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Thursday, October 28, 2010

Sunflowers Are For the Birds


The brilliant golden petals are faded, shriveled, or gone. The regal stalks and elephantine leaves are drooping and shredded. Where once stood a proud forest of sunflowers now stands rows of stark skeletons strained against the chilling winds. These tall flowers are a great symbol of summer color when in bloom and an equally appropriate symbol of floral decline when fall arrives.

Sunflowers in decline

The tomato and pepper plants are already pulled up and resting in the compost pile. Potatoes and onions are harvested and the beds are bare. It would be an easy task to remove the sunflowers stalks, amend the soil, and level the ground in preparation for spring planting. As simple as that is, it would lead to unnecessary waste.

Sunflowers are an ideal food source for birds through the decline of the season. Migratory birds feed on insects and seeds during the summer and head south before the weather turns severe, but a number of birds don't migrate and need energy to survive the winter. You've seen them on cold days, perched on power lines or a high branch. They're usually dark colored; shadows sitting against the gray sky. These are the birds that will benefit from the sunflowers you leave standing.

Sunflower seeds, particularly the black oil sunflower seed, are a prevalent component of many commercial seed mixes. They supply nutrition and energy to many different birds. Some commercial mixes may grind or break the seeds to allow access to smaller birds that wouldn't normally be able to break open the shell. Placing seeds in a feeder or dish is a great way to supplement your local bird population when the insects are gone and flowers are in short supply.

Leaving free-standing sunflower plants in your garden will do this naturally. Medium-size birds will land on big heads and pluck out some seeds. I saw a small flock of red-winged blackbirds attack my sunflowers a week ago. They are not precise feeders; as they peck and pull, a multitude of seeds will fall to the ground. Larger birds that are too big to perch on a precarious flower can forage the fallen seeds. Our blue jays and magpies are often seen at the base of the stalks. The big birds will crack the seeds and pieces of the kernel will fall out. Small birds will later feed on these bits. Chickadees will gather, pecking, in the shade of the dead plants.

With a large crop of sunflowers, this pattern will continue for months. At intervals, birds will arrive, feed, and fly away. The sunflower patch is nature's equivalent of a food court in the mall. If you plant a variety of sunflowers you'll see a variety of birds. Smaller flowers will be visited by smaller birds, but the feeding process will be the same.

By winter's end, most or all of the seeds will be gone. There will still be time to prepare the site for the next season's plantings. Don't be surprised if some of the discarded seeds sprout in the spring. It's possible for these annual flowers to become established year after year by the natural sowing by the birds. If you don't have sunflowers and the idea is intriguing, pick a location that can become their permanent home. If you have sunflowers and haven't cut them down, leave them be and let the birds feed. You'll be making a small contribution toward establishing a natural habitat.

The brilliant golden petals are faded, shriveled, or gone. The regal stalks and elephantine leaves are drooping and shredded. Where once stood a proud forest of sunflowers now stands rows of stark skeletons strained against the chilling winds. These tall flowers are a great symbol of summer color when in bloom and an equally appropriate symbol of floral decline when fall arrives.

Sunflowers in decline

The tomato and pepper plants are already pulled up and resting in the compost pile. Potatoes and onions are harvested and the beds are bare. It would be an easy task to remove the sunflowers stalks, amend the soil, and level the ground in preparation for spring planting. As simple as that is, it would lead to unnecessary waste.

Sunflowers are an ideal food source for birds through the decline of the season. Migratory birds feed on insects and seeds during the summer and head south before the weather turns severe, but a number of birds don't migrate and need energy to survive the winter. You've seen them on cold days, perched on power lines or a high branch. They're usually dark colored; shadows sitting against the gray sky. These are the birds that will benefit from the sunflowers you leave standing.

Sunflower seeds, particularly the black oil sunflower seed, are a prevalent component of many commercial seed mixes. They supply nutrition and energy to many different birds. Some commercial mixes may grind or break the seeds to allow access to smaller birds that wouldn't normally be able to break open the shell. Placing seeds in a feeder or dish is a great way to supplement your local bird population when the insects are gone and flowers are in short supply.

Leaving free-standing sunflower plants in your garden will do this naturally. Medium-size birds will land on big heads and pluck out some seeds. I saw a small flock of red-winged blackbirds attack my sunflowers a week ago. They are not precise feeders; as they peck and pull, a multitude of seeds will fall to the ground. Larger birds that are too big to perch on a precarious flower can forage the fallen seeds. Our blue jays and magpies are often seen at the base of the stalks. The big birds will crack the seeds and pieces of the kernel will fall out. Small birds will later feed on these bits. Chickadees will gather, pecking, in the shade of the dead plants.

With a large crop of sunflowers, this pattern will continue for months. At intervals, birds will arrive, feed, and fly away. The sunflower patch is nature's equivalent of a food court in the mall. If you plant a variety of sunflowers you'll see a variety of birds. Smaller flowers will be visited by smaller birds, but the feeding process will be the same.

By winter's end, most or all of the seeds will be gone. There will still be time to prepare the site for the next season's plantings. Don't be surprised if some of the discarded seeds sprout in the spring. It's possible for these annual flowers to become established year after year by the natural sowing by the birds. If you don't have sunflowers and the idea is intriguing, pick a location that can become their permanent home. If you have sunflowers and haven't cut them down, leave them be and let the birds feed. You'll be making a small contribution toward establishing a natural habitat.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

A Farewell to Wings

As the colors of the seasons change so do the colors of the birds in the garden. When the blooming flowers are bold, the presence of hummingbirds is a welcome and enjoyable part of gardening. As the flowers fade and trees become muted, the small palettes of airborne paint fade too. The iridescent flitting of blurred wings has been absent from my garden for many days.

Hummingbirds are a wonderful summer participant in flowering gardens. There are over 300 species of these small, manic birds. Migratory by nature, at least four different species arrive in our area between April and July. The broad-tailed hummingbird is the one that made our gardens home this year. The males have a brilliant, metallic green on their back and head, white on their breast, and red on the throat; the female is also green but not so metallic and shiny. Most noticeably, the males make a distinctive sound with their wings as they fly, a trilling that can be heard throughout the yard.

Very territorial, the first males to arrive stake out their neighborhoods and defend them when interlopers venture too close. My wife and I enjoyed many battles in the skies. One bird would soar vertically out of sight with only the trilling to disclose its location. It would suddenly reappear in a dive toward another bird feeding on a flower or casually hovering near a fence. After running off the offenders, he would fly back to a high perch on the power line, surveying his domain until another dive attack was necessary.

The territory is not precisely measured, but tends to be about a quarter acre. What is more important than size is the content that the region holds. He wants a land awash in color. A male will even drive away females until one perseveres enough to secure her mate. She's seeking a bird who rules over a domain with many flowers and sources of food and potential nesting sites. Together they'll defend their kingdom.

With the presence of penstemon and salvia to my garden, the hummingbirds have reason to want the territory. Add in the naturally occurring Indian paintbrush, and they have prime real estate. A few strategically placed sugar-water feeders are icing on the cake. It's no wonder so many of these amazing animals battle for the privilege to enjoy my gardens.


But it's a temporary enjoyment. By September, the birds are ready to continue their migration back to Mexico or Central America and our Colorado skies are quiet again. The males head out ahead of the females to find warmer conditions for winter.

