The Great Cucurbita Experiment

Over the past week, I've put the tomatoes in that I got from the farmers market, and the Red Cheese peppers, plus a couple of the tomatoes that Rob's mom gave me. I put them all in big pots or in the dirt-filled trunk that I call the "Asian Soup Garden." I'm paranoid about putting anything in the ground because of the

(whew... earthquake! 4.8 and epicenter about 4 miles from me...)

Anyhoo... paranoid about putting anything in the ground, because of the random bug problems that I'm having. I'm still not sure where to put the squash that Carol gave me, but it's got to go in the ground soon.

Mothers-in-law. Feh. My MIL and I have always resided on completely different planes of existence. These two planes very rarely intersect. But... I've always admired her way with a garden.

Her back yard is a rambling, shambling mess of roses, hollyhocks, primroses, shade trees, vines and creepers, and assorted pretties that she finds at garden centers and brings home to let run to riot. I love her garden because its the antithesis of planning and forethought. If I were to try to duplicate it, I would fail miserably. It's just a comfortable, informal space that people actually like to hang out in. There are twinkle lights in the trees, and a couple of fountains, and two porch swings, and the entire yard is dripping with dangling, twirling geegaws that catch the breeze or dance in the sunlight. My son loves it. This last trip home, the family gathered out on the back porch and drank and talked late into the night. My husband and I wandered around and smooched among the Agapanthus(es?) after it got dark.

She always sends me home with cuttings or seeds or full-grown plants, which I have horrible to moderate success with. Yesterday, she sent me home with Sweet Dumpling squash seeds, three volunteer tomato plants from her pepper pots and a volunteer squash from her compost heap, and a shit-load more cuttings from her pink primroses, since I've been pretty lucky with those so far. She also sent me home with a mesh onion bag full of "naked ladies" (Amaryllis belladonna). We'll see how those weather out here in the desert...

We'll probably never see eye-to-eye on anything, and are probably destined to drive each other crazy for the rest of our days, but we've found a peaceable kingdom in her back yard, with my son--her grandson--flitting about from pot to dirt pile to fountain to pot, and she and I companionably digging up pieces of this and that, a handing-down of plants and green wisdom, all arguments and petty squabbling set aside for at least one afternoon.

I guess its just easier at this point to name off the plants that are still viable than to list what has died:

Acorn Squash
Tigger Melon
Golden Sweet Melon
All six Lavenders
Sage, Oregano, Mint, Chives

Plus the hot peppers and loofah, but only because they were still residing on my kitchen counter the night of the (doot-doot-daaaah.....) FREEZING RAIN.

Monday night around 10 pm, I'm sitting here at work, and I notice some kind of movement outside my window. I peer out, and wouldn't ya know... it's snowing. Not a flurry, not a sprinkling, but all-out snow. My window overlooks the dumpster and the parking lot of the Mexican restaurant next door, none of which was visible because of the DRIVING SNOW.

So I finish up here, race home, and it had been raining down there. Bad news. I would've probably been better off if it had been snowing down in the valley. DH followed me around with a flashlight in the back garden while I put plastic bottles, kitchen bowls, cardboard boxes, basically everything I could get my hands on, over my plants. I brought in everything that I was still hardening off.

The temps continued to dive during the night, and when I checked on everything in the morning, the tomato plants were all standing tall and proud and bright green, but only because they were completely and perfectly frozen in place. As soon as the sun hit them, they collapsed in a black and soupy mess. As did the pattypan squashes. And the basil and lemongrass.

I went to the farmer's market on Wednesday and bought a few plants: SugarPie pumpkin, Rainbow scallop squash, Green Zebra tomato and Black Plum tomato. The plant booths were doing a booming business, because everyone's plants here in the area died Monday night. That was comforting at least, to know that it wasn't just me. The lady that I bought the squashes from had the audacity to tell me, "Terrible, just terrible... but GREAT for me!"

Last week, I dug up all my winter squashes and tossed them out on the compost pile, and started new with seed. The only one to sprout so far is the Black Futsu.

I also decided last week to pot up the lavenders instead of putting them in the ground. A lot less work, and more portable in case we move anytime soon. Six lavenders sold as the "Learning to Love Lavender" six-pack from Mountain Valley Growers: Alardii, Sweet, Dutch Mill, English, Fred Boutin and Provence. They're in 10-inch pots right now. A bit on the small side, but I'll either put them in the ground next spring or pot up into bigger containers. Assuming I don't kill them before then.

The entire family went to the farmers market, and we bought shaved ice and ate it in the park afterwards. I fell in love with the little garden area where we sat down and ate. The picnic tables are underneath a shady, trellised area, and right next to that is a beautiful little perennial garden with a gravel path and raised beds. The only things I could identify without a book or anything were mullein, japanese maple, russian sage, lavender and artemisia. I've been obsessing about it ever since. It would be so easy to put together something like that if we actually lived in a place that we owned.

Everyone's roses are obscenely prolific right now. It's so disheartening to drive around town and see people's ugly-ass, neglected, weed-filled yards, absolutely EXPLODING with gorgeous roses. They didn't do a god-damned thing in the way of gardening, but are rewarded with these beautiful displays of roses. I, on the other hand, have worked my ass off this spring, only to be rewarded with fresh fodder for the compost pile.

Boy, this is the worst garden of any garden anywhere, ever. Meanwhile, I still torture myself with episodes of Victory Garden, Curb Appeal and City Gardener on television, thinking to myself, yeah, try growing some o' that shit *here* in one of the most inhospitable environments on planet earth.

This is all too much to bear...