The Toonmoose Garden blog

2011-12-21T07:14:00.003-05:00

The "Christmas Lion" wishes everyone a "roaring" good time this holiday season!

Welcome to Winter, 2011! Today, December 21st, marks the official start of winter, and as such, will be the shortest day of the year. So far, so good with the weather, despite that unexpected Nor'Easter that dumped 7 inches of snow on us on October 29th.

Guidelines for preparing greens.

2011-11-02T10:30:00.003-04:00

Here, in a large swath of the Northeast, we are still shaking our heads in disbelief over the blizzard that befell us on Saturday, October 29^th²⁰¹¹. Winter is still officially six weeks away, but this storm left the appearance of mid-January across the landscape, dumping seven inches of heavy white snow. Far from their peak of Fall color, the leaves of many trees are still green and still on their branches, which allowed the snow to pile up on them quickly. The result is widespread damage, with many broken limbs and downed power lines. Few of us were prepared for such a dramatic change in the weather. We barely had time to bring in our tender potted plants, and I have yet to bring the, pomegranate or fig tree inside. I can only hope these haven’t sustained any permanent damage. In the potager, parsnips, carrots, (aptly named) snow peas, beets and collard greens are nestled in beneath this premature precipitation.

One positive outcome of the sudden drop in temperature is the conversion of the starch in these vegetables into sugar, (glucose), effectively sweetening them up. Growing up in urban Trenton, New Jersey, the appearance of Collards in the market was always a clear indication of the change to a colder season. A welcomed sight, their arrival was accompanied by vigorous discussions about their preparation. For an African-American family with roots in the South, greens - Collards, Mustard or Turnip – are an essential part of any menu, anticipated with great relish. Yet, from family to family, there exist subtle variations on the “proper” method of cooking greens.

One step that is universally agreed on is that one must begin by washing one’s greens, repeatedly! My good friend, the dancer and actor Vanoy Aikens, who learned to cook greens from his friend, the late, great Eartha Kitt, swears that Collards must be thoroughly washed, no fewer than “THREE TIMES!!!” That entails soaking them in a sink of cold water, carefully rinsing each leaf; emptying, rinsing and filling the sink and washing off each leaf again, then doing this step one more time, perhaps using running water this third time. The reason for this, being that there is nothing so unpleasant as chomping into fine grit or any soil residue that a less thorough washing might miss. A cooks’ reputation can hang or fall on so crucial a step!

Beyond this, is the question of whether to chop or tear the leaves? There are some cooks who swear by folding, then chopping one’s greens into manageable “ribbons.” Others are committed to tearing the tender leaf from the stalk, peeling it away from the ribs by grasping at the top of the leaf and pulling down toward the base of the stalk. Some cooks seek to eliminate the ribs and stalks, while others enjoy their somewhat meatier texture when cooked. A Brazilian friend, Carlos, has even been known to use a grater to create a “chiffonade” of his greens, sautéing them in olive oil, but in my experience, this is a radical departure from Southern tradition.

While all of this washing and dividing of leaves is going on, one should prepare in a separate pot, a stock with which to cook the greens. It has always been my understanding that greens, especially Collards, contain a lot of water, and therefore only need enough additional moisture to keep them from sticking to the pot. That stock, a prime component of any “pot likker,” is crucial, though not difficult, to prepare. Ms. Edna Lewis, the doyenne of Southern cooking, recommended simmering two pounds of pork shoulder in a gallon of water for two hours. One then strains and discards the shoulder, using the remaining stock as a base for cooking greens, root vegetables, beans, etc. For cooking smaller portions, a similar stock can be made by simmering a ham hock and reducing the amount of water proportionately. Those who object to pork may achieve a tasty variation by substituting smoked turkey wings or legs for the pork, and simmering them down. Remove the bones and leave in the bits of meat to flavor the stock and greens.

Bear in mind that greens wilt down, so that while it may appear that one has an excess of greens to begin with, once they have softened and wilted, there will only be a fraction of their original volume.

Thus, for cooking Collard Greens:

Prepare a stock, using Pork Shoulder, Ham Hock or Smoked Turkey. Start with two pounds of meat in a gallon of water and boil for two hours. Strain. For smaller quantities, adjust meat and water proportionately.

Wash thoroughly and prepare greens.

Into a covered pot, place greens with just enough stock to cover them. (Avoid “watery” greens.) Bring to a simmer. Cook until tender, with a silky, glistening texture, 40 minutes to one hour. Add additional stock to pot as needed to prevent greens sticking to pot. For additional flavor, add one or two cloves minced garlic, chopped onion or green pepper and a sprinkling of red pepper flakes. Add salt and pepper as needed. Serve with scallions, or the Peppers of ones choice on the side, or with a sprinkling of pepper vinegar.

Corn bread is an ideal compliment for greens.

A tour of the garden at Penrose Bungalow

2011-09-23T17:09:00.003-04:00

Friends,

Here, (via youtube) is a video tour of the garden at Penrose Bungalow, on the eve of the arrival of Hurricane Irene. Fortunately, the garden did not sustain any major damage from the storm, beyond becoming temporarily water-logged. Enjoy!

2011-07-13T14:09:00.006-04:00

July 7, 2011

Garden Update

Dear Friends,

When last I wrote to you, my fellow gardener’s, the 2011 gardening season was just getting under way. Since then, in the ongoing tug-of-war between actual, “hands-in-the-dirt” gardening and “writing’ about gardening, the “actual” has taken precedence over the descriptive. As evidence, there are at least four dozen Hefty Cinch Sacks worth of weeds atop the compost pile to show for our efforts.
So far this year, Nature has blessed us with a sufficiency of sunshine and rain, to facilitate a bountiful harvest of flowers and vegetables. May it always be so! That said, the Spring Peas (Progress # 9), our first crop of the season, planted back in March, is finished now, replaced by garlic bulbs for Fall harvesting. Bush Beans (Blue Lake), and Snow Peas (Oregon Giant), are beginning to come in, and Zucchini and Tomatoes are ripening by the day.
Meanwhile, we accepted the challenge (once again), of participating in the Bucks’ Beautiful Summer Garden Competition, the judging for which is scheduled to take place on Saturday, July 9th. With this in mind, we devoted a portion of almost everyday for the last month to preparing the garden for the judge’s assessment. HRH Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge and her ‘swellegant’ friends are not the only ones for whom hats and gloves (of the gardening variety) have become indispensable accessories to nearly every costume! As luck would have it, the judges came a day earlier than originally scheduled, on July 8th, (we were informed of this change of plans), however, we are optimistic that they enjoyed what they saw.
In May, the nascent gardening season shifted into high gear when John and I, accompanied by his brother Merrell and his wife Anne, who were visiting from Minnesota, went to see the extraordinary moss and wildflower garden of local horticulturalist Dave Benner. Now in its 49th year, there is no better example of a rare and native plant and shrub garden to be found, attracting appreciative visitors from far and wide. The most distinctive feature of a garden filled with distinctive features, may be the total absence of grass in preference of a variety of mosses that have naturalized the hillside landscape. Thus, we have dubbed Dave the Moss King, for his use of moss in his own garden, as well as selling it through the company Moss Acres. The unexpected outcome of this visit is a 67 minute film (shot in one “take”), The Patient Dream, in which Mr. Benner, occasionally aided by his wife Sue, takes us on a tour of the garden and it’s many highlights. Stay tuned for more on this “must see” film.
June brought the fulfillment of a longtime desire, to visit friends and gardens in California. Highlights of that trip included a stay at the Los Angeles home of my dear friend Vanoy Aikens, the longtime partner of dance legend Katherine Dunham, in the heart of old LA. Not surprisingly, Van’s terrace overlooking the city is the most lushly planted of any in his building, and a wonderful example of the vegetation that thrives in LA’s weather. I retrieved a twig of a succulent, that broke off while being watered, and have since rooted it, (in a pot), here in our Buck’s County garden. I can only hope that it will grow here as well as it does there. Another bonus of that visit was a snippet of Cyperus alternifolius (Umbrella plant), found on a nearby street corner in Los Angeles, now rooted in water on our back porch. One mans’ weed is another man’s desirable exotic, what can I say? Following Los Angeles, I was the lucky guest of friends’ Malcolm and Kiki B-R, and their family, Campbell and Xia (two legged) and Boudreaux and Lucille (four legged), in Oakland, California. It was a restorative experience to be in their company. While there, I got to fulfill a long held wish, to visit the Richmond, California home of Annie’s Annuals, which I and thousands of others know through their extensive online plant offerings. As good as the website is, it doesn’t hold a candle to the bricks and mortar, or, in this case, chain link and open air, display of an extensive variety of beautiful plants. Despite the challenges of traveling with fragile plants, (airport security checks were particularly daunting,) it was impossible to come away without a few of their plants. That said, I scooped up pots of Salpiglossis (Chocolate Royale), Calendula, Nicotiana (Only the Lonely), Linum (Flax), Geranium “Bill Wallis,” and Artichoke “Violetto and Zucchini Costata Romanesca. All made it home safely and have brought new color, shape, texture, fragrance and flavor to the garden.
I know that on the Chinese lunar calendar, this is the year of the rabbit. Still, does that really explain why our garden is overrun with bunnies this year? From the herb garden to the potager, Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Peter are proliferating and taking unfair advantage of this old softie, who hasn’t the heart to play farmer MacGregor, chasing them with a hoe. Fortunately, so far, there is enough Kale and Swiss Chard for us all, but if the rabbits continue their onslaught, tougher measures may be called for.
Keep gardening!

