Take That, Cancer!

So today was the Race for the Cure, and I did pretty well. I finished in 28:47, which put me in 181st place overall and 23rd out of 31 in my age division. Considering I've been running for less than 6 months and this was the first actual race I've ever been in, I'd say that's a decent showing.

Thanks to everyone who donated! Maybe if governments spent the kind of money on good medical research that they do on wars, organizations like this wouldn't have to ask for donations. Until we can manage to put such a government in place, though, folks like you make a huge difference to people in need.


Strange Symbiosis



I've noticed this summer, that my crowder peas have been especially attractive to yellow jackets. As near as I can tell, the plants seem to be secreting something at the base of the pods that the wasps find irresistible (see the photo). I can't tell if it's maybe a tiny amount of fluid or what, but the effect is specific for yellow jackets. I've seen mention of the phenomenon on some gardening forums, but no scientific treatise on the subject that I've found, as yet. It does appear to be a symbiotic relationship, though. The wasps get something they want while the plants get some serious protection - I've seen zero predation on these plants, and I've been very careful myself when picking the pods.

Gardening, Accidental and Otherwise

I harvested my first butternut squash today.



The funny thing is that I never intentionally planted any. The composted alpaca manure I used to fill the raised beds for raspberry and sweet potato just happened to have some squash remains that had been thrown on the pile. So I ended up with three totally unplanned vines that have spread over a big chunk of the sideyard and over the compost pile. This one is growing between the slats of one of the pallets we have to enclose the compost.



Not quite sure how I'm going to cut it out of there. And then there's the third variety.



I also have a little stand of sunflowers that I think were planted by our resident chipmunk.



One crop I did plant that's been going at it gangbusters are my crowder peas. The description says they "have a tendency to vine in rich soils". Apparently my soil is very rich! They've been rather Jack-and-the-beanstalk-ish, and it's been sort of a constant effort to keep them trained up the rather strained poles I put up, rather than sprawling all over the walkway. I've already saved some early seeds for next year and expect I should have a decent little crop for eating by the end of season.



My tomato plants are also loaded with green tomatoes. I set them out a bit later than planned, so they've needed time to catch up, but I'm expecting they'll ripen up before frost hits. Long season crops are always a bit of a challenge here, but being by the ocean and having a south-facing hillside keeps us effectively as a USDA zone 7 microclimate, even though we're nominally zone 5 or 6, depending on which version of the map you reference. Since that designation only looks at minimum winter temps, though, we still run into the issue of a short season, but as with knitting, it's more about the process for me than the final product.

Garden 2010

Working a ton lately, including a day shift tomorrow, so this is just a brief popping-my-head-in-to-say-hello post. I wanted to share a couple pics of the first seedlings I'm starting for this year's garden. I built a small "grow op" in the cellar with a seed tray heat mat, a fluorescent fixture with full spectrum (2800K) bulbs, and Mylar sheeting to reflect the light as evenly as possible. First up are the peas - crowder peas & butterpeas, to be specific.



The butterpeas are in the background and crowder peas in front. These are both very southern crops, and lifelong favorites of mine. I tried growing both by direct sowing them last year, since our southern exposure and proximity to the ocean puts us firmly in USDA Zone 6, with the front of the house even being functionally a Zone 7 microclimate. They did okay, even with all the rain, but they just never had time to produce adequately, so I'm hoping starting them indoors & early will make a big difference. So far so good.

Next up are my brandywine tomatoes, which are just sprouting.



You may recall that I lost all my tomatoes last year to late blight, thanks to the incessant rain. I'd grown brandywines the year before and am convinced it's the ultimate fresh tomato for flavor. Buying tomatoes from the supermarket is nothing short of an act of desperation for me, so having to pull up all my plants and throw them away last year was traumatic and sad. Hopefully we won't have a repeat this year, but by getting them started now, I'm hedging my bets that I can harvest at least some if this does turn out to be another blighted year.

