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Sunday, January 22, 2017

Winter garden--now with 50% more snow!

We are just starting the third of three storms in a row to hit Flagstaff. There's about a foot of snow on the ground now, but the pictures below were taken when there were only about 6 inches. I'm not really a winter person, but I love how grasses and seed heads look against the snow. The winter garden is all about shape and texture and contrast. Now that I live where winter is a thing that keeps me from gardening for months, I'm trying to get better at finding beauty in the garden in all seasons. It's not too difficult on peaceful mornings after a snowfall.

My favorite bit of yard art looks even more whimsical in the snow:

Mums peeking through their snowy blanket:

Ornamental grasses and a mostly-covered boulder:

More mums:

Grasses and a softened boulder:

I think this is some kind of spirea:

Native grass:

Another boulder and the back side of my favorite yard art:

For some reason, this corner of the yard makes me think of Frost's "Stopping by Woods." There's a dry creek bed flowing through the evergreens and cottonwoods, but the snow has reduced it to white undulations. 

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Found in Phoenix: roses from the bargain bin

For those who haven’t heard, Arizona is weird. No, I don’t mean our politicians (though if the shoe fits…). I mean our climate. Or climates, as we have quite a few. I live just outside Flagstaff, where winters are cold (USDA zone 6, the same as parts of Ohio), and we get quite a bit of snow, all because our elevation is 7000 feet. 140 miles south is Phoenix, which has hardiness zones 9b and 10a and is hotter than the surface of the sun all summer. Like I said, Arizona is weird. The point of this little discourse on the weather is to explain why I was able to find bareroot roses on clearance while we’re still shoveling snow. I had to run an errand in Phoenix a few days ago and found these beauties for $3 each at Lowe’s.

Gold Glow:


Blue Girl:



Olympiad:


Arizona: 



Our ground is still frozen and partly covered in snow, so we potted these guys in nursery cans and tucked them in our warmest, most sheltered spot since they're already leafing out. The poor things are going to be displeased the first time they experience a Flagstaff winter night, but they should survive. Once I can actually dig in our dirt, I'll put them in the cottage garden I'm creating and hope the grasshoppers don't eat them down to the nubs. 

Monday, January 16, 2017

Interwebs roundup: winter projects

‘Tis the season for armchair gardening--or in my case, desk chair gardening while planted in front of the computer. Bonus points for scowling out the window at the rain and/or snow and/or wind that keeps me from doing real gardening.

Winter is a good time for various garden projects that don’t require a pickaxe to get through frozen ground and that will not result in frostbite. Here are some of the best ones I’ve found in my cruising of the interwebs:

Simple project to create a worm composter from plastic buckets. This is a great project, especially since worm composters sell at nurseries for about $100.

Build a D.I.Y. Lighting System - from You Grow Girl
Gayla Trail explains how she built a DIY lighting system for overwintering tropical plants and starting seeds using materials readily available at hardware and home improvement stores. Or, if you’d like to build the shelves from scratch, check out Build Your Own Simple Seed Starting Shelves from Common Sense Homesteading.

Yeah, I know - Christmas is over. But you can make these in any shape you want, so think of them as homemade bird feeders rather than Christmas ornaments. Bonus: the first recipe on this page contains no peanut butter, so if you (like me) have family members who are allergic to peanuts, you can still do this project.

How to Plan Your Garden - from We Got Real
A nice introduction to planning a vegetable garden. I recommend looking at lots of other sites on garden planning too (and Pinterest. Of course Pinterest) for ideas. I’ve been spending some of these cold winter days planning a pond.

How to Make Upcycled Canning Lid Plant Markers - from Homespun Seasonal Living
A great use for used canning jar lids - requires only one tool (an awl) and 3 other items (jar lids, twine or yarn, and a permanent marker). Now that’s my kind of project!

And then there’s one of my favorite winter gardening activities: reading gardening books. Here are a few best-of-2016 lists to jumpstart your winter reading:


Now go rock these winter days!

Sunday, January 1, 2017

Winter project: canning spaghetti sauce



Pretty much every family has its recipes, the ones passed down through the generations, modified by each cook, and treasured (or occasionally dreaded) by each new generation of kids. In my family there are only two of these, and both began, as far as I know, with my mother. One of them is the family spaghetti sauce recipe.


I learned to cook by helping my mother in the kitchen, starting when I was maybe 4 or 5. I liked cooking project days, when I would get in the way help Mom assemble whatever vat o' goodness she was making that day. I was always especially happy when it was spaghetti sauce day, because (like pretty much every American kid), I loved spaghetti. I especially loved the mushrooms in the sauce, so my dad would pick the mushrooms out of his portion and give them to me.

Once I was on my own, I asked my mother for her spaghetti sauce recipe. Of course she didn't have one--she just made it from memory, with a pinch of this and a glop of that, and it turned out magical. I made it with her one afternoon, and she tried to identify actual quantities, but of course the results were never quite the same as when she made it. So I fiddled with it over the years until it became my spaghetti sauce.