Make Way for Gardeners!

2011-03-21T14:33:00.007-04:00

After a tortuous winter of snowstorms that obscured the landscape for months at a stretch, today, March 20th at 7:02PM, we pass the Vernal Equinox, officially entering Spring. As if to celebrate the occasion, the first of our Artichoke seeds (Imperial Star, sown in pots indoors,) broke ground today. The sense of hope that lay dormant beneath the snows, stirs again. Visions of fresh lettuces dance in ones head. The Galanthus is approaching full blossom and Crocuses decorate the ground like splotches of spilled, pastel paint.
After weeks when one could not have gardened if one wanted to, shortly, it will take all one can do to keep up with the gardens demands. I admit, I didn’t do all I should have to put the garden to bed last fall. There were competing concerns. Now, one hastens to remove the stalks of last years crops, leaf matter needs to be worked into the soil, and compost laid on, to nurture the coming seasons crops. I do have an excuse, not that that one is necessary. On January 31st, of this year, we lost our beloved Irish Terrier, Jasper, after thirteen years. The months preceding his demise we devoted to securing his comfort. Now, he will no longer supervise our weeding from the shade of the Japanese maple. No more will he patrol the garden to chase away bird-killing cats. It is a wonder that the sun remains in the sky!
Still, Spring is all about renewal, for the landscape outside, and for us, inside. With that in mind, now is the time to cut back ones Buddleia, almost to the ground. Likewise, fruit trees should be cut back and shaped to allow for light and good air circulation. Ones reward for these efforts will be new growth, more flowers and bigger fruit than ever. In the potager, last week I made the first of what will be several sowings of Spring Peas (Progress # 9), by St. Patricks Day, for luck. This will be followed shortly by Spinach, another cool weather loving crop.
In the woodland garden also, signs of Spring are everywhere. Despite the snows and the nibbling of deer and ground hogs, the Hellebores (Lenten Roses) have spread and are sprouting blossoms. Likewise, the Hamamelis, (Witch Hazel) one of the earliest trees to blossom, is more floriferous this year than ever. Here in zone six, keep an eye out for Spring Ephemerals like Sanguinaria Canadensis (Blood Root), Erythronium americanum (Trout Lily) and Tussilago farfara (Colts Foot).
2010 marked the fifth year of the potager at Penrose Bungalow. In honor of the occasion, I am preparing a book, The Potager at Penrose Bungalow, An American Garden, A World of Ideas, that is (mostly) a photographic record of the first five years of our experiences establishing this garden. I have written an introduction that puts this undertaking into context, and John Peters contributed a foreword that illuminates the sources of inspiration that guided his choices in the garden. Look for word of its publication in the coming weeks.
If you haven’t started your garden, well, what are you waiting for?! If you have, tell me what you plan to grow this year, and why. What are your taste buds yearning for?
Keep gardening!

Legend and Lore

2010-06-30T23:43:00.004-04:00

June 30, 2010

Friends, I guess today is about as late as the June installment of the Toonmoose blog can be, and still be the June blog! This is a function of so much taking place in the garden this time of the year. Routine maintenance and weeding could easily consume most days, but I have also found time for special chores, like scraping, sealing and repainting the cast iron urn that is the jewel in the crown of the potager. I try to make time each day, (three times a day?) to see what “new” is happening in the garden. The gladioli are at their peak now, though I treasure those moments when I am in the garden with no agenda or goal other than to experience it fully, with all of my senses. Recently, I have also had occasion to ponder the role that certain elements of Nature have played, either in ones personal history, or in a broader cultural sense. Let me be more specific;
A couple of days ago, after hours of simmering, humid weather, we experienced a torrential thunderstorm that over the course of an hour, pelted us with nearly an inch of rain, even as the sun shone through the clouds. As I stood watching the contradictory effects of rainfall and sunlight, I was immediately transported back to my childhood in Prospect Village, (Trenton, New Jersey). There, the accepted knowledge among us pre-school kids, was that “if it rains while the sun is shining, that means the devil is beating his wife.” We accepted this information as readily as we did the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny or Santa living at the North Pole. I don’t know who first put forth this idea, but more than once, I recall stretching out on the warm, wet sidewalk, the better to place my ear to the ground while I listened for Mrs. Satan’s wails, like a neighbors wife on a drunken Friday night. Yes friends, Nature is a powerful mnemonic device!
Which reminds me, Last year, I returned to Trenton, to join my family in celebrating Easter at our church, Cadwalader-Asbury United Methodist, on Styvesant Avenue. Reverend Medley’s sermon was full of the hope and promise that radiates from all Christian pulpits on this day. Still, after an early start to the day and a long drive, it wasn’t long before ones thoughts turned to food, since the music and repast are the highlights of the day. Now, it is a given that on these occasions, the ride home from church will be punctuated by a stop at some shop - 7 Eleven or Halo Farms – for some last minute dinner ingredient. Wanting to be helpful, I offered to take my sister Roslynn for the ride, to lay in iced tea and fruit juice. Now, bear in mind, Roslynn had not long returned from an extended period living in North Carolina, during which, she picked up a distinct Southern drawl and more than a little of the “folkways” of Hamlet, NC, our mothers home town. As Hamlet is a rural community, (in addition to being the hometown of jazz great, John Coltrane and a host of professional ball players,) I took advantage of our ride together to tell Roz about what vegetables I hoped to grow in the garden that year, including “Crimson Spineless,” Red Okra. Roslynn, like me, grew up a city-girl, (another Toonmoose?) and like me two years before, didn’t realize there was such a thing as red Okra. Nonetheless, she proceeded to give me instructions, learned in Hamlet, on how to grow Okra. “Now Ehh-vritt,” she drawled, “you know you got to spank your okra,” she stated with great conviction. Startled at the notion, I shifted my gaze sideways from the road to Roslynn, just for a moment, to confirm what I had heard. “Spank my Okra,” I repeated, disbelievingly. “Yes, chile, you got to spank it, if you want it to grow right,” she insisted. “O.K.,” I thought, lifting my eyes to the heavens, “now I’ve heard it all.” Then, she went on, “As it begins to develop its’ leaves, you get a switch, and spank the leaves, not hard enough to tear them, but just enough to startle them, as if you were spanking a small child’s hands to keep it from touching a hot stove.” I cringed behind the wheel, at this advocacy of what was clearly child abuse. “Really, Ehh-vritt” she went on, “ you got to do this if you want a good crop,” she assured me. We were at Halo Farms by then, and turned our attention to Iced Tea. Still, the idea of spanking ones okra had planted itself, like a broken off splinter just beneath the surface of the skin.
Well, as my okra seeds grew, I decided to test Roslynn’s theorem. In my experiment, half of the plants, I spanked with a slender bamboo switch, being careful to “stimulate” but not tear, their leaves. The other half of the plants I left unmolested. Both groups of plants grew with the same watering, light and soil. Well friends, as unscientific as it sounds, I am here to verify that this technique worked! The plants that were “spanked” produced almost twice the amount of okra pods as those that were not spanked. I can think of no other explanation for the dramatic difference in their output. How it ever occurred to anyone to spank their okra plants in the first place, I can’t imagine, and yet, the results were clear. At the risk of sounding like a tout for garden bondage and S&M, I say stake and cage your tomatoes, and by all means, spank your okra!!!
So, there is all of this to consider, and I haven’t even mentioned my new commission, to rehabilitate the gardens of The Winter-White House, a historic residence in Brooklyn, NY., or the new miracle of the bees! Stay “Tooned,” and keep gardening!