It's recommended you leave hummingbird feeders out for a few weeks past their departure. In case a straggler wasn't paying attention to the calendar, you want her to have nutrition for the flight south. With a hard freeze forecast for this evening, it's time to bring in my feeders. Actually, it was time to bring them in weeks ago, but I wanted to be sure the last bird could feed.

More likely, I wanted to retain a last vestige of summer. When the hummingbirds are gone, summer is defiantly over. The colors of the world fade as blackbirds ravage the sunflowers, jays raid the seed feeders, and sparrows peck the socks where the colorful finches once fed.

I enjoy all of the birds that occupy the gardens through the year and do my best to encourage the presence of them all. But the hummingbirds are special. Like the first robin in spring, the first hummingbird in summer is a messenger of changing seasons and more enjoyable garden activities. I'll put their feeders back some time in April, early enough to entice the first male to stake a claim. Until then they are another pleasant garden memory that will add color to my thoughts when the beds are blanketed in white.
As the colors of the seasons change so do the colors of the birds in the garden. When the blooming flowers are bold, the presence of hummingbirds is a welcome and enjoyable part of gardening. As the flowers fade and trees become muted, the small palettes of airborne paint fade too. The iridescent flitting of blurred wings has been absent from my garden for many days.

Hummingbirds are a wonderful summer participant in flowering gardens. There are over 300 species of these small, manic birds. Migratory by nature, at least four different species arrive in our area between April and July. The broad-tailed hummingbird is the one that made our gardens home this year. The males have a brilliant, metallic green on their back and head, white on their breast, and red on the throat; the female is also green but not so metallic and shiny. Most noticeably, the males make a distinctive sound with their wings as they fly, a trilling that can be heard throughout the yard.

Very territorial, the first males to arrive stake out their neighborhoods and defend them when interlopers venture too close. My wife and I enjoyed many battles in the skies. One bird would soar vertically out of sight with only the trilling to disclose its location. It would suddenly reappear in a dive toward another bird feeding on a flower or casually hovering near a fence. After running off the offenders, he would fly back to a high perch on the power line, surveying his domain until another dive attack was necessary.

The territory is not precisely measured, but tends to be about a quarter acre. What is more important than size is the content that the region holds. He wants a land awash in color. A male will even drive away females until one perseveres enough to secure her mate. She's seeking a bird who rules over a domain with many flowers and sources of food and potential nesting sites. Together they'll defend their kingdom.

With the presence of penstemon and salvia to my garden, the hummingbirds have reason to want the territory. Add in the naturally occurring Indian paintbrush, and they have prime real estate. A few strategically placed sugar-water feeders are icing on the cake. It's no wonder so many of these amazing animals battle for the privilege to enjoy my gardens.


But it's a temporary enjoyment. By September, the birds are ready to continue their migration back to Mexico or Central America and our Colorado skies are quiet again. The males head out ahead of the females to find warmer conditions for winter.

It's recommended you leave hummingbird feeders out for a few weeks past their departure. In case a straggler wasn't paying attention to the calendar, you want her to have nutrition for the flight south. With a hard freeze forecast for this evening, it's time to bring in my feeders. Actually, it was time to bring them in weeks ago, but I wanted to be sure the last bird could feed.

More likely, I wanted to retain a last vestige of summer. When the hummingbirds are gone, summer is defiantly over. The colors of the world fade as blackbirds ravage the sunflowers, jays raid the seed feeders, and sparrows peck the socks where the colorful finches once fed.

I enjoy all of the birds that occupy the gardens through the year and do my best to encourage the presence of them all. But the hummingbirds are special. Like the first robin in spring, the first hummingbird in summer is a messenger of changing seasons and more enjoyable garden activities. I'll put their feeders back some time in April, early enough to entice the first male to stake a claim. Until then they are another pleasant garden memory that will add color to my thoughts when the beds are blanketed in white.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

When the Rains Don't Come

Colorado's Front Range is an arid region. Like most gardeners in this part of the country I look forward to rain clouds and the possibility of the gardens receiving a free, natural watering. Colorado Springs averages less than 18 total inches of precipitation each year; that includes moisture from both rain and snow. This week, the possibility of precipitation was in the forecast on three different days. My gardens received none.

A creature of habit, I water on a fairly consistent schedule. Different plants receive more or less depending on where they are and what they are, but the activity of watering occurs regularly. When the forecast includes a 40 percent chance of rain, or more, I'll modify my schedule and hold off until the storm passes. If water reaches the ground in an appreciable amount I may not have to supply supplemental irrigation for a day or two, or more. When the rains fail to appear, it may mean the plants need even more water because of the lost day waiting on the clouds.

This was probably a confusing week for my plants. I didn't water according to schedule because of the possibility of rain; no need to waste water. The soil was dry and even drier when nothing came from the skies. I would normally have watered to relieve stress on the plants, but the next day had an increased probability of precipitation so I waited. Alas, another day of nothing came and went. I relented and watered about four days past the typical schedule.

If your plants are strong and conditions aren't extreme, most can handle lack of normal water for a few days. Some plants actually strive in those conditions as they send out roots seeking more moisture. Some stop growth in an effort to hold the liquid that they have. And some may die or be stunted. This time of year when less water is needed for most plants as they begin to slow down their activity and enter dormancy, it's less damaging for plants to experience some dry days.

For all times of the year, it's important to check soil moisture and plant condition to determine if watering is actually necessary. In the summer, when temperatures can be high and humidity low, a few dry days may spell doom. That's why regular watering may be critical during times of stressful weather. I've noticed recently that the soil in some areas is staying moist between normally scheduled watering. Cooler temperatures mean less evaporation. If the soil doesn't need water, neither do the plants. That's one reason I was willing to wait for the rains.

I used to work with weather forecasters and understand that a 40 percent chance of precipitation means that 40 percent of the forecast area will receive it and 60 percent of the areas won't. It doesn't mean everybody has a probability of 40 percent. Sure enough, large sections of the city only 15 miles away received over half an inch or rain while we were dry.

It is a little annoying to modify a schedule based on a forecast, but more often than not it is an advantage. It's helpful to know when freezing conditions are coming. It's also nice knowing when a period of warm weather will allow for spring planting. During periods of weather unrest like spring and fall you just have to take it one day at a time. We have more possibility of precipitation in a few days, but my soil is dry and I'll water the plants today. If we get measureable levels of moisture next week I'll modify my schedule and hold back the hoses.

Gardening is an interactive task. Some times we can be proactive and often we have to be reactive. The possibilities help make it exciting. I'll continue to keep my eye on the skies, but I'll always keep my hands in the soil.
Colorado's Front Range is an arid region. Like most gardeners in this part of the country I look forward to rain clouds and the possibility of the gardens receiving a free, natural watering. Colorado Springs averages less than 18 total inches of precipitation each year; that includes moisture from both rain and snow. This week, the possibility of precipitation was in the forecast on three different days. My gardens received none.

A creature of habit, I water on a fairly consistent schedule. Different plants receive more or less depending on where they are and what they are, but the activity of watering occurs regularly. When the forecast includes a 40 percent chance of rain, or more, I'll modify my schedule and hold off until the storm passes. If water reaches the ground in an appreciable amount I may not have to supply supplemental irrigation for a day or two, or more. When the rains fail to appear, it may mean the plants need even more water because of the lost day waiting on the clouds.

