Like any gardener, I consult the frost dates when deciding to plant. April 19 was our average last frost, so a 50% probability that after this date, there will be no more freezes. 50% is not a good bet with my tomatoes, and I’ve been burned by this in the past (or rather frostbitten), so I go off the later date: the guaranteed last frost date, or whatever they call it. It seems to go by more than one name, but it’s basically the almost certain guaranteed date after which there will be no more frost. Ours was May 3. The weekend after, I planted my tomatoes.
What could go wrong?
That weekend, Sunday night–last night, May 7, the weather report predicted a low of 34. But, there was no frost advisory. It would be cutting it close, but ultimately after an exhausting weekend, I lacked the energy to consider going out and covering my tomatoes. I trusted to fate.
This morning, as I rolled the trash to the curb, I noticed with dismay that there was frost upon the grass. I quickly inspected my tomatoes. One appeared frostbitten, but the others did not. I noted that the line of frost only just barely touched the edge of my garden.
The coldest period of the night was 6-7AM. This was the time during which I was reviewing my garden, so it is possible that I was seeing the worst of things. The garden is against the garage, so maybe enough residual heat leached from the house to keep the garden thawed.
The Farmer’s Almanac had this to say about the date:
‘You are almost guaranteed that you will not get frost’
Apparently “almost” is the key word. After work, I go home to determine the damage. And I hope that one night has not destroyed 6 weeks of indoor growing preparation for my first garden at the new house.
I think I shortened my lifespan this weekend. There were certainly moments when I wanted to lay down and expire. But rather than make individual posts and cloud the feed, I’ll make a multi-purpose single post instead to feed the cloud (heh, nerd jokes):
You Say Tomato
Yes, I removed more sod. And I think I’ve finally had it with that. There will be no more garden installation this year. Seriously, I hate removing sod.
Grass is kind of just wasted space
Note that old cable box from a defunct cable company. I’m going to have to rip that off the wall one day. Anyway, when the house’s seller (the son of the former owner) haphazardly threw down mulch to gain a +10 curb appeal, for some reason he made this side organically-shaped. It’s the only “garden” that wasn’t rectangular. Maybe he got creative. Maybe he ran out of mulch. Who knows? But, this is the SW side of the house, and the ideal location for a vegetable garden. So I had to widen it anyway.
A more efficient design
We argued over the tomato-securing system. I wanted to use trellis netting and just have a row of tomatoes. Apparently Liz had experienced that before with her parents and the results were not as expected. But the peculiarities of any garden are unique to their specific circumstances, so this will be an experiment anyway. This year, we’ll try the bamboo poles. Planting to come this weekend.
Mobile Foodies
I admit–food is not my drug. Therefore, the many joys of food novelty are lost on me. Among these is the influx of food trucks. It isn’t really much cheaper, I have to yell over the sound of generators to place my order, and as the customer I’m tasked with finding my own improvised seating arrangements.
It’s hard to smile with a mouth full of hotdog
But, it is an opportunity to quickly try a variety of food options. And those spicy Caribbean tacos I had were pretty darn good. And it was a fun new experience for the kid, so win.
…Comes Tumblin’ Down
Look at this pine tree:
It appears unimportant to me, priority-wise. It isn’t dying, nor is it leaning dangerously. But my neighbor hated it, and my wife hated it. As I spent my childhood on the Great Plains, it’s still fascinating to me that trees can grow naturally, and not have to be attended to constantly. I like trees, but native Ohioans seem to revel in deforestation for some reason. Ultimately, I conceded to having this one tree removed, were we to need to remove a tree to satisfy the boiling desire of my Ohioan wife to kill a tree.
My neighbor, in his excitement upon hearing word of my concession, and apparently having recently gotten his chainsaw in working order, ran over to greet us with said chainsaw, and expressed his willingness to cut the tree down at that moment–to which my wife readily agreed.
It may be just a tree, but I still have trouble with needlessly extinguishing a life
I also have many a memory of the trees in Lubbock dying, and needing to be chopped down. And while my youthful memory likely exaggerates the negatives, I recall dad borrowing a chainsaw to fell the trees, followed by me spending hours with the pruners and bow saw, chopping and cutting, chopping and cutting…
This tree was no exception. 3-4 hours later, and we had grown the firewood supply. And for whatever reason, the women of the neighborhood found it hilarious that I was butchering the tree with a reciprocating saw. I guess, compared to the chainsaw, there was a penis joke in there somewhere.
What the Duck?
Ending on a happy note, a duck and her ducklings wandered down the gutter.
I wonder where she was leading them. I’m not aware of any nearby ponds. But last year I almost hit a duck with the mower in my front yard, so apparently we’re good duck territory despite the lack of ponds…and mechanical chopping machines.
A lot of plants have migrated out of the indoor garden. Some, though, remain. Remember the Evil Morning Glories, or as I had named them: Ipomea Diaboli (fuck you, botanists everywhere–I can do it too!)? Well, it seems they feed upon light–same as other plants, and not upon the negative energy wrought by souls of the damned as I had originally suspected. I came to this conclusion by observing the size of the plant I had unceremoniously thrown into a pot under the growlight because I wanted something green down there:
A lesser demon
It’s a cute little demon anyway.
Also, that bean plant I attempted that managed to produce a pod? The pod dried and I harvested it, figuring it wasn’t worth the effort to eat a single bean, but rather to harvest the seed:
A single seed within. All the work and the plant only has a single viable offspring. Seems like a zero net gain. Sort of like Liz and I, except that’s a generational net loss. Still, I think neither beans nor humans are in any immediate danger of extinction.
Remember that moldering potato I stuck in the pot under the grow light 3 months ago because it was winter and I wanted something green inside? Well, it died.
Starting to turn yellow back there
I had never seriously grown a potato before, so I didn’t know what to expect. Liz informed me, however, that the plant dying simply meant it was time to harvest it. Either way, I needed to remove it before it started rotting in my basement, so I dumped the pot outside. Peeking through the root clump, I saw some happy little tubers, so I gently ripped apart the roots and behold:
A breakfast’s worth I suppose
I had forgotten it was the red potato I planted. While not exactly an epic crop, it’s still a fun little net gain from an otherwise inedible piece of produce.
Over the weekend, we managed to finish the herb garden. I say “managed” because as I’ve mentioned before, the sod in this place is brutal. The grass is old and the roots well-established, and the soil contains just enough clay that separating the two is a feat worthy of a strongman competition. And the vegetable gardens will be bigger. I asked the neighbor to borrow his tiller but it’s currently on loan to his son. Maybe I’ll acquire an ox instead.
Anyway, after two days of hacking and cursing, the sod was removed. The soil, now exposed, was begging for vegetation, to which I obliged before it started enlisting local volunteers.
But first, we discussed raising the bed. Despite our valiant efforts of minimizing soil loss, a large quantity still accompanied the sod in its journey to the pile of discarded grass on the side of the house. That, and the benefits of drainage from a raised bed are obvious. Visions of logs sticking out the back of the inadequate Honda dampened my spirits, but then I remembered the leftover 2x4s from the fencing installation. With a little help from the reciprocating saw and sledgehammer, I secured a border with wooden stakes.
15 cubic feet of soil in that little car
A lot of fancy dirt later, and raised bed we had. Lowe’s also had a sale on herbs, which was awfully considerate of them to time that with the weekend of our herb garden project. And, complementing what I had started under the grow lights, we now have a proper garden of fragrance and seasoning–a symbolic requirement to having an established homestead.
