Weekly Walkthrough: Starting Tomatoes

The Master Gardeners of Contra Costa County say to wait until March 1 to start your tomato and pepper seeds (and eggplant, if you're into that). But I just can't wait anymore. Last year I started them early in January, transplanted them a couple of times, and put them in the ground late April. This year, I hope to transplant them in a month and put them in the greenhouse. Then into the ground late April or early May.

So that's the focus of the Weekly Walkthrough today. Next week, we hope to open the hive and check out the spring brood. 

By the way, if you saw my blog post about something living in our wind chime, we pulled out the material today to see what we could find. Inside were several dead winged insects, some in what looked like cocoons, tightly packed in a cigar-like roll of dried grass. Upon much research I do believe it is some sort of Isodontia mexicana or grass-carrying wasp. Fascinating!  A pollinating, non-agressive type of wasp. Hope to see a live one sometime this summer!

Thanks for watching, everyone.

Five Happy Things

Happy Friday! Here are some things that I'm really happy about today.

1) Solo cup cloches: My first transplanting of broccoli, cauliflower, and cabbage didn't fare so well, as many of the plants were eaten up. By slugs? By earwigs? By little woodland creatures in the night? I didn't know, but most of them were eaten to the ground. Tom made cages out of chicken wire for the ones that made it through the razing, and that has worked. But when I transplanted more brassicas in a fit of sun-drunkeness earlier this week, I knew Tom wouldn't be able to make cages for all of them late at night... after work... in the dark. So after transplanting, I just turned the plastic Solo cups upside down over each plant and voila. Makeshift cloches. This has worked great, also acting as a mini-greenhouse over each plant. So great that I'm planning to do it every time - and have found plastic cups that are made of compostable materials to use in future. Or I could just use mason jars.

2) Several interesting things are happening on our front porch. One of them is spiders. Now you know that I have a love/hate relationship with spiders - I love what they do to help us out by eating the nasties - but I also find them creepy crawly in the extreme and they give me the shivers. Lately anytime I go out on the porch at night, I notice that the eaves are positively festooned with small spiders in beautiful webs. I suspected they were orb weavers, but these are so much smaller than what I'm used to seeing in late summer/early fall that I wasn't sure. But after consulting some nature experts, I've been assured that they are indeed garden orb weavers. Likely they were hatched from eggs that overwintered on the porch, and they've decided this is as good a place as any to make a home. They'll reach full size by the end of summer, lay new eggs, and then die. And next spring we'll have the next generation, etc etc etc. I found it hard to get a good picture as they are so small and the webs are so high, so forgive my photograph. There are dozens of these ladies all over the porch. Extremely cool and extremely shivery all at the same time.

3) The other interesting thing happening on the front porch possibly has to do with a native bee. We have several wind chimes hanging out there, and as you know we've been having stormy weather, and when it's really windy those chimes keep me up at night. So I went out to take them down, and this is what I found in one of the chimes.

You see that grass sticking out? I took the chime down very carefully and laid it on a bench. Here's another shot of it.

I wrote to Dr. Gordon Frankie of the Urban Bee Lab at UC Berkeley. He replied that there is no way to know what lives in there unless I pull out the grass, which of course he didn't recommend and I would be loathe to do. He suggested I put it in a box so that I can see what happens when the creature emerges. I'm not sure I want to do that either, but if I am lucky enough to see what happens serendipitously, I will let you know. Mason bees like tubes, but they usually close the entrance with another sort of substance, so I'm mystified. 

4) As part of one of my school courses, we are required to do some volunteer work with plants, in some way. There are numerous opportunities, of course, but I wanted to pick something I was particularly interested in and that would benefit my area. And I found this: The Walnut Creek Open Space Foundation's Fossil Hill Native Plant Restoration Project, in nearby Shell Ridge. I hike here often, and have wondered about the obvious signs of a project on this particular hill. Turns out the foundation is working to eradicate invasive mustard and replant with native species. This is something I can get behind! So I signed up to do my volunteer hours with this group and will begin later in February. 

