Rush hour commute.
Mr. Groundhog pops up to say hello.
Unclogging the drainage pipe in one of the ponds (no thanks to Mr. Beaver) created this whirlpool about the size of a dinner plate.
The garden is coming along and so far all the required crop families have their representative members: zucchini (Summer Squash) for Curcurbitaceae, tomatoes for Solanaceae, lettuce for leaf crop, onion for a root crop, snow pea for Legumes, corn for uh, corn and cabbage for a Cole crop. I just need a Tuber. There are so many options for the tuber crop that I was having a hard time choosing when a small voice at the back of my head decided me:
To those of you thanking me because now you'll have that song in your head ALL DAY LONG, you're welcome!
This is the sound that wakes me up in the morning. I could say something pithy about the lack of picture like, "the performers shun the spotlight" but the real reason it's black is because, well, it's that dark at 4:30am. How much more dark could it get, you ask? None, none more dark.
Oh, by the way, this alarm clock doesn't have a snooze button but it definitely goes to 11.
Three guesses what they are!? And wouldn't you know, both of them were EVERYWHERE!! Now, I've never had the opportunity to enjoy the afterglow of an encounter with Toxicodendron radicans, mostly because there isn't any poison ivy in the concrete jungle of LA (though there is poison oak, which I apparently never came in contact with either) and I really wasn't all that eager to make it an intimate acquaintance, if you get my drift. But part of being an Intrepid Plant Hunter is that you must actually advance through the forest in search of that which you seek. That means your boots and the hems of your jeans will trod on and brush against these two plants, one of which could really make life miserable!
And you think being marooned on a boat in your pajamas is bad.
I decided to cowboy-up (thank goodness for Tecnu) and in the end I did find a few Trilliums, dug them carefully and put them in my bucket then looked around to admire the majestic scenery and realized with a growing sense of excitement that I really had no idea where in the bloody forest I was. Panic did not ensue because my supervisor was coming back to get me, but can you imagine trekking through new and uncharted territory with potentially hostile natives as your guide? Far enough away from signs of civilization and the state highway, hearing nothing but the mysterious forest sounds around me, I sure could. There is a theory that poor David Douglas was pushed into that pit, you know, so I admit to a sigh of relief when I heard the rumble of the Kubota’s engine on the path signaling lunchtime.
I still wonder if this venturesome spirit is handed down through the gene pool because obviously not everyone would relish a day stranded in the woods. It must, I think, because another dear friend and fellow horticulturist sent me another book, the Eyewitness Travel Guide to Philadelphia, which means more adventures!
On that trip, at least, I'll remember to take my towel*.
*For an explanation, please refer to the thrilling Sci-Fi best seller The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
Seeds are sown in trays and labeled with the plant name, sow date, location in the garden where the plants will be used, and the number of transplants needed. When the seedlings are transplanted into cell packs, the label is copied and a new label placed in each transplanted flat.
The next step is to turn out the seedlings and gently tease them apart. The cell packs are filled with moist planting mix and lightly pressed - careful not to compact too much, but not left too fluffy or the soil will wash out when the plants are watered in. You also want good root-soil contact so the new roots will take in much needed water and nutrients without crushing them.