of a clump primroses that needed dividing, a handful of Italian Parsley* and one healthy kale.

You can do this, too.  Come on, be a Fairy Godmother to your tired, tattered, and tarnished planters from last season.  Give them new sparkle, find a pretty "dress," and clean up the "slippers."


*See "Italian Generosity" posted November 14, 2011.

Chicken Tomatoes

My hens don't lay tomatoes.  They lay just the regular yellow-yoke and clear-white eggs.  The yokes are actually orange because they eat so much green grass, but that's another story.

We had our first real frosty night on Halloween.  Costumes on the skimpy side had blue people inside no matter what the theme of the outfit.  It seems to happen that way every year.

Sad looking tomatoes gone over the hill

 Mini candy bars and Halloween aside, the frost means that I'm late in taking care of the tomato vines and the remaining red, cracked, orange, pale-yellow and green tomatoes.  So my helpers in the hen pen are thrilled about the Things I get to do today.  As I clean up the beds and make a collection of tomatoes that may ripen in the house, I'm also filling a bucket with all the others for the sweet-singing gals.   The best treat for the sweeties in the feather outfits is "chicken tomatoes."

Trick-or-treaters who showed up at my place.

Cozy, stunning costume with a pink chicken inside

Chicken Candy