Tag: garden

We’re working on spring, here.

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It’s March. March is always up and down, in terms of weather. Warm, cold, rain, wind, sun, something else, as long as it’s different. But this year we have had a warm winter, so it looks like genuine spring could pop out at any time.

This time of year I usually post a photo of daffodils. They’re doing fine, as are the crocuses and snowdrops. but the new interesting things are the magnolia stellata trees that I planted last spring. See above. They are out there flowering like crazy. No leaves have popped out, there or anywhere I planted something deciduous. The ground cover hasn’t yet filled in. So they are out there doing their best to give me hope for the future of my otherwise drab garden. For this I am most grateful.

I found them in a Dorling Kindersley book, “What Plant Where.” So I put them on a list and headed off to Ripaud, my favorite garden center, where the guy in charge totally knows his stuff. He loves them and they were in stock so, why not. And they are great, so far much more rewarding than anything other new thing.

Apart from being pleased that something actually works, I’m planning a couple of next phases. I’ve been feeding birds. I like the birds, though I’m not yet sure how to square that with their insatiable appetite for my cherries. When it starts to pull together I’ll show you what I have in mind for a little bird sanctuary, a sheltered area not now used at all. It will have nests and a shallow fountain, insect hotels, whatever I can think of that will feed the little guys and generally make them happy.

Also my owl buffet, the wild area you may have seen behind my kitchen garden, is getting an upgrade. It will still be pretty wild, but I’m continuing my war with the more noxious weeds and adding easy/no care perennials that should attract butterflies and all. With any luck the birds will pig out on bugs and leave my fruit alone.

The two fountains I have planned will, I hope, save the owls. Last year, during the heat waves, I think a lot of them died. I’m only now starting to hear them again, and only once in a while.

Last year my chimneys were rebuilt, partly because crows had knocked out a few bricks and had this multi-layered nesting system going, like a crow apartment building. This year the crows came back. No apartments yet, but I do think there is a nest in at least one of the chimney pots. This means bird shit on the skylight just above my bed but on balance, I like having them there. And at night when the stars are out, I can look around the poo. The stars are still there.

Last year my cherries were invaded by worms. It was nasty. This year I’ll spray. I got a few organic things — bacillus thuringensis, neem oil, that kind of thing — that I hope will kill the little buggers. I have a promise of fruit out there — apples, pears, almonds, maybe a couple of other things. This year I’d like to share less, keep more for myself.

The same is true of the kitchen garden, where I plan to plant peas with everything, to fix nitrogen in the soil. After a few years of layers of cardboard, compost, imported soil and all, we have possibly buried the rocks that are everywhere out there. The rocks will still find their way to the surface, but I hope they won’t give us too much trouble. Plus, don’t hate me, I’m going to go off the organic piste a bit, just in the kitchen garden. I got some Miracle Gro. With that and the seaweed fertilizer that should be delivered tomorrow, I’m hoping for a bumper crop. Last year’s San Marzanos are simmering on my stove right now. They smell terrific. I want more as do, I’m sure, Julien and his family.

That’s my story. I’ll update you and even include a photo or two of Jacques when things leaf out.

Autumn Here

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I’m recovering from a nasty cold I picked up in Paris. I am so over city living. I know my happy life here depends in large part on the efforts of city dwellers and to them I am grateful but still, it is no longer for me.

Anyway, as I say, I am feeling better. Jacques, noticing stirrings of life from me, just the faintest signs, decided it was time to try a doggie kiss of life. His preferred method is to walk on my tummy and chest, so there’s a bit of shiatsu thrown in, then stand there for a while, staring intently, maybe to check if I’m still breathing. Then he plops, as hard as a little dog can, and starts licking my face. The nose and eye lick will get me moving every time. Maybe that’s why he does it.

The weather has changed since I last paid attention. I spent much of my summer saving my newly planted Japanese maples from full sun during a heat wave. Trees are planted that will, one day, give them dappled shade, but not yet. Now we have 100% humidity but no rain. It sounds like I’m living in an aquarium but no. It is seriously overcast and seriously damp. They love it, as do I and, I think, most everything out there. The photo above is of the sumac I’ve been trying to eradicate. Days like this make me rethink the plan.

My expectations are still set by coastal California weather. All this dampness is welcome, but not at all what I’m used to. I’m finding every kind of thing going on out there. The tomatoes are putting out the last of their summer produce. They look a bit desperate, as if they know it’s just about their last chance. The squashes are coming into their own, even as their vines are shrinking snd their leaves are rotting. so, ripening, rotting and recovering from a brutal summer, all at once. it’s a fascinating time of year.