5) I received a letter from the Superintendent of our local high school district, where our son Adam already attends and our daughter Kate will begin attending next year. I try to keep political stuff out of this blog, because it's simply not the focus here, unless it directly effects something ecological (and on that note, have you let your senators know that you do not support Scott Pruitt for EPA?), but I am so proud of our school district that I must include a copy of the letter here. Our high school district includes four schools, one of which (our own high school, Las Lomas) has a high percentage of immigrant parents. Here's the letter:

"Dear AUHSD Community: I am writing to share that the Acalanes Union High School District Governing Board last night declared through formal resolution their unequivocal commitment to ensure our schools are safe and welcoming places for all our students, and that the District will provide equal access to a public education for all our students, regardless of students' or parents' actual or perceived national origin, ethnic group identification, religion, citizenship, or immigration status. Through a series of value statements and statements clarifying the law and student Constitutional rights, the Board reaffirmed the Acalanes Union High School District will be a welcoming and safe educational environment for ALL students and employees. The resolution was passed by the Governing Board 5-0 and was also supported by the Student Board Member. Sincerely, John Nickerson, Superintendent."

You know, just last week we got the news that Acalanes Union High School District is 5th on the list of excellent schools in California. So we are excellent AND we're safe for all students regardless of race, origin, or religion. I think this sends a very clear and positive message that the two are not exclusive. And this makes me very happy and proud that we live here.

In other news, I think we'll get a video made this weekend, though it is rainy outdoors! I plan to start tomato seeds (see, I told you I wouldn't be able to wait until March), and I'll show you our setup. Also if there is a break in the rain, we need to do the first hive check of 2017, and we'll record that, too. So see you all this weekend!

All the Sounds of the Earth are Like Music

Mornings as beautiful as this one have me singing that old song from the musical Oklahoma. Instead of a 'bright golden haze on the meadow,' I have a bright green haze in the vegetable beds. Not as poetic. But definitely exciting. After weeks of rain (and more on the way), a sunny day feels like a blessing. The established seedlings are spreading out and sunbathing, and the germinating seeds just seem to pop out of the ground. Carrots! Lettuce! Peas! all making a break for it in this brief sunlit window of time. 

A shelling pea blossom, somehow pink. 

Tom measured the temperature in the greenhouse Sunday - it was 88. On clear nights it's still in the low 40's here, but drunk on sun and 65 degree days, I've removed all the row covers, figuring spring is on the way. Tomorrow the rain returns (and stays for at least a week), which means the nighttime temps will warm up, so everything should be safe. I'm going to transplant more brassicas and sweet peas today, if I get a moment. Homework for my classes is taking far more time than I expected, and I absolutely MUST get a walk in today while it's nice.

Blueberry blossoms

There's a dark shadow over everything, however, as we are thinking about the folks in Oroville, Marysville, and Yuba City (150-ish miles north of here) who had to be evacuated Sunday night due to a possible dam breach. Oroville is the highest dam in the United States, contains the second largest volume of water in California, and provides much of the drinking water for central and southern parts of the state. It was built almost fifty years ago and has never overflowed, but it did this past weekend when the emergency spillway was activated. The erosion in the main spillway and now in the emergency spillway is vast; crews are working hard to shore it all up before the next wave of rain comes in. This dam also collects meltwater from the Sierra, so there are months of worries ahead. 

in the greenhouse

We notice the effects of too much water everywhere here. The roads are eroding, there are sinkholes in many well-traveled places, mudslides blocking major freeways, frequent flooding over commuter routes. Kate and I traveled to Sacramento this weekend for a theater competition (perhaps another reason that show tunes are in my head), and the entire farming community around Sacramento is under water. Fields are lakes. Trees are half-submerged; homes are flooded. The Sacramento river is at the limit. Flocks of migrating birds are everywhere: The sky is filled with clouds of ducks and geese, while the rivers and field/lakes are full of herons and egrets. It was something to see and made my driving very distracted. 

