Category Archives: my garden

The fountain is dry, but not I.

April 26, 2024bees, bread, my garden, travelblue-eyed grass, fountain, Japanese maple, lithodora, Showy Milkweed, sourdough, wisteriaGretchenJoanna

This morning the fountain-cleaner Bill did his good work scrubbing and flushing out my fountain, and then left it empty and turned off. I am traveling a lot in the next month and don’t want it to become a swamp while I’m gone.

The garden is looking pretty good right now because it’s entering the flowery time of year, and because I’ve had several days to focus on it, to be out there noticing not just little weeds that are easily pulled out of mulch, but this and that glorious scent and sight.

On my neighborhood walks, too, I’m spying perfection of Japanese maples…

…and at church, just look at the wisteria! I could only fit about half of its span in the frame:

Springtime is downright boggling, to the mind and the heart.

During the few days that were cloudy and gloomy, I washed the dirt from my hands and put them into the sourdough. My recent loaf is very tasty, but it would not rise — well, not much. After several hours I gave up and hoped for oven spring, which did not happen. So I got this stunted result, shown after I had sliced it to store in the freezer, so I can take out one slice (2 1/4 inch tall) at a time.

Soon I was back outside again, planting three butternut squash starts and a Juliet tomato plant in the planter boxes. There is no frost in the forecast, and I will soon be gone to Wisconsin for a while, for the first of the grandchild weddings. My original plan was to just wait until mid-May this year to plant summer vegetables, but it seems worth the risk at this point to get them in sooner.

We Orthodox are entering Holy Week on Sunday. I will be away from my parish for most of it, and through Bright Week, and away from my home and garden, so any real-time reports I might have time for will be field reports, or travelogues. For now, I’m soaking up all the familiar and beloved elements of my world to fortify myself against the asphalt and airports that lie between me and daughter Pearl’s garden. Once I arrive there, I will be well nourished by hugs and kisses from a dozen or more family members, and won’t even think of my lemon tree or coral bells back here.

But not quite yet! When I noticed the bee with its head in the lithodora (picture at top), I was mostly looking at the Blue-eyed Grass nearby. It is so sweet it breaks my heart.

The olive gets refreshed.

April 21, 2024my garden, quotes, treesolive trees, pruningGretchenJoanna

Back in 2016 I removed my two olive trees from their pots, trimmed their roots, and installed them in larger, matching white (and lightweight) fiberglass pots. I seem to have never written about the process here or posted photos; I wish I had, because I couldn’t remember the specifics, and had to consult YouTube when yesterday I decided to tackle the root-trimming job again.

The landscape designer who advised me back then not to plant an olive tree in the ground, because it would grow out of scale and become overbearing in my little garden, suggested I keep the ones I already had and just put them in larger containers; she added that I would need to trim the roots every couple of years to keep them healthy in the confined space.

That was eight years ago this month, and one of the trees by its yellowing leaves has been signalling me that my procrastinating was costing it its health. The task had become more daunting with every year added to my age. Those pots may be easy to move around when they are empty, but with all that moist dirt and biomass in them, I could barely tip one over on to a tarp.

When I did, I found a couple dozen salamanders of all sizes under there. They weren’t happy to feel the sun on their cool and moist bodies, and they writhed and slithered away into the mulch.

Getting the root ball out of the pot was the hardest part of the whole job. My back didn’t suffer any lasting effects, but my arm muscles are complaining. We were stuck in the situation pictured above no matter how I yanked and rolled things around; I really could have used a helper (with long arms) at this point just to pull on the pot while I pulled on the tree. But inch by slow inch — and it was finally out.

After I loosened the snarled roots, and shook off the old soil, it dawned on me that I didn’t have enough new soil to replace it, so I covered the root ball against the sun and took a half hour to go to the store for a few bags of potting soil.

Olive Senior, May 2020

After trimming the roots I put the pot back in place and leveled it using two flat stones from the mountains, then put the tree back in, with the new dirt, and a little fruit tree food. I trimmed the branches a bit, too. I think this tree, whom I’ll call “Olive Junior,” will be happier now.

What about the other one? It seems pretty healthy, so I’m putting off dealing with it for now. The two trees have different history. Olive Senior was given to me as a birthday present by my son “Pathfinder” and his family more than ten years ago. I kept it in a roomy pot but didn’t water it very much; its form was lacking but it didn’t occur to me to try to improve on it.

