Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Gone Fishin'...
Back soon!
April 26, 2006
April 9, 2006
Sunday, April 9, 2006
Life Lessons: The Scent of a New Day
Walking out each morning to pick up the newspaper is a perfect time to greet the new day and appreciate the fresh start it brings. I listen to, I look at, and I certainly smell the awakening world. The fragrance of an early morning is often fragile, faint, requiring a little more attention than the looking and listening do.
First of course, I always smell the weather. Coming rain, an approaching snowstorm, even the hot dry heat of summer, each has a subtle scent. If it's precipitating, that mositure, too, has its very own perfume, and during an unusual early morning thunderstorm, you can certainly smell the ozone of the lightning. On some frigid winter mornings, the cold itself has a clean and clear breath.
But richest of all are the ever-changing scents of the seasons. In the winter, there's often a waft of woodsmoke, sometimes the evergreens, especially the fir balsams, give off a wonderful scent, and there's also occasionally the all-too-obvious odor of the cat spruce! The air often seems especially pure in winter, making those man-made smells such as the diesel fumes from snowplows and gas-and oil combination from the neighbors' snowblowers even more... intrusive.
In springtime the earth exhales its own perfume, long before the trees bud or the flowers bloom. It is the smell of green, of freshness, of a crisp clean. I often wonder in April... does hope have a scent?
There are not words enough to describe the bouquet of a summer morning. Now remember, this five-senses centering is only a very few minutes each morning, but smell most of all can saturate your very being in those few moments. The lilacs, the roses, the sharp sweetness of the tall bearded irises all stand out. But one of my most favorite summer scents is the the dusty-attic smell of bridal wreath. Sometimes I just close my eyes and try to pick one flower's fragrance out of the hundreds and hundreds in the garden. Heliotrope is... delicious!
The days begin to cool, the mornings start to dawn later and there is the nutty smell of the drying leaves in the fall. The air is redolent of apples hanging heavy on branches or becoming tangy on the ground. The smell of the earth itself is as strong as in the spring, but it's very different in this season. First it's the ripening smell of harvest gathering, then in late fall there's that hint of death and decay perhaps. While, to me, spring smells so... new, autumn mornings smell so ... melancholy. But later in the day, standing around a small mound of burning leaves, sipping fresh cider, I take a deep breath and realize that each new day, no matter what the season, brings to each of our senses... great promise.
Mary
Life Lessons: The Scent of a New Day
Walking out each morning to pick up the newspaper is a perfect time to greet the new day and appreciate the fresh start it brings. I listen to, I look at, and I certainly smell the awakening world. The fragrance of an early morning is often fragile, faint, requiring a little more attention than the looking and listening do.
First of course, I always smell the weather. Coming rain, an approaching snowstorm, even the hot dry heat of summer, each has a subtle scent. If it's precipitating, that mositure, too, has its very own perfume, and during an unusual early morning thunderstorm, you can certainly smell the ozone of the lightning. On some frigid winter mornings, the cold itself has a clean and clear breath.
But richest of all are the ever-changing scents of the seasons. In the winter, there's often a waft of woodsmoke, sometimes the evergreens, especially the fir balsams, give off a wonderful scent, and there's also occasionally the all-too-obvious odor of the cat spruce! The air often seems especially pure in winter, making those man-made smells such as the diesel fumes from snowplows and gas-and oil combination from the neighbors' snowblowers even more... intrusive.
In springtime the earth exhales its own perfume, long before the trees bud or the flowers bloom. It is the smell of green, of freshness, of a crisp clean. I often wonder in April... does hope have a scent?
There are not words enough to describe the bouquet of a summer morning. Now remember, this five-senses centering is only a very few minutes each morning, but smell most of all can saturate your very being in those few moments. The lilacs, the roses, the sharp sweetness of the tall bearded irises all stand out. But one of my most favorite summer scents is the the dusty-attic smell of bridal wreath. Sometimes I just close my eyes and try to pick one flower's fragrance out of the hundreds and hundreds in the garden. Heliotrope is... delicious!
The days begin to cool, the mornings start to dawn later and there is the nutty smell of the drying leaves in the fall. The air is redolent of apples hanging heavy on branches or becoming tangy on the ground. The smell of the earth itself is as strong as in the spring, but it's very different in this season. First it's the ripening smell of harvest gathering, then in late fall there's that hint of death and decay perhaps. While, to me, spring smells so... new, autumn mornings smell so ... melancholy. But later in the day, standing around a small mound of burning leaves, sipping fresh cider, I take a deep breath and realize that each new day, no matter what the season, brings to each of our senses... great promise.