I'itoi onions

So we all appreciate these dry days very much and try to get outside and turn our faces to the sun, desperate for vitamin D.

I may not make it to March before starting tomato and pepper seeds, I just can hardly stand to wait. Meanwhile I'm making do with watching my celery seeds sprout. (Not entirely satisfying.) What seeds are you starting indoors in your climate these days?

Common Garden Weeds (and how to get rid of them)

If you live in the West, you've been living in a very wet place indeed, and one thing we can count on during our rainy winters is WEEDS. (Apologies to those of you in other states; I know there's been cold, snowy weather going on where you are, but eventually your wet spring will come, and then you'll have weeds, too.) Even in my garden, which is heavily mulched and full of organic matter, I still get weeds. Most often they are not weeds at all, just seedlings of trees or bushes that have germinated below the canopy. Those are easily pulled, though certainly it is not a fun job. But I don't really consider those weeds. To me, weeds are something blown in on the wind, or 'placed' there by birds, something I didn't intend to have in my garden. So, for instance, my pepper tree releases thousands of seeds each year, and many of those germinate and start baby trees. Those are not weeds, because I placed that tree there knowing that I'd have seeds to deal with. (Or at least one would hope I planned that far ahead, and chose the tree with that knowledge; certainly that's the way I'd do things now, but I'm not at all sure I did things that way at the time I planted the pepper tree.) But lately I've noticed a lot of Veronica persica (Persian or Bird's Eye Speedwell) in my pollinator beds. This is a plant I didn't intend to be in my garden, and even though, as weeds go, it's not a heinous one, it's something I will take steps to control. 

Speedwell

Veronica persica is a pretty little thing, with small, hairy, heart-shaped leaves, and sweet tiny purple flowers. It's a weed that likes disturbed places, gardens, turf, orchards, vineyards, and roadsides. I disturbed the soil in this particular area by pulling out some annuals, and that, plus wet, overcast conditions, caused this weed to move right in. I don't use herbicides, but this one is resistant anyway, so don't bother with that (and honestly, you never need to resort to that). You need to remove the plants before they set seed, but of course removing the plants means you're disturbing the soil even more. These plants don't do well in sun, so likely they'll disappear once we have long, hot, dry days. Mulching these (with a little cardboard underneath) would take care of the problem, but this in my pollinator gardens, where I'm also trying to germinate annual wildflowers. Likely those will crowd this little guy out, so for now, I'll just cut off the tops and make sure they don't set seed.

Dandelion

Here's one we're all familiar with, the good old dandelion, or Taraxacum officinale. I remember my dad going out with his special dandelion weeder on Saturday mornings when I was a kid in Maryland, trying to pry these things out of his well-tended lawn. Dandelions are special because their roots can grow new shoots. This is unusual. So if you cut off only the top of a dandelion, its root can send up new growth in the form of a shoot. Most plants can't do this (unless it's the type of plant that spreads by rhizomes underground). If you've ever tried to get one of these out of the ground, you'll know that it has a long taproot which makes it difficult to remove; and if you don't get the entire root, that darned thing will send up a new shoot. Personally I rather like dandelions; the flowers are a boon to pollinators, and I have no precious lawn to ruin. However I do not let them set seed in my garden. Still, there's plenty of dandelion seeds in the neighborhood that blow right in. 

Mallow

Here's another weed with a long taproot - common mallow, or Malva neglecta. Folks around here call it cheeseweed, because the seed pods look like little wheels of cheese. This plant is entirely edible, but it doesn't taste like much of anything to me. However the greens are highly nutritious, so it doesn't hurt to throw it in a frying pan with some kale or chard. Mallow is ubiquitous in my neighborhood, colonizing neglected yards and hell strips. It shows up in my garden sometimes, in back corners where I haven't been in a while. It's best to pull this guy when small and young; the taproot develops considerably as it gets older and it is extremely hard to pull out at that point.

