A Pocket Full of Ginger

Today I had all sorts of things I was excited to do. It's 9:30 at night and I still haven't managed to do them all. But this morning after doing the house chores, making a pumpkin pie and dairy-free bread, I left the pie cooling and the bread rising and headed outside. What to do first?
Watering came first - I've now added one glass jar with the tip down into the lettuce plants to help combat the already-dry ground.

Then I planted the ginger. I got a bit - just a little bit - at the store yesterday. It was so little that once I researched it, I wasn't sure it even had the buds that would make it grow. It did. Two of them, in fact. I read that it needed shade away from direct sunlight and compost and immediately thought of the little pile of compost by the garage that I had left. I dug a hole, filled it with compost and planted the ginger. I can harvest it next Spring or let it grow another year for a larger harvest. I suppose I'll figure out what I want to do then.

The compost pile yielded another surprise - two, in fact. See them? What are they? I have no idea. Cabbage, I think. They were happily growing in the compost I'd left in the open air and now they are happily growing among the salad greens. Speaking of, I cut my first baby greens today for supper. The beans are coming up, parsley is growing around the tomatoes. I thought the okra would take it's sweet time, but today while watering I looked closer and noticed tiny, uniform sprouts.

Other plants aren't doing as well. Remember the container where I planted the lettuce and the cat thought was a litter box  The lettuces came up but were spindly. I wondered if they needed sun so I moved them out. A few are hanging in there, but many withered. Likewise the five or six lavender plants have dwindled to three in the long container. They still have friends living in the egg basket, so we'll see what happens.

I broke down and went to the local hardware store to pick up a bag of potting soil and compost peat, which I've been layering to plant the new things. What did I plant?
Very good question. I'll let you know tomorrow. I wrote them all down on clothespins that showed what was planted where. See, I'm planting the seeds in those shoe organizers that slide under your bed. That's what happens when you don't have a lot of things to plant. Val helped and even filmed a bit while we were working.

Today I've been battling a slow internet to figure out all the different seeds sent to me - and where to put them. I started as many as I thought I could transplant and I'll be blogging about them as I go.
I stopped the planting to teach piano, then returned under hurried circumstances as the sun was going down. I now have five jars sitting on my kitchen window. In these I planted the culinary herbs that came: basil, curly parsley, oregano and cilantro.
I plan to put more outside, but as long as I'm experimenting, I may as well try all different things. My weed-tomato plant now has two friends who are living by the flame grape trellis.
I also decided to take my experiment spirit for a packet of peas and the limabeans. They are planted in containers on the front porch where I'm going to let them trail instead of climb. We'll see what happens. I also took the tree container and filled it with soil, then had Val plant carrots. I've never had luck with carrots, but perhaps trying in a container will bring success.

Blossoming Hope

Sometimes a day is full of coincidences that we don't even realize until we reflect on it as a whole. Yesterday was that sort of day. I've been praying about my desire to pursue certification in herbs and nutrition and holistic health. I'm not sure where to pursue that in order to have enough to help others heal. I've always secretly thought having the gift of healing the the Bible speaks of would be my first choice among the various gifts. And in a way, I think I do have it. Not that I can touch anyone and help them heal.
But the desire is there. To help people's bodies heal. To help them work through old emotional wounds. To find their healing in Christ.
Yesterday I went to B. C. and ran into an old friend from college. She wanted to know if I was still singing and if I was still in college. I told her I wanted to pursue holistic healing. She's recently come out of surgery for cancer and went to a nutritionist in a semi-nearby town. She gave me the woman's card, saying I could visit her and see what requirements were needed in order to be able to safely help people. She though it was a wonderful that I wanted to pursue.
When I got home, Val checked the mail and came in saying my seeds had come. I was confused until I realize I had sent out two self-stamped envelopes to two different seed companies who offered free seeds. They came back just a week or so later on the same day. I suddenly had twenty seeds, including some of the herbs I'd been hoping to get, but couldn't afford. Some of them were medicinal.
I wanted to gather enough grass clippings for the compost before they sank into obviation  so I headed out as the sun was on it's downward trek, waving at Mr. H as I crossed the street into our field. The grass was much shorter so it takes longer to rack up a pile, than last time. But I had headphones and was in a fairly good mood. I didn't see Mr. H until he was a few yards away, coming across the field. He was wheezing and coughing, his lungs gurgling and I went to meet him. He pulled two crumpled seed packets from his pocket and handed them over: one cucumber and one lima bean.
I remembered he had said his mother liked cucumbers and I'd mentioned I didn't have any seeds for those. I'm not sure what the lima bean story consists of because he was breathing so hard he could hardly talk. He said he hadn't been doing well and was going back.
So that made a total of 22 new kinds of seeds coming within a few hours of each other.
Maybe it was the "Braveheart" soundtrack making me feel like life suddenly took a higher purpose. More likely it was all these pieces falling into place. But I filled that compost bin, thinking of how I wanted to be able to heal people. To listen to them, bring them into my backyard and give them herbs that could help heal them.
Was that part of God's answer?
He'd been telling me I needed to work on my own health. I'd been praying about how to pursue an education that would make me able to teach with confidence and authority. I love growing things. And I know so many people who are struggling with their health - without finding healing.
As I prayed again, feeling hope and determination rise, I glanced toward the orange/lemon tree.  I'd seen tight buds the day before but yesterday there was one single bloom open, as close to me as it could be. I also noticed buds on the peach tree that hadn't been there.