In the same flat as the brandywines but not yet germinated are more artichokes. Since we have a bit much sustained cold for them to overwinter here, I'm starting new seeds, which I'm remembering are a bit slow to germinate. We should have enough chill yet to come that I can set them out in near-freezing weather to fool them into thinking they've gone through a winter, as they're biennials that don't set blooms (the chokes are actually flower buds) until their second year.

I was dismayed when the artichoke seed arrived to see that the variety had been patented, information that was not provided on the website, or I wouldn't have bought them. I am generally opposed to patenting plant varieties, since a) I see it as an affrontery to nature to try to patent a living organism based on its genetics, and b) the patent means that nobody can legally propagate or collect seeds from the plant without obtaining permission from (which generally means paying a licensing fee to) the patent holder, which I find repugnant. Of course, having seeds in hand, I decided I was better off making use of them and planted them despite my ethical objections.

Hopefully they won't taste bitter as a result.

An Early Spring

When I got home this morning (by which I mean Saturday), I looked to see if the reticulated irises were peeking through the ground yet. Nada.

By the time I slept a few hours, though, and went back outside in the afternoon, they had magically appeared. This first crocus was also pushing up:



The iris is always the first blossom of the spring in my beds and has come up a little earlier each year, but last year it didn't blossom until March 15. I was in India at the time, but I had David watching for it and he sent me a pic. This year, the daffodils are leafing out and already have flower buds, and my Florentine tulips are leafed out nicely, though I haven't noticed flower buds yet. The Dutch & Siberian irises and daylilies are also putting up leaves already.

The reason for the early start this year is, of course, the lack of snow cover, which is not entirely a good thign, in my book. Still, I can't change it, so I'm just going to go with it. Tomorrow is supposed to be a beautiful day, so I intend to spend it doing yardwork and cleaning out those beds.

Does Your Artie Choke?

My first attempt at growing artichokes has been fun, though not terribly productive. I harvested this one today, though, and found another small one growing on the same plant, so perhaps there will be more to come yet. I steamed this one (though they always seem to need more steaming than I manage to give them) and we had it with fresh melted garlic butter, which was absolutely teh nom. For next year, I definitely want to start them earlier and get them in the ground earlier, because they really are quite the fun treat to pull apart and eat.

The garden has been a bit of a mixed bag this year. I expect to get maybe enough scarlet runner beans to cook as part of one meal, but they've been fun to watch. There are a few pumpkins and winter squash, so that's not a total loss. The tomatoes were a sad, tragic loss (Curse you, Late Blight!). I'm still remaining hopeful that I'll get some butterpeas, but a somewhat late start coupled with the wettest summer on record means they're only just producing pods. And unless my crowder peas get really busy, they may not even make it that far. At least the garlic made me very happy, and I'm already planning for even more next year.

The other thing I'm planning, if I can find the time and energy, is to shift some of my raised beds around and rework my tiny front ledge. The neighbors across the street decided to put in a bright halogen driveway light about a year ago that they leave on pretty much all night long, and it drives David crazy. I'm not terribly thrilled about it myself, but I don't have the glare straining my eyes when I'm working at the computer, either. At any rate, I'm thinking to construct a woven lattice living fence of willow right where the hillside drops off, moving the flower beds away from the foundation, and then turning the current beds and measly strip of grass into vegetable beds.

We'll see how well I manage to make that happen.

Weekend Edition

My off week was broken up by a shift on Thursday night I switched out in order to have next Friday off. Still, it wasn't entirely unproductive on the home front. I've been slowly adding blocks for the reversible Roman stripe quilt I'm making for our bed. I had two dozen fat quarters of oriental and complementary prints, so I divided them into cool(ish) and warm(ish) tones to give the two sides different feels. This is the cool(er) side:



And this is the warm(er) side:



These photos ended up with a bit too much of a greenish cast to them, but the colors are fairly close. Only another 106 blocks to go, then I can assemble these all with sashing strips, attach a border, apply a binding, and we'll have a queen-sized quilt. At this rate, I may be able to get it all done before December, though I'm really hoping for sooner.