Old Friends and New

2010-05-03T20:14:00.008-04:00

Over the few weeks from April through May, a tremendous transformation takes place here in zone six. A barren landscape, of leafless branches, is remade by Natures’ unseen hand into a lush green habitat. The icy silence of winter gives way to a cacophony of birdsong as woodpeckers and robins, sparrows and wrens, titmouse and cardinals set up housekeeping amid the new growth. We have reached that point in the growing year when each day heralds the appearance of something new in the garden. One experiences the joy of greeting “old friends,” established perennials making return appearances, as well as the chance to become acquainted with “new friends,” “ingénues” on the gardening stage that one is introducing to ones garden for the first time.
At Penrose bungalow, the “old friends” include stalwarts like Lilac, “Syringa Vulgaris,” and peony, Festiva Maxima, poised to open their blossoms in time for Memorial Day. There is a thicket of Irises, short, tall and bearded. A variety of Lily’s have broken the surface of the ground. Poppies, including Papaver Somniferum “Drama Queen,” are returning to beguile me with their saturated color and silken petals. Monarda, Jacob Kline is back, thicker and more robust than ever, a favorite of the bees. Then, there is Echinacea and lavender, Leucanthemum superbum “Becky,” and Geranium “Johnsons Blue,” among others, all of these appearing right on cue to fulfill their roles of supplying color, texture, beauty and fragrance and even sustenance. This “resurgence” extends to the potager, where the “Fish”peppers that over-wintered in the basement “limonaia,” have finally been brought back outside, and the Rhubarb has sent us scampering for our recipe books.
In the “new friends” category, there is excitement in both the flower and vegetable beds. Thanks to a generous free seed program from www.ReneesGarden.com , for the first time we have heirloom Italian Kale “Lacinato,” Snow peas, “Oregon Giant,” and lettuce “Sea of Red” sprouting in the potager. In fulfillment of one of last season’s resolutions, “J” has introduced Kniphofia “Red-Hot Poker” to draw ones eye to the far end of the north flower-bed, as well as a profusion of gladiola bulbs. I cannot forget that growing up, Mother disparaged these as “funeral flowers,” prejudiced I suspect, by their use at her father Lemuel’s burial services more than sixty years ago. Today, I am optimistic that they will provide rich color and tall growth in the back of the mixed border, free of any unpleasant associations.
I had almost given up on the idea of starting plants from seed indoors this year, preferring to wait until it was warm enough to “direct sow” seeds into the ground. One plant however, changed my plans, and I am glad that it did. Do you recall when and where you first encountered a plant that you just “had to have” for your garden? I experienced just such a sensation last year, when, for the first time, I encountered Leonotis Leonurus, or “Lion’s Ear.” This was in the border at Morven, the ancestral home of the Stockton Family in Princeton, New Jersey, and for a time, the residence of New Jersey’s governors. This plant, a native of South Africa, had such presence and such a striking growth habit, with tall, erect stems supporting whorls of orange blossoms, that I risked being pricked by the nearby rose thorns in order to read the tag explaining what it was. Then, a few weeks later, I again encountered Leonotis, this time in the flowerbeds of Temple University ‘s Ambler Campus, outside of Philadelphia, where it was grown to appeal to bees and other pollinators. Yet, no garden center I visited offered it for sale. What was I to do? Thanks to the miracle of the internet, and Google, I was able to locate a company www.hardyplants.com in Apple Valley, Minnesota, that offered Leonotis Leonurus seeds for sale. It took some weeks before the seeds arrived, and then, in the depths of a snowy winter, I doubted that I would ever see anything green growing again.
Then, as April came on, and the profusion of daffodils gave me reassurance that Spring would prevail, I decided to give germinating the Leonotis Leonurus seeds indoors a try. They, along with seeds of Tomatillos (Toma Verde and Heirloom Purple), (thanks again Renee’s garden!) were placed in sterile seed starting mix, “moistened but not wet,” under close-sitting florescent bulbs. The tomatillos germinated so quickly, in less than forty-eight hours, that I became doubly hopeful that the Leonotis would quickly pop from their tiny seeds, as well. But, I had no such luck. A week went by, with me hovering over the tray, making sure that the moisture level and the lighting remained constant. Eight days, then nine went by with no indication of life. By day twelve, I had just about given up hope that anything ever would come of these tiny seeds, that could have been grains of sand for all I knew. Then, on day thirteen, something happened. The morning started as usual, with nothing to report. But, In the afternoon, when I flopped down on the floor to peep into the seed-starting tray, I immediately noticed a “bump” in the soil of one of the “nine-packs” containing the seeds, and, there was just a hint of the pale green that is the color of botanical “life” poking above the soil. SUCCESS!!! The next day, another seedling emerged, then another and another, so that so far, eight Leonotis Leonurus are growing, slowly but surely. According to information on the web, these plants can reach six to ten feet tall, and with care, they may even survive the winter. We will see. Meantime, I predict that these plants are poised for much greater popularity.

It is plenty exciting when plants emerge where one has intended them to grow. Yet, Nature often does her own arranging, placing volunteers in locations of her own choosing. The question is, “how does one respond?” Does one relocate these unintended plants to a more “appropriate” location, or leave them to thrive where Nature has placed them? I asked myself this question, weeks ago, at the first sign of Acquilegia leaves emerging from the crack where the back steps meet the garden walk. An attempt to move the tender new growth would probably have killed it, prompting me to leave it where it was. Now, it has matured and developed a cluster of the most beautiful pink flowers, Natures’ own bouquet, that greets one coming and going. I could not have planned anything so perfect.
Keep gardening!

Spring is Popping!!! (copyright Everett H. Scott, 2010)

2010-04-08T11:49:00.006-04:00

POP, pop, pop!!!!
(April Toonmoose Blog) April 7, 2010

“Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop!!!!!” Hear that? It is the sound of Spring, erupting in a torrent of blossoms, in response to the spectacular warm weather we here in the Northeast are enjoying. Don’t blink, or you’ll miss the appearance of the Spring Ephemerals like Sanguanaria Canadensis, (Bloodroot), Tussilago Farfara, (Colts Foot), and Erythronium Americanum (Trout Lily).
Today, we have reached 92 degrees with no humidity and clear skies. The daffodils are going full tilt, their trumpets raised to the sun. In the course of an afternoon, the peach and cherry trees have formed clouds of pink, silky petals tremulant in the slightest breeze.
In the potager, the peas, snow peas, kale and spinach seeds have germinated and are leaping out of the ground. What a difference a few weeks have made!? When last I wrote, there was still snow, mounded up in the corners of parking lots. Now, it is mounds of green, as in the tendrils and leaflets of seedlings and, (unfortunately), weeds, that are covering the Earth. Who could fail to feel rejuvenated by all of this botanical activity?
One sad discovery this Spring, was the loss of my bees over the winter. Whether they succumbed to the harsh weather or some illness, I cannot say, though I will report this information to the Apiary Inspectors of America and the USDA-ARS Beltsville Research Laboratory, who are doing their best to keep track of these developments. It is my hope to replace the bees by the end of the month. I already miss their presence, buzzing about in the garden. In the interim, wasps, bumblebees and butterflies, Nature’s volunteers, form the vanguard of this seasons pollinators. The exciting news is that I also made the discovery, as of some abandoned treasure, of honey, in each of the two hives, making for my first honey harvest! How thrilling!?! Truly, it is the best honey I have ever tasted, invigorating to the palette. It is exciting to eat something so absolutely pure, in that it has come to me just as Nature made it. In fact, I got not one, but TWO honeys, since although the hives sit quite close to one another, the honey in the hive on the left is distinctly more amber in color, with a unique flavor profile, while the honey of the hive on the right is visibly more golden in color, and has yet another flavor profile. I could swear that the amber colored honey displays hints of citrus, though there are no citrus groves to be found near us, here in zone 6. Both honeys have a beguiling floral aroma, compressed from the millions of blossoms it required to produce the pounds of honey the bees made. Still, it seems clear that each hive found different foraging grounds – information they did not share with their neighbors. I am more committed than ever to including pollinators, particularly honeybees, as a vital part of this, or any garden. When I presented my neighbor Scott with a jar of honey, he declared that he had a better tomato crop than ever last year, an improvement he attributed to the bees. I think of it as a privilege to host these marvelous creatures.
Although it is early in the season, already I can see certain patterns emerging that bode well for a productive gardening year. “J,” outfitted in his “holey kneed” gardening jeans excels at weeding and preparing the beds with applications of manure and wood ash (nitrogen). Then, I come along with my interpretation of a Navajo “gish,” or planting stick - in this case, a multi-branched length of syringa vulgaris (Lilac) to make furrows and plant seeds, creating my own “planting prayers” as I go. If you would like a Navajo planting song to get you inspired, here is one you can try. Happy gardening!

 
Song in the Garden of the House of God (from the Navajo corn-planting ritual)

Truly in the east 
The white bean
 And the great corn plant 
Are tied with the white lightning. 
Listen! rain approaches! 
The voice of the bluebird is heard. 
Truly in the east 
The white bean
 And the great squash
 Are tied with the rainbow. 
Listen! rain approaches! 
The voice of the bluebird is heard.
From the top of the great corn-plant the water gurgles, I hear it;
 Around the roots the water foams, I hear it;
 Around the roots of the plants it foams, I hear it; 
From their tops the water foams, I hear it.
The corn grows up. The waters of the dark clouds drop, drop. 
The rain descends. The waters from the corn leaves drop, drop. 
The rain descends. The waters from the plants drop, drop. 
The corn grows up. The waters of the dark mists drop, drop.
Shall I cull this fruit of the great corn-plant?
 Shall you break it? Shall I break it? 
Shall I break it? Shall you break it? 
Shall I? Shall you?
Shall I cull this fruit of the great squash vine? 
Shall you pick it up? Shall I pick it up?
 Shall I pick it up? Shall you pick it up? 
Shall I? Shall you?

"Chomping at the bit!"

2010-03-02T15:21:00.004-05:00

Patience, my gardening friends, patience!
I share every gardener’s restiveness, bordering on frustration, at not being able to get into the dirt this time of year. What, with the record breaking snowstorms this winter, it has been a long time since many of us in the Northeast have even seen the ground, let alone been able to work it! When the snow does finally melt, there are likely to be floods and boggy conditions that will further delay getting to work in the soil.
Still, take heart! There are subtle signs that that Chimera, “Spring,” may be real after all. Take the actual amount of sunlight we are getting. It wasn’t so many weeks ago that as early as 3:30 PM, a certain darkening began to creep over the earth. Now, it is nearly 6:00PM before the sun slips beneath the horizon. It is a little brighter, a little longer, every day.
In New York, a reliable sign of the approach of Spring is the appearance in local markets of daffodil, hyacinths, tulips and crocuses, either potted or in cut bunches. Of course, these are flown in from somewhere, or forced in some hot house, but no matter. Just the sight of them warms my heart, without regard for their origin. These flowers are the majorettes of the botanical world, heralding the parade of blossoms that is getting under way. Once one sees them, one knows it is only a matter of time before they are pushing their way out of the ground, locally.
Another sign of Spring, was the sight of pigeons on West End Avenue, gathering twigs for a new nest. Surely their internal clocks are on schedule?
But, for those of you who crave chlorophyll and color, now, without the bother (or expense) of flying south, here are two excellent ways to satisfy your “green” desires. From now till April 11, visit the New York Botanical Garden where they are presenting The Orchid Show: Cuba in Flower. There is just one more week, until March 7, to catch the famed Philadelphia Flower Show. This year’s theme is “Passport to the World.”
Keep gardening!