Mustard

Many weeds are edible, and here's one I collect frequently when hiking to add to salads and omelets, though only when the leaves are young and before flowers appear. The thing you taste in all Brassica species (broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, kale, Brussels sprouts, mustard etc) is called 'myrosin.' As the plants get older, the myrosin gets stronger, and it's often distasteful at high levels. But when the mustard leaves are young, they have a pleasant spiciness that can really wake up a plate of greens. Many people grow them for that reason, and they are a fancy-restaurant specialty. Around here, they are invasive. There might be 60 different varieties of mustard plants (all in the family Brassicacaea) growing in the hills in California, and they make a beautiful yellow haze this time of year when they bloom. But make no mistake, it's dangerous to let these guys go to seed in your garden. They will take over. 

Common Groundsel

And speaking of taking over, this is a weed I see next to every sidewalk in my neighborhood, in huge quantities. This is Senecio vulgaris, or common groundsel, or Old-Man-of-Spring. As you can see from this picture, the seeds are incredibly abundant. This weed grows everywhere humans are, next to roadsides and freeways, in nurseries, gardens, vineyards, and orchards. It does have a taproot, but you don't have to remove the entire thing. This is one weed that benefits from shallow tilling. You can also mulch it. It likes wet and cool, so it cannot live in hot and dry. Apparently there is some promising research on a fungal control for this guy, but meanwhile, do not let it set seed. Get it out of your garden. 

Bittercress

How about this pretty little weed? This picture was taken in front of my next-door-neighbor's fence. Bittercress, or Cardamine oligosperma, flourishes in that location every year, and I work hard not to let it cross the 'line' and come into my garden. Bittercress is also a Brassica, so it is edible, but it's so tiny that you'd need a lot of it to make it worthwhile (come on over, I'm sure my neighbor won't mind if you forage her front fence, and you'd be doing me a big favor). This little plant grows in nearly every plant community we have in California, and it's wicked: It is also called 'pop seed' because the seeds pop out of the pod and fly everywhere if you so much as graze it with your shoe. Do not let this plant get to that point. Hand pull it before it flowers or sets seed. Again, it prefers wet conditions, so it will die out in the summer here. But the seed can live in the soil forever and anytime you disturb it, up it will grow.

Herb Robert

This is a pretty weed too, called Herb Robert or Geranium robertianum. This developed from an escaped cultivar at some point, which makes it sound very exciting and might convince you that you should keep it around. The experts say it's not invasive, but it's another weed I see everywhere humans are. It is attractive, but it's sneaky. I say get rid of it. I find it in my vegetable beds where it hides cunningly until it grows to gigantic proportions. This weed is easily hand-pulled which makes it somewhat ok in my book.

Petty Spurge

Finally, we have Euphorbia peplus, or petty spurge. Gosh I see this one on the margins of gardens everywhere, and I'll bet you do too. It's mildly toxic and can cause a rash, so use gloves when removing this plant. And remove it you should, the entire thing, including the root. It also prefers moist shade, like a lot of the weeds coming up right now. This plant often comes into our gardens through nursery stock, so check the plants you buy carefully before putting them in the ground.

This is by no means a complete list. I haven't mentioned purslane, or oxalis, or many of the most common weeds found in gardens. These are just a few I am noticing right now. In many ways, this is the best time of year to remove weeds, because they come out of the wet soil easily. But a note of caution: So many of these weeds like both disturbed and compacted soil. Walking near the plants or on them will cause our sodden earth to compact terribly and the weeds will proliferate even more. Be careful when walking around your beds. Use the paths, or if that's not possible, take a board out with you to step on, to diffuse your weight. If possible use long tools to help you, so you don't need to step in the beds. If you can cover the weeds with cardboard and mulch, that will not only prevent compaction and block photosynthesis, it will also improve your soil and acidify it so that weeds will not enjoy living there. Remember, lots of organic matter is key to improving your soil and making it inhospitable to weeds. Disturb the ground as little as possible. Be vigilant about removing flowers and seed heads. Over time, this will overcome even the most difficult weed. I've witnessed this as my battle with bindweed seems to be finally over, after many years of eagle-eye weeding. Keep at it and you will succeed! 