Birthday Countdown

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I’ll be turning 70 very, very soon. It’s the weirdest thing. I feel okay, no particular aches or health troubles. At 60 I thought yeah, just wait. I’m grateful to be able to tell you I’m still waiting. May it long continue.

So, long time no blog. Summer was a scorcher, lots of sneaking around with watering cans to help my newly planted trees survive the blistering heat. We had water restrictions, but the farmers watered so I did too, but carefully. Most things survived and now it’s raining, so I think they’ll be okay.

I think my owls died. After the heat waves, I didn’t hear them any more. I think a lot of animals died in this heat. When I watered, bees and lizards came out of nowhere. I let the birds have my grapes; they were likely among their few sources of liquid. I need to think about how to provide a constant water source for the birds. Next summer will likely be just as harsh. I should plan for it.

This summer, for the first time, I housed volunteers for the local music festival. Les Arts Florissants, baroque music in a beautiful garden, all quite elegant. But this year the foundation opened a new building, a glorified employee break area. My house guests, bless their partying souls, hung out there until well into the early morning. Obviously this new building was much needed. So I saw them at arrival, when I handed them a house key, and waved goodbye when they handed it back. My kind of house guests.

There was one exception, a late arrival, Montse Faura. She is the artistic director of a festival in Catalonia, so a bit older than my party boys and besides, she partied with William Christie. Unlike the guys, she got some sleep. Montse is adorable, my new best friend, probably everybody’s new best friend, a valuable skill if you spend a lot of time fundraising. She turned me on to the summer festivals down her way, in Catalonia. They are numerous and look amazing. Jordi Savall does one; I want to go. Here is a video about Montse’s company.

I bet you’re wondering what is in the jar. Well. A different friend, let’s call her Danica, that being her name, gets through her exhausting days on CBD. My days are not exhausting but so what, I’ve become a fan, too, thanks to her. The trouble is, that stuff is expensive. It shouldn’t be. Hemp is a weed, after all. But, supply and demand…. I decided there has to be a cheaper way.

So I got some CBD bud online and this guy, which cooks it all up, then infuses it. What you see is my first batch. Given the price of those tiny bottles of CBD oil, I figure my initial batch is worth about half what I paid for my new toy plus the basic ingredient. I think I’ll add some to my next vinaigrette.

You can take the girl out of California…..

Vacation While You Can

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So many things to say. If you use a period-tracking app and you live in the wrong state, you might want to delete it. It could be used in evidence against you. And if you are in that demographic, maybe get a VPN. Plan C is fine, if no one can trace it to you. When my grandmother went for her abortion — it would be a full century ago, or near enough — she was raped by her doctor and of course didn’t dare report him. We’re headed right back there again, folks, and doesn’t a story like that make pills sound good. If you have kids with birth certificates and you think they too have a right to life, maybe get them them a kevlar vest — in school colors, why not. If you live in a state with coal-fired power plants, you might want to move; it’s about to get pretty smoky in your neighborhood. And if you can vote in the States, do so. It really is a big deal.

Let’s talk about something else. Jacques loves his new toy. It is less fun to watch him, now that he has figured out how to grasp his shark by the tail but it still squeaks and bounces in a satisfactorily erratic manner.

My new trees are doing well. We have had a long period of slow, soaking rain, for which they and I are grateful. I am already harvesting produce from my garden. And unlike Mitch McConnell, the olla is your friend. An olla is this terra cotta pot that you bury in the ground near the roots of, say, your tomato plants. From time to time you fill it up. The water oozes out into your plant roots. And hey presto, your olla-watered plants will be half again as big and bushy as your drip-watered plants. I think it uses no more water, as I refill it only when I am running the drip system. I’m a convert. I’m hoping for a big sale at the end of the season.

The season itself promises to be busy. I’m headed to a knitting retreat, of all things. The news being what it is, I can use the calming effects of a week of knitting. It will save me from overindulging in the CBD gummies. I’m looking forward to a parade of visiting friends and am making friends with people who actually live here. Kieron says he might just maybe finish my summer kitchen. I have been invited to give a presentation at an exhibition opening in August; more about that later. Maybe life isn’t so good right now but for the next few months, it’s going to seem just fine.

Resurrection of the Wild Wood

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Block details:

Over in that far left corner, the faithful will recall that there was a tangle of bay laurels, brambles, diseased boxwood and who knows what all. The birds loved it. i did not. I was also fully fed up with muddy shoes and with picking brambles from Jacques’ hair. So I had the guys get rid of everything but the hazelnut trees — big bushes, really, given the way they had been pruned — and we started over.