This was probably a confusing week for my plants. I didn't water according to schedule because of the possibility of rain; no need to waste water. The soil was dry and even drier when nothing came from the skies. I would normally have watered to relieve stress on the plants, but the next day had an increased probability of precipitation so I waited. Alas, another day of nothing came and went. I relented and watered about four days past the typical schedule.

If your plants are strong and conditions aren't extreme, most can handle lack of normal water for a few days. Some plants actually strive in those conditions as they send out roots seeking more moisture. Some stop growth in an effort to hold the liquid that they have. And some may die or be stunted. This time of year when less water is needed for most plants as they begin to slow down their activity and enter dormancy, it's less damaging for plants to experience some dry days.

For all times of the year, it's important to check soil moisture and plant condition to determine if watering is actually necessary. In the summer, when temperatures can be high and humidity low, a few dry days may spell doom. That's why regular watering may be critical during times of stressful weather. I've noticed recently that the soil in some areas is staying moist between normally scheduled watering. Cooler temperatures mean less evaporation. If the soil doesn't need water, neither do the plants. That's one reason I was willing to wait for the rains.

I used to work with weather forecasters and understand that a 40 percent chance of precipitation means that 40 percent of the forecast area will receive it and 60 percent of the areas won't. It doesn't mean everybody has a probability of 40 percent. Sure enough, large sections of the city only 15 miles away received over half an inch or rain while we were dry.

It is a little annoying to modify a schedule based on a forecast, but more often than not it is an advantage. It's helpful to know when freezing conditions are coming. It's also nice knowing when a period of warm weather will allow for spring planting. During periods of weather unrest like spring and fall you just have to take it one day at a time. We have more possibility of precipitation in a few days, but my soil is dry and I'll water the plants today. If we get measureable levels of moisture next week I'll modify my schedule and hold back the hoses.

Gardening is an interactive task. Some times we can be proactive and often we have to be reactive. The possibilities help make it exciting. I'll continue to keep my eye on the skies, but I'll always keep my hands in the soil.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

I Say Potato, You Say Potato

Any harvest is a good harvest and yesterday provided a great harvest. This year was the first time I grew potatoes and I was rewarded with an abundance of the fleshy tubers. Potatoes are one of those mystery plants; you never really know how it's doing until you dig it up. The product you're hoping for develops underground, out of sight, so it's very rewarding to wait for months and finally see the results.

My Yukon Gold potatoes

I planted three different kinds and had the best results with "Yukon Gold"; the "Red Norland" faded early and didn't produce very much; the "Goldrush Russet" had the strongest plants but produced small tubers.

You should harvest the potatoes after the top plants die off. The autumn frost creates this normal cycle. Leaving the potatoes in the ground for a few weeks after the dieback is no problem as long as you harvest before heavy rains come. This time in the ground allows the skins to thicken which increases the time they can later be stored. Potatoes in saturated soil can quickly rot.

Digging them up is the hardest part of the harvest. You can't pull the plant out with potatoes attached; the stem and leaves tear off leaving the tubers in the ground. The objective is to turn over the soil and pick up the intact crop. You can carefully use a shovel, but you run the risk of slicing through some of the potatoes. Or you can use a garden fork as I did and skewer more of them than you'd prefer. Either way you'll probably lose some of the big ones.

There are methods of growing potatoes other than in soil. Gardeners around the world have had success by growing them in straw. You plant the "seed potato" (not really a seed, but a piece of a potato with an eye) shallowly in the soil and as it grows you cover it with straw. You keep the straw moist and add more through the season as the plants grows. It's important that the tubers stay protected from the sun. When it comes time to harvest, you just pull back the straw and easily claim your reward.

After the potatoes are harvested they need to cure for one to two weeks. If you bruised or cut some of them as I did, temperatures around 70 degrees during this period will aid in healing the wounds. If you live in an area with good weather after the harvest you can leave the potatoes in little piles on the ground and let the air circulate around them. Cover the piles with a cloth or burlap to protect them from the sun and bring them in or put them under a sturdier cover if rains come. We have both rain and freezing weather in the forecast so I put my harvest in paper bags in the pantry. In a few weeks I'll begin using them and handing out sample bags to friends and family.

As you know from the bags of potatoes you buy in the market, they store well for a long time. The key is to keep them in a cool, dark place. They also prefer a humid environment during storage. If you store them too long they may shrivel and begin to sprout from the eyes. You can still eat them, but the texture may change. It's best to eat them before they reach that point.

Potatoes can be quite susceptible to disease and pests, particularly the Colorado potato beetle. They can defoliate plants quite quickly. Some potato varieties offer some resistance to pests and disease. Many pesticides are available, but potatoes are among the easier plants to grow organically. If you see the pests you can pluck them off. Rotating your crops and growing your potatoes in a different plot each year will help reduce disease problems.

The success with potatoes means that I'll grow them again. They were surprisingly easy. Once planted they only required regular watering. Next year I just may experiment with the straw method. I grew the three varieties I did because they were packaged together in an inexpensive box at a local garden center. Over the winter I'll do a little more research and try to select the best varieties for my area. I'll let you know what I find out.
Any harvest is a good harvest and yesterday provided a great harvest. This year was the first time I grew potatoes and I was rewarded with an abundance of the fleshy tubers. Potatoes are one of those mystery plants; you never really know how it's doing until you dig it up. The product you're hoping for develops underground, out of sight, so it's very rewarding to wait for months and finally see the results.

My Yukon Gold potatoes

I planted three different kinds and had the best results with "Yukon Gold"; the "Red Norland" faded early and didn't produce very much; the "Goldrush Russet" had the strongest plants but produced small tubers.

You should harvest the potatoes after the top plants die off. The autumn frost creates this normal cycle. Leaving the potatoes in the ground for a few weeks after the dieback is no problem as long as you harvest before heavy rains come. This time in the ground allows the skins to thicken which increases the time they can later be stored. Potatoes in saturated soil can quickly rot.

Digging them up is the hardest part of the harvest. You can't pull the plant out with potatoes attached; the stem and leaves tear off leaving the tubers in the ground. The objective is to turn over the soil and pick up the intact crop. You can carefully use a shovel, but you run the risk of slicing through some of the potatoes. Or you can use a garden fork as I did and skewer more of them than you'd prefer. Either way you'll probably lose some of the big ones.

There are methods of growing potatoes other than in soil. Gardeners around the world have had success by growing them in straw. You plant the "seed potato" (not really a seed, but a piece of a potato with an eye) shallowly in the soil and as it grows you cover it with straw. You keep the straw moist and add more through the season as the plants grows. It's important that the tubers stay protected from the sun. When it comes time to harvest, you just pull back the straw and easily claim your reward.

After the potatoes are harvested they need to cure for one to two weeks. If you bruised or cut some of them as I did, temperatures around 70 degrees during this period will aid in healing the wounds. If you live in an area with good weather after the harvest you can leave the potatoes in little piles on the ground and let the air circulate around them. Cover the piles with a cloth or burlap to protect them from the sun and bring them in or put them under a sturdier cover if rains come. We have both rain and freezing weather in the forecast so I put my harvest in paper bags in the pantry. In a few weeks I'll begin using them and handing out sample bags to friends and family.