Rally for the Bees!!!

2010-02-07T11:03:00.008-05:00

February 6th, 2010

Gardening Friends,

From my vantage here in the Northeast, as well as for a large swath of the South, this morning, the idea of “Spring” may seem far off. Yet, despite the arctic weather conditions we are experiencing, take heart! Warmer, brighter days are coming, sooner than one might imagine! If you haven’t done so already, get your seed orders in soon, so you will be ready!
Meanwhile, other, related activities are underway, that will contribute to a sort of “infrastructure” for the coming gardening season. On Wednesday, February 3, 2010, I had the honor of addressing the New York City Board of Health, speaking on behalf of proposal 161, approval of which will overturn the current ban on honey beekeeping in New York City. Here is the text of my speech:

To the New York City Department of Health, re: Legalizing beekeeping:

I would like to begin by thanking Councilman Yassky and the Board of the New York City Department of Health for giving me the opportunity to speak for the record in support of Article 161, legalizing honey bee-keeping in New York City.
Who can say what it is that first attracts one to honey bees? Is it the subtle complexity of their honey, the sweetest natural substance known to humans? Or, is it the social organization of their hives, ruled over by a queen who devotes herself to laying generations of bee eggs? Whatever it may be, the more one learns about Apis Melifera, the honeybee, more one wants to learn. The more one craves to know.
Today, around the globe, and across the United States, people are increasingly aware of the benefits and necessity of living in closer harmony with the natural world. Likewise, I believe that New York, the embodiment of a modern, urban metropolis, wants to do all it can to nurture a greener, more healthful environment for the millions of families who call it home. I come before you today, as a resident of the Upper West Side of Manhattan, who for more than twenty-five years wanted to keep bees, but because of the existing ban on bee-keeping, could not. I can think of few measures the City can take, that would be easier to enact, yet do so much to improve the quality of life for New Yorkers, as lifting the existing ban on honey beekeeping in New York.
Man’s relationship with the honeybee, represents the oldest sustained collaboration between humans and the animal kingdom. That relationship got a big boost 200 years ago this year, with the birth of Lorenzo Lorraine Langstroth, whose innovation of the “movable frame” hive, in the 1850’s made beekeeping possible for both home and commercial apiarists. That is why the 200th anniversary of Langstroth’s birth this year is an event being celebrated around the world!
There are other reasons to honor the bees. It is well established that bees play an invaluable roll in the production of our food crops. It is because of the pollinating that bees do, that many of the foods we enjoy are available when we go to the market. We are often reminded of the benefits of eating locally grown foods, although for we New Yorkers, virtually all of the foods we eat are imported from well beyond the city limits. Meantime, for reasons we don’t entirely understand, in recent years, honeybee numbers have declined, putting our food supply at risk. People everywhere need to do all they can to promote a healthy bee population.
There are many examples of successful bee keeping in urban environments. In England, the London Beekeeping Association boasts over 2,000 members. In Paris, the city sponsors a bee keeping school at the Luxembourg Gardens, an idea that New York might well adapt for local use. Perhaps some day, each of New York’s parks will have community hives and “Bee Rangers,” examples of the green jobs and economy we hope to develop. And let us not overlook Mrs. Obama’s White House apiary, which this year produced a bumper crop of organic honey.
I also come to you today as someone who, for two years, has had the challenges and satisfactions of keeping honeybees – legally – in nearby Pennsylvania. I can testify firsthand to the unexpected lessons learned, as well as to the complex sweetness of wild, natural honey. No wonder, in ancient times, honey was considered the food of the gods! All of this, and it is shown to be an effective treatment for a variety of allergic symptoms as well! The demand for bees wax, a valuable substance in its own right, far outweighs the supply. But more than just the value of the commodities it produces, honeybee keeping, licensed and monitored, offers many intangible benefits. I have observed how honey beekeeping is a catalyst for community building, bringing together a diverse group of people united by their fascination for the bees. For apartment bound New Yorkers, who may not have access to the country, urban beekeeping offers a wonderful way to engage in a dynamic relationship with Nature, that is part science education, part art, and part spiritual quest. The individuals and families who share this passion take their cues from the hive, sharing experiences and making the world a little sweeter in the process.

Copyright 2010 Everett H. Scott

I am thrilled to report that the speech was very well received, (followed by enthusiastic applause), and led to my meeting the president of nyc-bees.org, a honeybee advocacy group in New York City. It was exciting to connect with the local “hive” of people who share my enthusiasm for the honeybees and appreciate how essential they are for pollinating a healthy eco-system. Stay “Tooned” to learn if the proposal to legalize honeybee keeping is approved.
Take note! Another sign that Spring is on the march, is the upcoming Great Backyard Bird Count, from February 12th through 15th.
One of our ongoing projects involves restoring/preserving the cast iron urn that, in season, sits at the center of the potager. For decades, the urn has been painted over, so that now, after countless layers of paint, the details of the casting are harder to discern. So far, we are using sandpaper and steel wool to reveal the designs underneath. At times, it seems even brushing with a wire brush won’t be enough to get through the many strata of oil paint. Chemical strippers, while effective, are messy, caustic and require special handling to dispose of properly. Our ultimate goal is too paint it white – again. “Toon” in to watch our progress.
Keep gardening!

Happy New GARDENING Year!!!

2010-01-19T15:24:00.007-05:00

So, gardening friends, I'm baaack!! I admit, I got a little sidetracked, what with the holidays and being in town. In December, I satisfied my "green" urges by reading The Intelligence of Flowers, by nobel prize-winning author (1911) Maurice Maeterlinke, who wrote a compelling and intriguing analysis of why and how flowers do what they do; decorating a 7½ foot Frasier Fir, (which demonstrated remarkable needle retention) and keeping the plants in the basement “Limonaia,” well watered. I am happy to report that, so far, the Fish, Jabanero and Peruvian Purple pepper plants that I am overwintering are doing well. Now, surrounded by my favorite seed catalogues, I am ready to get down to the serious business of ordering seeds and planning for the coming growing season. Some plants are always on my growing list - Fish Peppers, Bloomsdale Spinach, Red Cored Chantenay Carrots, and Detroit Dark Red Beets - though I also try to grow something new each year. This year, it will be Kale, Nero Di Toscana. In any event, one of the most fun challenges of gardening is deciding just what plants one will attempt to grow. Some plants, say, tomatoes, might seem to be a given, but, choosing which varieties of tomatoes to grow can be hard work. (Best to plant a selection, with different traits, sizes and ripening times if you can). This decision-making is one of the factors that forms the mysterious “successful gardening” equation, which includes (but is not limited to) a. what your plot of land - or windowsill - can support, b. any given seasons' weather conditions and whether Priapus, the ancient Roman god of Horticulture decides to protect your plants from marauding rabbits!
Actually, before ordering new seed, I have taken stock of viable seed left over from last years garden. A good thing, too, as I found an ample supply of Spring Peas, (Progress # 9, a favorite and one of the first things I plant, on St. Patricks day, March 17th.) There is also a supply of seeds of Bush Beans, "Blue Lake" and "Triumphe de Farcy," Lettuce "Burgundy Red" Mix, and both White and Red varieties of Okra. Then too, friends from Europe, brought me flower and vegetable seeds, knowing how these rarer strains will appeal to me. Those packets include, Papaver commutatum (Ladybird), Raphanus sativus L. (Munchner Bier), and Aster Alpinus (Hellblau), one red, one white and one blue!
A very interesting plant that I became aware of just this past growing season is Leonitus Leonurus, or Lions Tail. It is a member of the Lamiaceae (Mint) family, and native to South Africa. Still, in zone 6, it makes a handsome specimen for the rear of a mixed bed, where its tall growth (3 to 4 feet) and unusual orange flowers, arranged whorl-like around erect vertical stems will be sure to attract attention. I will be very pleased if I can germinate some of its seed.
Of course, some things will do better than others. It is by experimenting that we learn what plants and vegetables our gardens can support. Bottom line, support your local nurseries and plant people who are experienced and stock plants and seeds that will succeed where you live. Wish me luck, as I do all of you who take to the soil to beautify the world and participate in feeding yourselves. Write and let me know what you plan to grow this year.
Other news of interest to gardeners, includes a National Honeybee Bicentennial Event, on January 21, 2010, in Mount Airy, PA. Sponsored by the Philadelphia Beekeepers Guild, The Montco Beepkeepers and the Chester County Beekeepers Association, everyone is invited to start celebrating the 200th anniversary of the birth of Lorenzo Lorraine Langstroth, (born December 25, 1810), inventor of the modern bee hive. His creation makes possible the pollination of over a third of the crops we eat! Go to www.scifri.org/dte, www.phillyhoneyfest.com, or www.phillybeekeepers.org for more information and directions.
Also, those of you, who, like myself, love a water feature, should be sure to check out the Jan. 11th edition of the New Yorker Magazine, for the article by John Seabrook on fountains designed by WET, (Water Entertainment Technologies) whose principal designer, Mark Fuller, was in charge of the Bellagio fountains in Las Vegas as well as the redesign of the fountain on the plaza at Lincoln Center in New York.
Finally, let us tip our gardening hats to Dave Murbach who passed away on December 23rd, 2009, of heart disease, at age 57. Mr. Murbach bore the responsibility and distinction of maintaining the gardens of Rockefeller Center, the quintessential urban landscape design, and was especially noted for choosing their famous Christmas tree, a process that he devoted himself to 365 days a year.
Keep gardening!!!

