Sleeves and other unexpecteds

I set my garden up on an impulse, and I've already written a post about all the incorrect approaches I took. Perhaps not surprising - researching ideas before jumping headlong into them is a pretty solid approach (one that I often fail to follow - eg, my PhD). However, I thought I was heading into it fairly open-minded. Since I didn't plan anything, how could I have preconceived notions about what I would be dealing with? Turns out, I totally did.

1. Weeding. Seriously? I live on the fifth floor, and the balcony faces an alley that has zero vegetation. Where do the damn little things come from? And how can they grow in the soup that is currently my potting soil when my actual plants can't?

2. Mother Nature drowning my plants. I know, I know. One of the incorrect things I did for my garden was to set it up without a proper drainage system (other than the 2-3 little holes that are already in each of the containers). But I live in Boston - it usually doesn't have a monsoon season. I was much more concerned about me as a human either drowning or drying out my plants. Live and learn, people. Mother nature doesn't like you to have pre-conceived notions.

Mini mudslides.

3. Picking garbage off my plants. A few weeks ago, I found a Pepsi can on top of my strawberries. I was quite surprised, but I figured someone had thrown it off the roof deck - although I cynically wondered if they had been aiming for my plants, since in terms of random acts, my plants do not occupy a significant percentage of space. But then three days ago I woke up to this:

A dismembered T shirt sleeve on a tomato plant. Now, there's not something you see every day.

I...have no words. Upon closer inspection (ie, when I gingerly picked it up between my fingernails and threw it in the trash), it appears to be the cut off sleeve of a men's undershirt. Questions abound: Did someone spontaneously cut their sleeves off while on the roof with a pair of scissors they happened to have? Given the cold and wet weather, this seems unlikely. But if so, what happened to the other sleeve?  Did they only cut off one?
Also, what are the mysterious dark spots? They look suspiciously like dried blood. Am I throwing away evidence of a gruesome, as yet undiscovered murder that occurred only ten feet above my head? Seems like there would be more blood in that case.
OR - and this is my current acting theory - the former owner of the sleeve in fact suffers from extreme germophobia, so he carries a pair of scissors around in his pocket in case he has to cut off any area of possible contamination. He attended a roof party, and then the person standing next to him developed a spontaneous nosebleed and dripped on his shirt, the shirt-owner then immediately - for his own self-preservation - cut off the tainted sleeve and threw it off the roof, as far as he could. Which was about 3 feet. It has been windy, so maybe it blew back. Yep, that must be what happened.

(Also, for anybody out there who wants to hypothesize - given the wet weather, it seems most unlikely that the wind blew it up from the trash bins that are ~100 yards away and a good 40 feet below. Wet cloth is heavy, yo.)

4. Figuring out which herb leaves to cut and when. I honestly never gave this a thought. When I was a kid, I never helped my mother with her herb beds - she would just magically appear in the kitchen with fresh-cut stems. I just found this blog entry on Pinterest and realized that I had been pruning my plants almost exactly wrong. The large bottom leaves should be left as is (I snipped those bad boys off weeks ago), and I should've been cutting just below where the new leaves are unfurling.

These may end up being herb sacrifices at the garden altar within a few weeks. The jury is still out. Note how all the large leaves are gone from the sage and thyme. Oopsie.

I'm hoping my plants can still recover and then I can show them what I've learned during their almost-dead experience. If not, I'll head to the store and buy some more plants and let the first ones be remembered as a learning experience for the human. I promise to hum "Taps" before throwing them out.

Mother Nature steps in...

In one of my first posts, I worried that I would drown my plants. It turns out, Mother Nature is doing her best to do it for me. We've had only four sunny days in the past 2-3 weeks, and most overcast days have had either a drizzle or downpour associated. I've been surprised to see the wide range of responses. The tomato plants seem to love it - all three have overgrown their pots and have dozens of small yellow blossoms. I tied the heirloom plant to the balcony (with a leg from a former pair of tights) just this past weekend for support and hopefully to encourage it to grow away from the other plants instead of over them. The Patio plant shouldn't need staking/support, and I'm keeping my eye on the Sweet 'n Neat (who names these things?), but so far it is holding its own weight. There's really nothing to do with the tomatoes, as they have needed no tending, but I still like to play around with them simply for the way they smell. They smell like earth and green, and just one whiff reminds me why I've been aching for a garden for the past five years.

