Gardening By Doing Nothing

70  bar steady 30.01  2mph NEE dew-point 47  sunrise 6:26  sunset 8:05

Last Quarter of the Corn Moon   moonrise 2306   moonset 1138

While dividing the iris rhizomes this morning, the air was cool and the sun shifted in the sky enough that I can see the change.  These are fall moments for me, working on perennials and the garden, either planting or preparing to plant.  A couple of years ago in September I planted daffodils on a cool, but bright Saturday afternoon.  The pep band from Andover High School practiced for a football game that evening.  The marches and rousers drifted over to our back property, the aural equivalent of falling leaves.

The rhizomes I dug up both in the raised bed out back and in the second tier perennial bed beside our downstairs patio had no soft rot, no sign of iris borer infestation.  This means the clean-up in the fall and spring, coupled with the early doses of cygon, have created an ideal environment for them.  This makes me feel good, competent.   In this garden a healthy plant has superiority over a beautiful plant.  Of course, both have their place, but a healthy plant means a plant that has found a spot where it feels comfortable, the right amount of sun, the right neighbors, the right soil nutrients.  A healthy plant overtime produces more healthy plants, so plant health oriented gardening fills up the landscape with homegrown brothers and sisters, clones.  It is also true that to my eye a healthy plant is a beautiful plant, so I do not choose between the two.

This is not to say we get no disease or infestations.  We do.  The spaghetti squash had an ugly horde of gray bugs that looked like giant ticks.  Yuck.  I removed the leaf and stepped on them.  In general, I do not kill bugs, even pests, out of respect for life and its varying forms.  In the case, though, of insects or diseases that harm plants, I will selectively kill.  Most plants, even vegetables, can take an enormous amount of damage and still produce blooms, leaves and fruit, so I do not arbitrarily destroy and I almost never use chemicals.  The cygon for iris borers is an exception.

This also means, by the way, that a healthy plant may have a few holes in its leaves, even attacks of black spot on the leaves, as our Cherokee Purple tomato have right now.  If however, the plant has no difficulty growing and fruiting, I may only pluck off leaves, or do nothing.  Since a plant can thrive even with substantial leaf damage, doing nothing covers most instances.  I prefer doing nothing.

Gardening by doing nothing.  Often, very satisfying results come from doing nothing.  When we first moved in there was a single mangy cedar about 20 feet outside our backdoor.   Since I cut down many black locust trees around it, I could have cut it down, too, but I chose to build a small garden bed around it and leave it alone.  Fourteen years later it is a beautiful signature plant as you look out the back sliding doors.  There are three oaks, close neighbors, that I also left alone.  They, too, have grown into fine young trees, maybe 30 feet tall.  We also have an ash in the park, again, a tree about which I did nothing, except put a garden bed around it.  It now has a prominent spot in the park where we have our raised beds.  It is the biggest plant.

Losing the Battle with Gravity

82  bar rises 29.65  omph ESE dew-point 69  sunrise 6:23  sunset 8:07  Lughnasa

Waning Gibbous Corn Moon   moonrise 2246  moonset  1316

irisrhizomes.jpg

These are iris rhizomes. I spent the morning and a hour this afternoon digging these up out of our raised bed.  You have to shear off the individual rhizomes from the mother rhizome, now spent from having thrown up its flower.  Cutting the leaves helps reduce transpiration when transplanting and helps avoid transplant shock.

Normally I would soak them in a bleach solution, then coat them in captan as a way of reducing fungus and other diseases, but these iris were very healthy.  Only one had any soft rot and I saw no evidence of iris borer either, so instead of treating them for disease, I spread them out on the same screen door I used to dry the onions.  They’ll dry a couple of days.  Tomorrow I’ll dig out the lower bed of iris, where all these will go and do the same to them.

As I sat on the edge of the raised bed, cutting the large fans of leaves and shaving off a clean cut with an old carving knife, a change in front stirred up a fair wind, blowing the leaves on the poplars, rustling them.  Doing this kind of work takes me away from everything else, I’m only in the moment.  A good feeling.

Our Country Gentleman corn, now over 8 feet high, didn’t develop adequate stalks.  I planted them too close together.  As a result, as this wind has whipped them around some of the stalks, burdened now by fat ears, lose the battle with gravity and flop earthward.  The corns not quite ripe, but close enough.  We had one ear for lunch, a couple more now for supper.