Mary
April 5, 2006
Wednesday, April 5, 2006
This In-between Time...
The ground is totally bare, not even a small pile of lingering snow under the evergreens on the north side of the house. Small shoots of green are popping up and buds are beginning to swell.
It's been unusually warm, and the strong sun is very enticing. It certainly looks as though the gardening season has arrived, but the reality is that the soil is still frozen deep down and that the cold earth is very hard on the hands.
I have lettuce and radishes started in the unheated greenhouse but it's much too early to put anything more fragile out there. I'd planned to put some peas in the garden last weekend, but then decided that was really pushing things a little too much. So, I sit... I'm ready, but the garden isn't!
Mary
This In-between Time...
The ground is totally bare, not even a small pile of lingering snow under the evergreens on the north side of the house. Small shoots of green are popping up and buds are beginning to swell.
It's been unusually warm, and the strong sun is very enticing. It certainly looks as though the gardening season has arrived, but the reality is that the soil is still frozen deep down and that the cold earth is very hard on the hands.
I have lettuce and radishes started in the unheated greenhouse but it's much too early to put anything more fragile out there. I'd planned to put some peas in the garden last weekend, but then decided that was really pushing things a little too much. So, I sit... I'm ready, but the garden isn't!
Mary
April 2, 2006
Sunday, April 2, 2006
Life Lessons: Look! Look Until You Really See...
Several weeks ago, we talked about starting the day with five-senses centering, a way to anchor yourself, at least for a moment, in the here and the now. When I walk out my short driveway to get the paper first thing in the morning, I listen to the sounds of the world waking up. I also take a look at the new day dawning...
I'm always truly stunned when I read studies, statistics, of all that our eyes take in during the course of each day. That is NOT to say what we look at, or what we see, both very different from what our eyes scan, a myriad of images that may be imprinted on some snippet of our brains.
In the early morning, after I've listened to the world waking up, I start to look around, always checking the rising sun and night/day sky first. I so, so love light that the first day-rays are terribly important to me, to say nothing of reveling in the glorious, ever-changing colors of the varying seasonal sunrises. Often the second half of the old seaman's adage, "red sky in the morning, sailors take warning" comes to mind. In the winter, the sun may not even have cleared the tree-line of the horizon, while in summer it may already signal a blazing hot day ahead.
Are there any clouds this morning? Low, thick, billowing ones, maybe heavy-laden with rain or snow? Or high , thin cirrus clouds heralding a fine, fair day? Gilded by sun? Moving in what direction? Are there any stars still visible? Oh, usually Venus of course, but in the dark-dawn seasons, I check for old favorites Orion, Cassiopeia, Perseus, Pleiades.
And remember, it's taken me far, far longer to write about this part of five senses centering than it's ever taken to just pause... and... look!
My gaze comes down to earth, to the yard, to the trees, to the flowers in their seasons. Believe me, no matter what the time of year, in this place where I've lived for over forty years, there IS something new to see each and every new day! Sometimes, I'm just noticing that a piece of rain gutter has come loose, or I make a note to trim back the gone-by lilac blooms. Or maybe I realize the neighbor's dog is coming to visit me. No matter what I notice, it's always the evidence of the passing seasons that makes this piece of the morning ritual so very... rich!
The incredible glory of the slanted winter sun on diamonds of snow, or on shimmering ice-encased branches never, ever grows old. The uncountable shades of... white. The shadows of blues and purples and grays, so, so many subtle and delicate tints.
In spring, every single morning brings new greens, thickening buds, unfurling blossoms. More and more birds darting about. The sometimes-reluctant awakening of the perennials. After a Maine winter, the light now seems clearer, stronger, richer, deeper, yellower!
Glancing around the yard on an early summer morning sometimes brings an almost blinding abundance of beauty ~ every imaginable color and shape, combined and mixed, just strewn about in a new way every day.
And then, there's fall... First the goldenrod in August whispering, "autumn, autumn." Then, there's one particular maple tree with a small cluster of leaves that almost always turns red in late August, w-a-a-ay before any other leaves in the yard. There's the heart-filling, Jack-Frost foliage of October, and the few tattered leaves lingering in late November winds.