October Catch Up!

2009-10-26T16:53:00.011-04:00

October 24, 2009

Today, the weather became grayer as the day wore on. The weatherman has alerted us to the last of 70 degree temperatures, at least until Spring when the northern hemisphere will once again tilt towards the sun. Yesterday, these climatic changes lead me into the garden where I clipped a vase full of the last flowers of the season: Dahlias and Roses, American Calicarpa (purple) and Buddleia. Sitting on the dining room table, these blossoms continue to radiate the warmth of summer, holding the coolness of autumn at bay for a few extra hours. So, “Where have I been?” you ask, and rightly so. I apologize for not having made an entry since late summer. I do have what I believe are credible explanations for my absence, if you care. In August, I confess to having been slightly exhausted from our gardening efforts leading up to the Bucks Beautiful competition judging. When that was over, it was such a relief not to HAVE to pass hours each day, on ones hands and knees tearing at the pernicious roots of weeds, let alone documenting it.
Then, at the end of August, we experienced a terrible personal loss, to which we are still adjusting. In fact, it was in the early hours of September 1 – 6:30 AM – that our dear friend and fellow gardener, Deborah Gregory, succumbed to an aggressive cancer. Even as I write these words I have a hard time accepting the reality and finality of their meaning. Deborah had such a vibrant personality, as any of her many friends would tell you! This was reflected in the plants she nurtured around her. She loved lush growth and even “lusher” efflorescence. Think towering Eupatorium, enormous Hostas or a monster Night Blooming Sirius, climbing out of its’ pot! Oh, how I remember her excitement upon arriving from Florida, as she did her first garden tour of the season, taking note of all that survived the winter.
As “Snow Birds,” - young “Snow Birds” at that – who divided their time between Bucks County and Florida, Deb and her devoted husband, Fred, often traveled with their favorite plants. This bestowed a sense of “hominess” immediately upon their arrival. These potted plantings complimented the in-ground plantings that she fretted over in each location. This past April, on her migration north, she even brought along two Oleanders, one white and one red, that I requested (for a little touch of Italy), since they are more easily (and more affordably) found in Florida’s sub-tropical greenhouses.  I had to confront her loss again recently, as the falling temperatures necessitated that these Oleanders and all of my and Debs’ tender potted plants be brought inside, or be lost to frost. To this end, Deb’s garden has been seamlessly integrated into my own. Fred has been relieved of a responsibility at a time when he is already overwhelmed, and caring for her plants is one way to honor Deb’s memory.
So it was, that I set up the basement “Limonaia” for the winter. In came the lemon tree, and the bananas, the pomegranate, and the palm. My “Vern’s Brown Turkey” fig, a potted mint (to keep it from becoming invasive) and the strawberry pots. Three varieties of pepper plants – Fish, Poblano and Peruvian Purple – were dug from their garden beds and potted up for wintering over inside. These plants have been joined by Deborah’s ferns, her Night Blooming Sirius and several specimens whose botanical identity are as yet unknown to me. I will remember her whenever I see them.
   There have been other distractions, as well. In Manhattan, in late August, there was what meteorologists call a “microburst”
storm over my neighborhood on the Upper West Side, leaving serious damage to our parks in its wake. In Riverside Park, upwards of seventy large trees were lost, and in Central Park, nearly two hundred mature trees came down, lending a denuded appearance to parts of these neighborhoods. The danger of falling branches actually caused the temporary closing of the 103rd St entrance to Riverside Park, much to Jaspers’ chagrin. For days after the storm, the sound of wood chippers devouring fallen limbs reverberated off the stately facades of Riverside Drive and Central Park West. The mountains of mulch they made still dot the local landscape. One can only hope that the lost trees will be replanted as soon as possible.
   But, not all of the experiences since my last entry have been so heart-wrenching. On October 10th, Montcobeekeepers.org sponsored the first ever “Bee Fest,” held at Temple University’s Ambler Campus. Experienced beekeeper, Mark Antunes, who is the current president of the Montgomery County Beekeepers, acted as host and MC. He introduced presentations by a roster of speakers, including “Bee-whisperer,” Jim Bobb, president of the Pennsylvania State beekeepers Association. Jim addressed the topic of native plants and flowers available to our bees throughout the calendar year. Mike McGrath, of the NPR program “You Bet Your Garden,” spoke about natural and organic techniques for maintaining a healthy environment for the bees and their vital importance as pollinators of our food supply. A bee researcher, Maryann Tomasko Frazier, addressed the toxic effect of herbicides, pesticides and fungicides on honey bees and other pollinators. Bottom line, avoid them as much as possible!
Vendors were on hand offering everything from unfiltered, natural honey - bottled or in the comb - to specialists offering heirloom bulbs and seeds, known to appeal to bees. There was a small library’s worth of beekeeping books for sale, and some fashionable T shirts designed by members of the Montcobeekeepers.org. I believe there may be a few still available, for those who act fast. Christmas is coming!
No one who has seen this blog will be surprised to hear that I have been photographing the garden. It may however, come as a surprise to learn that I have been using my 8 X 10 Deardorff camera, and black and white film to do it. Eliminating color, one focuses on the textural relationships, organization and structure of the garden. One exchanges the “literalness” of color for the more abstract qualities of black and white imagery. This is an ongoing project, which, in time, I may mount to the internet. One of the big joys of this project has been to look at actual paper prints, rather than pixels on a screen. Nontheless, here is a digitized image from that group that I hope the viewer will enjoy.
As if these activities weren’t enough to keep me occupied, I have also given a great deal of attention to designing a garden feature for an historic property in New Jersey. While this is likely to remain an unrealized project, it is so appealing an idea to me that I have worked on writing about it as though it might actually come to fruition. The hope is that this idea may serve to inspire the imaginations of the committee that is charged with determining the property’s future. More about this, to come.
All of this, and still I found time to read parts of a charming book, French Dirt, by Richard Goodman. (Algonquin Press of Chapel Hill, 2002). In it, Mr. Goodman recalls his experiences over the course of a year, living and gardening in the South of France. I think it will appeal to gardeners and travelers, alike.
So then, that about brings things up to date, for now. Of course, there is more, there always is when one is discussing gardening, but that will do for now. Keep gardening!

The judges Decision!

2009-08-04T17:02:00.007-04:00

Friends,
as mentioned in the last post, here is the letter we received informing us of the judges decision, and one of their scoring sheets and written comments. Now, we'll be weeding more then ever!!!

