A Tough Job Done

I'm an apple a day girl and I've got this fantasy that my garden might one day produce bountiful harvests each fall of apples and peaches and lemons and figs. So a few years ago, I bought a self-pollinating golden delicious and I planted it on a sloping bank in place of a crab apple tree that had been destroyed when a part of my neighbor's tulip tree blew down in a storm. Unfortunately, or rather fortunately, the crab apple recovered and in a few years it outdistanced the rate of growth of the apple tree and last summer, the poor apple tree, so stressed, started to fall over. I tied it to the crab tree and vowed to transplant it.

Well, the job needed strength and I should have surely hired someone to do it, but yesterday afternoon, I did it myself. The tree will one day thank me--if it survived the fairly harsh circumstances in which I yanked it and tugged it and dragged it. But once I wrestled it up the hill and into its new home, right next to the forsythia bush and on level ground, I imagined it was already giving me high approval ratings. The Putterer

Ten Things I'll Do This Year in My Garden

1. To enhance the flavor of both, grow basil parallel to the tomato plants.

2. To guard against red spiders, plant garlic with the tomatoes.

3. Marjoram and oregano are beneficial to all nearby plants for growth and flavor. Plant both in many places.

4. Rue does not get along well with basil. But roses like it.

5. Plant rue with the fig tree because as Pliny observed: "Rue and the fig tree are in great league and amitie together."

6. But remember that when rue is in flower, it can cause severe dermatitis.

7. Sow two or three radish seeds in the cucumber hills to protect them against cucumber beetles.

8. Plant squash in mid-summer to avoid insect damage.

9. Keep garlic far away from beans and peas.

10. Plant nasturtiums under the apple tree to protect it from woolly aphids. The Putterer

Source: Carrots Love Tomatoes & Roses Love Garlic by Louise Riotte

Everything that Dies, Some Day Comes Back

October and it's all done. This picture of my phlox David (white) and Veronica (lavender) is old, stored for a future post back in August. Outside this morning, the remnants of phlox petals are gently drifting away.

The 2009 garden might have been one of my best. The dependable rainstorms throughout the season meant I rarely watered (I think once or twice this whole summer). In fact, the biomass that I've raked and weeded out of the garden this summer is probably a record. The deer that came through must have encountered the deer resistant plants that I'd put in, and decided to graze elsewhere. His damage was minimized by a flush of growth. The family of wrens that took up residence in my birdhouse hopefully made it to adulthood. The goldfinches have moulted. Their gorgeous yellow feathers have turned an autumn brown. The banana tree in the pot on the deck is probably confused by the cool evening temperatures. (What am I going to do with it?) The apple tree never produced but at least it's not growing sideways anymore. The peach tree survived the gypsy moth infestation. The Fourth of July tomatoes delivered all through August. The herbs and peppers are still holding fast. And the eggplant plant gave me two or three lovely Aubergine.

Now comes the process of closing it all out before the first freeze in mid-November. The fall chores sometimes come with a self-imposed anxiety to rake and clean and put away. The crush of fall social obligations, sports games and school activities. The temptation to work late in the evenings and go in on weekends to meet the press deadline for goSmithsonian. All of this conflicts with garden work and chores. I have to remember that no one cares if the plants turn brown and fall over, and the leaves gather on the lawn. It's the way it is supposed to be and I need to move slowly, deliberately, one step, one season, at a time. The Putterer