Just as listening through the layers helps to center us in the here and the now, so, too, can looking, truly looking until we see, not just with our eyes, but see the wonders, the gifts, of each new day with our hearts and souls.
Mary
Life Lessons: Look! Look Until You Really See...
Several weeks ago, we talked about starting the day with five-senses centering, a way to anchor yourself, at least for a moment, in the here and the now. When I walk out my short driveway to get the paper first thing in the morning, I listen to the sounds of the world waking up. I also take a look at the new day dawning...
I'm always truly stunned when I read studies, statistics, of all that our eyes take in during the course of each day. That is NOT to say what we look at, or what we see, both very different from what our eyes scan, a myriad of images that may be imprinted on some snippet of our brains.
In the early morning, after I've listened to the world waking up, I start to look around, always checking the rising sun and night/day sky first. I so, so love light that the first day-rays are terribly important to me, to say nothing of reveling in the glorious, ever-changing colors of the varying seasonal sunrises. Often the second half of the old seaman's adage, "red sky in the morning, sailors take warning" comes to mind. In the winter, the sun may not even have cleared the tree-line of the horizon, while in summer it may already signal a blazing hot day ahead.
Are there any clouds this morning? Low, thick, billowing ones, maybe heavy-laden with rain or snow? Or high , thin cirrus clouds heralding a fine, fair day? Gilded by sun? Moving in what direction? Are there any stars still visible? Oh, usually Venus of course, but in the dark-dawn seasons, I check for old favorites Orion, Cassiopeia, Perseus, Pleiades.
And remember, it's taken me far, far longer to write about this part of five senses centering than it's ever taken to just pause... and... look!
My gaze comes down to earth, to the yard, to the trees, to the flowers in their seasons. Believe me, no matter what the time of year, in this place where I've lived for over forty years, there IS something new to see each and every new day! Sometimes, I'm just noticing that a piece of rain gutter has come loose, or I make a note to trim back the gone-by lilac blooms. Or maybe I realize the neighbor's dog is coming to visit me. No matter what I notice, it's always the evidence of the passing seasons that makes this piece of the morning ritual so very... rich!
The incredible glory of the slanted winter sun on diamonds of snow, or on shimmering ice-encased branches never, ever grows old. The uncountable shades of... white. The shadows of blues and purples and grays, so, so many subtle and delicate tints.
In spring, every single morning brings new greens, thickening buds, unfurling blossoms. More and more birds darting about. The sometimes-reluctant awakening of the perennials. After a Maine winter, the light now seems clearer, stronger, richer, deeper, yellower!
Glancing around the yard on an early summer morning sometimes brings an almost blinding abundance of beauty ~ every imaginable color and shape, combined and mixed, just strewn about in a new way every day.
And then, there's fall... First the goldenrod in August whispering, "autumn, autumn." Then, there's one particular maple tree with a small cluster of leaves that almost always turns red in late August, w-a-a-ay before any other leaves in the yard. There's the heart-filling, Jack-Frost foliage of October, and the few tattered leaves lingering in late November winds.
Just as listening through the layers helps to center us in the here and the now, so, too, can looking, truly looking until we see, not just with our eyes, but see the wonders, the gifts, of each new day with our hearts and souls.
Mary
March 15, 2006
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
The Ides of March...
Instead of being wary of this day, I rejoice that this l-o-n-g-e-s-t month is half over. Well, okay, with 31 days, I suppose it really isn't technically half over...
I've been on a cooking binge lately as I'm working on a booklet of honey-based recipes. One I've really liked uses all kinds of cubed root vegetables coated with a mixture of 1/4 c honey and 1 TBSP olive oil, then cooked for 35-40 minutes at 450, giving the veggies a nice carmelized glaze. I even added brussel sprouts to the white and sweet potato, squash, turnip, carrot, parsnip and onion chunks. Excellent!
A couple of weeks ago I made several citrus flavored honey butters, one was lemon-lime, another orange-lemon and one orange-grapefruit. Each was outstanding. We used them on biscuits, pancakes, popovers and anything baked, but I've tried them this past weeks on green beans, steamed broccoli and cauliflower, and even mashed sweet potato, all with very tasty results. (Hmmm, I wonder how one of these would be on hot popcorn...)
Finally, I made honey-orange-almond scones, glazed with a mixture of honey and orange juice then sprinkled with sliced almonds. Needless to say, they were way wicked good too. NOW, just don't ask me how the old diet's coming along...
If you'd like this scone recipe, just email me and I'll send it along...