The recipe below makes about 7 quarts, which happens to be exactly what my pressure canner will hold (this is not a coincidence). You can make smaller or larger amounts as you wish and freeze it instead of can it if you prefer. Quantities of stuff are also negotiable. If you hate mushrooms, you're wrong you can leave those out. Whatever. It's spaghetti sauce, not a chemistry experiment. There are, however, a few caveats if you're going to can the stuff:
  • You *must* use a pressure canner. This stuff has meat in it along with low-acid vegetables. It's a breeding ground for botulism. Do not try to can anything with meat or low-acid anything in a boiling-water canner. If you want to can spaghetti sauce in a boiling water bath, follow a meatless recipe designed for boiling-water-bath canning such as this one from the National Center for Home Food Preservation.
  • This recipe is not an "official" "approved" home canning recipe. Normally that's a big no-no. I get around it by following the processing directions for the ingredient with the longest recommended processing time--the ground beef. You can find pressure canning recipes for meat sauce with shorter processing times, but since mine hasn't been laboratory-tested, I play it safe. My new year's resolution every year is to not give my family botulism. So far I have a 100% success rate with that one (we won't discuss my success rate with other resolutions). If you have any concerns about canning, just freeze it. I do that frequently when I'm too lazy to hassle with canning, and it works just fine.

OK, here we go:

The recipe

3 large onions, chopped
3 medium bell peppers, chopped
3 or so jalapenos or other chilies, minced (optional - add if you like a little heat with your spaghetti)
6-8 cloves of garlic, minced (or to taste)
About 90 oz tomatoes, fresh or canned. If using fresh, peel, core, and roughly chop them.
48 oz. tomato sauce
18 oz. tomato paste
3 heaping tbsp dried basil (or to taste - I often add more)
2 heaping tbsp dried oregano (or to taste - again, I often add more. I have a heavy hand with herbs.)
About 4 tsp salt or to taste
1 tsp pepper or to taste
24 oz. sliced fresh mushrooms (or more or less or none - whatever you like)
3 lbs. ground beef, browned and drained

Toss all of the above into a big (and I do mean *big*) stockpot and simmer for a few hours. Or do what I do: put it in a couple of slow cookers (I use one huge one and one smaller one; it fills both) and cook it on low for about 8-10 hours. I like to start the slow cookers at bedtime, let them cook all night, and can the sauce in the morning.

To can, follow the directions for pressure canning that came with your canner, adjusting for altitude if needed. As noted above, I use the processing time and pressure instructions for canning ground beef to be sure my sauce isn't under-processed. Makes about 7 quarts.

Friday, December 30, 2016

Rooting cuttings with a Forsythe pot - how did I not know about this?

I was scrolling through the plant propagation forum on the National Gardening Association site and stumbled across something I'd never heard of: a Forsythe pot for rooting cuttings. So I did what any good librarian gardener does: I researched it (OK, I Googled it and followed a link from the forum post). Turns out that the Forsythe pot method seems to solve the biggest problems I have with rooting cuttings:

  1. Forgetting to water them enough
  2. Solving problem 1 above by covering them with plastic, only to have them mold or rot
The Forsythe pot uses a reservoir of water in a clay pot to provide steady moisture. I haven't tried it yet (I just heard about it a few minutes ago--give me till at least noon), but it sounds promising. 

If you'd like to learn more, see the following: 
Each one recommends slight variations, so it's worth reading through all three before you create your own Forsythe pot. 

Now if only I had something to take cuttings from, but it's winter in Flagstaff. *sigh* If it weren't for winter sowing seeds, I'd be reduced to sharpening shovels. 

Thursday, December 29, 2016

Winter sowing, or how to stay sane till March

I’m not a big fan of winter. I don’t ski (too clumsy), I hate being cold (I’m a Californian - we don’t do cold), and, most of all, I love to garden, which is extremely difficult when the ground is frozen. And really--frozen ground? What sort of hellish concept is that? Apparently I live on Pluto. So my challenge every winter is to keep from going crazy until I can play in the dirt. I do that by:
  • Reading garden porn (gardening books, magazines, and seed catalogs, preferably glossy and colorful, preferably read while in the bathtub)
  • Playing in the snow
  • Planning next year’s garden (the triumph of hope over experience)
  • Walking through the garden department of every big box store in town and staring at the empty shelves with a pathetic look on my face, then checking for the 59th time to see if they have any seeds in stock yet
  • Looking at the Flagstaff gardening calendar for the 812th time this winter, trying to find something fun I’m supposed to be doing in January (watering evergreens and sharpening shovels doesn’t count as, “fun.”)
  • Dreaming up garden projects for my long-suffering husband to do when the weather is better (he doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to help me dig a pond in the spring)
  • Complaining about being cold
  • Moping


When I lived in Portland, I had a greenhouse, so I could play with plants in the dead of winter. I had a greenhouse here in Flagstaff for about 3 weeks till it was destroyed by a dust devil (Yes, really. It was reduced to a pile of plexiglass rubble. So was my soul as I stared at that pile of shattered dreams.) I also tried winter sowing when I lived in Portland, and it worked pretty well. So, since I’m tired of complaining and moping, I’m replacing those two items on the list above with winter sowing.