Yesterday was also a good day for doing things outdoors. There have been precious few of those days this summer, so I kind of have to make the most of them. I got the side doors finished and mounted on the chicken coop and harvested these:



That's 44 bulbs of garlic. Some of them are the Russian red variety I've been growing the past couple of years and some are a Spanish red from our friends George and Rain at Green Label Organic shirt company. They live down in Barbara Kingsolver country in Virginia and the t-shirt company is their primary business (Great shirts, check them out!) - that's how we know them - but Rain sells garlic locally on the side. Both varieties are nom and have a bit of heat to them and I can't really tell them apart. What I do know is that I'm looking forward to cooking with them, though the big bulbs will likely be saved for planting this fall.

In other news, yesterday was a bad day for rodents Chez Tête-de-laine. David woke me up yesterday morning to deal with a rat who had gotten herself caught in the chicken wire while trying to go after leftover feed. Of course, just after I got to the scene of the crime, she expired, and I found after pulling her out that she'd managed to eviscerate herself, possibly by trying to chew her way out of her predicament. Had she been unhurt, she'd have been relocated far away. While we're not big fans of vermin, I do believe in giving them a chance if they're not too invasive/obtrusive. As it was, I was left with a much easier task.

Then this morning around 5AM, I went downstairs to let Tuck out one last time before bed. When I turned on the kitchen light, there were Cougar and Tolo with a dead mouse. Well, it was Cougar with the mouse - flipping the carcass up in the air and batting it about while growling at Tolo, who was hovering expectantly. While very proud of our predators, I decided David wouldn't enjoy dealing with the mess if they eventually decided to eat her and leave half lying around. So away she went into a bag, and then into the trash. I say she because it was an apparently very pregnant female, which means that's one generation of mice that won't be born in our walls, which is not a bad thing at all.

I Blame the Zombies

I really was planning to go to NH Sheep & Wool yesterday and see everybody, but I got caught up in this weird dream about zombies. Well, pseudo-zombies, at least, because there really wasn't so much with the eating of brains, but everybody was getting this virus that made them kind of shuffle-y and bitey, which was how they spread the virus. And George H.W. Bush (Not W, but the dad) was somehow involved in and recruiting me to help stop it, and Barbara Bush was there, but with long, black Gypsy woman hair. And when I woke up there was a huge puddle of drool on the pillow and it was too late to go to the festival. Last night the dreams included Isaac from the Love Boat, so I'm not quite sure what's going on in my brain.

Fortunately, though, the weather held well enough both Friday and Saturday to get some much-needed yardwork done. Our lawn has been growing like a B-movie radioactive monster, so getting it mowed was a priority and the Flying Spaghetti Monster blessed us with nice weather for that on Friday. I also took a few minutes out of that task to get rid of several of these:



That's a gall caused by the cedar apple rust fungus, Gymnosporangium juniperi-virginianae. There were at least a couple more galls too high in the tree for me to get, but I'll be treating the apple trees regularly with antifungal sprays (already on order) this summer to try to minimize the problem and see if I can possibly break the cycle.

And speaking of apple trees, remember the cute little pea trellis I made with prunings? Well look at it now (Look closely, since it's a little hard to see, or embiggen).



It's leafing out! That means they're also likely to produce roots and turn into little apple tree clones, so I can dig them up at the end of the season and plant a little orchard. Most commercial apple trees, of course, are grafted onto rootstock selected for disease resistance and ability to set tree size, but this heirloom variety, Wealthy, is known to be a hardy variety and actually originated from seed that came from Maine, so I expect it'll do well.

I also got a few pics of the flower beds. This first one is the last of the daffodils and the only double-flowering (and only white one) one of the bunch. I have no idea how it got there, but it smells lovely.



And then there's this unassuming lovely:



And some proof that we really are in a different growing zone from most of the rest of the state (the southern exposure also helps):





I also managed a slightly blurry photo of one of the more mobile residents of the property:



I know some people get freaked out, but we really are very fond of our little garter snakes. Given how close they tend to stay to the house, I suspect they've got a hibernaculum somewhere down along or inside the foundation. I just wish they'd eat more of the slugs and snails.

