Larner Seeds

Baby Blues Eyes and Clarkias

California Poppy, Coastal Form

A little while ago my best guy spent the day teaching a watercolor workshop at Point Reyes and I tagged along. Not to paint, but to take a spring hike and visit Larner Seeds, a small seed company located in Bolinas where, as they say it, "we seek to promote the riches of our California flora." How could anyone argue with that?

It was a fun visit, although beware: Larner Seeds is only open on certain weekends of the year. However, you can always order seeds online, anytime of the day or night.

And the hike? Fabulous. Great wildflower displays, marsh wrens singing away in plain view (I rarely get to see marsh wrens) and an osprey family in the making, tucked up high in its branchy nest. 

I heard that the painters also had a wonderful day.

What's That in the Composter?

I still have, and even use, that old black plastic composting bin which Alameda County used to make available at a deeply discounted price. And every so often I go through and harvest its rewards to use in the garden. This is one of those times, since I need that compost for hilling up those Purple Viking potatoes (planted in February) and getting the tin tubs ready for baby lettuces.

But you never quite know what else will show up, mixed in with the compost. Round here, it's usually just millions and millions of little red worms, shiny black beetles, roly-polies and the occasional ensatina salamander.  Sometimes though, there are some true surprises:

The soup spoon that went missing months (or was it years?) ago.

Or Princess, the helpful garden cat.*

* Honest. I did not stage this photo. She is a cat and, as such, just wanted to be part of the activities.

Escape from Alcatraz: Issue 4

Not the movie. Not the triathlon (good Lord!). Nope, it's the comic, or graphic novel, if you so prefer. Yes, the fourth volume in the series of comics describing all of the break-out attempts from Alcatraz (aka "The Rock") from way-back-when, when it was a federal prison (now it's part of the national park system).

And my best guy got to be part of this comic adventure.

So you know when you have a friend who has hidden talents (no, I did not say super powers, but, in fact, that is fairly close to the truth), and this friend invites you out to lunch where you then discover that, in addition to a successful real life, he has another successful life in the land of comics. And best of all, he wants you to be part of the action.

No, this is not one of those imaginary friend things (those guys never pick up the lunch tab) but Wren Nowan. Last year he was commissioned by the Golden Gate National Parks Conservancy, a non-profit which supports the Golden Gate National Parks, to produce this fourth comic in the escape series. Heck, they even paid him.

So at this lunch, Wren asked if Michael would consider collaborating with him on the project and, although I wasn't there, I think the answer sounded something like "you betcha!"

They got to work and now, a few months later, Escape from Alcatraz: The Final Breakout, is ready.

There will be a book signing event at Escapist Comics in Oakland on Sunday, April 27th at 3 pm. Stop on by if you get a chance.

From Winter to Spring and Back Again (And I'm Not Only Talking About the Crazy Weather)

Hellebore collected from my Uncle Joe's yard in Alabama

These garden toughies may be the salvation of my backyard. Known as hellebores (common names include "Christmas rose" and "Lenten rose"), they are among some of the best performers for that hellhole of a garden spot usually referred to as "dry shade". In addition to coping with little water and little light, they even can deal with icky-sticky heavy clay. Of course they prefer an easier life (who doesn't?), but that still doesn't stop them from blooming from here to almost forever.

However, snails and slugs may chew on them, so get your pitching arm in shape by winging those buggers out of the yard (boy, do I still miss that mockingbird which used to wait for me to show up in the early morning and "deliver" breakfast for the entire family).

With time (I have one which I planted somewhere around 15 or more years ago), the plants can get quite large - two-plus feet around or more.  Depending on the variety, the plant will die back and look a bit ragged in the fall (keep that flinging arm in shape or else), at which point the older leaves may be cut back to make room for new growth.

This year, mine started blooming in late December, are still going strong, and will probably be in bloom until June. With a breather, they will do it all over again with next winter's rains.

Annie's Annuals has a great selection of hellebores in a wide range of colors. Not all are available at any one time, and for sure these babies aren't cheap, but they may be your garden champions for life.

The Red Chair

Princess & the Red Chair

We didn't move, not really. But my best guy did bring his painting studio back home, which meant that the TV room had to take over the computer space, which put the computer stuff in my workroom, which… you get the picture. Too little house for too much furniture.

So we've been re-arranging stuff, recycling stuff, selling stuff, and just generally moving stuff along. Including giving stuff away. Some things have been easy to part with, and some have been a lot harder. In the middle range was the Red Chair. The chair that was given to me by college chums and in which I wrote my graduate thesis. It wasn't red then, but at some point it got painted red (Guilty. I confess. I did it.) and brightened up a corner of the small alcove just off the living room. Obviously a great place for a small, furry animal on a sunny afternoon. Like Princess, for example.

Luckily, Jackie and Adrian, with a new home to furnish in Alameda, saved the day and the chair. It's new role is to be Jackie's work chair, assuming that she can ever reclaim it from Mushu…

Mushu & the Red Chair

Photo courtesy of Jacquelyn Frost

Volunteers of Oakland #3

Gosh, I wish I'd heard about this sooner. I could have lived with so much less garden-guilt. All those little plantlets and no place to put them, so off to the composter they went. Yeah, yeah, I understand that they certainly are useful as compost, but they still had to die.