A few years later I saw little olive saplings at the grocery store half-off, that is, $7.50. They were very healthy and more shapely than my olive tree, and I brought one home. I began to shape Olive Senior with my pruners. When it came time to put them in matching pots, O.S.’s roots weren’t crowded in the pot and there wasn’t much to trim off. Olive Junior’s roots were extensive and needed a lot of trimming, even though it was much younger. So… I’m guessing each is still following its pattern, and I can wait a bit, and tackle Olive Senior with a little more forethought, and with a helper.

It’s a great blessing to own not just one, but two olive trees, even if I do have to give them the bonsai treatment. They like the Mediterranean climate. I will close my olive report with this Bible verse that I took many years ago as a poem-prayer expressing my heart’s vision:

But as for me,
I am like a fruitful olive tree
in the house of the Lord;
I have hoped in the mercy of God
for ever, and unto the ages of ages.

Psalm 51:8

Months overthrown by a calendar.

April 14, 2024calendar, Lent, my gardenchronos, clocks, Dianella tasmanica, kairos, lithodora, Louise Bourgeois, months, Mr. Greenjeans, redbud, smallage, spring, Swiss chard, Tasmanian Flax, wisteriaGretchenJoanna

This is the season when every day’s wandering in the garden reveals sprouts and blossoms that startle me: Can this lithodora already be filled out, and I didn’t notice it happening? When did the coral bells get as high as my nose?

At church the scents of wisteria and other blossoms are heavy in the air, and when I walk to and from my car I have to slow down and focus on breathing as I make my way.

Maybe all of this botanical activity wouldn’t be as surprising if I’d been more attentive to the garden, but I’ve been restraining myself from going to the nursery or planting anything new just yet; the next month or so involves a lot of traveling, when I won’t be able to tend to anything. The reason for travel is, two of my grandsons will marry this spring, and one granddaughter. But in between the May weddings I hope to put a few zucchini seeds in the planter boxes where they will get automatic irrigation.

The plant just above, I can’t remember the name of. [Mrs. Bread already looked in here and reminded me that it is Tasmanian Flax, Dianella tasmanica.] This one is at church, but Mrs. Bread gave me a specimen last year and I’ve planted it here; mine isn’t blooming yet. They eventually have berries that look like elongated dark purple grapes.

I bought one more wall calendar to help me do better at keeping track of where I am in time. I love having calendars and clocks all over the house. It’s from Beauty First Films and claims to promote “the overthrow of months.” I ordered it late, so we are already into Lent, which is revealed by this calendar to transcend the months, and to infuse the everyday chronos of life, emphasizing the gifts of the Church that lead to kairos. This year’s version also features the churches of Serbia:

Many years ago Mrs. Bread and I split a six-pack of smallage plants. Then I re-landscaped and let mine go. She gave me a sprout from hers a year ago and it is Not Small At All now. I like having smallage around because it’s nice to put in soups, but I don’t really want to give a quarter of the planter box to it. Unfortunately, I think the boxes are the only place it would get the amount of watering it likes.

Swiss chard, on the other hand, I can’t have too much of. I procrastinated picking this crop for a couple of months, during which time a couple of snails fattened themselves on it. There was still plenty left for me, and I finally took off every last beautiful leaf from a dozen plants and cooked it all up. Most of it went into the pot to make my favorite lenten Garlicky Chard with Cannellinis. I’m showing the Italian Silver Rib Swiss Chard, but I actually harvested about twice as much Rhubarb Chard.

April may have rushed in to my life, but now that it’s here I’m pleasantly surprised that we’re only half way through the month. We Orthodox are more than half way to Pascha, which is also surprising. I can tell I was made for kairos, because I never can get used to this chronos life!

Fresh news just before publishing: My dear friend and brother in Christ, “Mr. Greenjeans,” who started me working in the church garden and taught me tons about plant and plant names; who for many years and several times a month made all the huge bowls of dough for our church prosphora bread; who got me literally up to speed chanting the Hours in church; who became an even closer friend since 2020 when he and his wife began hosting small tea-and-talk sessions at their house — That Friend no longer has to struggle in this chronos world, but has fallen asleep in death, has gone to his rest, to await the Resurrection. Memory Eternal!