As you know from the bags of potatoes you buy in the market, they store well for a long time. The key is to keep them in a cool, dark place. They also prefer a humid environment during storage. If you store them too long they may shrivel and begin to sprout from the eyes. You can still eat them, but the texture may change. It's best to eat them before they reach that point.

Potatoes can be quite susceptible to disease and pests, particularly the Colorado potato beetle. They can defoliate plants quite quickly. Some potato varieties offer some resistance to pests and disease. Many pesticides are available, but potatoes are among the easier plants to grow organically. If you see the pests you can pluck them off. Rotating your crops and growing your potatoes in a different plot each year will help reduce disease problems.

The success with potatoes means that I'll grow them again. They were surprisingly easy. Once planted they only required regular watering. Next year I just may experiment with the straw method. I grew the three varieties I did because they were packaged together in an inexpensive box at a local garden center. Over the winter I'll do a little more research and try to select the best varieties for my area. I'll let you know what I find out.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Tea in the Garden II

Herbs are a great addition to any garden. They're easy to grow in a small plot or pot, add fragrance and texture to the landscape, and offer you a ticket to many culinary adventures. For me, few things are as enjoyable as a walk to my herb garden to snip off a little fresh parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme, and toss it all into a pot of simmering tomatoes. Who knew that Simon and Garfunkel were singing about a recipe for spaghetti sauce.

In the next few days I'll harvest my sage, rosemary, and thyme, along with oregano and tarragon. After they're finished drying, I'll crumble them and fill the little glass bottles that already have printed labels on them. Those are the bottles of mass-produced herbs that I bought at the grocery store years ago. I've reused the bottles over and over again to hold my own herbs. I don't remember the last time our household purchased those common herbs; each year's harvest is enough to sustain us through the winter until fresh herbs sprout again.

This is a pattern I've followed season after season. When the tomato or pepper production suffered, the herbs were always providing useful crops. When the pumpkins or corn failed to produce adequate quantities, the herbs offered a glimmer of success. This year I decided to expand on that dependability and branch out a little.

Peparing the herbs for drying.
A few weeks ago I harvested bunches of peppermint and lemon balm. I washed them, tied them into small bundles, and hung them to dry in a clean corner of our guest room. Today I took a few sprigs of the dried peppermint, crushed the leaves, and tucked them into my tea ball. After a healthy splash of hot water and a few minutes of steeping, I was rewarded with a fresh cup of peppermint tea. A very good cup of peppermint tea.

Just up the road from us in Boulder, Colorado, is the Celestial Seasonings tea factory. Every bag of Celestial Seasonings tea that you buy in this country is produced at that plant. They offer free tours and one of the highlights is the mint room. The fragrant oils in mint are so powerful that they'll affect the taste of the other tea ingredients stored in the warehouse so they store the mint in its own separate room. It's an overwhelming experience and one that will clear out your sinuses for weeks to come.

A mid-winter delight, when snow blankets the ground, is to sit in front of the fire with my wife and sip a hot cup of mint tea. Traditionally it's a Celestial Seasonings mint tea because we always seem to come home with boxes of it after visiting the factory. The cup I made today, with my own leaves, tasted just like that mid-winter brew. Actually, it tasted a little better because it was from my garden.

I certainly don't intend to put the company out of business and I'll continue to buy many of their other blends, but I was able to replicate one of their successes with one of my own. It felt good.

Mint has been part of my garden for years, but it was usually used as a garnish. In years past I intended to use it for tea, but other gardening chores always seemed to have a higher priority. I grew chamomile for the purpose of making tea, but that fell short too. This year, with focus and determination, I finally fulfilled the goal I set of making a cup of tea from my own harvest. It will be the first of many.

Too often we have plans for our plants and then time and weather intervene and upset the cart. The little successes are what makes gardening so enjoyable and I suggest you find as many successes as you can. Herbs can be the conduit to continued success. I'll continue to experiment with herb blends for tea and see what happens. That's how Celestial Seasonings started. Who knows where it will lead me or you, if you do the same.
Herbs are a great addition to any garden. They're easy to grow in a small plot or pot, add fragrance and texture to the landscape, and offer you a ticket to many culinary adventures. For me, few things are as enjoyable as a walk to my herb garden to snip off a little fresh parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme, and toss it all into a pot of simmering tomatoes. Who knew that Simon and Garfunkel were singing about a recipe for spaghetti sauce.

In the next few days I'll harvest my sage, rosemary, and thyme, along with oregano and tarragon. After they're finished drying, I'll crumble them and fill the little glass bottles that already have printed labels on them. Those are the bottles of mass-produced herbs that I bought at the grocery store years ago. I've reused the bottles over and over again to hold my own herbs. I don't remember the last time our household purchased those common herbs; each year's harvest is enough to sustain us through the winter until fresh herbs sprout again.

This is a pattern I've followed season after season. When the tomato or pepper production suffered, the herbs were always providing useful crops. When the pumpkins or corn failed to produce adequate quantities, the herbs offered a glimmer of success. This year I decided to expand on that dependability and branch out a little.

Peparing the herbs for drying.
A few weeks ago I harvested bunches of peppermint and lemon balm. I washed them, tied them into small bundles, and hung them to dry in a clean corner of our guest room. Today I took a few sprigs of the dried peppermint, crushed the leaves, and tucked them into my tea ball. After a healthy splash of hot water and a few minutes of steeping, I was rewarded with a fresh cup of peppermint tea. A very good cup of peppermint tea.

Just up the road from us in Boulder, Colorado, is the
Celestial Seasonings tea factory. Every bag of Celestial Seasonings tea that you buy in this country is produced at that plant. They offer free tours and one of the highlights is the mint room. The fragrant oils in mint are so powerful that they'll affect the taste of the other tea ingredients stored in the warehouse so they store the mint in its own separate room. It's an overwhelming experience and one that will clear out your sinuses for weeks to come.

A mid-winter delight, when snow blankets the ground, is to sit in front of the fire with my wife and sip a hot cup of mint tea. Traditionally it's a Celestial Seasonings mint tea because we always seem to come home with boxes of it after visiting the factory. The cup I made today, with my own leaves, tasted just like that mid-winter brew. Actually, it tasted a little better because it was from my garden.

I certainly don't intend to put the company out of business and I'll continue to buy many of their other blends, but I was able to replicate one of their successes with one of my own. It felt good.

Mint has been part of my garden for years, but it was usually used as a garnish. In years past I intended to use it for tea, but other gardening chores always seemed to have a higher priority. I grew chamomile for the purpose of making tea, but that fell short too. This year, with focus and determination, I finally fulfilled the goal I set of making a cup of tea from my own harvest. It will be the first of many.

Too often we have plans for our plants and then time and weather intervene and upset the cart. The little successes are what makes gardening so enjoyable and I suggest you find as many successes as you can. Herbs can be the conduit to continued success. I'll continue to experiment with herb blends for tea and see what happens. That's how Celestial Seasonings started. Who knows where it will lead me or you, if you do the same.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Buy a Bargain Garden

Autumn is a wonderful time of year to garden. The green may be fading, but as the plants falter, go dormant, or die, it helps me focus on the future. Like most gardeners, I know next year's garden will be even better than this one. We learn from mistakes and successes and look for something new to try. As you think of new things, think about saving money too.