Mary
The Ides of March...
Instead of being wary of this day, I rejoice that this l-o-n-g-e-s-t month is half over. Well, okay, with 31 days, I suppose it really isn't technically half over...
I've been on a cooking binge lately as I'm working on a booklet of honey-based recipes. One I've really liked uses all kinds of cubed root vegetables coated with a mixture of 1/4 c honey and 1 TBSP olive oil, then cooked for 35-40 minutes at 450, giving the veggies a nice carmelized glaze. I even added brussel sprouts to the white and sweet potato, squash, turnip, carrot, parsnip and onion chunks. Excellent!
A couple of weeks ago I made several citrus flavored honey butters, one was lemon-lime, another orange-lemon and one orange-grapefruit. Each was outstanding. We used them on biscuits, pancakes, popovers and anything baked, but I've tried them this past weeks on green beans, steamed broccoli and cauliflower, and even mashed sweet potato, all with very tasty results. (Hmmm, I wonder how one of these would be on hot popcorn...)
Finally, I made honey-orange-almond scones, glazed with a mixture of honey and orange juice then sprinkled with sliced almonds. Needless to say, they were way wicked good too. NOW, just don't ask me how the old diet's coming along...
If you'd like this scone recipe, just email me and I'll send it along...
Mary
March 12, 2006
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Life Lessons: Listening Through the Layers
Last week we talked about starting the day with five-senses centering, a way to anchor yourself, at least for a moment, in the here and the now. When I walk out to get the paper first thing in the morning, I listen to the sounds of the world waking up.
On weekdays the first sound I register is one both distant and insistent: traffic on a somewhat nearby highway. It's high-speed, low rumble, much like the background noise of life itself. Next I often hear birds, maybe just a crow, maybe an early flight of geese passing overhead from their nightime nesting spots to their daytime gathering place, a wonderful open field that may host several hundred geese on any given day. As we get toward spring, I hear more small-bird chirps, the black-capped chickdees now mixing with a cardinal's call.
I may hear the sussuration of wind in the trees, soft if in the evergreens, harder if rustling through the dry deciduous leaves left over from last fall. (I just love the word "surration," don't you!) Rain makes for a positve cachophony of sounds, while snow often blankets the world in an incredible hush.
As the sounds get smaller, closer, I hear the slight metallic tinkle of a dog tag against a collar as the neighbor's dog makes its morning rounds. The next layer of listening brings me quiet, close-by little noises, the small scratch of a branch against one edge of the house, a soft flutter as the breeze ruffles a corner of the paper I'm carrying, and the tiny rolling of a pebble I've just dislodged. And, then... finally... I can hear my own quiet breathing and peaceful thoughts.
AND, f I listen very, very closely I just may hear that still small voice of my heart and know that this IS the day that the Lord hath made!
So take the time to listen through the clatter and clutter of daily life, and truly hear with the ear of your heart!
Mary
Life Lessons: Listening Through the Layers
Last week we talked about starting the day with five-senses centering, a way to anchor yourself, at least for a moment, in the here and the now. When I walk out to get the paper first thing in the morning, I listen to the sounds of the world waking up.
On weekdays the first sound I register is one both distant and insistent: traffic on a somewhat nearby highway. It's high-speed, low rumble, much like the background noise of life itself. Next I often hear birds, maybe just a crow, maybe an early flight of geese passing overhead from their nightime nesting spots to their daytime gathering place, a wonderful open field that may host several hundred geese on any given day. As we get toward spring, I hear more small-bird chirps, the black-capped chickdees now mixing with a cardinal's call.
I may hear the sussuration of wind in the trees, soft if in the evergreens, harder if rustling through the dry deciduous leaves left over from last fall. (I just love the word "surration," don't you!) Rain makes for a positve cachophony of sounds, while snow often blankets the world in an incredible hush.
As the sounds get smaller, closer, I hear the slight metallic tinkle of a dog tag against a collar as the neighbor's dog makes its morning rounds. The next layer of listening brings me quiet, close-by little noises, the small scratch of a branch against one edge of the house, a soft flutter as the breeze ruffles a corner of the paper I'm carrying, and the tiny rolling of a pebble I've just dislodged. And, then... finally... I can hear my own quiet breathing and peaceful thoughts.
AND, f I listen very, very closely I just may hear that still small voice of my heart and know that this IS the day that the Lord hath made!