Buck's (More) Beautiful

2009-07-31T18:10:00.006-04:00

   The reader may recall from Junes’ Toonmoose blog, that the Milford Historical Society’s garden tour, in which we were invited to participate, was canceled for this year. What the June blog did not point out, was that for the second time, we would be participating in the annual Bucks’ Beautiful summer garden competition, in which we were awarded second place in the combination flower/vegetable garden category last year. Anticipating the work involved, I delayed entering until the last minute. Then, when Debbie Hays of the Central Buck’s Chamber of Commerce wrote to inform us of the garden judging schedule, the pressure was on.
So began what seemed like months (it was actually a few weeks) of frenzied scrambling around in the dirt, in positions only a yogi master could identify. It is a wonder that my poor fingers, crimped up from days of wrestling the roots of noxious weeds from the ground, can take pen to paper!
     As with so many things, J led the way, often appearing in the garden before seven AM, outfitted with straw hat, rubber-coated, stretch gloves, a foam knee-pad and his favorite gardening tool, a wooden-handled “claw” bought at a flea market for fifty cents. “Crocs” for our feet, of course. Jeans, that started the summer with mild wear at the knee, would, in the coming days develop gaping holes, surrounding our exposed kneecaps with heavy, fringe-like dangling strings. Which brings up the question, “What is your favorite “garden-get-up?” The first five responders to send a photograph of themselves in full gardening regalia will receive a free “Toonmoose” garden” treat.
   Jasper, our Irish Terrier, monitored our progress from the shade. A “trug” was ever at the ready, to cart away the seemingly endless number of bags of weeds that will, in time, become compost. We could hardly be blamed for identifying with the proverbial “prisoners, “ digging their way to freedom! Of course, at the beginning, a task like this – preparing a garden for judging – seems hopeless, given that for weeks, the weeds have run riot over ones intended plantings. Even so, one begins the campaign, waged one root at a time. Bit by bit, leaf by leaf, we made progress, editing out the weeds and giving definition to our desired plantings. Without getting into the “zen” of weeding, suffice it to say that we each developed a true relationship with the soil, what the French would call the “terroir.” In these days, the garden became the focus of our shared obsession. Simply put, we wanted the garden to look it’s “personal best,” independently of how any judge might assess it. That said, having been awarded Second place in last years Buck’s Beautiful competition, we felt a certain challenge to improve on our presentation. But, would we do enough? All of our efforts built to a crescendo in the week leading up to Friday, July 17, when the judges were scheduled to appear between 9AM and 2PM. Counting back the time required to accomplish our tasks, we identified a list of goals and set about accomplishing them, often working from sun up until the lightning bugs began to flicker. In one radical stroke, J ripped out a bed of Hollyhocks in the side-yard, beneath the kitchen window. He realized that the appeal of their blossoms would be overshadowed by the ugly “rust” attacking their leaves, and with a few deft strokes – chop, chop, chop – they were history. He was careful to gather the fallen leaves to minimize the presence of the disease in the soil. Where those plants had been, we now introduced a bench, creating a new seating spot in the “orchard” with potted oleanders , one red, and one white, on either side.
   Only the worst of the midday heat drove us inside, and then only to fuel up for more weeding. The day of the judging, after a fitful nights’ rest, which I interrupted to make a pitcher of fresh lemonade for the judges, I arose before five AM. It would become a sunny, hot day, but first, there was one more list of things to do, that I was convinced would help define the atmosphere of the space: the sphinxes needed to be put in place, astride the walk, but only after the sun had dried the morning dew from the grass. A weighted string needed to be dropped from the sleeping porch to the ground for the morning glories to be trained upon. What seemed like another mile of the walk still needed to be edged, by hand-ripping out the overgrown grass. The rabbit-guard fencing needed to be opened, to give the judges access to the “potager.” Lastly, I had the recommended balloons to tie in front of the house, to identify the location for the judges, and a “Garden Open Today” sign to tack to the front gate.
Last year, the judges began their rounds at our house, arriving shortly after 9 AM. This year, when first 9:30, then 9:45 passed and no judges had arrived, I became concerned. Were they lost? Not likely in the age of GPS. For another two hours, till 11:40, J and I paced about the garden, pulling a weed here, deadheading a spent blossom, there. I tried to do the Times crossword, but found myself unable to concentrate. An encounter with a baby Praying Mantis, my first such sighting of the season, I took as a good omen. Considering that we had begun this garden just four years earlier, from scratch, we felt good about what we had achieved. We just hoped the judges would appreciate our efforts.
I was inside when the judges’ car pulled up in front of our house, unmistakable with its “LUV2PLNT
license plate. Two ladies got out, clipboards in hand, and again, for the second time in two years, I was amazed that neither of these ladies was wearing a hat! On a bright, sunny day, when one planned to be outside, weren’t they required? Apparently not. I went out to welcome the judges, and to thank them for coming to visit the “potager” at Penrose Bungalow, “an American garden, reflecting a world of ideas.” I was eager to provide some context for the garden, but soon realized that, if we had done our work, the garden would do that for itself. I pointed out the orchard, the “potager,” the herb garden, asparagus and flower beds. I informed the judges of the presence of the honey bees, lest one of them be allergic, then left them to experience the garden for themselves. About this time, J appeared, bearing a tray with the pitcher of lemonade and ice-filled glasses; a refreshing treat that the judges and I appreciated. In twenty minutes time, it was all over.
Then, the waiting began. After such intense focus on our gardening chores, it was a struggle to redirect our energies. It had become “second nature” to start the day with a trowel in hand. In fact, after a brief respite, we reverted to our “old habits,” beginning and ending the day in the garden, though at a more relaxed pace.
This week, ten days later, the judges decision arrived in the mail. Below, you can read the results for yourself. My personal favorite quote comes from judge Estee Franks, who wrote “the passion is evident!”

June is "Bustin Out All Over!"

2009-07-03T09:28:00.014-04:00

To quote from Oscar Hammerstein III in Carousel, June is indeed "Bustin Out All Over!" Those leaps of faith we started making in March, April and May, when the process of tilling the soil and planting seeds began, (our garden season officially begins on St. Pa tricks Day, March 17, when Progress # 9 peas are planted, for luck), have begun to pay off in the form of silken lettuces, succulent sweet peas, piquant radishes, and a myriad of green and red sprouts, that in the coming weeks will mature into delicious, nourishing vegetables.
In our neck of the woods, latitude 40.45 degrees N, longitude 70.35 degrees W, Junes garden growth was aided in no small part by the near record rainfall we received this month, 10.6 inches at last count. At times, it has felt more like Seattle than the Northeastern United States.
But, before we go on, there are two important items of news: First, the Milford (Pa.) Historical Society's planned garden tour was canceled, for want of enough participants. It is hoped that this tour will be rescheduled next year. More exciting news was the opening in New York of the High Line Park, the newest addition to the city's park system, on June 9th. I visited this elevated esplanade the day after it's opening and prepared a slideshow of it's reception by an eager public. To view it, please go to:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/toonmoose/sets/72157619687551210
From the cold and snow of the winter, when, for the most part*, green growing things out of doors existed only as dreams in the minds eye, we have now passed the Summer Solstice, and those dreams have taken on corporeal substance, nutritional value and taste. (* I say "most part" because the boxwood border surrounding the potager continues to provide the "bones" of the garden, giving it shape and organization even in the winter when the beds are empty.)
This time of year, the garden has become our true outdoor "living room," where I enjoy having my coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon and cocktails in the evening.
If I may suggest, consider the garden a theater set, on which Nature enacts her ancient role as "Bounty," Provider of Sustenance, to the body and soul. As with any "set," this one must be dressed. That process too, began in March, when we brought our iron, vintage 1930's American table and chairs from their winter storage spot in the studio, back outside. Now, they sit in their usual spot, under a red maple tree, a part of the "borrowed" landscape, but at the time the tree had not yet begun to get it's leaves.
When the spinach went into the ground, so too did the benches leave their winter storage and take their places overlooking the western end of the potager. When it was certain that we had passed our last frost, the lemon tree and other potted tropical plants were brought from the basement "limonaia," adding height and the element of "intention" to the unfolding drama.
By Memorial Day, when the peony's (Festiva Maxima) erupted into bloom, the first round of planting was complete: arugula, beets, broccoli, carrots, Brussels sprouts, peas, Swiss chard, spinach, string beans, endive, garlic, tomatoes, sweet peppers (yellow, green and red) okra, (green and red) radishes and fennel. These plants are the real actors in our drama.
But, our set dressing isn't complete, yet. One Saturday, along came some elements, ostensibly for the garden but equally attractive as interior decoration, as desirable as they were unexpected, so ancient in their inspiration as to be ageless, that they immediately fell into that special category we refer to as "MHI's" - "Must Have Items!"
Am I speaking in riddles? Appropriately so, for the elements I am discussing are a matched pair of sphinxes, the traditional guardians of temples and other sacred places, that since at least the eighteenth century have been coveted as garden ornaments. The sight of them stopped me in my tracks as I wandered about a country flea market in a Saturday morning. I don't know what surprised me more, that they were there at all, or that none of the other hundreds of people who were walking past them were as entranced by them as I was. Initially,, I didn't know their cost. I only knew that there was no going home without them. Despite the cobwebs that clung to them, they shone like beacons, drawing me closer to them, obliterating awareness of any other vendors wares. They are composed of a creamy white shade of cast plaster, twenty-seven inches long, seventeen inches high and eight and one half inches wide. They have no markings to indicate a place of origin, manufacturer, or their age. They are beautifully modeled, with fine musculature in their leonine bodies and serene, inscrutable human faces. Large enough to have great "presence" yet small enough to be portable, they have seemed "at home" since the moment they arrived, whether outside in the garden, astride the central walk, or inside staring at each other from atop their bookcase perches. They lend an air of history/mystery wherever they are.
Every garden is a deeply personal reflection of it's creators imagination. That said, everyone enjoys having sources they can reference from time to time, even if only to confirm their natural inclinations. Here, then, are two books that I have stumbled on - one was a present, the other I picked up at a street fair - that I think any gardener, novice or expert, will find inspirational. For those interested in flower borders, A Garden Bluebook of Annuals and Biennials, by Henry Stuart Ortloff, (Doubleday, 1931) is a rich source of information about color, habit and combinations of flowers.
Those whose botanical interests run to the edible landscape, would do well to seek out Gardening for Good Eating, by Helen Morgenthau Fox, (MacMillan, 1943). This is a compendium of her thirty years of gerdening experience, including many vegetable varieties that are long since out of vogue. Either or both of these volumes will give a curious gardener lots to think about.
Happy gardening!

May Merriment

2009-05-08T20:04:00.011-04:00

Day by day, the garden is revealing itself, like a photographic print immersed in developer.

But first, (a drum roll please.....) the Potager at Penrose Bungalow has been paid the compliment of being asked to participate in the Milford Township Historical Society's eleventh annual garden tour on June 13th, rain or shine! This invitation came about as a result of our having won an award in the annual Bucks Beautiful garden competition, which we entered on a lark last year. A subsequ

ent article in the Free Press was seen throughout the area, and thus it was that Phyllis Boyer of the Milford H

istorical Society called to invite our participation. As a way to introduce the garden to her, I sent her the following description that the reader may also find helpful.

"I call the Potager at Penrose Bungalow an American garden that reflects a world of ideas. The word "potager" is French for "kitchen garden," which is one of the aims this garden fulfills: in the European tradition, we try to grow as many vegetables as we can to supply our own and others food needs, in an atmosphere that is colorful, inviting and relaxing.