I like this time of year because the nurseries and garden centers are trying to eliminate much of their inventory as they turn their attention to the holidays. Now is a great time to pick up plants at pennies on the dollar. Often they may not look like much with brown leaves and broken branches after a season of neglect, but with a little extra attention on your part you can benefit from cast-off plants.

As I've blogged before, fall is a good time to plant trees and coincidentally it's about the best time of year to buy them. Nurseries all over are offering 25% and 50% price reductions on trees. With careful shopping you may find a damaged specimen for up to 90% off normal price. I don't mind buying a tree with broken branches as long as the central leader is strong. Lower branches on a small tree will be pruned off eventually so I'm benefitting by adopting a less-than-perfect plant.

It's still not too late to plant bulbs for spring flowers. A strategic layer of mulch before the ground gets cold will help soil stay a little warmer for a little longer. Many stores that overstocked with bags of bulbs are looking to get rid of their stock so they can open up the floorspace for Christmas ornaments. Bargains can be found. Even if the weather changes dramatically and only a fraction of the bulbs root and grow, you still may find yourself ahead. If the price is reduced 75% and only 50% of the bulbs grow, you've still saved 25% off normal price.

Many fall flowers can be better deals. Chrysanthemums hit the shelves just a month or two ago and their flowers have long faded. Last year I stocked up on $5 mums that were being liquidated for 25 cents at a garden center. I planted them and didn't see flowers until a year later, but at a 95% savings I could afford to be patient.

Even seed packets go on the chopping block. Seeds packaged for 2010 planting should still have virtually 100% viability in 2011. Buy them now, plant them in the spring, and you'll save dramatically over next year's prices.

Tools and pots often are sold at clearance sales. Hoses, lawnmowers, and trellises too. You'll need to find a spot to store them over the winter, but I'm sure you can find room in your garden shed or garage. These items don't have an expiration date; take care of them and they last for a very long time.

Lawn fertilizer is one of my favorite fall bargains. I'll buy a couple bags of a good fertilizer and save them for spring and fall fertilization next year. I've followed this pattern for years and the only downfall is remembering where I stored them when I'm ready to break out the broadcast spreader.

Look for these opportunities next time you wander into the gardening section of a store or a nursery. You may have missed out on some bargains because this isn't a well-kept secret; many gardeners do the same. With a little practice and foresight you'll be able to save a fortune on plants you were going to buy anyway. And isn't saving money fun?
Autumn is a wonderful time of year to garden. The green may be fading, but as the plants falter, go dormant, or die, it helps me focus on the future. Like most gardeners, I know next year's garden will be even better than this one. We learn from mistakes and successes and look for something new to try. As you think of new things, think about saving money too.

I like this time of year because the nurseries and garden centers are trying to eliminate much of their inventory as they turn their attention to the holidays. Now is a great time to pick up plants at pennies on the dollar. Often they may not look like much with brown leaves and broken branches after a season of neglect, but with a little extra attention on your part you can benefit from cast-off plants.

As I've blogged before, fall is a good time to plant trees and coincidentally it's about the best time of year to buy them. Nurseries all over are offering 25% and 50% price reductions on trees. With careful shopping you may find a damaged specimen for up to 90% off normal price. I don't mind buying a tree with broken branches as long as the central leader is strong. Lower branches on a small tree will be pruned off eventually so I'm benefitting by adopting a less-than-perfect plant.

It's still not too late to plant bulbs for spring flowers. A strategic layer of mulch before the ground gets cold will help soil stay a little warmer for a little longer. Many stores that overstocked with bags of bulbs are looking to get rid of their stock so they can open up the floorspace for Christmas ornaments. Bargains can be found. Even if the weather changes dramatically and only a fraction of the bulbs root and grow, you still may find yourself ahead. If the price is reduced 75% and only 50% of the bulbs grow, you've still saved 25% off normal price.

Many fall flowers can be better deals. Chrysanthemums hit the shelves just a month or two ago and their flowers have long faded. Last year I stocked up on $5 mums that were being liquidated for 25 cents at a garden center. I planted them and didn't see flowers until a year later, but at a 95% savings I could afford to be patient.

Even seed packets go on the chopping block. Seeds packaged for 2010 planting should still have virtually 100% viability in 2011. Buy them now, plant them in the spring, and you'll save dramatically over next year's prices.

Tools and pots often are sold at clearance sales. Hoses, lawnmowers, and trellises too. You'll need to find a spot to store them over the winter, but I'm sure you can find room in your garden shed or garage. These items don't have an expiration date; take care of them and they last for a very long time.

Lawn fertilizer is one of my favorite fall bargains. I'll buy a couple bags of a good fertilizer and save them for spring and fall fertilization next year. I've followed this pattern for years and the only downfall is remembering where I stored them when I'm ready to break out the broadcast spreader.

Look for these opportunities next time you wander into the gardening section of a store or a nursery. You may have missed out on some bargains because this isn't a well-kept secret; many gardeners do the same. With a little practice and foresight you'll be able to save a fortune on plants you were going to buy anyway. And isn't saving money fun?

Friday, October 15, 2010

Lemon Tree Very Pretty

Like most gardeners, I closely observe the plants and plantings that I encounter every time I venture away from my own gardens, particularly ones that show up in unusual locations. Gardeners are a creative breed and I'm always looking for new ideas to copy or modify. Botanic gardens and city sidewalks offer great opportunities to see what professional designers and landscapers do when given space and money to fill it.

In an arid, budget-poor region with long, cold winters like mine, the downtown improvements tend to favor hardscape and sculptures rather than plants and gardens. We have city parks and school playgrounds to provide some greenery, but even those are suffering in a time of decreasing tax revenues and reduced park staff. Imagine my surprise during our recent visit to San Diego when I encountered a city awash in color and growth.
A lemon tree... in the city!

I felt immersed in nature while walking the concrete sidewalks. It was insidiousness in nature. It was so natural that at first it wasn't noticeable. After days of obliviously enjoying my surroundings, I was startled by a lemon tree growing out of a large pot plopped next to a traffic sign. Lemon trees are extinct in my part of the world and though my uncle in California has one in his back yard, I never imagined them as part of city flora. But there it was, burdened by ripening fruit overhanging a parked car, and ignored by passersby intent on reaching their destinations.

It seemed every downtown corner had a plot of flowers or vibrant succulents, in the ground or in a pot. Bougainvilleas lined sidewalks and fences. Unknown trees of varying size, shape, and texture were everywhere. The entire city was a park to be enjoyed. Above all, it appeared the designers and maintainers deeply cared about their creations and strove to make them burst with excitement and joy. It was difficult to identify the owner of any one offering and that implied the entire community was the designer, maintainer, and owner.

That is a concept that excites and encourages me as a gardener. Imagine living in a community where everyone takes part in the process of creating their environment. Where color and beauty and life surrounding you is a normal and expected part of your day. A community that is vibrant and colorful in action and attitude because of the plants that infuse life into the atmosphere.

Sure San Diego has the perfect climate for growing plants year-round. It's easy to have flowers and bushes and trees where almost anything can grow and it doesn't take much to produce a green thumb, but I've been to other places with similar climates that didn't offer the same vitality. I suspect the local tourist bureau is behind much of the activity, but that doesn't remotely lessen the impact of the scenery.

