mudpies's Blog

The great escape artist
Aug 5, 2009 | 7:30 AM PST
Tags: cotula , hosta , Calendula , stonecrop , bugloss

Yesterday was a bit stressful.  My found hound managed to free himself yet again.  I call him my found hound because a neighbour, assuming he was one of C's hunting dogs, brought him to us about four years ago.  He was really skinny, but still full of energy.  The vet thinks he was about a year old at the time - still not much more than a big, awkward puppy.  I thought that he may have been left behind by a hunter after he wandered too far, so I told everyone I knew, put an ad in the local paper, and made posters and put them up all over town with negative results.  I fell in love with him, dubbed him Clyde, and allowed him to adopt us.  (As time went by, having become intimately acquainted with the little rascal, I now believe he may have been discarded by a hunter.  He's gun-shy to the point of cowering, trembling and hiding whenever he hears a loud noise.)

Now, one would think that a foundling would be an inexpensive proposition.  WRONG!!  First came an initial veterinary examination - $$$.  Clyde was underweight and needed high-protein food - $$$, and flea protection - $$$.  Of course, I just had to buy him a nice collar and retractable leash - $$$.  Next, I needed to trim his claws.  That precipitated a fruitless episode of extreme exertion on my part and on C's.  Hence, he goes to the vet every six weeks for a pedicure - $$$, $$$, $$$.  He's a runner, so I had to buy a long chain - $$$.  Then he barked incessantly at dogs, passing motorists, squirrels, pedestrians, etc.  Out of consideration for my neighbours, I bought a 'bark collar' - $$$.  This particular device, while effective, gave him an electrical shock each time he barked.  I came to regard it as cruel, so I bought a different kind - an equally effective one that sprays eucalyptus whenever he barks - $$$.  (He eventually learned not to bark all the time and no longer needs to wear that collar.)  One day when C had taken him for a walk, he bolted after a squirrel and broke his retractable leash, so I bought a new, heavy-duty one - $$$.  It lasted a few months till he decided to chase something again, so I had to buy a conventional leash - $$$.  On his second visit to the vet, she discovered he had a mild case of heartworm and needed medication for that - $$$.  When he nearly had a heart attack from fear of a thunderstorm, I took him back to the vet who prescribed tranquilizers - $$$.  He eventually became overweight, so I need to buy special food to try (unsuccessfully) to slim him down - $$$.

 Yesterday, he managed to slip his collar for the umpteenth time.  Because he has a small head (due, no doubt, to a lack of brains) and a fat neck (due to his propensity for stealing the cat's food), I couldn't make it smaller without strangling him.  I happened to look outside to see him capering all over the busy street beside my house.  I've learned not to chase him because he regards that as a game and allows me to get within a foot of him before he runs off again.  I got some venison sausage out of the fridge and, after waiting for traffic to clear, coaxed him across the street and into the house by making a trail of sausage bits.  Then I headed for the local Co-op to buy a harness - $$$.  He is, without a doubt, the most expensive found hound in history.

Not only that, but the nursery at the Co-op had an end-of-season sale of perennials.  I've been attending 'Plant Buyers Anonymous' meetings regularly, but the temptation was just too much yesterday.  When I couldn't reach my sponsor, I had a serious relapse and bought some more - a stonecrop (even though I have one at home that I could split), a spotted bellflower calendula, a beautiful little gold hosta, a spotted bugloss, and one that I've never seen before - a cotula 'Pratt's Black Brass Buttons', all for $10.00.  While I tend to be frugal in most other aspects of my life, I'm afraid I overspend drastically on pets and plants. 

Second time around typing this entry
May 4, 2009 | 6:58 PM PST
Tags: onions , Asparagus , tiller , daffodil , day lilies , iris , hydrangea , holding bed , bluebells , dianthus , stonecrop , forsythia , sprirea , heritage roses , peonies , tomato cages , foundation plantings , Berm , lasagna garden , lady's
Well, my friends, the soil was dry enough to plant onions this afternoon.  Hubby raked, set out the lines, and made the furrows while I tucked the sets into the earth, covered them and tamped the soil down.  It’s amazing how much satisfaction can be gained by seeing one small area (four 15’ rows smack dab in the middle of our garden) all smoothed out like a bed spread.  We plant the garden in three sections with paths between so that the harvest is easily accessible.