The other part of our name, "Bungalow" refers to the American Arts and Crafts style brick home on the property, which also affected the design and organization of the garden. In this case, we aimed for a garden design that was simple to maintain, attractive from multiple vantage points, functional and organic. Ideally, any garden is designed to compliment the scale and needs of the house and residents who use it.

This garden includes a small orchard, the twenty by forty foot "potager parterre" or kitchen garden, a (rectangular) boxwood-bordered bed with symmetrical, gravel paths and seating. There is a lawn that is suitable for games, like croquet. The herb/medicine wheel garden pays honor to Native American tradition. Then, there are mixed flower beds, a rose garden, grapevines, asparagus beds and a small apiary. A fountain, swing set, an armillary sphere and a variety of seating arrangements contribute to a setting that evokes harmony and tranquility."

At least, this is what we are hoping for! Exactly what the garden will be doing on June 13th is anybody's guess! Meantime, the age old struggle of man against weed continues. Stay "Tooned" for more coverage of the preparations for the tour, and the tour itself.

As of this week, a rare, late April heat wave cooked the remaining daffodils and made the peach and other fruiting trees pop into blossom! Our white and yellow tulips hung in through the beginning of the week, joined now by the pink dogwood, (Cornus florida var. Rubra) galloping into view in the front of the garden.

We successfully harvested the first of this season's asparagus on April 23.

The "purple patch," as I like to call it, is approaching its' full glory. This is an arc of space formed where the enclosed garden room and back porch extend off the rear of the house. Years ago, some forward thinking soul planted a lilac shrub (syringa vulgaris), that today is a twelve foot tall and wide mass of pale purple panicles. For a few weeks this time each year, the flowers' heady perfume saturates the air, so that anyone entering or leaving the house is forced to stop and inhale deeply.

If it wasn't the only piece of landscaping that came with the house, this lilac is certainly the most appreciated specimen planting that existed prior to our arrival. Under-planting it, we have added deeper purple hyacinths, and muscari. Nature has collaborated with us by carpeting the surrounding area with violets (viola papilionacea). Factor in a nascent lavender (Hidcote) border, and this purple themed corner gives satisfaction from April through October.

Meantime, over our shoulder, the first of the Irises, a legacy of our friend Jeanine Nearing, have begun to open in the "North" border, or "long walk." Jeanine, with John, fellow alumni of Coe College, brought a selection of her own Iris collection as a house-warming present on her first visit to Penrose Bungalow in the fall of 2005. Traveling from Hopewell Junction, NY, she brought them in all sizes and a broad range of colors, from pure white, (Totality), to an almost black shade of purple. At one point during that visit, with no prompting from us, she simply walked into the garden to a spot along the fence on the North border that appealed to her, and using her own tools, cleared the sod and planted an Iris bed, approximately four by twelve feet.

The shorter ones went in front, naturally, with the intermediate and tall plants towards the rear. She added short extending "arms" at either end of the bed that draw the eye left and right when standing midst them, and give just a hint of enclosure. Now, almost four years later, the Irises in blossom are a highlight of the growing season, doubly so for some of them that are fall re-blooming varieties. Jeanine also brought a selection of her Hemerocallis that we interplanted among the asparagus, some sedum and a peony, all of which has thrived.

This was the beginning of all our flower beds. Since then, that bed has grown to be over seventy-five feet long. Other gardener friends have bequeathed plants to us, and we have grown many from seed. Some plant choices were made to recreate a childhood memory, while others were inspired by trips taken abroad. Together, they constitute a diverse fusion of Natures' bounty, and what could be more American than that? Yes, we have fusion cooking, and jazz-fusion music, why not fusion gardening?

Which reminds me of a recipe that allowed me to prepare another Spring treat, Rhubarb, or Rheum. Here are my instructions for preparing

RHUBARB FOOL

For the compote:

1 lb. Rhubarb, trimmed and cut into pieces

1/3 cup of sugar or vanilla sugar

1/2 orange, juiced

for the wafers:

3 tablespoons icing sugar

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1lb piece of frozen puff pastry

buy some madelaines

For the flavored yoghurt:

2 cups plain yoghurt, or one cup yoghurt and one cup heavy cream whipped to high peaks

1 orange, zested

1 heaping tablespoon of honey

Mix together the yoghurt, or yoghurt and whipped cream, and the orange zest. Drizzle honey throughout the mixture.

In a small pan, heat rhubarb, sugar and orange juice. Bring to a boil for a few minutes, then remove lid and simmer until the mixture attains the thickness of a compote. Allow to cool. Make wafers by sprinkling ingredients onto puff pastry and baking for the recommended time. Or, use bought Madelaines.

In a tall glass, alternate spoonfuls of the yoghurt mixture with the compote. Garnish with the wafers or Madelaines. If you use bought Madelaines, sprinkle a little of the cinnamon into the compote mixture.

Enjoy!

April Fools

2009-04-02T16:59:00.006-04:00

We gardeners plod through the winter months, longing for the days when we can get back into the garden. What we wouldn't do, we think December through March, to get our hands back into the soil again?

Then, no sooner has April arrived than we are promptly overwhelmed by garden chores: Spreading corn gluten meal? Check. Applying Milky Spore? Check. Working wood ash, compost and well-aged manure into the soil? Check. Pruning? Check. Pea and bean inoculant? Check.

It is as if we go from "low idle" to "overdrive" in one deft movement. I guess that is why they call it Spring!

This Spring, gardeners across America - indeed, across the globe - are feeling empowered and a sense of affirmation , with the Obama's re-establishing a kitchen garden at the White House. I have no doubt that this bio-friendly family would have done this of their own volition, still, I am proud to have added my name to the thousands on the Kitchen Gardeners International petition sent to the "next occupants" of the White House last November, urging them to do just that. Close scrutiny has been paid to the First Families' choice of plantings, with the Times publishing a list of the vegetables and lettuces they will grow. I read that the President doesn't like beets, which reminded me of a favorite family story.

Once, when I was a little boy, my fathers' younger brother, my Uncle JT, came for one of his rare visits. He was a career soldier, who occasionally stopped over when his travels brought him through nearby Fort Dix, New Jersey. Often, he arrived late, and would be gone by the time I awoke the next morning. This time though, he arrived in the late afternoon, in time for a celebratory family dinner, with all of us, daddy, mom, my older brother Wade Jr., Uncle JT and myself, gathered around the kitchen table. Daddy cooked, as he often did on celebratory occasions. One of the dishes he prepared that night, (the only one I remember)

was beets. I didn't like beets, or so I thought, never having eaten them before. I made the mistake of complaining about them at the table, which earned me a withering glance from daddy. "I'll deal with you later" he said without ever parting his lips. A former soldier himself, the last thing daddy wanted was "dissension in the ranks" during his brother, the soldiers' visit. I had really "put my foot in it." That was when Uncle JT stepped in. In his most solicitous voice, he explained to me how tasty beets were, and how good they were for me. "And what about that color?" he went on, eating another forkful.

The next thing I knew, I had eaten all of mine and was asking for more. Daddy was spared having to "discipline" me, which is reason enough to plant a row of beets in Uncle JTs' memory. Best of all, all of the things that JT said about beets was (and is) true. Red, white or golden, beets are easy to grow, delicious and nutritious. For those who may not know it, beet greens are likewise healthful and tasty, steamed or sauteed. I don't know that this story will get President Obama to try beets, but I hope he will maintain an open mind about them. His new favorite vegetable could be just a recipe away.

But, "what is happening in the garden now," you ask? Well, on Sunday, a late season hailstorm knocked most of the remaining snow drop blossoms off of their stems. Now, it is the crocuses, daffodils and hyacinths that are leading the Spring "charge." The leaves of the Rheum are starting to unfurl. Some of the poppies, papaver somniferum, have demonstrated vigorous growth, with leaves already six inches long. I will plant more of them,

specifically the "Drama Queen" variety, later this week. These well-named, red and purple beauties first came to my attention via my friends Malcolm Ryder and Kiki Bradley of Oakland, CA. The lush colors of the flowers make them irresistible in the early summer border. Acquilegia, from seeds I spread last year are already beginning to appear. I have

a planting of Progress # 9 Spring Peas in the ground and I will make a succession

planting of them later this week, as well. Spinach, broccoli, carrots and beets will follow shortly. Lettuces, another early Spring favorite, I will plant in the herb-cum-medicine wheel garden. I have seeds of the Merlot variety of lettuce whose red color contrasts nicely with the pale gray, yellow and silver of the herbs.

Finally, the end of March marked the first anniversary of the Apiary at Penrose Bungalow. I am pleased to report that my bees survived their first winter in good form. No sooner did we begin to experience temperatures in the forties than they began to venture outside the hive. When the crocuses began to blossom

the bees were on them the next day, rolling around gathering their pollen.

Meantime, at the recent meeting of the Montgomery County Beekeepers Association,

"Harold the Beekeeper" demonstrated a new technique for feeding ones bees. The syrup is prepared as normally, five pounds of sugar dissolved in a gallon of boiling water. Traditionally, one gets this to the

bees by placing it in glass jars, in the hive. When the jars are inverted, the perforated lids provide feeding stations where the bees

drink. With this new technique, instead of inverted glass jars, one uses plastic zip-lock bags to get the syrup to the bees. One simply fills a quart sized zip-lock bag with the syrup, and closes it with a large air bubble inside. Carefully, lay the bag of syrup on top of your frames of comb taking care not to squash any bees under the bag of syrup. The air bubble will float on top of the syrup. Then, using a utility knife, cut a line diagonally from near the lower left corner, about half way to the upper right corner of the bag. The air bubble will escape, but the syrup will stay in place, available along the cut for the bees to feed on. This is an elegant and effective means of feeding the bees and I salute whoever first thought of it.