Two of the tomato plants. The Heirloom is on the left. This was two days before I strapped it to the balcony, as it was starting to take over the other tomato (the Sweet 'n Neat) and the strawberries on the other side. Not sure if you can see the flowers in this shot - I'll get better pictures!

The other plants that seem to enjoy the rain are the sugar pea plants. All three seem to be surviving, although one is definitely the runt of the litter and may end up getting beaten out by its bigger siblings. While the peas can't beat the tomato plants in scent, they are more interactive. I like to take the little green shoots and curl them around the homemade lattice. The next day, the plant will have taken initiative and wrapped around the string several times, where even a fairly strong tug can't disentagle, and be off in a different direction. I still have no idea if I'll actually get any peas from them, but we'll see.

The pea plants have actually recovered nicely from their precarious repotting. We've reached a tentative mutual agreement in which they've agreed not to be angry at me about it.

The strawberries have been a mixed bag. I have managed to snag a few tasty red ones from my container with only strawberry plants, which make me feel quite triumphant. However, I'd had to throw out just as many berries as I've eaten. Unfortunately, all the extra moisture and sitting water in the container makes the berries quick to rot, sometimes before they've turned more than just a light pink. It's sad to have to throw them away, but I am trying to be more vigilant about catching them before they go bad.

My very first strawberry from the balcony. Others have tasted better and been prettier, but this was my first. They say you never forget your first (and now I won't, because I have this blurry, crappy picture to remember it by).

The strawberry plants that have not been as ill affected by all the rain - complete with ripe berries, unripe berries, and even some flowers.

The other planter with strawberries has not been faring as well. Even when we had three straight days of sunshine, the soil never dried out, and it's taking its toll on all the plants in the container. The strawberries - which even when I purchased them were a little sad - were starting to cheer up, but stalled out since the rain started 3 weeks ago, and now the new sprigs are starting to die.

This was actually taken on day three of sunshine, after the second bout of rain and before the current third one we are enduring. You can see that even three days of sunshine isn't enough to get rid of the standing water around the plants.

The pepper plant in the same container is starting to yellow and droop a little, and the herbs have remained static. I'm fairly sure that thyme and rosemary, at least, prefer a drier soil (I'll have to look up sage, but it also doesn't seem to be inclined to grow). I'm deeply regretting not putting rocks or a better drainage system in place, but I had no idea that Boston would have a monsoon season this summer.

I am behind on my posts and have many more updates, including weekend baking frenzies that have led to as many as six recipes in a day as well as my dog deciding that organic fertilizer is pretty tasty stuff. But for now, I'll just hope that Mother Nature decides to give my plants a day off tomorrow (current forecast: no rain, but heavy cloud cover).

Growth!

This weekend I plan to return to Haymarket (this time with a plan and a shopping list) and also hopefully bake (and take pictures of) many successful foods. Also on the "to do" list this weekend - transplant the pea plants. I already had to rig one up, with questionable success.

My pea plants. The tallest had fallen over when I woke up yesterday, so I tied it to a chopstick with a broken hairband. A temporary solution at best. On the far left are two pepper sprouts - I had another emerge within the past three days! Still nothing from the English pea plants, though.

 It's been raining off and on this week, so I haven't felt the need to water the plants. I have started watering the seed trays, and just this morning I did a thinning of some of the cells, so that I have no more than three seedlings per cell (most of them only have two - I couldn't bring myself to pluck out all but one - what happens if that one fails!?). I also moved them from the bathroom to a place where they will get at least a few hours of afternoon sun in my living room. Unfortunately I don't have room on my window ledge leading to my iron patio, where they would probably get more direct sunlight.

My other seed tray, somewhat thinned. The three types of basil are on the right, and I can't remember what I put on the left. I have misplaced my seed diagram, which makes things interesting - good thing I took a picture of it!

My closet kitchen, with the window leading to the iron balcony on the left. Newly purchased (and as yet unused) garden gloves are on the windowsill. What is not visible is the dog food and water bowls that I keep below the window, making access near impossible. I am still looking for an easier way to actually reach the plants than rearranging my entire kitchen every time.

The reason for this post, though, is that when I checked my plants this morning and removed various bits of trees that had blown onto them, I was surprised to move a strawberry leaf and reveal three berries! Because of the view from my kitchen window, I hadn't known they were lurking, so I was super excited to see they all look healthy and in various stages of growth.