So take the time to listen through the clatter and clutter of daily life, and truly hear with the ear of your heart!
Mary
March 8, 2006
Wednesday, March 8, 2006
Planning the Garden: Hay Bale Planting
Have we talked yet about hay bale planting? It's an unusual and practical method of growing some flowers and certain vegetables in a small space, especially as the bales can be used to define an area, be placed casually around a patio, or be set out to get a new ground ready for the following year. Let's take a look at what's involved...
Of course you start with a bale of hay, and it does need to be hay, not straw. It can be at any stage from freshly baled to partially decomposed. Taking a trowel, hollow out holes in the top and even the sides if you want. I usually do anywhere from seven to ten holes in the top, each hole trowel-wide and trowel-deep. Fill with rich compost, plant either seeds or seedlings, keep well watered and stand back!
As the roots develop they spread out throughout the bale, decomposing the hay in the process and that of course generates heat for those roots. The plants grow to a self-mulching size very quickly, but I do water them with a grow solution once a week.
I've grown the tiny pumpkins, terrific peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, eggplant and several other veggies this way, always with good results. Wave petunias or mound nasturiums make a positive mountain of color! Geraniums interspersed with dusy miller, coleus, and/or low ageratums will do well. And, you can also use this method in shady areas, filling the bales with begonias, impatiens and again, coleus. The possibilities are just endless and experimentation is half the fun!
Of course I've assumed here that you know where to come by bales of hay for trying this!
Mary
Planning the Garden: Hay Bale Planting
Have we talked yet about hay bale planting? It's an unusual and practical method of growing some flowers and certain vegetables in a small space, especially as the bales can be used to define an area, be placed casually around a patio, or be set out to get a new ground ready for the following year. Let's take a look at what's involved...
Of course you start with a bale of hay, and it does need to be hay, not straw. It can be at any stage from freshly baled to partially decomposed. Taking a trowel, hollow out holes in the top and even the sides if you want. I usually do anywhere from seven to ten holes in the top, each hole trowel-wide and trowel-deep. Fill with rich compost, plant either seeds or seedlings, keep well watered and stand back!
As the roots develop they spread out throughout the bale, decomposing the hay in the process and that of course generates heat for those roots. The plants grow to a self-mulching size very quickly, but I do water them with a grow solution once a week.
I've grown the tiny pumpkins, terrific peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, eggplant and several other veggies this way, always with good results. Wave petunias or mound nasturiums make a positive mountain of color! Geraniums interspersed with dusy miller, coleus, and/or low ageratums will do well. And, you can also use this method in shady areas, filling the bales with begonias, impatiens and again, coleus. The possibilities are just endless and experimentation is half the fun!
Of course I've assumed here that you know where to come by bales of hay for trying this!
Mary
March 5, 2006
Sunday, March 5, 2006
Life Lessons: Five Senses Centering
Have you ever woken up in the morning and even before your feet hit the floor, your mind is racing with all that you have to get done that day? You're behind before you begin!
For several years, I've been using five senses centering throughout the day to remind myself that "I am here, I am now." By stopping, coming to a complete stop!, for just a few seconds and truly registering the here and now through the five senses of hearing, looking, tasting, smelling, and feeling, I can stop the merry-go-'round, take a deep breath, feel refreshed, and keep going with a new/renewed calm. This is truly invaluable for me.
And so I found myself facing another frenetic morning, mentally ordering the tasks of the day, the appointments, the errands, the mundane, all starting to loom monumental - at least that's how everything began to seem at some point between deep sleep and hot shower.
Every morning after 20 minutes on the treadmill, I walk out to the mailbox to get the newspaper, no great distance, just to the foot of our driveway, maybe 100-125 feet. But now, as I step out the door, I clear my mind by saying out loud one of several things. Some mornings I quote Kahlil Gibran to the rising sun, "Awake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving." Or perhaps I remind myself that "This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it."
Whatever I say, and it does need to be said aloud, the words never fail to re-focus the entire day, opening my five senses to the re-centering of my thinking, energies, and most of all, hopes for the coming day. It's such a gift.
Next week, we'll look at the first of our five senses for centering, looking, truly seeing... See you next week!
Mary
Life Lessons: Five Senses Centering
Have you ever woken up in the morning and even before your feet hit the floor, your mind is racing with all that you have to get done that day? You're behind before you begin!