March Madness

2009-03-09T10:04:00.008-04:00

March lived up to its' reputation for making aggressive entrances, bringing on it's first day the worst snow storm of the season that cut a swath from Georgia to New England, burying everything in its' path under as much as twelve inches of snow. But, only a week later, it has redeemed itself with our first day - and a Saturday at that - when temperatures reached 70 degrees! Even those among us who are prone to doubt must acknowledge that Spring is finally here.

My favorite bit of evidence of the changing seasons is the appearance of the Snow Drops, Galanthus Nivalis, in greater and more robust numbers than ever before. Yet another

harbinger of Spring is the Skunk Cabbage, Sym

plocarpus foetidus, now blossoming in the wetlands nearby. Like the creature whose

name it shares, Skunk Cabbage can, when its leaves are broken, emit an unpleasan

t odor. Still, I cannot help but admire a plant that, in a process called thermogenisis, actually generates heat to melt its way through the surrounding ice and snow!

I am delighted to report that my bees have survived their first winter. Enlivened by our recent warmer temperatures, their first official act has been to carry out their dead. Talk about Spring cleaning! On Saturday, I sat and watched as they struggled, one by one, to drag the bodies of their fallen comrades out of the hive. Shortly, they will resume the cycle of foraging for pollen and nectar, comb-building, raising new generations of bees and of course, making honey, that will go on until, once again, cold weather drives them indoors.

All of which reminds me of the chores that we gardeners must face. My arborist friends Alan Haigh and Erika Hanson, have already been about the business of pruning fruit trees to achieve maximum yield. The timing of this work suggests to me that it is best accomplished before the sap begins to run. I know that sunlight and good air circulation among the branches are goals of pruning but suggest consulting a professional for further information regarding your trees.

Likewise, it is time to prune ones' Butterfly Bushes, Buddleia davidii, back, almost to the ground. In our zone six conditions, they respond by growing vigorously to a height of nearly ten feet, and are laden with fragrant panicles of blossoms. Come summer, they will attract a steady parade of butterflies, hummingbirds and other desirable pollinators. Readers who wish to reduce the numbers of weeds in their lawns should not hesitate to apply an organic, pre-emergent herbicide, like corn gluten meal, to stop weeds like dandelions before they get started and spread.

I admit, I face quite a bit of neatening up and preparatory work before any planting can begin in my garden. There are weeds that continued to grow after the last crops came out of the potager last fall that must be removed. There is compost and well-aged manure that must be worked into the soil. Wood ash can be added as an amendment to the soil, but only with care.

Only the ash from non-treated wood should be used, and then not more than twenty pounds per thousand square feet of garden. The addition of a garden inoculant to the soil can greatly increase the yield of your sweet peas and string beans. Consult one of your garden catalogues for more information. This year, I intend to use straw as a mulch, to cut back on weeds and to help retain moisture in the soil.

So, if one is to plant peas on St. Patrick's Day, for luck, there isn't a moment to lose! Get those seed orders in, and have a good pair of gardening gloves at the ready.

Thinking Warm Thoughts

2009-02-07T09:41:00.000-05:00

Here in Bucks County, it snowed another eight inches this week, refreshing the blanket of white already coating the landscape. I guess this is validation of Punxsatawney Phil, the ground-hogs' prediction of another six weeks of winter, as if we needed it. Still, I won't complain, as this will help to ensure an adequate water supply for the coming growing season, something that my gardening friends in northern California are deeply worried about. They are experiencing another year of drought conditions that will only worsen if current weather patterns hold, preventing the planting and growth of many of the edible treats that we here in the snowy northeast can look forward to enjoying once Spring comes.

The question is how do we get that "green" fix we all crave, while waiting for the first shoots of Spring to pop up out of the ground? The answer is as varied as are gardens, but a few effective solutions come to mind. Simplest of all - if you don't have some already, get some houseplants. Even if it is just a philodendron from your local supermarket, having some live plant will ease that craving for something growing in your life. Better yet, use a sunny window sill to start some herbs or salad greens. When it warms sufficiently to transplant them out of doors, you will rejoice at having a "jump" on the growing season.

My own solution to this dilemma was inspired by a trip I made to Florence, (Firenze), Italy, in early Spring a couple of years ago. Before going, I read in one of my favorite books - The Ol

d Gardens of Italy, by Mrs. Aubrey Le Blond, (1912) - about a garden of a Villa Corsini Al Prato. ( I use the indefinite article, as there are several villas with gardens belonging to this venerable, princely family.) As it happened, this one was located not far from my hotel. I resolved that I had to see this space, which was noted for its "bosco," (an evocation of a woodland), and statuary aligned in graduated sizes, the better to create a heightened sense of perspective. Never mind that it remains a private residence, not open to the public. I showed up with my camera in tow, and begged the "portieres'" indulgence, which, of course, he refused. "Privato, privato," he told me. Nonetheless, my look of sorry disappointment ov

ercame him, and I was granted admission, for ten minutes. "Dieci minuto." I thanked him, "gracie, Senore," and went in. After all these years, it was just as Mrs. Le Blond described it in her book.

Hidden behind high walls, it encompasses nearly a block in area, right in the middle of the city. There are gravel paths bordered by boxwood, and (in Spring) beds of blue Scilla. There was one feature however, which I couldn't make sense of; located at regular intervals in the border were round ceramic "bases" nearly level with the

ground. "What use do they serve," I wondered? The answer awaited me in a long narrow structure - the "limonaia" - at the rear of the garden. Inside, were rows of mature lemon trees in tub sized terra-cotta pots. One wall, which I assume was south-facing, had tall shutters, which could be opened to admit light and warmth on sunny days. Otherwise, the trees were sheltered and protected from the cold until warm weather returned. Come Spring, these potted beauties would be transported outside and placed atop these mysterious ceramic "footings" where once again they would furnish the garden, creating an allee of blossoms and, in time, the fruit that the Florentines use so imaginatively in their cuisine.

This garden - and the Botticellis in the Uffizi - made an indelible impression on me. I couldn't bring the Botticellis home with me, however, I was determined to have a lemon tree of my own. Thanks to One Green World, the catalogue that specializes in exotic and semi-tropical plants, I got my (Meyer) lemon tree. The streets of New York (104th between

West End Avenue and Broadway) provided me with a large glazed ceramic pot in which my lemon grows happily.

As for a "limonaia?" Well, as it happens, the basement here at Penrose Bungalow works just fine. It is cool, but warm enough, and windows permit sufficient light to nurture not only myu lemon tree, but bananas, a fig, a palm, a pomegranate and all of the semi-tropical plants that are too fragile to over-winter out of doors.

So, when the winter "blues" get me down, I know right where to go. If you need me, just look for me in my "limonaia," right downstairs.

January musings

2009-01-31T22:14:00.000-05:00

Now that the holidays are over and a refreshing new Presidential administration has taken the reins of power in Washington, my attention turns once again to the coming garden season.

I would be out in the garden now, pulling weeds, were it not for the six inches of snow and ice blanketing the ground. Still, one does what one can in these zone 6 conditions, which these days consists of curling up on the sofa, a pot of Grace Rare Tea Company tea (Assam being the current favorite) at the ready, and pouring through the stacks of seed catalogues that have arrived. I am tempted by the catalogues that offer discounts for early orders, or minimum expenditures that would consume much of my seed budget. And yet, I enjoy taking my time to decide what to order, then spreading my largesse around among a variety of suppliers. Indeed, it is tricky to decide who to choose from, when so many companies offer premium organic, and heirloom varieties. Still, one mustn't wait too long, lest a preferred variety sells out.

I ask myself, "which new vegetables will I try this year," and "what was a success in the past?" Of course, it is helpful to take inventory of the seeds that are left over from last year, or that were gathered in and saved for this year. Then too, I consult one of the several maps I make over the course of the gardening season, especially of the "potager" to learn what grew where, and when. "Gardening is map-making," I always say; the goal being to anticipate how I might rotate my crops and companion plant for the most bountiful, floriferous beds.

Indeed, the garden I encounter this Spring will be different in substantial ways from the one I started with last Spring, and not only because of the plantings. For one, the selection of tools available with which to work the land has improved considerably, thanks to my aunt Freda, who bequeathed to us most of the gardening implements left to her by her in-laws, Charlie and Inez Williams. They range from the simple, like a shovel for planting, to the somewhat arcane, like the thatching rake that has sat unused in her garage since Charlie bought it more than thirty years ago. We were on the verge of buying a spreader until this trove of tools came along.

Nor shall I overlook our recent auction acquisitions, including a charming bench, strawberry pots and an armillary sphere and pedestal, each of which must finds its place in the garden.

This Spring I will have the benefit of my own hives of honey bees, Apis Melifera, which I got last March in fulfillment of a decades old dream. Having the bees has been one of those "Wonderland" experiences, where the more I learn about them, the more there is to learn. What they accomplish on a daily basis is nothing short of miraculous. I will have them, along with the Praying Mantises and Butterflies who make our garden home to thank for pollinating our crops and flowers.