We didn’t get to eat asparagus, though.  Being the greedy person I am, I decided to wait one more day so we could have more of the delicious stuff.

After we got the onions in, my husband (hereinafter referred to as ‘C’ since he wishes to remain anonymous following yesterday’s rant) tried long and hard to start his tiller.  Didn't happen.  God is good!  No plants were harmed through C’s over-enthusiastic use of said machine.

Meanwhile, I went back to cleaning up my holding bed.  Virtually every plant over-wintered successfully:  daffodils, day lilies, irises, perennial geraniums, hydrangeas, bluebells, dianthus, stonecrop, chives, forsythia, spirea, and even some heritage rose bushes.  I’ve never been successful with roses.  The person who gave them to me said she had actually tried unsuccessfully to kill them off.  There has to be a lesson in that.

I was especially excited to see two peonies popping through the ground, discards from another friend’s bed.  I adore the outrageously gaudy appearance of peonies, but there’s no room to accommodate them in my flower beds here at home.  I once planted a pair of them on either side of a ‘telephone tower’ (those ugly brown aluminum things that are scattered throughout urban areas) at the edge of my lawn, but someone cut a cable and the linemen trampled all over them when they came to make repairs.  (No, that time it wasn’t my dear husband.)  I’ll have to protect them from the wind (and the tiller) with tomato cages later.

When we build our new home at the farm, I’ll have plenty of plant material to start my foundation plantings and the berm I’ve been designing (and revising) in my head for the past couple of years.

My attempt at making a ‘lasagna bed’ has met with mixed results.  The only shady area on our farm is a curved row of spruce trees that border the lane between the barn and our vegetable garden.  Winter before last I came across an article about creating a new bed using the ‘lasagna method’.  “Aha!” thought I, “the perfect solution to making a shade bed at the farm!”  I spent all summer long digging out the most persistent weeds – burdocks and dandelions – then section by section between the trees, laying down several thicknesses of newspaper that had been soaked thoroughly to prevent it from flying away and to accelerate its eventual decomposition.  I covered the newspapers with a generous layer of compost, then a layer of spoiled straw, then a layer of pony and goat manure (It’s a good thing I value their droppings, because neither creature is good for much else.), and finally another layer of straw.  Then, like Rumplestiltskin,  I waited for Mother Nature to work her magic, turning straw not into gold, but into soil.  Dreams of my beautiful shade bed made our long, dreary winter more bearable.

Well, Ma N did a fine job at the top end of the bed.  But as she worked her way towards the bottom, she was prevented from accomplishing the desired result by an over-enthusiastic top layer of straw.  I managed to circumvent the decomposition process by piling it on too deep.  So I spent much of the afternoon turning the stuff over, bringing the wonderful rotten stuff to the top in preparation for another application of compost and pony poop.  Hopefully, it’ll be ready to plant by fall, but if not, I’ll have another winter to design that end of the bed in my head.  I must remember to take my camera with me so I can display my new, if far from complete) shade bed to all and sundry.

I’ve been splitting the perennials in my shade bed at home and moving them down to the farm.  After years of struggling to grow in sticky clay, they’re luxuriating (along with a bumper crop of earthworms) in the new soil Ma N created at the top of my new bed.  Thus far, I’ve planted five hostas, some wild violets, a couple of astilbes, several small bleeding hearts, a couple of clumps of lady’s mantle, and four clumps of silver mound that miraculously made it through the winter virtually bare-rooted in a pot above the ground.  The silver mound nagged at my guilty conscience all winter long.  A friend gave it to me late in the fall and I just never got around to planting it.  How ungrateful!  Early this spring, I moved the broken old plastic pot to my garage door intending to throw it on the compost heap at the farm.  When I was about to put it into the back of my van, I noticed some new growth at the base.  Lo and behold, I split it up into four sections and planted it in my new bed where it has thrived ever since.

Well, my friends, I hope I haven’t bored you with this long entry.  Having typed it out twice, I’m definitely bored.  Happy gardening to all, and to all a good night.