What is winter sowing? Glad you asked! I’d hate to think I’m talking to myself over here. It’s a method of sowing seeds, usually perennials and hardy annuals but some trees and shrubs too, in miniature greenhouses in the winter. Then you put those miniature greenhouses--usually made from containers like milk jugs--out in the rain and snow and leave them there till spring. The seeds germinate when they’re ready, and you have a garden full of plants that cost you very little.


This is my first year winter sowing in Flagstaff. It may be trickier here than in some places, because we have some pretty wild temperature fluctuations in the winter. We’ll see how it goes. If you’d like to try it (hey, it beats moping and complaining), here are some resources to get you started:


I managed to sow a few things today: lupine, chives, and two kinds of milkweed. I’m using the patio table on my deck to store them. I hope to have it full of containers by spring, but it looks kinda pathetic now:



If you’re going to winter sow, you’ll need seeds. You can buy them, save them (from your own plants or a friend’s), check out a local seed library, or--my favorite--trade with other gardeners. Try hosting a winter seed swap with your gardening friends or trade seeds with people online. GardenWeb has seed swap forums, and some members of the Winter Sower’s Facebook group post their trade lists. If you’d like to trade seeds with me, just leave a comment on this post. Here are my current trade lists:

You'll also need containers. The sites listed above will give you lots of ideas for those. Right now I'm using containers from restaurant takeout and the Safeway deli. When my stash gets low, we'll probably start eating takeout or supermarket fried chicken for every meal--just so I can have the containers for winter sowing. Gotta love my priorities. 

Good luck staying sane this winter, and just remember: spring is coming.

Saturday, December 24, 2016

Christmas past--with Krylon


Christmas is one of those times when past and present converge in a strange time warp. Memories haunt this time of year--happy memories we try to recreate for our kids and grandkids (often at the cost of our own sanity), sad memories that rush back with the sights, sounds, and scents of Christmas, and memories of loved ones no longer with us. The ghosts of Christmas Past and Christmas Present blur together in a muddle of memory and emotion and nostalgia and joy and pain. It’s no wonder people drink a lot this time of year. But this isn’t going to be an essay on the joy or heartbreak of Christmas or (heaven forbid) how to do Christmas right. Ugh. Instead, I’m going to share one of my Christmas stories with you, the first memory of Christmas I have. And yes, for you purists out there, it’s gardening-related (sort of). Come on in, find a comfy chair, and join me for a visit to Christmas Past.

The first Christmas I remember was when I was somewhere between 4 and 6 years old, so sometime between 1971 and 1973. We lived in the country in Northern California, and we were, ahem, dirt poor (garden jokes = dad jokes with dirt, not to be confused with dirty dad jokes). I don’t remember the presents I got that year, though I’m sure there were one or two. What I do remember are the ornaments. My mother bought a dozen royal blue Christmas balls, and those were the only ornaments we had. So my mother, being the creative problem-solver she was, decided we would make more. We cut up styrofoam meat trays and some other sort of packaging we had lying around, glued bits of eucalyptus to them (California, remember? Not a lot of evergreens where we lived except for juniper), and coated the results in silver spray paint. A Krylon Christmas! See? When I describe myself as a California redneck, I’m not lyin’.

Somehow my parents had gotten an artificial tree, and that year it was festooned with blue globes and silver eucalyptus meat tray parts. Awesome, huh? Actually, it was. I still have a few of those homemade ornaments, though the last of the blue balls (ho ho ho - I said, “blue balls”) broke about 20 years ago. There's a picture of one of them at the beginning of this post. Here are a few more:



They don’t have much eucalyptus left--it’s worn off over the last 40+ years of loving use--but they’re still around, and I still hang them on the Christmas tree each year. Each time I do, I think of my mother, doing the best she could and making something beautiful out of what she had and could afford--and teaching me to do the same.

I’m not poor now. We aren’t rich, but we have what we need and some of what we want, and that is a blessing beyond measure. But the lesson I learned that Christmas, cutting out scraps and gathering bits of eucalyptus, has stuck with me. For me, it’s part of the allure of gardening. You can start with almost nothing--a tiny seed, a fragile transplant, a cutting--and nurture it into something beautiful. Growing things is a form of magic to me, a way to make something out of (almost) nothing. Gardening also teaches me to find clever uses for stuff that other people throw away: garden art from recycled materials, pots from yogurt containers, winter-sowing containers from takeout boxes, and, of course, compost from kitchen scraps and yard debris. Reuse and repurpose and recycle--and make something beautiful. Thanks, Mom, for teaching me a lesson that has shaped my life these many years. It’s the best Christmas gift you ever gave me.