As a Master Gardener I've helped hundreds of people through classes, seminars, workshops, and one-on-one counseling. Yet we are still a community of a few individuals with an interest in gardening rather than one where the entirety is immersed in it. It would be nice if we could instill a similar sense of botanical ownership and belonging to the whole. I don't know how to make that happen, but I suspect it is with one plot and one pot at a time. Seeing the life in San Diego, I am motivated to play a greater role in increasing and improving life and vitality in my own community.

The public aspect of my gardens will be expanded. I'll add more color and variety for others to enjoy. Sharing my gardens with others is now more important. Sharing advice and plants with my neighbors will help them help themselves. Gardening is a "pay it forward" activity. By helping others, it allows them to help others still. If we all act, before long it will become second nature and then we'll be surrounded by nature every second. What are you doing or what can you do to improve your community with gardening?
Like most gardeners, I closely observe the plants and plantings that I encounter every time I venture away from my own gardens, particularly ones that show up in unusual locations. Gardeners are a creative breed and I'm always looking for new ideas to copy or modify. Botanic gardens and city sidewalks offer great opportunities to see what professional designers and landscapers do when given space and money to fill it.

In an arid, budget-poor region with long, cold winters like mine, the downtown improvements tend to favor hardscape and sculptures rather than plants and gardens. We have city parks and school playgrounds to provide some greenery, but even those are suffering in a time of decreasing tax revenues and reduced park staff. Imagine my surprise during our recent visit to San Diego when I encountered a city awash in color and growth.
A lemon tree... in the city!

I felt immersed in nature while walking the concrete sidewalks. It was insidiousness in nature. It was so natural that at first it wasn't noticeable. After days of obliviously enjoying my surroundings, I was startled by a lemon tree growing out of a large pot plopped next to a traffic sign. Lemon trees are extinct in my part of the world and though my uncle in California has one in his back yard, I never imagined them as part of city flora. But there it was, burdened by ripening fruit overhanging a parked car, and ignored by passersby intent on reaching their destinations.

It seemed every downtown corner had a plot of flowers or vibrant succulents, in the ground or in a pot. Bougainvilleas lined sidewalks and fences. Unknown trees of varying size, shape, and texture were everywhere. The entire city was a park to be enjoyed. Above all, it appeared the designers and maintainers deeply cared about their creations and strove to make them burst with excitement and joy. It was difficult to identify the owner of any one offering and that implied the entire community was the designer, maintainer, and owner.

That is a concept that excites and encourages me as a gardener. Imagine living in a community where everyone takes part in the process of creating their environment. Where color and beauty and life surrounding you is a normal and expected part of your day. A community that is vibrant and colorful in action and attitude because of the plants that infuse life into the atmosphere.

Sure San Diego has the perfect climate for growing plants year-round. It's easy to have flowers and bushes and trees where almost anything can grow and it doesn't take much to produce a green thumb, but I've been to other places with similar climates that didn't offer the same vitality. I suspect the local tourist bureau is behind much of the activity, but that doesn't remotely lessen the impact of the scenery.

As a Master Gardener I've helped hundreds of people through classes, seminars, workshops, and one-on-one counseling. Yet we are still a community of a few individuals with an interest in gardening rather than one where the entirety is immersed in it. It would be nice if we could instill a similar sense of botanical ownership and belonging to the whole. I don't know how to make that happen, but I suspect it is with one plot and one pot at a time. Seeing the life in San Diego, I am motivated to play a greater role in increasing and improving life and vitality in my own community.

The public aspect of my gardens will be expanded. I'll add more color and variety for others to enjoy. Sharing my gardens with others is now more important. Sharing advice and plants with my neighbors will help them help themselves. Gardening is a "pay it forward" activity. By helping others, it allows them to help others still. If we all act, before long it will become second nature and then we'll be surrounded by nature every second. What are you doing or what can you do to improve your community with gardening?

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Old Wives' Tales and Gardens

We're enjoying a resurgence of warm weather after being smacked by cold and rain. With Halloween just days away Colorado is in the middle of a classic Indian summer. The freezing temperatures earlier in the week would almost seem like a distant memory, if it weren't for the obvious blackening of the basil and death of the tomatoes. Weather is a fickle foe when it comes to gardening. Television forecasters have honed their craft to the point that they can brag about 90 percent accuracy, but we're always looking for secrets to bring our prediction closer to 100.

For centuries people have observed their surroundings to foretell the weather and other events. At the base of Pikes Peak, we in Colorado Springs use the mountain for signs of the future. It is said that exactly one month after the first noticeable snow on the peak we will experience snow in the city. This is a surprisingly accurate predictor. I've kept track of it for over a decade and it is true within just a day or two, well within the definition of a month. Based on long-range forecasts by the National Weather Service, it will hold true again this year.

This has me thinking about other Old Wives' Tales as they apply to weather and gardening so I did a little surfing to find what else the web has to offer from other people and places. They may not hold true for all regions, and may not be true at all. Surprisingly some of them can be supported by scientific evidence. It's intriguing to imagine how many people follow the advice that's been passed down through the years.

Here are some of the superstitions, observations, and tales I uncovered:

"It's time to plant beets, lettuce and peas when the first leaves appear on the lilac bush." "Plant corns, beans, and squash when the lilac blooms." "Plant corn when the apple blossoms fall." " Plant beets, spinach, and carrots when the dandelions are blooming." "Plant cabbage when the dogwood is in bloom." "Plant corn when the oak leaves are the size of a squirrel's ear."

"When leaves show their undersides, be sure that rain betides." "Rain will come when roaches fly." "If you see stars at night you'll wake up to a sunny day." "If cows in the pasture are lying down, it's going to rain." "When dogs eat grass a storm is coming." "When spiders weave by noon, fair weather will follow soon. "When crickets chirp loud, they'll not be a cloud." "A ring around the moon means rain real soon." "Dew on the grass, no rain will pass." "A cow with its tail to the west makes the weather best." "If birds feed in a storm it will rain for a long time."

"It will be a bad winter if crickets are in the chimney." "A long hot summer means a long cold winter." "When the first cicada of summer sings, there will be frost in six weeks." "To calculate the temperature count a crickets chirps over 14 seconds and add 14."

Of course, I'm not recommending or endorsing any of these thoughts, but many seem plausible. Others are clearly just fun to read. These certainly can't be proven:  "If the first butterfly you see in the year is white, you will have good luck all year"; "If a young girl catches a ladybird and then releases it, the direction it flies away will be the direction from where her future husband will come"; "A wish made on the first robin of spring will be granted". Wouldn't it be great if they really were true?

What do you use to predict the weather or schedule your garden activities? Is a tried and true method you use really a superstition? Or is it the result of careful observation? Scientific evidence has validated that animals and plants react to changing weather conditions. What do you write in your gardener's notebook to help you forecast your gardening future? Think about the stories and tales you've heard and share them with other gardeners. It can be fun and may be helpful.
We're enjoying a resurgence of warm weather after being smacked by cold and rain. With Halloween just days away Colorado is in the middle of a classic Indian summer. The freezing temperatures earlier in the week would almost seem like a distant memory, if it weren't for the obvious blackening of the basil and death of the tomatoes. Weather is a fickle foe when it comes to gardening. Television forecasters have honed their craft to the point that they can brag about 90 percent accuracy, but we're always looking for secrets to bring our prediction closer to 100.