The place is loaded with rocks, so they used some to build the walls you see. All the stonework was done with material found on site. We ripped out much of the awful weedy, rocky topsoil and replaced it with better stuff. We graveled the drive snd parking areas. Decomposed granite for the paths is almost unheard of here; I’m hoping that a guy who will be here in a couple of days can score some for me. He’s William Christie’s source. That’s how you know we’re getting old. We get excited about dirt. Our doctors make us take drugs.

It’s summer and construction ran late, too late to plant in the green-plastic-sheeted areas. I kept the hazelnuts. i have a few new trees, mostly Japanese maples, in the original Wild Wood area. I’ll put a few more in the far right quadrant. Then I’ll have to water everything like mad, as we’re headed into a heat wave.

Come autumn, I’ll go nuts with the ground cover. I’ll lift the plastic sheeting and plant more trees, probably regular maples. I’m looking at a variety called Autumn Blaze. They will grow high enough to shade my south-facing house, while the Japanese maples will stay somewhat shorter.

Notice something different with the barn on the right? I was so happy with the results of my chipping away at the worn-out crepi that I had the guys use the scaffolding they put up anyway, to fix the rain gutters, to finish the job. Then they slathered everything with new crepi, which they then knocked back a bit, to expose the stone. One day the money will appear to do the barn on the left, too, if I don’t just cover the walls with Boston Ivy.

This has been brutal for the birds. All the chipping and sandblasting drove the owls away. They are just now starting to come back and I think they are using at least a couple of the nesting boxes. I left a little sliver of the old Wild Wood, so the other birds are not entirely gone. It looks like they might be auditioning the new planting., now that things are settling down again. In autumn, when we pull up the plastic and put in the trees — it used to be just scruffy, gravelly dirt and weeds — the Wild Wood will be pretty tame, but it will be much bigger. The ground cover will be varied and, I hope, weed-free. They’ll be better off, but it’s going to take a while.

Jacques will miss the plastic. That looks like carpet to him. He can hang out there, nice and comfy, and watch the street traffic. And the burrs are already on their way out.

I’ll post about this again in October, when the new trees are in. The changes have completely changed the way the house looks. At first I thought it was a bit much, but once things have grown in, I think it will be fine.

Farm Report

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There is work going on in my front garden. I was going to post when it is all done. But it is dragging out, as work does. So let me tell you about everything else.

As you can see, the roses are doing great. I have no idea how or why, but I am grateful that they are so happy. I see a summer of deadheading in my future, but I’ll be standing in the midst of a dozen David Austin rose bushes. The scent will be wonderful. I’ll be fine.

Fruit. We have flowers and fruit. Julien and I went to buy plants for my soon to be reconstituted Wild Wood. It was cold and they had citrus trees flowering in the sales room. Of course I got one, a Meyer lemon, just for the flowers and the scent. But look at this. I am actually going to get some lemons out of the deal. There must be half a dozen or more on this little tree. I’ll send them home with Julien, whose wife is an actual chef, in hopes of getting a lemon tart in return. Or maybe I can get my friend Roger to cook up something, then photograph it.

My little tree will grow. In a few years I will need an orangerie. I’d better start saving up because I think I want some more of these.

My sad little shot of baby lemons will have to stand in for the rest of the orchard. We had a late frost that nearly killed the pomegranate and fig trees. Fortunately they are recovering. The cherries and apples are coming through, though. Maybe the birds will save some for me. It will have to do for the kitchen garden as well, which right now just looks like rotting straw. But no need for despair. Potatoes are in the ground. The radishes are sprouting. Tomatoes and the rest are off in Julien’s polytunnel, doing whatever they need to do to get big and strong and duke it out with the mice and slugs. Summer is on its way.

The Demise of the Wild Wood

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I feel a bit guilty about this. Until yesterday I had this tangled stand of trees, bushes, raspberry vines, who knows what all, but the birds loved it and it was green. It was about the only thing that survived years of contractor depredations. Then I sold the rental house, which gave me a bit of money, even after taxes, to fix the front garden. So I had a little plan done, which I showed you a few posts back. And yesterday, Kieron started work.

Kieron and Eddy rebuilt this house. The two of them, with very little help, and they did a great job. So once I heard that Kieron was off on his own, I told him to put me on his calendar, which he did, and now he’s here. Julien is working with him and his brother in law will appear in a couple of weeks.

We marked the outlines of the new garden plan. It’s hard to see, but there is spray paint all over the grass. The grass is seasonal and barely covers a thick layer of gravel and construction debris. That won’t be missed. But as we worked out the plan we realized that if we wanted to properly back out of the garage (the gash in the wall will be enlarged and the appearance improved), the Wild Wood would have to go. And now is the time, as the birds are wintering in Spain.

