Pond is for the birds

 Happy New Year! I've been traveling and lounging, because that's what one is supposed to do during the holidays, so I don't have any exciting gardening updates. What I do have are birds. Lots and lots of birds. This is our first winter with our pond, and apparently the feathered population of Flagstaff has decided it's a giant birdbath. We have flocks of birds hanging out in our front yard, and every morning, they're in the pond, bathing and drinking and being generally hilarious. We love the entertainment, though our driveway is now festooned with a fine glaze of bird droppings. Ah, well: everything has a downside.

Another downside: it's hard to get decent pictures of our feathered visitors, because as soon as they see me come out the front door, they scatter. So I've started taking pictures of them through one of our living room windows. The only problem is, our living room windows are dirty. I haven't cleaned them properly in well over a year, because I'm lazy. So my bird pictures aren't as sharp and clear as they could be if I put down the camera and cleaned the damn windows. Ah, well. No one ever said this blog was operated by National Geographic.





All of the pictures above were taken yesterday morning. This one was taken in early November. We came back from a walk to find a roadrunner drinking from the pond. An honest-to-goodness road runner. No sign of a coyote or any packages from Acme, thank goodness. He fled at sight of us, but we were able to get a couple of pics thanks to a good zoom lens.



So far we're loving the pond. It's a bit of work, but it's kind of fun to have the local avian spa. I hope the birds hang around for grasshopper season. I need all the help I can get with those things.

Winter has been canceled

Today is Boxing Day. You know, the day after Christmas. A few days after the Winter Solstice. Late December. According to my calendar, it's supposed to be winter. And in case you forgot, I live in Flagstaff. 7000 feet elevation. Snow. Cold. One of the places in Arizona that's supposed to get actual winter. Note for Phoenicians and Southern Californians: 60F is not a winter temperature--or it isn't supposed to be. According to the National Weather Service, it's 58 today. I just came in from the garden, and I was comfortable in a short-sleeved t-shirt, so it's probably more like 60. On December 26. We got a whole half inch of snow a few days ago, and that's the closest we've come to anything resembling winter. I'm certainly not complaining - I'd much rather shovel manure than snow - but it's pretty weird. 

Here's a scene from my garden as of a little while ago: 

For contrast, here's the same area on Christmas Day last year: 

As a transplanted Californian, I prefer today's weather, but it's pretty bizarre. It feels like early October--or SoCal. Here are a few scenes from around the garden on this freakishly warm winter day: 

Side bed along the driveway: 

The pond:

Snapdragons and pansies in pots against the south wall of the house. I got these virtually free from my local big box garden center at the end of the season, and I'm experimenting to see if they'll winter over here. The area by the south wall of the house is at least a zone warmer than the rest of the yard, so I'm hopeful.  

This is the area I'm currently transforming from field of tumbleweeds and pokey things to a garden, preferably one that won't attack me when I walk through it (Question of the day: Why are half the wild plants in deserts armed with pokey things?) It isn't much to look at now, but I hope to use this picture as a "before" picture next summer to show how much it's improved. 

Tomorrow we're supposed to take a road trip in the desert. When we planned this, we thought it would be a nice escape from the snow and cold. I just checked the weather forecast for Yuma, our first stop, and it's only supposed to be about 15 degrees warmer than here. I'm so confused. 

Full on fall

 The following was written October 6, but thanks to some issues making the Blogger post editor play nicely with a Mac--and being too crazy busy to troubleshoot those issues--I'm just now getting it posted.

When I last posted, summer had just ended, but most of the summer stuff was still growing. Shortly after that post, we had a few nights of frost, which finished off the tomatoes, cucumbers, and winter squash. Amazingly, the basil and peppers (in large containers partly under eaves, next to a south-facing wall) are still hanging in there. Aside from those hold-outs, it's beginning to look a lot like fall around here. The aspens are golden, the cottonwoods are dropping leaves everywhere, and most of the summer flowers are done.

Thanks to the aforementioned cottonwoods, I had to climb into the pond to remove leaves, then throw a giant net over the whole thing to keep the rest of the leaves out. Fall leaves look lovely on the ground and sound lovely crunching underfoot. They are disgusting in a pond. They turn the water the color of iced tea, and they rot and foul the water, which is bad for the fish. So I got to spend about an hour up to my thighs in very cold, very nasty pond water. Good times.

I've also started the fall yard cleanup, ripping out spent tomato and squash vines. Soon--like tomorrow--I'll start clearing out weeds and layering manure over both old and new beds. Our cinder-y soil needs all the help it can get. The garden looks a lot different than it did even 2 weeks ago, now that the giant jungle of tomatoes is gone.