And lastly yesterday, I managed to capture the boys having a moment. Tuck was actually looking much happier before I pulled out the camera.



There's also been a bit of knitting, but it's an experimental lace sampler and won't be fit for public consumption until it's done and blocked. And now I need to get ready to go back to work. Why does that always seem to come around too soon?

Nom Nom Nom

Since it's raining and there's a hurricane on the way (which likely won't still be a hurricane by the time it gets here, so we're not fretting about it), I decided tonight was a night for split pea soup. I got some dried split peas at the store, but this time I didn't need to buy any parsnips, because I have some growing in my garden beds. I'd been holding off on pulling any, as they're supposed to be a bit sweeter after a frost, but I decided it was time and pulled this monster out.



That serving tray is about 20" (51cm) across, just to give you an idea. And even though there was some splitting along one side and a little bit of insect damage, there was still plenty for the soup pot. And the soup was perfect.

Plotz-Inducing Cuteness

While I was making soup, Tuck took a nap in his other daddy's arms. You can just barely see the tip of his tongue.

Peas & Carrots!

The carrots are itty bitty baby ones from some thinning I did today. I was less than impressed with the germination rate of my shell peas. Perhaps I should have added inoculant to the soil, but you'd think there'd be plenty of naturally occurring microbes in a pile of composted 'paca poo. My pole beans have been really slow growers, too, and are only now starting to send up some tendrils.

On the other hand, my shell beans are producing like gangbusters and should provide us with some good soup beans for the fall. Speaking of which, I think the two above items are destined to go in a soup of some sort for dinner tonight.

Knitters with Lots of Balls

David and I got home yesterday afternoon from the Men's Spring Knitting Retreat at Easton Mountain, which was organized over the winter by Ted and Joe. After Friday's sadness, it was a much-needed escape, my only complaint being that it didn't last long enough.

Because I was a bit distracted on Friday and because events set us a couple hours behind, I forgot my camera and was stuck with the camera on my cell phone, which made for some very fuzzy pics (Sorry, Joe and Josh). And because we had to rush the 4.5 hrs back home so that I could drive the hour to work a 15 hr shift, I'm too tired to write any more about them. Click and you can read the (short) captions on my Flickr site.

















And then we came home to this:







And Inga is feeling better and her kidney values have improved with the IV fluids. Another day and I think it'll be time for her to come home.

And now I need desperately to sleep.

Garlic

Sprung!

No, not the Sir Mix-a-Lot variety, though it'll be interesting to see what sort of Google searches it attracts.

It's been a beautiful and busy spring around here the last several days, which is why it's been 5 days since my last post. Friday we went up to my parents', partly to visit them and retrieve a couple of apple trees they'd picked up for us, partly because it was a closer jumping off point to go do a herd health visit at an alpaca farm up in the mountains. David had never visited the mountains, the Northern part of the Appalachian range, and was surprised to see a fair bit of snow still on the mountains and even in the shady parts of the valley.

Sunday night at work was busy, busy, busy, with no down time at all to pick up the shawl-in-progress (I'm mostly through the 12th of 20 repeats for the body). Then I had a recheck appointment at an alpaca farm on my way home, and a ton of errands to run, and then a couple apple trees to plant. Yesterday, I only managed to get one of them done.



This is a Cole's Quince, which is a rare heirloom variety that originated here in southern Maine. It took me 3 or 4 hours to get the hole properly prepared and get this into the ground, partly because of the fibromyalgia but largely because of that fine harvest of rocks you can see in the photo.

After all that running around and hard physical labor, I dragged myself upstairs and took a long soak in a hot bath with lavender and cedarwood oils. I also fell asleep long enough that my wrinkles had wrinkles, but the tub is far too short for me to slide down and drown, so do not fear for my safety. And when I finally went to bed, I slept the sleep of the dead for 13 hours, with only the vaguest recollection of David coming to bed and getting up.