Catching Up

The computer is back! Something went wrong with our monitor and it needed a new part. I was surprised how much I missed having a desktop around - guess I've become dependent, despite the computer in my pocket. I also missed making our weekly video. I can't do one this weekend either, but next week hopefully I'll be back to routine.

Meanwhile: Rain. And more rain. As you can see in the above photo, our back patio is mostly under water, the row covers are sodden and bedraggled (at least the beds can be open to the weather, as it's been in the 50's at night and low 60's during the day), and though everything is green, there are signs that it's just been too much water for the earth to handle. The creeks around us are flooded, trees are down everywhere, our street is literally a river, and I cannot believe the amount of water in the foothills. Our house is mostly dry but I've discovered a couple new roof leaks in the garage and the corners are full of water. We haven't had this kind of rain in twenty years, and I'm guessing we won't again for another twenty. Oh, how I wish I had put in several five-thousand gallon tanks this summer. Opportunity missed.

We've got empty fire rings waiting to be filled with soil, which I won't order until I'm sure the rain is mostly over, or at least until we have a dry weekend where I can wheelbarrow it all from the driveway to the beds. I'm also noticing that there are patches in the wood chips that need replenishing (they've been washed away or decomposed), so I suppose we'll have to get a pile of those delivered as well. Our spring will be very busy.

I did manage to transplant some broccoli, cabbage, and cauliflower from the greenhouse into the beds, but it looks a bit peaked in this latest rain. The kale, chard, braising greens, spinach, radishes, turnips, garlic, and onions are all doing just fine, and the new sowing of peas is just starting to emerge. I'm glad I got annual native wildflower seed down in the pollinator beds before this latest deluge, I'm sure they'll pop up quite happily in this weather. At some point the sun WILL come out, and I'll be sure to make my way into the hills and open spaces to see the flower show that will surely be incredible this year.

School is kind of kicking my butt. Well not school per se, I am enjoying my classes a lot and learning so much every day, but the homework has been more time-consuming than I expected. I am often stuck working at the kitchen table for hours, on the days when I am home. I'm trying to cram a whole new language into my brain. I wake up at night after nightmares about nomenclature or vascular bundles. At school I take pictures of every example, every sample we look at in lab. When I take a break from homework to walk in the rain, I find myself ID-ing every weed in every sidewalk crack. My 49-year-old brain is racing to absorb everything and regurgitate it on command, and it hasn't had to do that in quite a while. I suppose it's good for me, kind of like how doing crossword puzzles or sudoku is supposed to be good for aging brains. The only difference is that a professor isn't waiting to hear how you did on your crossword puzzle.

Sometime last Fall, I signed up for a native plant propagation class that took place this past Saturday in a wonderful garden near me. I was reluctant to attend as my head was already stuffed full with regular school stuff, but I forced myself out into the wet day and I'm so glad I did. The class took place at Judy Adler's house and some nearby gardens that she has established, on public school property (with the school's permission). Judy has it all dialed in - low water-use landscapes, native plants that are also food sources for local wildlife, environmental education for children in the area, and a vast knowledge of plants that grow well in our area and climate. I learned so much, and came home with many cuttings to propagate in my own garden, but what I enjoyed the most was being with Judy, trying to soak up her enthusiasm for this world and all nature in it. She is a vibrant, active, fascinating teacher and I would highly recommend taking a class with her. 

As for seed starting, I've only got one tray inside under the lights; I'm dying to start tomatoes and peppers, but it's just too early, and who knows how much more water will fall from the sky. So I am holding myself back. I've got celery starting, and Iceland Poppies, and Chocolate Lace Flower. In the greenhouse are more brassicas, growing larger before being transplanted, and the sweet peas which are getting a very slow start. At least we are getting some fresh greens from the garden a couple of times a week, as well as spring onions anytime we want them. Everything is yearning for sunshine. I might put myself under the grow lights. Maybe that will help me learn my schoolwork faster.