So Julien fired up the chainsaw and went to work. The hazelnut trees will stay. Probably the stuff screening the street will stay, but we’ll see. bay laurels are death on walls, so we might have to take that out. At the end of the project I’ll probably plant some bushes around the hazelnuts. I’m not a big fan of grass and I want to do something for the birds.

And do you see the concrete truck off to the side there? The commune decided to give me a sidewalk. There is literally a sidewalk starting at one side of my street frontage and stopping at the other. That’s the whole project.

So my little country refuge is moving to the suburbs. Or maybe the suburbs are moving to it. My ratty front garden — a friend — yes, still a friend! — once said coming here was like stepping onto the set of “Withnail and I” — is getting tidied and organized. And this weekend, as I was preparing the house for Sunday lunch with friends, I realized that I could actually clean, not just stuff everything into a back room. Okay, some things went into a back room, but much less. At least Jacques is still himself.

Which Way is Costa Rica?

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This is the image. My happy home, which it is, with a beautiful, landscaped garden, where I now have only gravel. But soon, maybe, depending…

I won’t even show you the reality. Reality may well suck up my landscape money. It came in the form of a notice from my utility company. They informed me that electricity prices would increase, which I knew. I thought maybe 5%, tops 10%. But no. For the next seven months my electric bill will go up 50%. Then will it go back down? Not from what I’ve seen so far. My money seems especially attractive to them.

I had been looking at solar panels anyway. Honestly, it was throwing the dice to see whether I would live long enough to see them pay for themselves. It could be time to run the numbers again.

Or, maybe just move to a warm climate. Granada is nice, as is Barcelona. Maybe Malta or Sicily? Or, I hear intriguing things about Costa Rica.

I’d hate to start over again. I have friends here, ones I didn’t know before I moved to France. My French has improved to the point that it is only half bad. Maybe I’ll just pay up. Ugh.

Country Life Report

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Here you go, faithful readers. Do I sit around all day reading the essays of Montaigne and sipping rosé? I do not. Well okay, sometimes, but today I’m chipping crepi from the barn wall. How cool is that?

Crepi is like stucco, except it’s thick and spread over stone instead of chicken wire. Every so often it starts to fall apart and should be replaced. But not here. The plan is to leave the stone exposed.

The money from the sale of the rental house has come in. Eight months to close the sale and about eight minutes to spend the proceeds. I have shutters that are being held in place with bungee cords: time for new shutters. I have this truly hideous hole in the wall, see above, that will become a larger and more sightly opening, maybe even with a garage door. The apartment roof is going green, in its own way, sprouting all manner of growth on the tiles: time for a new roof. And did I mention that the guy who took away my handrails never brought them back? So, new handrails at the stairs. A hefty tax payment. My summer kitchen. Trees in the front garden. Gravel drive and pathways. I do believe that’s all the money and then some.

The good news is, this work is cosmetic, basically all finishes and furnishings. Longer-suffering blog buddies surely remember the five-figure sums that were buried in walls and under floors. This time, you’ll see it. Or I’ll see it. You guys will be thinking yeah, so, a room with a pizza oven. Oh, well. I take my pleasure where I can.

While I was wandering around trying to figure out how to finance my ambitious to-do list, I noticed that the crepi was starting to fall off, all on its own. So, why not, I spent a couple of hours helping it, chipping off bits here and there. I could do more of that. It’s kind of fun. In the end I’ll have to hire someone to get the upper walls, but that’s later.

The good news is, summer may have arrived. It took its sweet time and this sad little bunch of grapes is an example of how my produce production has taken a hit. That said, grapes, the first from vines I planted maybe two or three years ago. The cherries are gone. I may have to adjust my expectations, just think of them as bird food. By way of thanks, maybe, they are now hopping around on the ground; I hope that means they are munching bugs. They ate every single cherry, there being nothing else available to them. So, okay….

The tomatoes are happily throwing out leaves, which Julien is dutifully chopping off. I might have half a dozen tiny tomatoes on two dozen plants. At this point everything else in the kitchen garden is just leaves. We shall see.

Fortunately birds don’t like apples, at least not so far. I also have just the beginnings of other fruit: peaches and plums, mainly. No apricots, figs or persimmons. The pomegranate? I don’t know, yet. Lots of pretty flowers, though.

And that’s the news.