Today's planting was a bit quicker, as there were not quite as many rocks (though still some very nice specimens which can't be seen in the photo).



This one is a Wealthy, which was developed in Minnesota from seed that originated in Maine. I had ordered a Baldwin, but they didn't have any when my folks went to pick up the order and my mother settled on this one instead. It's supposed to ripen earlier and doesn't have quite the storage quality of the Baldwin, but I look forward to seeing what I get from it.

Of course, part of the fun of gardening on an old farm like this is that it also becomes a bit of an archaeological dig when you come across things like this:



or these:



My flower bed also continues to surprise and delight. These little species tulips opened up next to the steps the other day.



I really prefer the species varieties of tulips to the common Triumph varieties that one usually sees planted. Largely, I think, because they're so unexpected, but I feel like they also have more character - each is a bit different and unique. One thing I'm not terribly keen on is double flowering varieties of most anything, but these daffodils opened up quite unexpectedly, and I must admit I think they're lovely.



And I've been watching for the last several weeks to see whether the Siberian irises were going to get over their indignation at being dug up last fall (They're such primadonnas). At least some of them have.



I won't hold my breath for blossoms this year, but we shall see.

First Flower!

I'm dead tired and about to go to bed. But I couldn't without sharing this photo of the first flower to open in my flower beds. I came home from work this morning to find it. It's not a crocus, as one might expect, but rather an Iris reticulata, a tiny, extremely early species iris that propagates by bulb rather than by rhizome.



I love these. They're very hardy - essentially zero care - and even though the blossoms are fairly short-lived, they're just gorgeous and such a welcome splash of color. You can see a second one coming up that will probably be open by tomorrow.

Spring really is here.

Hat #2

I finished it tonight with about 8 inches left of the darker color. It's now been washed and will be added to my Dulaan pile once it's dry.

As soon as I was finished I went through the Dulaan stash and dug out 5 skeins of Tahki yarns - 3 of Donegal Tweed and two of a very similar, though less tweedy, variegated yarn in colors that are complementary to the Donegal Tweed. There should be enough here for a child's vest, so that's what I've cast on for.



The plan in my head is to do most of the body with lice patterning using the pinkish yarn, then some other patterning in the greenish-purplish yarn over the chest & shoulders.

An Afternoon's Labour

The weather was quite nice this afternoon, so I decided to try to tackle some of our overgrown front yard. If you've been reading this blog for a while, you probably know that our front yard is a very steep little hill. Once upon a time, the landladies had it well mulched and planted in daylilies. The daylilies are still there, but not so much with the mulch these days. Last summer it got very jungley, and the daylilies were practically choked out by grass and weeds and evil, evil, evil, evil bittersweet (I don't think I can, in fact, convey how awful this vine is. Anyone who promotes it, whether as an ornamental or for use in floral arrangements, should be dragged out and quartered, then shot in non-vital places, then cut into little pieces and burned, with their souls being sent to the deepest level of hell. They probably deserve worse, but I'm just soft that way.).

So after four hours of raking, and pulling, and digging, and throwing, and hauling, I had this to show for it:



Unfortunately, there's nothing in this photo that really gives a good sense of scale, but this pile probably contains at least a couple hundred pounds of yard waste. This represents about a third of our front yard. There's still the flattish (by which I mean "less steep") part, which needs to be prepared for two apple trees I've ordered and will be picking up in a month, and the western side of the yard, which is overgrown with rambling rose and staghorn sumac. It was all I could manage in one afternoon, though, and the effort has left me quite sore.

The Latest Word Around Town

Bray House, the oldest house in town - and, consequently, the oldest house in the state - was put on the auction block this past weekend. It sold for $1.8M, which is fairly average for the high end homes (i.e., much, much nicer than our house) around here. Rumor has it that the winning bidder was 80's pop star Daryl Hall. Coincidentally, the other half of Hall & Oates is also an alpaca breeder. So who knows, maybe we can get them to come sing Maneater to the 'pacas.