I love taking close-ups of my plants, mostly because they let me focus on the prettiest stuff in the garden and hide anything I think is less attractive. There are some especially beautiful combinations in the garden now, because the petunias are still going strong (someone forgot to tell them they're frost-tender), and the mums are in their full glory. The two together make for some lovely combinations. 









And here's a glimpse of the entire side garden with those bright golden aspens in the background. Most of the year, aspens are a bit of a pain: they spread all over the place (mine have managed to tunnel under the driveway--seriously!), are prone to disease, drop weird catkin-like things (I dunno--maybe they are catkins) everywhere in the spring, and generally make nuisances of themselves. But for a couple of weeks in the fall, they glow like candle flames, and I almost forget to be annoyed with them.

It's now two weeks after the pictures above were taken, and the yard looks much the same, though the aforementioned aspens are mostly leafless now. Other than the one cold snap, we've had days in the 60s and 70s and nights in the 40s, so the flowers are still blooming. Tomorrow we're supposed to have a major windstorm (yay for gusts to 40 mph), so I suspect all the trees will be leafless by Saturday. One more slip down the slow slide to winter.

Fall philosophizing--with pictures

Autumn... the year's last, loveliest smile.

--William Cullen Bryant

Summers are short here in the Arizona mountains. Our average last frost day in spring is June 15, and our average first frost day is September 15. We were supposed to have frost last night, so yesterday I harvested all the basil and made pesto and all the tomatoes and made tomato soup. The tomatoes and basil are still standing, so the frost didn't come, but we are on borrowed time. If you've read this blog at all before now, you've probably noticed that I am not a cold-weather person. I love shorts and flip-flops and beach waves and sand between my toes and sitting in the sun and evening strolls without a jacket. But even for me, there's something wonderful about this time of year. Each warm day, each night without a killing frost, is a gift. And not to wax too philosophical (though fall is a philosophical time), but each day and night are gifts. Fall just reminds me of that in a more obvious way. 

There's also something wonderful about the transition seasons, fall and spring. Winter and summer are fairly consistent. Sure, there are subtle changes from beginning to end--and not-so-subtle changes in the garden from the beginning to the end of summer. But for the most part, it's consistently warm or consistently cold, or at least it is here. I either need a jacket or I don't. The garden is either sleeping or burgeoning. But spring and fall are more unpredictable, and the changes from day to day more obvious. Daffodils appear as if out of nowhere in the spring, followed all too soon by the cursed grasshoppers. Leaves turn color (and fall into my pond) over the space of a few short weeks in fall. I can see the San Francisco Peaks--the highest mountains in Arizona--from my front yard. Every fall I watch the gold of aspen leaves start near the tops of the mountains and spread down the flanks. And then I pick those !@#$% leaves out of my pond and out of the drainage channel. I have a love-hate relationship with leaves. 

I've been trying all year to capture some moments in time in the garden. I tell myself it's so I can study the pictures to improve my garden design, but really it's just because I like looking at them. Gardens remind us that every moment is fleeting. That perfect peony poppy at 7 AM will have dropped its petals by 5 PM. Better capture that moment now. And--again with the philosophy--life is like that too. Hold onto those joyous, perfect moments while you can. Experience every moment. For all too soon, they'll be gone. 

So here are my attempts to catch the garden as it slips gently from summer to fall. These were taken on Wednesday morning, two days before the official start of autumn. You'll see a lot of pictures of mums, because I'm in love with my mums. To give you an idea of why, here's a picture of the garden along the driveway last fall, when I had just planted my $.50 mums from Wal-Mart: 

And here's that same spot as of last Wednesday: 

Not bad for a single year, huh? And yeah, those are the same mums. Proud gardener is proud. 

Here the mums are pushing aside the alyssum and petunias--symbolic of the change in seasons, no? 

This one looks like it's been sneaking steroids behind my back.

Winter-sown alyssum, salvia from the closeout rack at Wal-Mart (maybe $2/plant), and New Guinea impatiens that I couldn't resist. 

I never cared much for ornamental grasses before I moved to Flagstaff. I thought they were boring, and I'm allergic to most of them. I'm not fond of boring stuff that attacks me. But I've fallen in love with them here (though some of them still give me hives if I touch them). They require little care, and they look lovely poking out of snow in the dead of winter. This one started blooming a couple of weeks ago. In about 3 months, it'll be the star of the winter garden. 

More ornamental grasses:

The nasturtiums got off to a slow start, but they are gorgeous now. 

And then there are the tomatoes. Until this year, I'd harvested a full-sized, vine-ripened tomato precisely once in Flagstaff. This year has been amazing. I'll miss the fresh tomatoes when the frost kills the vines, but it will also be a relief. I'm tired of figuring out what to do with them, and they've taken over big sections of the garden. It'll be fun to see what's growing under the tomato jungle. 