For centuries people have observed their surroundings to foretell the weather and other events. At the base of Pikes Peak, we in Colorado Springs use the mountain for signs of the future. It is said that exactly one month after the first noticeable snow on the peak we will experience snow in the city. This is a surprisingly accurate predictor. I've kept track of it for over a decade and it is true within just a day or two, well within the definition of a month. Based on long-range forecasts by the National Weather Service, it will hold true again this year.

This has me thinking about other
Old Wives' Tales as they apply to weather and gardening so I did a little surfing to find what else the web has to offer from other people and places. They may not hold true for all regions, and may not be true at all. Surprisingly some of them can be supported by scientific evidence. It's intriguing to imagine how many people follow the advice that's been passed down through the years.

Here are some of the superstitions, observations, and tales I uncovered:

"It's time to plant beets, lettuce and peas when the first leaves appear on the lilac bush." "Plant corns, beans, and squash when the lilac blooms." "Plant corn when the apple blossoms fall." " Plant beets, spinach, and carrots when the dandelions are blooming." "Plant cabbage when the dogwood is in bloom." "Plant corn when the oak leaves are the size of a squirrel's ear."

"When leaves show their undersides, be sure that rain betides." "Rain will come when roaches fly." "If you see stars at night you'll wake up to a sunny day." "If cows in the pasture are lying down, it's going to rain." "When dogs eat grass a storm is coming." "When spiders weave by noon, fair weather will follow soon. "When crickets chirp loud, they'll not be a cloud." "A ring around the moon means rain real soon." "Dew on the grass, no rain will pass." "A cow with its tail to the west makes the weather best." "If birds feed in a storm it will rain for a long time."

"It will be a bad winter if crickets are in the chimney." "A long hot summer means a long cold winter." "When the first cicada of summer sings, there will be frost in six weeks." "To calculate the temperature count a crickets chirps over 14 seconds and add 14."

Of course, I'm not recommending or endorsing any of these thoughts, but many seem plausible. Others are clearly just fun to read. These certainly can't be proven:  "If the first butterfly you see in the year is white, you will have good luck all year"; "If a young girl catches a ladybird and then releases it, the direction it flies away will be the direction from where her future husband will come"; "A wish made on the first robin of spring will be granted". Wouldn't it be great if they really were true?

What do you use to predict the weather or schedule your garden activities? Is a tried and true method you use really a superstition? Or is it the result of careful observation? Scientific evidence has validated that animals and plants react to changing weather conditions. What do you write in your gardener's notebook to help you forecast your gardening future? Think about the stories and tales you've heard and share them with other gardeners. It can be fun and may be helpful.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Leave Leaves in Your Garden

It's beginning to happen everywhere. As my wife and I traveled through Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado last weekend, we noticed trees changing color and leaves beginning to fall. At our home some of the aspens are nearing nakedness. Even the pine trees are getting into the action by dropping their needles. Setting aside the beautiful aspects of the seasonal change, this is nature's gift to you of free compost and mulch.

Many of us have memories of raking leaves from our lawns. For some it's a pleasurable memory accompanied by visions of leaping into the crackling brown and yellow piles as a child. For others it rekindles thoughts of back pains and blistered hands from repeatedly pushing the torturous rake forward and drawing it back. Almost all of the memories end with the leaves being burned or bagged up for the trash service to haul away.

In recent years I've created new memories by rescuing the vagabond leaves and offering a new home in my gardens. Completely organic, they offer great benefits at great cost savings.

Compost piles require a mix of nitrogen sources and carbon sources to decompose efficiently. The greens and browns of plant materials blend and provide an environment perfect for microorganisms to consume, resulting in dark, rich compost. Too much green nitrogen material and your pile gets too hot and even stinky. To moderate that possibility I periodically add dried leaves, a brown carbon source, to my pile after I've piled on excessive green material. The leaves are the same ones I rake in the fall and place into plastic bags or bins for future use. I've even been known to wander the neighborhood kidnapping the bags of leaves that my neighbors placed on the curb for disposal.

Most soil can benefit from an infusion of organic matter in the fall. As I clean up my garden, I turn into the soil heaps of crumbled leaves to decompose over the winter. Excessively cold soil temperatures will limit decompostion, but as soon as the soil begins to warm in the spring sun, the decomposition begins anew. I only do this with crumbled, dried leaves because full-size leaves won't break down as quickly.

For many of my perennial beds I let the leaves become mulch. In some cases this is a great energy saver because the leaves blow into the bushes and flowers naturally, saving me from either raking them away or intentionally adding them. The leaves that pile up around the plants become a natural blanket that helps protect them from severe cold and drastic temperature changes in winter. And like the bits that I add to soil, they'll break down over the cold months and early spring to benefit the microorganisms and your garden beds. Next year I just pull back excessive leaves that surround trunks and stalks to prevent the possibility of rot or fungus. If need be, I add more mulch, typically bark, on top of the leaves. There's no reason to remove the leaves unless it annoys you aesthetically.

To minimize weed seeds blowing in from the dried grasses and prairie flowers that surround my vegetable garden, I'll pile clumps of leaves on top of my raised beds. It helps moderate the soil, adds organic matter, even offers some beneficial insects a place to overwinter. In the spring I'll remove the larger clumps that haven't begun to decompose and add them to the compost pile.

Even the pine needles are raked and moved to become walkways between the raised beds. They do a great job cutting down on weed growth in an area where I really don't want anything growing. Some of them surround my strawberries to keep the young fruit from being in contact with the soil.

Recycling the natural refuse in your garden is a great way to improve it while cutting cost. If you're going to rake leaves anyway, why not put them to beneficial use rather than adding to an overfull landfill. It's easy to do and a great way to make memories for future season changes.
It's beginning to happen everywhere. As my wife and I traveled through Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado last weekend, we noticed trees changing color and leaves beginning to fall. At our home some of the aspens are nearing nakedness. Even the pine trees are getting into the action by dropping their needles. Setting aside the beautiful aspects of the seasonal change, this is nature's gift to you of free compost and mulch.

Many of us have memories of raking leaves from our lawns. For some it's a pleasurable memory accompanied by visions of leaping into the crackling brown and yellow piles as a child. For others it rekindles thoughts of back pains and blistered hands from repeatedly pushing the torturous rake forward and drawing it back. Almost all of the memories end with the leaves being burned or bagged up for the trash service to haul away.

In recent years I've created new memories by rescuing the vagabond leaves and offering a new home in my gardens. Completely organic, they offer great benefits at great cost savings.

Compost piles require a mix of nitrogen sources and carbon sources to decompose efficiently. The greens and browns of plant materials blend and provide an environment perfect for microorganisms to consume, resulting in dark, rich compost. Too much green nitrogen material and your pile gets too hot and even stinky. To moderate that possibility I periodically add dried leaves, a brown carbon source, to my pile after I've piled on excessive green material. The leaves are the same ones I rake in the fall and place into plastic bags or bins for future use. I've even been known to wander the neighborhood kidnapping the bags of leaves that my neighbors placed on the curb for disposal.