Reading

82  br falls 29.82 2mph NNW dew-point 63  sunrise 6:22  sunset 8:02  Lughnasa

Waning Gibbous Corn Moon

Started “The Street” last night. It is by Ann Petry.  I found it while hunting for good books on the novel.  A literature professor recommended it as a gritty, realist account of life in Harlem circa 1947, or post-WW II, a neglected work of genius.  After the first chapter, I can see she was right.  It is literally gritty, opening with a young woman looking for an apartment on St. Nicholas Avenue in a vicious wind that throws dust and sand from the gutters into her eyes.  She wants the apartment to save her brother, Bub, who is 8, from her father’s girlfriend who gives Bub gin.

Further into “Maus” and it continues to amaze me, not only with the detailed account of the author’s father and mother and their extended family during the years preceding WW II and the war years, but with the uncomfortable honesty with which he portrays his father and his second wife, Mala.  This contemporary honesty seems to underwrite the veracity of the European story.

Late afternoon and the sky has become cloudy.  The transpiration cycle bundles moisture from the plants and the soil, the lakes and rivers and pumps up, up, up until it meets the air transports dew point.  It then goes in to clouds and, if conditions are just right, thunderheads form and the water returns, perhaps to the same place, perhaps somewhere else.

Garden Chess

81  bar falls 29.88 1mph NNE dew-point 65  sunrise 6:22  sunset 8:09  Lughnasa

Waning Gibbous Corn Moon

Moving daylilies today.  At last.  Moved several large clumps of daylilies to new beds where they will provide a barrier between wild vegetation on the hill below seven oaks and the more domesticated garden to the southwest.  This frees up space for the true lily and iris move that will make another raised bed available for vegetables next year.

Each fall the chess game of where to move plants, how to make the best use of the beds comes into play.  This year, unlike last year, will have several moves.  In addition to the ones I mentioned here we will create at least one, perhaps more, new raised beds and put in some fruit trees for a modest orchard.

After reading the article in the startribune this week about permaculture, I decided to call on their garden consultant before we do much more in the way of changes.  It will be good to have another set of eyes.

Allison’s Corn Images From Mexico

Charlie,

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Here are three photos I took last year in La Ciudad de Mexico.

One is a portion of a mural by who-else but Diego Rivera.

The other two are from that great Museo de Anthropologica.  I was intrigued by the corn plant that was sprouting men’s heads.  And you will have to agree that the sculpture is pretty powerful.

Allison Thiel

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Lunch Reminder

83  bar falls 29.97  4mph NE dew-point 64  sunrise 6:21  sunset 8:11 Lughnasa

Waning Gibbous Corn Moon

Took Kate out to lunch at Bennigans to say thanks for cooking Monday night.  While there we watched a group of wheel chair bound residents of the Anoka Care Center load onto a transit bus after lunch.  A reminder of the ravages aging can create.  A good prod to exercise and healthy diet.

Didn’t get outside yet today and I have to get those daylilies moved so I can move the iris.

America, America

83  bar falls 30.00  1mph E dew-point 66  sunrise 6:21  sunset 8:11  Lughnasa

Waning Gibbous Corn Moon

“The English people believes itself to be free; it is gravely mistaken; it is free only during election of members of parliament; as soon as the members are elected, the people is enslaved; it is nothing. In the brief moment of its freedom, the English people makes such a use of that freedom that it deserves to lose it.” – Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Oh, man.  Just spent time on the phone, then online with a customer service tech for a web-based service to which I subscribe.  There’s gotta be a better way of establishing my bona fides.  With accounts and subscriptions all over the net my passwords, user names and security questions get mixed up sometimes.  In this case I think the problem was partly their end, partly my brain.  I haven’t solved it, but I lost energy for it.

Instead, apropos of Rousseau above, I made telephone calls to candidates for the Sierra Club. I’m not a fan of the telephone, but a large part of that, maybe all of it, is me.  Phone solicitations, unwanted callers annoy me and I do not want to annoy others.  That’s my rationalization, in fact, it is part a sort of phobia about contacting people I can’t see, in a way that comes as a surprise even with caller id.

When it comes to politics, persuasion has a key role, but I have developed an unreasonable and idiosyncratic reluctance to persuade–or to be persuaded by–another person.  I’m quite ok with persuasion in writing, public speaking, as part of a protest, but one to one I loose patience with the process.  This is a hangover from the sixties and one it is high time I eliminated.  My work with the Sierra Club this year is an excellent opportunity to challenge these predispositions.

America.  The Woollies spoke Monday night of America, though most seemed to want to collapse America into the United States, a distinction I try to keep fresh and bright.  The United States is the political entity created by American revolution, the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.  It has and grants legal authority.  The United States is, largely, our government. Congress, the President and the Executive Branch, the Supreme Court, all the state governments and the corpus of laws, rules and regulations these all create and enforce.  We, the people are responsible for our government, not to our government and crucially, we are distinct from our government.