In Quest of the Simple Life

Gardening is therapy. Only you get tomatoes. - Unknown

So these last few days I’ve practically lived in the garden. Val, my best friend and housemate, climbed onto the back loft to get a good Internet signal (a rare species these days) for a six hour writing lecture. I’d love to hear that lecture when they have it recorded in one hour sessions – preferably in a format that I can tote around with me – but while she perched high and happy, I worked below in the garden. Occasionally we’d call to each other.

I attached two extension cords together and took my CD player out to the garden, alternating between the Narnia soundtrack (inspiring for my novel that I’d occasionally take a break and sit in the the green garden chair to write a page) and Irish music. Soft melodies enhances nature. Lively jigs speeds digging.

Here is my lettuce, which is coming along very nicely. So far I’ve only seen two leaves that look like a bug mistook for a restaurant, so I suppose it’s time to hunt down a sprayer and get some garlic water.

I needed a trellis, so I had to get a bit creative – okay – a lot creative. So creative, I’m not even sure it’s going to work.

Step one: Go into garage.

Step two: Find all kinds of cool trellis/pole ideas from things that don’t belong to me and would require a phone call and probably quite a bit of convincing to be allowed to subject to rain. After all, they don’t make pitchforks as well anymore and you should never, ever leave out your tools. I have two swords in my room that would make cool trellis holders, but every neighbor around would probably come play sword in the stone and then I’d have weapons at large.

It was time for plan B. I looked high and low, finding old door screens and frames but again, they don’t belong to me. The volleyball net and poles, however, do – remnants from my pain-free childhood – though I always hated volleyball because I’d inevitably end up with a ball smashing into my face. But I can’t reach them so I keep looking, tucking that tidbit away. My idea is to use the bottom of the pole to do a Florida Weave technique on the tomatoes.  Later I get the idea… could I actually USE the entire thing? The net could be the trellis. It would add height and perhaps interest. Or just look really junky. I’ll keep thinking on that.

What I found was something I’d seen in a yard not even an hour before and wished we had one. It was this little cast-iron sign-holder, thing.

An hour later It looked like this. Note the black spray paint job.

Several hours later, it was in the garden, looking like this. It’s hard to see, but there is about a foot wide ribbon of chicken wire running up to both sides. This… is where I’m planning on putting a sugar pumpkin plant, a squash plant and perhaps some peas running up on their own strings. I’m not done with it but the idea it to have a sort of recycled vegetable tee pee. I also plan to make a sign for it to hold. I want to upcycle and use what I can – but try as much as I can to keep things looking quaint and interesting – not reused tacky.

Like I said, I warned you about my kindergarten projects.

Speaking of kindergarten projects, my heirloom seeds came in the mail, causing much rejoicing and spurring another afternoon of work. I needed the washing bin I had a tomato plant in, so I foreclosed its home and then the tomato plant (remember the seedlings from the yucky store bought tomato?) found another home – at the base of the grapevine trellis. My father once told me he treated his tomatoes just like weeds and they grew better than his neighbor’s pampered plants. This is my experimental tomato plant. See it there, hiding among its weed friends?

Anyway, back to the washing tin. So because I was going to have it indoors (and couldn't put holes in the bottom when I tried) I found some rocks to help with drainage. Warrant, it probably works better if you have layers of rocks, but these were all I could find. 

Then I filled it with my ant-less compost (they moved after I moved the bin and left the pile just sitting there for three days) because I didn’t have a lot of potting soil. I only put potting soil on the top. Then I took my heirloom lettuce and spinach leaves and planted.