For several years, I've been using five senses centering throughout the day to remind myself that "I am here, I am now." By stopping, coming to a complete stop!, for just a few seconds and truly registering the here and now through the five senses of hearing, looking, tasting, smelling, and feeling, I can stop the merry-go-'round, take a deep breath, feel refreshed, and keep going with a new/renewed calm. This is truly invaluable for me.
And so I found myself facing another frenetic morning, mentally ordering the tasks of the day, the appointments, the errands, the mundane, all starting to loom monumental - at least that's how everything began to seem at some point between deep sleep and hot shower.
Every morning after 20 minutes on the treadmill, I walk out to the mailbox to get the newspaper, no great distance, just to the foot of our driveway, maybe 100-125 feet. But now, as I step out the door, I clear my mind by saying out loud one of several things. Some mornings I quote Kahlil Gibran to the rising sun, "Awake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving." Or perhaps I remind myself that "This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it."
Whatever I say, and it does need to be said aloud, the words never fail to re-focus the entire day, opening my five senses to the re-centering of my thinking, energies, and most of all, hopes for the coming day. It's such a gift.
Next week, we'll look at the first of our five senses for centering, looking, truly seeing... See you next week!
Mary
March 1, 2006
Wednesday, March 1, 2006
The Many Purposes of Planting Flowers
Last week we talked about choosing varieties of vegetables for your garden beginning with a look at the purpose for which you're growing each veggie. For example, you'd grow different potatoes for winter-keeping than you might for new potatoes to enjoy fresh out of the garden.
It's the same with flowers; with so, so many possibilities you might want to consider your purposes in growing them too. I'm a strong believer in inter-mxing veggies and flowers, both for the bnefits of companion planting and for the sweet scent and visual beauty of such a garden. Companion planting, growing different plants near each other to benefit one or both of them, can be very useful for certain veggies. We've always inter-planted marigolds with tomatoes and nasturiums amongst the vine crops for pest control. There are many, many other mutally beneficial combinations that you may want to explore too.
Other reasons for growing specific flowers may include attracting bees, birds, butterflies and other wildlife, for hanging pots and patio planters, for cut flowers of course, and for craft uses such as dried or pressed flowers, potpourri, papermaking, soapmaking and more. Many flowers are grown as screening, some as supports for other plants, some to define an area or pathways, and of course many are grown just for their showy display.
Let me give you a few examples. Buddleias, which are fairly fragile in Maine winters, are a must for the bees and butterflies. I buy these plants as transplants, treating them really as annuals, although I do mulch them heavily and have been rewarded with multiple seasons for some of them.
Sunflowers at the back of a bed may support morning glories or even the miniature pumpkins. They can also be planted to support pole beans very nicely. Because I grow most of my flowers for cutting, I need a variety of textures, shapes, and shades of the usual colors. I've found flowers I loved and thought would be wonderful for bouquets only to discover that they are too dainty to hold their own in a bouquet, they are too delicate, or sometimes that their vase life is too limited. On the other hand, dahlias, asters and zinnias are old reliables.
So, just as with the vegetables, before you become absoltuely overwhelmed with those gorgeous pictures in the seed catalogs, think about your planting purposes, make a list, then fit the best varieties into your garden this summer. AND, with both veggies and flowers, keeping a notebook from year to year is essential, an invaluable aid for remembering those specific plants you loved and those you loathed.
Mary
The Many Purposes of Planting Flowers
Last week we talked about choosing varieties of vegetables for your garden beginning with a look at the purpose for which you're growing each veggie. For example, you'd grow different potatoes for winter-keeping than you might for new potatoes to enjoy fresh out of the garden.
It's the same with flowers; with so, so many possibilities you might want to consider your purposes in growing them too. I'm a strong believer in inter-mxing veggies and flowers, both for the bnefits of companion planting and for the sweet scent and visual beauty of such a garden. Companion planting, growing different plants near each other to benefit one or both of them, can be very useful for certain veggies. We've always inter-planted marigolds with tomatoes and nasturiums amongst the vine crops for pest control. There are many, many other mutally beneficial combinations that you may want to explore too.
Other reasons for growing specific flowers may include attracting bees, birds, butterflies and other wildlife, for hanging pots and patio planters, for cut flowers of course, and for craft uses such as dried or pressed flowers, potpourri, papermaking, soapmaking and more. Many flowers are grown as screening, some as supports for other plants, some to define an area or pathways, and of course many are grown just for their showy display.