America exists at the crossroads where a farm elevator rises out of vast fields of wheat.  America emerges at high school basketball games, bass fishing tournaments and baseball games.  America gets together at church socials, VFW meetings and suburban soccer games.  America has a geography, topography, a meteorology.  The United States does not.  America has churches and bowling leagues, softball games and croquet on well manicured suburban lawns.  The United States does not.  America has a history found in MacGuffey readers, Walt Whitman’s poems, Lincoln’s speeches and Frederick Douglass’s.  Moby Dick and Hester Prynne, Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett.  Sooners.  Gold rushers.  Mountain Men. Suffragettes.  Temperance workers.  This is America.

Those four corners with gas stations or drugstores or cafes, those long streets with bungalows and those with Victorian era mansions, the cars and trucks on the highways, Country Music and Bluegrass, Jazz and Gospel these express American culture.

Culture blends with the land to create an idiosyncratic way of living recognized easily by others, but often not well understood by those immersed within it, just as the fish doesn’t think about water and humans give little thought to air.  Thus, the world knows what it means to be American better than we do.

This question or topic deserves more probing, greater depth.  It goes to the very definition of ourselves in the world.

Delicious, fresh food

73  bar rises 29.90  0mph NNE dew-point 64  sunrise 6:20 sunset 8:14

Full Corn Moon

The Woollies went home about 30 minutes ago.  “A feast.”  “You’ve set a new standard.”  “Can we come back here next month.”  All these compliments were the direct result of Kate’s skill as a cook.   She assembles recipes, parcels out work, gets stuff done.  Her food is delicious and fresh.  Much of our meal came from the garden.

We sang When You’re Sixty-Four to Kate over dinner and sang her happy birthday just before every left.  As she said, “It was a Norwegian birthday.”  Meaning she worked a lot.

Folks liked the garden viewed from the upstairs deck.  Bill and Tom and Scott commented on the vegetable garden and the fire pit.  We don’t get that many people through here in the course of a year so it was nice to have other’s reaction to what we do.  The Woollies also liked the renovation project Kate headed up. A talented gal and I’m lucky to have her in my life.  As I have felt since I got to know her 20 years ago.

The topic for the meeting focused on American identity.  More on this tomorrow when I’m not so fried.  Having people up drains me.

Reading the OED

90  bar steady 29.83  0mph NNW dew-point 59  sunrise 6:18  sunset 8:14  Lughnasa

Full Corn Moon  moon rise 2053  moonset  0816

The salmon is in the house.  So is the shrimp.  And ice.  Plus beer, NA, diet pop and bottled water (for entertaining purposes only).  We have the leaves in the dining room table, the first time since we bought the table a year ago.  It’s long.  Really long.  Kate has the triangle of refrigerator, sink, stove cordoned off and wants no helpers in there.  I don’t think anybody will fight her for the privilege.

Who said late August had no heat.  Not this guy.  With 90 and dewpoint at 59 outside dining stretches the Minnesota tolerance limits.  Good thing we have air conditioning and tables inside, too.

Got an Amazon order.  A couple of things that look fun.  Reading the OED, a guy who read the entire OED in one year.   Also, the Landmark Herodotus, an annotated version of the Histories.  There’s something about history and  historiography that fascinates me.

My first two tours of the new academic year have come in over the transom.  4th graders from Lakeville who want to see things Made In America and an MIA patron who wants a tour with an emphasis on Korea.  Be good to strap back into the harness and pull a wagon or two.

I’m off to sweep the patio and arrange furniture.

Superduper

85  bar steady 29.84  0mpn N dew-point 66  sunrise 6:18  sunset 8:14  Lughnasa

Full Corn Moon

Back from Costco and Festival.  Costco combines an open space so vast that a four year old girl ran happily up and down the aisles like she was on a playground and an abundance of stuff that would make even Qin Shi Huang Di gasp.  It’s not stuff fit for imperial burial, except for all the polyester and plastic.  They will last into the next world and beyond.

Shopping there involves navigation of a labyrinth designed to lead you to the Minotaur (the check out lanes) with as much of the abundance as you can fit in the superduper sized carts.  I purchased bread, not just one loaf, but 3 2 pound loaves.  Two 44 pound bags of dog food.  24 bottles of Propel. 4 pounds of 13-15 count shrimp.  You can not buy just one; it would be unAmerican.

Festival supermarket has a bit more restraint, but it too involves navigation of rows and shelves designed for the impulse purchase of antipasto, squid, the odd pasta you have never seen before.  Not much to buy there.

Final stop.  Best Buy.  I picked up Beatles albums–Sgt. Pepper and Beatle’s 1–so I could have When I’m Sixty-Four to play tonight for the Woollies.

Time for lunch.