Hello, little friends!

I still have to find/create an appropriate lattice for the peas, which I will hopefully put into their new home this evening, so I'll be sure to get pictures of that as well as any food this weekend. The weather is forecast to be quite cold this weekend with a nightly low for both Saturday and Sunday at freezing - so I may bring my plants inside each night. I just hope my dog doesn't try to eat them.

She certainly looks innocent enough.

Rain, peas, and bees

Boston has been in the midst of a short-term drought this spring and much-needed rain finally arrived Saturday. Unfortunately, it then rained off and on for over an entire day, and I am now concerned about the lack of a drainage system for my plants. However, the sun is back this morning and the plants no longer look like part of the scenery for "All Summer in a Day." In fact, the pepper plant has definitely perked up and even the questionable strawberry plants are standing a little taller. It's so convenient when Mother Nature does my job for me.

These are not my plants. But they capture how my plants looked - I didn't feel like opening my window and letting all the wind and rain into my kitchen for what would have been a soggy, sorry picture.

New leaves on the pepper plant! Note that despite all the rain, the packing peanuts were still not completely dissolved. Hmm.

I am currently searching around for recipes to use the sage, rosemary, and thyme from Trader Joe's. I went to supercook.com and highlighted "thyme" and found a recipe for focaccia rolls that looks quite appetizing. It uses both rosemary and thyme, although I'd have to use dried basil, as I don't have any fresh. I'm not sure about how the dried/fresh herbs will mix. I have a hard time finding time to make bread, so this may be an endeavour for some unknown future date. The other possibility that is more likely to happen is to roast some fingerling potatoes with herbs and some olive oil. Unfortunately I was already a bit too enthusiastic for food this week (baking and cooking are my other escape from lab, and this week I've already made raspberry granola cookie bars, whole wheat pizza, lamb and couscous, tomato/chickpea/cucumber/feta salad, and for dessert a blend of strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries), so I'll be waiting a few days to use the herbs.

From top, moving clockwise: One portion of lamb and couscous, raspberry granola cookie bars, berry mix, and finally a tomato/cucumber/feta salad that I use as topping for the lamb and couscous. Not pictured: the whole wheat pizza with green peppers and onions (I purchased the pre-made crust dough, so I'm not sure that counts).

My seed trays are also doing well, particularly the pea plants. They are actually growing 1-2 inches a day at this point, and I'm concerned something will happen to them before I find some sort of lattice to put in a pot with them. It is exciting to be able to measure the difference each morning and night, though!

Pea seedlings! If the tray were mobile, which is currently isn't, I would have tried to avoid my lovely bathroom wall as backdrop. Oh well. The tallest one is now well over nine inches tall and definitely searching for a lattice to cling to.

This afternoon I went to a lecture that Harvard was hosting as part of a week of Earth Day celebrations titled "Urban Beekeeping." It was given by Dr. Noah Wilson-Rich of Best Bees, a Boston-based company that sets up and maintains bee colonies all over the metro Boston area as well as the cape. What is neat is that he then uses the profits from his business to fund his bee research. I loved his story as it obvious that he has truly melded both his scientific curiosity and his passion into one harmonious job. If we could all be so lucky! Since my father actually maintains several hives in West Virginia, I was familiar with a lot of bee basics. However, I didn't realize how easy it is to adapt bee hives for urban living - in fact he showed statistics showing that urban bee hives produce more honey and have a higher chance of surviving the winter than do rural hives. Other neat factoids:

1. Major die-offs/disappearances of bees have been reported for over a thousand years (including one a hundred years ago when the Isle of Wight lost 100% of their bee colonies), although it is unclear if these deaths have been due to the mysterious Colony Collapse Disorder or another issue.

2. He suggested using a tray to collect pollen that falls off the bees when they land at the hive and then mixing it year-round with tea. Why? Because by constantly exposing your body to pollen throughout the year, apparently you can lessen the severity of spring allergy symptoms. Sign me up!

3. I loved this story about the red honey of Brooklyn.

4. Finally, he had a great picture up of a hive that he had helped install in a math/geometry classroom at Fenway High. With one side of the hive entirely made of glass and the opening to the outside, it's totally safe and an awesome idea to teach students about ecology, biology, social behavior, and geometry (ever wonder why the bees make their comb in a hexagon?).