Let me give you a few examples. Buddleias, which are fairly fragile in Maine winters, are a must for the bees and butterflies. I buy these plants as transplants, treating them really as annuals, although I do mulch them heavily and have been rewarded with multiple seasons for some of them.
Sunflowers at the back of a bed may support morning glories or even the miniature pumpkins. They can also be planted to support pole beans very nicely. Because I grow most of my flowers for cutting, I need a variety of textures, shapes, and shades of the usual colors. I've found flowers I loved and thought would be wonderful for bouquets only to discover that they are too dainty to hold their own in a bouquet, they are too delicate, or sometimes that their vase life is too limited. On the other hand, dahlias, asters and zinnias are old reliables.
So, just as with the vegetables, before you become absoltuely overwhelmed with those gorgeous pictures in the seed catalogs, think about your planting purposes, make a list, then fit the best varieties into your garden this summer. AND, with both veggies and flowers, keeping a notebook from year to year is essential, an invaluable aid for remembering those specific plants you loved and those you loathed.
Mary
February 23, 2006
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Planning the Garden ~ Planting for a Purpose...
We have entirely too, too many choices of both suppliers of and varieties of both flowers and veggies to plant in our gardens, especially compared to even ten years ago. When it comes to tomatoes, onions, peppers, and definitely, corn, that array of choices can be overwhelming, not fun at all.
I always start by considering the purpose of my planting. Tomatoes: do I want them to eat out-of-hand, to can, for sauce, for juice, to winter-keep or even to dry. Do I need to look at the low-acid tomatoes, or would I like to try some of the heirlooms? Am I going to plant extra for the local plant-a-row-for-the-hungry program? Each of these purposes may be best served by specific varieties, with certain maturities and other unique characteristics.
And, no, I'm not generally going to recommend specific varieties because what grows best in my micro-climate here in Maine may not be best for a field even ten miles inland, let alone in another state!
Okay, let's look at onions... My primary crop will be for winterkeep and here I will state a preference: I've not found a better keeing onion than copra. Other than that, I do want a few of the big, mild white ones, a few red ones for fresh salsa, and lots of sturdy ones for canning in sauces, relishes, for the multi-vegetable juice I make. You make want some of the small spicy cocktail onions or even the small whites for pickling.
Corn... well, the maturity time is perhaps the first consideration here. But, after that, the use is really important as some certainly freeze better than others, while you may want lots of bi-color for eating fresh. And, thinking ahead, will you want nice tall cornstalks for fall decorations too??
Anyway, you can see what I'm saying here. What I end up doing is making a list of the veggies I want, the purposes I'll grow them for, and THEN, and only then, will I start making my buying list. There's lots of veggies I didn't even touch, and then the flowers are another whole story altogetter, one I'll look at next time!
Mary
Planning the Garden ~ Planting for a Purpose...
We have entirely too, too many choices of both suppliers of and varieties of both flowers and veggies to plant in our gardens, especially compared to even ten years ago. When it comes to tomatoes, onions, peppers, and definitely, corn, that array of choices can be overwhelming, not fun at all.
I always start by considering the purpose of my planting. Tomatoes: do I want them to eat out-of-hand, to can, for sauce, for juice, to winter-keep or even to dry. Do I need to look at the low-acid tomatoes, or would I like to try some of the heirlooms? Am I going to plant extra for the local plant-a-row-for-the-hungry program? Each of these purposes may be best served by specific varieties, with certain maturities and other unique characteristics.
And, no, I'm not generally going to recommend specific varieties because what grows best in my micro-climate here in Maine may not be best for a field even ten miles inland, let alone in another state!
Okay, let's look at onions... My primary crop will be for winterkeep and here I will state a preference: I've not found a better keeing onion than copra. Other than that, I do want a few of the big, mild white ones, a few red ones for fresh salsa, and lots of sturdy ones for canning in sauces, relishes, for the multi-vegetable juice I make. You make want some of the small spicy cocktail onions or even the small whites for pickling.
Corn... well, the maturity time is perhaps the first consideration here. But, after that, the use is really important as some certainly freeze better than others, while you may want lots of bi-color for eating fresh. And, thinking ahead, will you want nice tall cornstalks for fall decorations too??
Anyway, you can see what I'm saying here. What I end up doing is making a list of the veggies I want, the purposes I'll grow them for, and THEN, and only then, will I start making my buying list. There's lots of veggies I didn't even touch, and then the flowers are another whole story altogetter, one I'll look at next time!
Mary
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