I grew the geraniums from seed--really old seed I got for about a nickel at a dollar store in Southern California in 2012. I wasn't sure the seed would still germinate, but I winter-sowed it just in case, and here's the result. The Alberta spruce I snagged on closeout at Home Depot for about five bucks. 

Water mint:

And now for the pumpkins and squash. These are growing in an area of the garden that I just started to cultivate. I didn't do a great job of prepping the soil or mulching, but they're still producing. 

On Halloween last year, I got a huge white pumpkin for very cheap at Home Depot, because they were closing them out. Of course I planted some seeds from it. The resulting pumpkins are much smaller than that monster (like I said--I didn't do a great job of soil prep), but they're still interesting: 

And a Cinderella pumpkin with just a few wild purple asters peeking around it. Can't get much more autumnal than that. 

Happy autumn!

Cheapskate gardening 3: Foraging

The first two episodes of the Cheapskate Gardening miniseries (Propagating plants and How to get plants cheaply) focused on actual gardening. Now that it’s the height of harvest season--at least here in the Northern Hemisphere--let’s talk about foraging, also known as cheapskate harvesting. Why forage? Because you can chow down on this sort of yumminess:

That's a jar of apple pie filling on the left. I canned it around this time last year (using this recipe from the National Center for Home Food Preservation), when my husband brought home two huge boxes of foraged apples. There's a dentist's office here in Flagstaff with several large apple trees on the property. They don't use the apples (maybe apples have the same effect on dentists as they do on doctors) and like to have people pick them so they don't fall and clutter up the property. So my husband showed up with a ladder and a couple boxes, and the rest is sugary, cinnamon-y, gooey history. The pic on the right is half of the apple crisp I made yesterday (using this recipe from Betty Crocker) with a quart of the aforementioned pie filling. It took about 5 minutes to assemble (thanks to the apples being already prepared) and is heavenly. 

Now that you know why you should forage, let's talk about where and how.  

Foraging in the wild

This is what most people think of when someone says, "foraging"--wandering around in the forest like Euell  "Many parts are edible" Gibbons, tasting foul-looking plants until you end up needing a Poison Control Center and/or a stomach pump. You can avoid that scenario by learning what's safe to eat in your area. To do that, check out one of the many books available on foraging. Your local library probably has some, or you can search Amazon. Here are just a few of the zillion results one gets when searching Amazon Books for, "foraging." 

• Northeast Foraging: 120 Wild and Flavorful Edibles from Beach Plums to Wineberries (Regional Foraging Series)
• Southwest Foraging: 117 Wild and Flavorful Edibles from Barrel Cactus to Wild Oregano (Regional Foraging Series)
• Foraging the Mountain West: Gourmet Edible Plants, Mushrooms, and Meat
• Foraging Oregon: Finding, Identifying, and Preparing Edible Wild Foods in Oregon (Foraging Series)
• Midwest Foraging: 115 Wild and Flavorful Edibles from Burdock to Wild Peach (Regional Foraging Series)
• Southeast Foraging: 120 Wild and Flavorful Edibles from Angelica to Wild Plums (Regional Foraging Series)
• Pacific Northwest Foraging: 120 Wild and Flavorful Edibles from Alaska Blueberries to Wild Hazelnuts (Regional Foraging Series)

You get the idea. There are tons of books about foraging in just about any region of the US (and I imagine there are plenty on foraging in other countries too; I'm just less familiar with those, since I have no money to travel, because I spend all my money on plants). 

I don't do a lot of wild foraging, but when I do, it's relaxing and fun (and in the case of wild blackberries, delicious). It's an excuse to get out in nature, get some exercise, and come back with food. What's not to love?

Here are a few tips to get you started: 

• Know what you’re picking. If you can’t identify it, don’t eat it! That's especially true of mushrooms, but plants can mess you up too, and I hear stomach pumps are no fun. Take a class or a guided hike; ask about those at your local arboretum, ranger station, or nature center. Definitely get a guidebook for your region. Foraging is no bargain if it sends you to the hospital or the funeral home. 

• Obey all laws. Know what you’re allowed to pick and from where. Foraging is, as far as I know, illegal in national parks. Rules for national forests, BLM land, and other public land can vary by location and by the agency administering the site. Check online or contact a ranger station or agency office to learn the rules. 

Foraging in civilization

Foraging possibilities abound in cities, suburbs, and rural areas. Lots of people have fruit trees that produce way more than they can use. Edible stuff--especially old fruit trees and blackberries--grow in vacant lots and on abandoned properties. And some ornamental garden plants have edible parts. In rural areas, sometimes you can ask to glean in the fields after the harvesters come through (My dad used to do that in the Central Valley in California when I was a kid. That's how I learned to can tomatoes: Dad would bring home a giant box of them, usually dead-ripe and needing immediate processing. Mom had to work, so I learned to can by the time I was about 12. In a house with nothing more than a swamp cooler for A/C. In the summer. When it was usually over 100 degrees. Uphill. Both ways.)