But now, all those extra plants, bulbs, seedlings, vegetable starts and all that other green stuff can be given a new chance at life at The Plant Exchange on Saturday, March 29th at the First Presbyterian Church in (guess where?) Oakland!

Very briefly, it works like this: you bring your items to donate (click here for a list of what they accept), and then go "shop" (dangerous, ve-e-ery dangerous) among all the other plants and items donated by other generous gardeners. And the lovely people at The Plant Exchange even help you unload your donations and reload your car with your new acquisitions.

For the complete read-remember-and-follow instructions, click here.

I wish that I could say that I will see you there, but I can't make it this time. Even so, I'm dropping my donations off early - they accept them anytime after noon on March 15th at 2619 Broadway (along 27th Ave, near the handicapped parking spaces) - and marking my calendar for their next event in October.

Bottom Rot

2012 San Marzanos.  No Bottom Rot That Year.

Technically, it's not called bottom rot but "blossom end rot (BER)," but we sometimes are a bit more blunt - crude, even - around here.

But so what is it, anyway? A disorder of tomatoes and peppers, featuring lesions at the blossom end (dah!) of the fruit which all too often expand, turn funky and black, and ruin the fruit for eating. Ick. Sometimes you can salvage part of the tomato, but usually it's only use is for target practice in the green bin. Sadly, it seems to occur most frequently on paste-type tomatoes, such as our family favorite, San Marzano.

What to do? Well, BER is generally associated with a calcium deficiency in the plant and/or soil. And lots of expert-type people have all sorts of remedies. I also have one:

Save your empty egg shells, allow them to dry out for a few days, or weeks even, it doesn't seem to matter. Then crunch them up into little pieces* and mix a small amount of these crushed shells in the dirt at the bottom of the planting holes for your tomatoes.

If you do a web check, you will discover that many people have proposed this same idea, but they will also instruct you do crazy things like store the eggshells on top of the refrigerator (do they have a magic refrigerator? Mine only seems to collects dust). Or grind them up in the blender (just what you want… more dishes to wash).

Why mention this now? Because March is the time to start thinking about sowing your tomato seeds for this year's bountiful harvest (all fingers crossed). And adding a smidgen of those crushed eggshells to the potting mix certainly can't hurt.

OK, OK, so why grow tomatoes from seed? Because you need one more project to worry about.

No, really because it's the only way that I know which pretty much guarantees that the variety of tomato I want to grow will be available. Most nurseries only stock a few types, which may or may not be suited to your garden and/or your taste buds. Also, you are less likely to import diseases, such as late blight which decimated the tomato crops in 2009 and 2012.

*I first start with my fingers (easy to wash) and simply pinch and crush the shells. To reduce them further, stick them in a plastic bag, loosely tie or knot the bag shut and run your rolling pin over it a few times. Nothing to clean up. Does not collect dust.

Rainy Day

(FYI: Color photograph)

It's only a drizzle in the bucket, just enough to make Princess the Cat cranky (as if she needs any help) but the flock of cedar waxwings doesn't seem to mind. Usually I locate them by sound - first you hear this thin, high whistling, and then you look around - up high is a good idea - until you see a group of small birds. As often as not, they are not in a tree, but flying around, whistling together.

Even on rainy days.

At Last, the Leeks

Early and small (with a red onion thrown in just for confusion) leeks.
Photo taken 11/17/13

Some people claim that the Bay Area's climate is ideally suited to growing leeks. Perhaps, but leeks sure do take their time, even under prime conditions. And yes, I know that most members of the onion family (allium) are leisurely growers, but these guys should perhaps be known as allium slowpokeyum.

I started my leek seeds indoors in January, 2013 and transplanted them out in March. By November, they were long, tall and stalwart (and probably thrifty, trustworthy, reverent and brave as well), but pretty puny in girth. And this is after ten long months of taking up garden space.

Full-sized leek. Photo taken 1/13/14
(hand clippers for scale)

But oh, what a difference two months makes. By the time the remaining leeks (sure, we ate 'em, even though they were a bit undersized. They may have been small, but they were tasty.) were around a year old, they had sized up considerably. They were at least 1 1/2" in diameter and put the ones at the market to shame.

I don't think that my personality is suited to the leeks' lifestyle, and my gardening space is extremely limited. So that should have been the end of it, right?  But I did have some leftover seeds….and I just wanted to see if they would sprout…and now I am committed to a row of leeks again this year. At this point, I wonder just why it is so hard to throw away a handful of tiny sprouts. But come next winter, it should all become quite clear. 

Cat? What Cat? I Don't See Any Cat...#3

She's done this ever since she was a tiny kitten - hidden behind the transparent curtains in the house  and waited there for someone to notice.  We can't decide whether Princess is just really shy, likes to play dress-up or has ambitions to join an order of nuns.