I also put in a tomato variation called “Cream Sausage” that apparently doesn’t need to be staked – just to see how it did. It also sets all it’s fruit at one time, so there goes my ideas of having a ready supply of cooking tomatoes on hand.

I’m not sure if those seeds are still in it, since my cat thought it was a litter box – it’s amazing. He’s house trained and not a house kitty. But despite our many talks about how he is an outside kitty, he only likes being outside when I’m outside. When I’m inside, he sits at the screen door and cries – and prepares to rush in at the slightest crack in the door. He also likes fresh water out of the toilet and the outside water faucet.

Watering. It’s a chore. You see, I have a hose that reaches to the first grapevine and no farther. So I have two choices. Turn on the water and let it soak part of the yard while I haul a bucket from hose end to garden – or give up on the hose and pretend to be a pioneer. Or an Erish slave. I do that too. (If you’re wondering what an Erish slave is, you’ll have to read “The Secret of Sentarra.” It’s very good. I know. I wrote it.) If you DO know what an Erish slave is – you probably know me and may be giggling right now. Ahem. Moving on.

So what else? I’m experimenting with trellis ideas, creating another batch of compost, wondering if I can get the lawnmower started and keep it running, and exchanging gardening tips with my brother on the phone on a fairly regular basis.

So far I have planted in pots, two black cherry tomato plants, two cream sausage tomato plants and one Black Krim tomato plant that was included in my order as a bonus. I’ve planted an egg carton (not sure it’s big enough but I’ll give it a try) of lavender plants, four of whom have popped up so far despite the ordinary yard dirt, rainbow Swiss chard and a whole slew of bell pepper plants since I haven’t had luck with my other ones. Perhaps it’s just not warm enough yet. I put out the lettuce mixture, Bloomesdale Spinach and Strawberry Spinach in the garden.

The latter is of particular interest to me. Spinach and berries from one plant from England. It’s becoming rare apparently so I wanted to make sure I had luck with mine. I planted it in the lettuce bed with the others and in the pot inside. Then I took that lovely compost that I was spreading in front of the garage to use for the hollyhock and spread some more in there. It’s self-seeding so I wanted to give it a spot where it could reproduce to its heart’s content and good soil.

I planted two pumpkin seeds in a mound with the chicken wire crawling out and up. I went ahead and put in the okra even though it will wait until it’s good and warm before it shows up.

I put in another row of corn, and planted the beans. Some ordinary pinto beans from my pantry.

And Cherokee Black Beans which are also called “Trail of Tear” beans. I got these because of my grandpa whose grandmother was Cherokee with ancestors on that trail where the beans were apparently carried along. So now I’ve mixed history of one side of my family into the land belonging to the other side. Cherokees and French, meet the Germans and Scotch Irish. There. One big happy family marrying in the melting pot.

Most of this work, I did in one day. Along with another upgrading project.

I found this washstand in the garage, tucked next to the old cast iron washing/soap making things.

I wanted to use it for a bookshelf, but I decided I needed a spice cabinet in the kitchen. Also somewhere to hold our silverware since we haven’t won the bug war in the drawers.

So we’ve been using it looking like this. I scrounged up some old paint while searching for paint for the cast iron rod, and though I couldn’t get it entirely shook/stirred up, I put a light, fresh coat on. It has sort of a rustic look now, since you can still see through the paint and some brush marks but it turned out pretty well.

Now, if I can convince the rosemary that it wants to take root and grow and get the parsley seeds in their own container, we’ll be on our way to fresh herbs in the kitchen.

Another interesting tidbit before I close. This was a bit of lettuce we’d used from the store. I put it in water to see if it would root, left it a few days, gave up and stuck it in the garden. Until two days ago it looked like it would just decompose, but here you are. It’s growing new leaves. J I may start planting all my scraps.