A great book for the beginning suburban forager is Backyard Foraging: 65 Familiar Plants You Didn't Know You Could Eat by Ellen Zachos. Her book will teach you what's edible in your yard and your neighborhood. Did you know you can eat your day lilies? And quite a few weeds? And think how satisfying it would be to chomp down on weeds--the gardener's ultimate revenge. Now if only I could stomach the thought of eating grasshoppers...

Another resource is a great post from Gayla Trail's You Grow Girl blog on foraging for free fruit. And if you're wondering where to go to forage in your neighborhood, you guessed it: there's an app for that. Check out Ripe Near Me. You might also check out your local Craigslist or Facebook gardening group. Someone might be selling or giving away their excess produce.

Here are a few tips for foraging in not-so-wild places:

• Respect private property. Sometimes you can find great foraging on abandoned properties. Around here there are old apple trees all over the place (like at the aforementioned dentist's office), and they keep pumping out apples for decades. Lots of times, homeowners have fruit trees that make more fruit than they can use. They're often happy to have someone pick it, in part because unused fruit makes a giant mess when it falls from the tree and then becomes a yellow jacket magnet. But don't just stroll onto someone's land. Ask permission. 

• Offer to barter if you're asking to pick from someone's tree. You could offer a jar of home-canned applesauce made with the apples they let you pick or some produce from your garden. Or you can offer labor, like picking some for them or cleaning up the fallen fruit around the tree (note: people with health issues may especially appreciate your help. Imagine how frustrating it would be to see a tree full of  beautiful apples but be physically unable to pick them). Be careful eating fallen fruit--it's usually either rotten or infested with something--but it can make great compost or livestock feed.

• If you do pick from someone else's garden, treat their trees and plants gently so you don't cause damage. 

• Avoid foraging from busy roadsides where the food likely will be contaminated by pollution from car exhaust or herbicides. 

Foraging fall décor

Pumpkins and fancy (or funny-looking) winter squash will start showing up in stores and on front porches soon (seriously--there are Halloween decorations in the store already. Sheesh, people, it isn't even technically fall yet!) I'll let you in on a little secret: these are edible. And doctored up with a sufficient amount of butter, sugar, and cinnamon, they are delicious. 

Here are a few tips for acquiring and processing Jack O'Lantern and his relatives: 

• This one's obvious, but if you like to decorate with squash and pumpkins, eat them before they rot. How long you can keep them on your porch before they rot will depend on your climate. If they freeze and thaw, they deteriorate quickly (gotta love those 40-degree daily temperature swings here in Flagstaff). If the weather is warm, they'll rot quickly. Just keep an eye on them and be sure to butcher 'em before they get nasty. 
• Hunt for bargains on or after Halloween*. Last year I scored a cool, giant white pumpkin at Home Depot on Halloween for $5 (original price: $20; it's the big thing at the far left in the picture above). Supermarkets and pumpkin stands often sell (or sometimes give away) their pumpkins the day after Halloween. All pumpkins are edible, but the big carving pumpkins aren't the best for eating. Look for the smaller pie pumpkins if you can find them. The red Cinderella pumpkins are getting more popular, and they are great for cooking. So are some of the weird warty pumpkins. All pumpkins and winter squash have edible seeds too--and you can save some to grow next year if you have the space. I currently have 2 enormous vines started from the seeds I got from that huge white Home Depot pumpkin. 
• Ask your neighbors if you can have their pumpkins and winter squash. (Note: don't eat the carved ones--though they are fine for livestock feed.) Then take them a warm loaf of pumpkin bread as a thank-you. 

And if you've never cooked with fresh pumpkin or winter squash, check out a post on my old garden blog on how to prepare them. I puree them and freeze the puree to use in recipes. It usually contains a little more water than canned pumpkin, so I adjust recipes accordingly or let the puree drain in a colander for a bit before measuring. Oh, and in case you didn't know: pumpkin and winter squash are generally interchangeable in baking. In fact, what we know as canned pumpkin actually isn't pumpkin: it's a winter squash similar to a butternut. I know, I know - the label says, "pumpkin." Damn Libby and their #alternativefacts.

So there you have it: 3 ways to get some free or low-cost produce. May your foraging be fruitful!

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* The pedants in the crowd are probably arguing that acquiring squash from a store doesn't meet the literal definition of foraging ("the acquisition of food by hunting, fishing, or the gathering of plant matter," according to dictionary.com), but since pedantry only puts food on the table if you're an academic, we'll ignore them. Hmm, wait, *I'm* an academic. Maybe I should rethink that.