Most soil can benefit from an infusion of organic matter in the fall. As I clean up my garden, I turn into the soil heaps of crumbled leaves to decompose over the winter. Excessively cold soil temperatures will limit decompostion, but as soon as the soil begins to warm in the spring sun, the decomposition begins anew. I only do this with crumbled, dried leaves because full-size leaves won't break down as quickly.

For many of my perennial beds I let the leaves become mulch. In some cases this is a great energy saver because the leaves blow into the bushes and flowers naturally, saving me from either raking them away or intentionally adding them. The leaves that pile up around the plants become a natural blanket that helps protect them from severe cold and drastic temperature changes in winter. And like the bits that I add to soil, they'll break down over the cold months and early spring to benefit the microorganisms and your garden beds. Next year I just pull back excessive leaves that surround trunks and stalks to prevent the possibility of rot or fungus. If need be, I add more mulch, typically bark, on top of the leaves. There's no reason to remove the leaves unless it annoys you aesthetically.

To minimize weed seeds blowing in from the dried grasses and prairie flowers that surround my vegetable garden, I'll pile clumps of leaves on top of my raised beds. It helps moderate the soil, adds organic matter, even offers some beneficial insects a place to overwinter. In the spring I'll remove the larger clumps that haven't begun to decompose and add them to the compost pile.

Even the pine needles are raked and moved to become walkways between the raised beds. They do a great job cutting down on weed growth in an area where I really don't want anything growing. Some of them surround my strawberries to keep the young fruit from being in contact with the soil.

Recycling the natural refuse in your garden is a great way to improve it while cutting cost. If you're going to rake leaves anyway, why not put them to beneficial use rather than adding to an overfull landfill. It's easy to do and a great way to make memories for future season changes.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

A Garden is a Garden

Gardeners are all basically the same. They have a desire to plant, prune, and pick. They're willing to learn about a subject that interests many people, but where few have an expertise. They have little difficulty getting dirty, sweaty, and tired in the pursuit of producing a plant or a flower or a fruit. And all gardeners must overcome some obstacles based on their local growing conditions.

Yesterday I had the supreme pleasure of walking through the San Diego Zoo. It's world-reknown for it's state-of-the-art displays of animals from all over the world. It is also a certified botanical garden. I thoroughly enjoy watching the animals as they lazily observe the humans pacing past, but I am enthralled by the abundance of flora necessary to sustain most modern zoos. San Diego excels at providing vegetative habitats that mimic natural environments from around the globe.

The zoo gardens are home to over 700,000 plants and all of them are growing on land that started as barren, hardpan soil. Before the zoo opened in 1916 they had to use dynamite to break up some areas of soil just to plant. I think about the hours that I spent by myself and with friends this year as we broke the hard, prairie sod around my fenceline and slowly incorporated organic matter to begin the process of creating new garden beds. The process can't be far-removed than that employed by the thousands of workers and volunteers over the years as they turned San Diego Zoo into such a botanical wonder.

Few of us are graced with the soil and climate that make gardening easy. I once lived in California's San Joaquin Valley where the growing is easy. I only half-joke that you can spit out a summer watermelon seed and have it sprout and grow a new crop of melons soon after it lands. In Colorado, growing requires planning, preparation, and perseverance. Plants need to be selected based on their suitability to the finicky climate; the soil needs help before anything will grow; and much effort is expended to ensure adequate water and protection is provided.

At first glance, it seems like the lush tropical forests in the San Diego Zoo have a perfect environment, but I know better. Someone, probably a chief horticulturist, is always worrying that the weather is too cold, or too dry, or too hot, or too wet. Many plants were selected based on esthetic qualities, but they had to be placed in the perfect location based on sun or shade, with microclimates a critical factor in their success. That isn't much different from what Colorado front-range gardeners encounter every day.

As I was entranced by the beauty of the zoo, I looked beyond the surface and thought about the gardeners behind the scenes. Their garden is much bigger and better maintained than mine, but we basically do the same thing. They can stand with pride and show their gardens to the world, but so can I. I know that I can grow plants that thrive in Colorado's high-altitude, dry, windy conditions; conditions a world removed from coastal, constant San Diego.

As I enjoyed the wonderment of the gardens, I have the thought that if their chief hoticulturist were to visit my gardens he or she would pause and enjoy what I have to offer. Effort and success in the gardening world is obvious to all gardeners. The beauty is universal. Instead of being intimidated by the 100 acres of plants in San Diego, I'm motivated and confident. And I saw a little of myself and all the gardeners I know in every corner of the zoo.
Gardeners are all basically the same. They have a desire to plant, prune, and pick. They're willing to learn about a subject that interests many people, but where few have an expertise. They have little difficulty getting dirty, sweaty, and tired in the pursuit of producing a plant or a flower or a fruit. And all gardeners must overcome some obstacles based on their local growing conditions.

Yesterday I had the supreme pleasure of walking through the San Diego Zoo. It's world-reknown for it's state-of-the-art displays of animals from all over the world. It is also a certified botanical garden. I thoroughly enjoy watching the animals as they lazily observe the humans pacing past, but I am enthralled by the abundance of flora necessary to sustain most modern zoos. San Diego excels at providing vegetative habitats that mimic natural environments from around the globe.

The zoo gardens are home to over 700,000 plants and all of them are growing on land that started as barren, hardpan soil. Before the zoo opened in 1916 they had to use dynamite to break up some areas of soil just to plant. I think about the hours that I spent by myself and with friends this year as we broke the hard, prairie sod around my fenceline and slowly incorporated organic matter to begin the process of creating new garden beds. The process can't be far-removed than that employed by the thousands of workers and volunteers over the years as they turned San Diego Zoo into such a botanical wonder.

Few of us are graced with the soil and climate that make gardening easy. I once lived in California's San Joaquin Valley where the growing is easy. I only half-joke that you can spit out a summer watermelon seed and have it sprout and grow a new crop of melons soon after it lands. In Colorado, growing requires planning, preparation, and perseverance. Plants need to be selected based on their suitability to the finicky climate; the soil needs help before anything will grow; and much effort is expended to ensure adequate water and protection is provided.

At first glance, it seems like the lush tropical forests in the San Diego Zoo have a perfect environment, but I know better. Someone, probably a chief horticulturist, is always worrying that the weather is too cold, or too dry, or too hot, or too wet. Many plants were selected based on esthetic qualities, but they had to be placed in the perfect location based on sun or shade, with microclimates a critical factor in their success. That isn't much different from what Colorado front-range gardeners encounter every day.

As I was entranced by the beauty of the zoo, I looked beyond the surface and thought about the gardeners behind the scenes. Their garden is much bigger and better maintained than mine, but we basically do the same thing. They can stand with pride and show their gardens to the world, but so can I. I know that I can grow plants that thrive in Colorado's high-altitude, dry, windy conditions; conditions a world removed from coastal, constant San Diego.

As I enjoyed the wonderment of the gardens, I have the thought that if their chief hoticulturist were to visit my gardens he or she would pause and enjoy what I have to offer. Effort and success in the gardening world is obvious to all gardeners. The beauty is universal. Instead of being intimidated by the 100 acres of plants in San Diego, I'm motivated and confident. And I saw a little of myself and all the gardeners I know in every corner of the zoo.