Ants, herbs and Deep Shade

"Go to the ant, thou sluggard. Consider her ways and be wise." I can't remember exactly where in Proverbs that verse is found, but I thought of it today, and yesterday, and the day before. Why?
Because I've been ant-watching - but I don't feel any wiser. In fact, I'm out of ideas.
I was turning the compost every day, trying to get it ready to go into the garden to be used as soil. I was please at how well it was coming along.
Then one day, there were ants. I moved the compost bin and re-shoveled, figuring once their home was destroyed, they'd leave. The next day they'd rebuilt and moved on. I again moved and re-shoveled  dousing it in buckets of water I carried from the faucet.
Ants are persistent, anyway. I might not even mind them in the compost if they weren't fire ants - the bane of the yard. Usually, if dousing a pile doesn't make them move, I'll declare war and pour boiling water on the mound. That normally does the trick.
Of course my famous catch phrase is, "It should work."
But people and things rarely do the things they should.
I've carried a boiling tea-kettle out numerous times in the last few days and it might be killing the microorganisms in the soil but it sure as heck ain't killing the ants. I took the coffee grounds from the Bed and Breakfast that I work at, but there wasn't really enough to deter the creature.
I'm not ready to sacrifice our bag of sugar quiet yet.
Corn starch did nothing.
Finally, I remembered you can kill two birds with one stone - actually, two colonies of ants at once - but mixing them. One of my fictional characters from the early 1900's says they'll go at each other like Catholics and Protestants, which is probably more relevant to him than it is to me.
Apparently, to the ants too. I've done it twice and I think they declared world peace and are now happily working together to vanquish my compost pile.
Really, it makes me feel like a monster.
So today I dragged the empty bin all the way across the yard, between the two grapevine trellises. There were a few straggling ants on the bin - some of which bit me for my efforts. I left them and the bin empty, trying to decide if I should just start over. Four hours later I peeked in the bin to see if the few and the brave were gone - and they've already made a ant-bed in the ground inside the compost bin.
At least they don't have four feet of debris to hide in.
I may have to drench the bottom with coffee grounds if I can get some from the bookstore or something before I put more compost in.
But I need that compost. I'm out of potting soil and I can't buy more. I have seeds coming in the mail and I spent today digging the bed where the tomatoes will go. I'm going to have to make do with the soil I have and the compost I can create and leave "perfect" planting soil as a future project, probably along with the square-foot raised garden. In fact today I planted two of the tomato seedlings in the bed. I know it's early but I want to see if I can get them to grow well starting this early and I had a lot of them that survived the winter and are currently waiting in mason jars for a home.
Ahem. I read that you can use orange peels to start seeds in and I happen to have four or five oranges in my fridge. I can't eat the oranges so I may as well use them for something.
So far I have two bell pepper plants planted.
Two tomato plants in the ground - these grew from a tomato I threw in some dirt way before winter set in and they've been hanging in there.
Hollyhock seedlings popping through the soil in the front of the house. A few more planted back by the garage house. A container of English Lavender. One basket of strawberry plants that seem to be thriving. Another basket of strawberry plants that are on their last breaths. They weren't in very good shape when they came in the package but I thought I'd try to give them a chance. I have about eight little tomato plants living in mason jars and waiting for homes with my brother and sister if I ever get down to see them.
Which leads me to the rosemary story. I read that you can grow rosemary from cuttings - and I just so happen to work at a B and B where we cut fresh rosemary to garnish the plates. I didn't want to ask my employer if I could have some rosemary, but I remembered that I throw those little cuts away every time I make breakfast there. So now I have two little cuttings saved from the breakfast plates and now in soil. We'll see how they do.
The bed I prepared last winter behind the shed where my great-grandmother supposedly had an herb garden, must have been full of shade-loving plants. It gets a tiny bit of sun in the morning and then is blocked by a building for most of the day. I'm not sure what I'm going to plant there yet. I picked up a packet of Canterbury Bells because it looked like they needed shade but on further inspection, I think they need more sun than they would get there. Perhaps that's where I'll grow mint and chamomile. I think they're okay in shade. I'll have to look.
I went to the store today for chamomile today but I only picked up a sugar pumpkin and cucumber seeds. They didn't have any chamomile. But when I find it, I want to grow a little of it in my silver teapot.
I have a silver teapot that is sitting, tucked away in a china hutch. It's got some sort of green encrusting coating on the inside, so I don't want to use it for tea - and I haven't had a tea-party in years anyway. I've gotten interested to see what I can grow in containers and what sort of containers I can reuse that I have laying around the house.
So I looked it up, and this person has done it.
I think it would be great to have a "tea garden" with all different herbs to create tea.
My lettuce is also coming up, though I was hasty in planting it before the bed was properly prepared. Now it's hard to tell which is the lettuce and which are weeds reclaiming their territory. Guess I'll find out.
Right now the progress is little more than seedlings (and lots of digging).
My flame grapevine is putting out leaves and has looked like it's settled into it's new home.
And I have a gardening friend. His name - is Marius. Or Dingbat. Or Kate. Or Nate.
He's a cat that I thought was a she until a few weeks ago. But he loves fresh water from the tap, drinking it from the bucket like a dog. He'll chase the roots I pull out of the digging soil and throw behind me. He'll attack the mulch that I'm smoothing out. Generally, he'll follow me back and forth (or underfoot) and hang out nearby while I work.