Potager Report

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Well, so, it’s harvest time. There are thousands of cherry tomatoes that I could neither eat nor give away. They are pretty much smashed on the ground, so I predict many volunteers next year, too. We could have all manner of tomatoes, given the unharvested remnants of this year’s bumper crop. I was able to rescue a few San Marzanos from the rotting mess. That’s it. Those mice can have at it.

We are clearing the kitchen garden. We could have gone for a winter crop, but Julien and I were so sure we’d simply repeat the failures of previous years that we didn’t plan very well. Plants went all over with no though of sunlight or water requirements. The whole irrigation setup was piecemeal. It’s too chaotic to simply continue.

So, out go the old plants. There are a few straggler butternut squash still ripening, plus some beets and carrots that I’m in no rush to harvest; I’ll leave them until last. Julien is a no-dig convert, so once we have cleared the area we’ll spread some aged horse poo that he gets from his neighbors — ah, the aroma — then a thick layer of cardboard. Then we’ll probably replace the plastic and walk away.

We’ll come back in spring. We’ll relocate the plastic sheeting to conform to whatever planting plan we dream up, then do a proper soaker hose/drip installation. I added a couple of hose bibs in the area, so that should go pretty well. There should be no neglected areas and thus no need for standard sprinklers.

We have had a long spell of steady rain, so the fruit trees are happy. I think we got four tiny apples plus a couple dozen mirabelles. But nothing died, which is a big improvement over my usual results. I see a few crossed branches and all so a winter prune will happen in January. We’ll also take a closer look at the Wild Wood. We found a hazelnut tree in there, and a quince. We need to encourage them and engage in further exploration.

I should be doing a winter pruning of my roses, but, well, lazy. Roger did a couple of them, most unexpected, thank you Roger. I should also weed around them and figure out what to plant under them that will choke out the abundant grass — abundant only around the roses, of course. Dream on if you think I’ll be able to get an actual lawn going.

So that’s it: the kitchen garden and the rest of the property, too. Long story short, we are tidying and settling in. It’s nice.

Checking In

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It’s almost fall. That seems so crazy. It’s not as if nothing has happened.

In the real world, RBG, RIP. Am I worried about what comes next? You betcha. In my world, I might possibly have sold the rental house, for the second time, don’t want to jinx it but maybe, maybe. We have a new house guest, this time a young man from Afghanistan who left 15 years ago and has yet to find asylum. He’s almost legal, here in France, and finds our guest room to be a step up from the rat-infested basements and all where he has been staying. Supposedly he is about a month away from finalizing the paperwork. Hope so.

I know I have been promising you photos of the house. Before and after, all that. I’m getting there, sort of. Where my motivation has been sidelined by overthinking, mainly, my friend Roger Stowell has stepped up. I encourage you to search Instagram for roger.stowell.35, where you will find his take on the place, along with the many other images that he posts. Brilliant guy. Please like, comment, subscribe, etc. Let’s keep him going.

Is This It?

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I may have solved the riddle of the ten zillion tomato plants.

If any of you care about my kitchen garden the way I do, getting right down into the weeds, as it were, you will remember that I have tomatoes right, left and center. Tomatoes and butternut squash: everything else squeezes in around the edges. The question is, how did this happen?

I think I figured it out. We had tomatoes for lunch, as we have done every lunch for a couple of weeks now. Not complaining, just saying. The first ones to ripen were these gnarly, irregular things. I’m trying to work out a variation of all cats being grey in the dark, but it’s not coming to me. Anyway, chopped up, gnarly works just fine. Some other varieties are starting to come online. We have beefhearts now and I think I saw a possible San Marzano turning pink.

So, today’s lunch, herbed omelet and a caprese salad. Just as I was about to dispatch this guy, have him meet his mozzarella, I realized. This is a Berkeley Tie Dye. What looks in the photo like a blown-out highlight is, okay, a blown-out highlight, but the main thing is, it’s yellow. Green, yellow and red, all on the same ripe tomato, a sure sign. I planted Berkeley Tie Dye last year. Not this year.

So this is the deal. The possible deal. Last year I planted all kinds of things. Then I ran off to Paris and left everything to fend for itself. Not many things came up. Some things came up, bore fruit — cherry tomatoes are pretty indestructible — and the fruit just rotted on the plant. Or maybe I threw it toward the compost bin and missed. Anyway, there were all these seeds left in the ground that just laid dormant.

This year I have spent a lot of time at the house, actually watering and taking care of things. And as avid readers know, we do no-dig; the seeds would still be near the surface. So my guess is that seeds from last year sprouted right alongside seeds from this year. Hey presto, bumper crop.

Fortunately I have a lot of cookbooks.