The Grapes of Wrath

It was a sad sight to behold.
Layers upon layers of victorious, arrow-shaped heads claiming victory over the a wobbling trellis. Ash trees grew between the twisted wire, providing peeks for the invading vine to announce it's achievement to the world. No one would guess there was a grapevine residing there which had provided wine and jelly for generations of families. A few brittle skeletons showed that it had managed to produce tiny clusters of grapes this last season, despite the choking enemy.
That's when I showed up, armed with shears, a hatchet, a hoe and yes, a pair of scissors used to cut paper. The hoe graciously lent by my brother, is a special sort that cuts. It cut my work by days. I know, because I've gone to this very same war in the past.
The first thing I did was use that hoe to pull away the debris that stockpiled at the base and cut the roots of the vines, leaving the little buggers to die, creating a collage of dead leaves, and the live ones who had escaped by sheltering against the trees or trellis.
I showed no mercy and took no prisoners. Cutting away layers of the vine, brushing away ladybugs, flicking an occasional roach, even taking the hatchet to the base of the ash trees. Four days of work and the vine saw the light of day.

Then I bought another vine. The seedless sort made for eating. It's two-year-old stock. My father suggested we build it it's own trellis so we did. It's currently planted in the old trellis because I planted it before he came down. I had to leave for five days just after putting it up, so I haven't had a chance to prepare the ground.
Speaking of preparing the ground.
I was going to try something called "Lasagna gardening" or "layer gardening" this year as I have no idea how the soil will preform in this area. I have plenty of grass clippings from the field across the street. I raked some leaves last fall. Other than that, I have no money so coming up with the 'layers' has been a challenge. I have access to a few newspapers from the recycle box in a small museum that I volunteer at. I can get cardboard boxes from a few local places. I might be able to secure coffee grounds from a local coffee shop. But I have no peat, manure or bonemeal as some people suggest.
Therefore my garden will have to be a sort of 'mixture' between traditional and layering. We'll see what happens.
Anyhow, so project one is done and here is the final result. I should have taken a "before" picture but it was forgotten in the heat of battle. The grapevines can see the light of day. The new vine will likely be replanted in its future home tomorrow. This year I'll watch it for dead vines that need to be cleared away, and perhaps manage to make some jelly out of the grapes. I don't drink wine and they're really not good for anything else. But it will be fun to keep up part of an old family tradition.

The Inheritance

Once upon a time, the Big, White House had an herb garden, a small vineyard, an orchard including fig, pear, apple and a few other trees. It had bulbs surrounding the house including Spider Plants and Easter Lillies and Paper Whites. It probably had other things as well, though according to family tradition, a garden couldn't be grown because some sort of local pest ate up all the roots.
Then the family moved away and the big, white house sat empty. The apple tree met an untimely and unrecorded end. The grapevines were covered with mile-a-minute pest that lived up to its name and piled so heavily that it began to compost on the vine. The pear tree continued to produce for years, despite harsh winds, a few tropical storms, drought and invasion by the vine that was choking out the grapes, each year struggling under rotted limbs to produce a few of its once abundant and delicious fruits.
The Easter Lilly and Paper Whites survived workers who came and leveled the Big, White House and more workers who resided and began blooming. Except one Paper White flower who was plucked by a little girl who spied it while waiting for her older sister to finish piano lessons in the big, white house. It went home with the happy child and its fate remains unknown.
It was to this landscape that I arrived - the fifth generation of family to live in the Big, White House since Mr. Millard Lipscomb ordered and built the home from a Sears and Roebucks house kit around 1904. My name is Lindsey and here I record all my misadventures while trying to restore the family home to it's former glory.
A few things you should know about me.
1. Projects always look better in my head than they turn out with in 'real life.'
2. I find half the fun in experimentation - it reminds me to give myself permission to learn and grow.
3. I have grown gardens before, but my experience is limited - especially in the climate of the Texas Coast.
4. I am a twenty-something of very limited means and therefore must rely on a make-do mentality.
5. My first garden here might look like something from the Depression Era as I have just enough money to get seeds, with little or nothing left for soil amendments or pretty boarders.

Got the picture?
All righty then. Pull up a chair, have a cup of tea (hopefully one day I can offer you a cup of fresh leaves from my garden) and come along for the ride as I can see if I can bring the land around the Big, White House to life again. I can't promise you it will be successful, but it will be amusing, interesting and perhaps at times downright eccentric.