Ink & Penstemon

Observations on plants and gardening from the Great Basin steppe in the American West.

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    22 posts tagged musings

    To Diana: My thoughts on Tumblr

    An open reply to Diana of Elephant’s Eye Garden’s comment from my Paperwhite’s post in which she asks about my impressions of using Tumblr—


    Just to start, Diana, off topic is fine. And, just to point out a feature of Tumblr, if you do ever want to just ask a question or start an off topic conversation, Tumblr provides an Ask Me Anything page, which I would love to see get more traffic. So ask away!

    I like the tumbleblog concept. I like it quite a bit. (For those who don’t know what a tumble blog is, here is a link from Diana’s query that sums it up.) I like the abbreviated format; I don’t feel compelled to write an article for every post. It’s nice to be able to put out just a single image, or quote, or video. I postulate that in five years, most new blogs will be tumble blogs and Tumblr is doing an excellent job of carving out this niche. Mind you, you don’t have to have a strict tumble blog to be on Tumblr; it supports old school blogging just fine, as evidenced by this post. In fact, you could treat your current blog just like a tumble blog, you just wouldn’t have Tumblr’s network and features to drawn upon.

    Tumblr is also very pretty and there are many, many “themes” to choose from, each with different features that cater to various blog formats. If you are accustomed to the plug-and-play nature of widgets and such that’s built into other blog publishers, you may be somewhat frustrated. Tumblr is a darling of web designers, so they cater to those who know their way around CSS, not so much to your average blogger who probably isn’t even sure what a CSS is. I’m somewhere in between, and I’ve been able to manage.

    My main complaint about Tumblr is what most consider an asset: the “reblog.” Reblogging allows you to republish someone else’s Tumblr post in its entirety on your blog. Sure, they give you credit and a link back, but it creates something of a culture of parasite blogging. It’s part and parcel to the new “share and share alike” culture of the internet. (I’m sure the folks at Cook’s Source would have loved having a blog on Tumblr.) I’ve only ever been reblogged once or twice, so I don’t consider it to be an issue of any consequence. If I had a popular blog that could earn me a book deal, this loss of traffic might be a concern. 

    Also, you should be aware that Tumblr offers no support to import blogs from other publishers so kiss your Wordpress/Blogger/Typepad world goodbye. You can’t take it with you. Your old posts will stay put. Your “friends” lists will be gone.  Despite leaving a link to your new location, expect a drop in readers for awhile. Tumblr does has its own community directory, though the gardening community isn’t very large. If you really miss your old peeps, Google Friends can be set up on Tumblr, albeit it’s a bit redundant. You will have to rely more upon networks like Twitter, Facebook, and Blotanical to attract readers.

    So, obviously this isn’t for everyone. If you are attracted to the tumble blog format, but don’t want to bother with the clean start, you may want to try it in addition to your regular blog. Still, I’ve enjoyed the move. If you do start a tumble blog, just be sure to let me know so I can follow it.

    Soft

    Has modern life made us soft? Are we addicted to “convenience” so much that we couldn’t live without it?

    These are the thoughts that crossed my mind yesterday when I picked up my share of veggies from my local organic CSA. Over the summer, I’ve been exposed to various greens that I’ve tried to avoid such as kale and collard greens. Most recipes I’ve tried, even the fancy ones, call for cooking them into insipid, mushy oblivion. It doesn’t help that as the summer has progressed, we keep getting greens coated with patches of small aphid-like bugs and their eggs distributed in such a way that you can’t cut them out. Immersing the leaves in water only removes a few of the insects but none of the eggs. In order to make the greens palatable, I find myself picking or scraping off legions of the little bugs with the back of a knife. Now I’m so repulsed and annoyed by the exercise, I’ve been wastefully discarding the greens into the compost.


    Yummy.


    Have I become so accustomed to the pesticide-drenched, bleached-rinsed specimens at the supermarket that I feel entitled to perfect greens? 

    Gardeners of the past dealt with insects and plant diseases without chemical pesticides or fertilizers and were inured to the occasional presence of bugs in their produce. They just removed them and prepared what wasn’t spoiled.

    It makes me wonder if, in the long term, convenience is more detrimental than beneficial. This article in our local paper examined the generational divide between mothers of today who only use disposable diapers even at the expense of other necessities such as food, and the thrifty practices of their own mothers who cloth diapered their children. I feel absolved on this front as I use cloth diapers in addition to disposables, as my own mother did. Yet despite all my generation’s efforts at “eco-friendliness” when my mother says of her generation “we were greener than you ever will be,” I have to give her some credence.

    And, even with new research and better information on gardening and the focus on sustainablility, some impressive gems have been rediscovered in old gardening wisdom from over a century ago. Go further back and there’s even more interesting finds. Truly, there is nothing new under the summer sun.

    Of course, the past isn’t entirely populated with legions of Shakers and John Muir types. Our ancestors did write the book on how to be extravagantly wasteful and indulgently exploitive. But I still think there is plenty us young whipper-snappers can learn from the more provident pioneers who have gone before us. If they could suck it up and pick the bugs off their collard greens, I can too. Right after I find a way to eat them that doesn’t make me gag.

    Ever since a small boy, I have loved just to look at the mountains, to see them in different lights and from different angles, to feel their rough rock under my fingers and the breath of the winds against my feet…. I am in love with the mountains.

    Wilfrid Noyce

    Monthly Garden Report for September

    Is September over already? I haven’t even started canning the peaches. 

    September is always so short and so full of digressions. Scraping and painting the porch railings, waxing the wood floors, getting the rain gutter replaced before the rain comes, cleaning the carpets, cleaning out the HVAC, and canning, and canning, and canning.

    I hate September. I hate being the proverbial ant busily storing up against the winter with its nose to the ground, running. Even a well-scheduled ant will notice the signs of the changing seasons: the cooler air—rotate your clothes; the shorter days—set back your clocks; Costco putting out their holiday stock—freakishly start buying Christmas presents before Halloween. 

    I hate being an ant. The world is too full of ants.

    Being a grasshopper is the way to go. Grasshoppers jump into fall. They eat it up ravenously; strip it bare. Those lucky-jerk grasshoppers just blow off everything and go on vacation to enjoy the changing leaves in the mountains, to sit under the trees and marinate in that velvety sun of late September afternoons and proclaim “yes, ants of the world, I am busy!” And it is the best kind of busyness, you know. Bouncing around frenetically, trying to take it all in, because every time it is different and then it’s gone.

    Sure, winter comes on fast and knocks your feet out from under you. That’s its job. Winter is cold. Winter is still. But autumn is quiet. If you don’t take time to listen, how else can you hear yourself think?

    I hate being an ant. I want to be a grasshopper.

    But the garden needs an ant right now. The Acer glabrum and accompanying ninebark, ‘Jacqueline du Pré’ rose, and cotoneaster are in, but the Rhus aromaticas ‘Gro-low’ need to be tucked in, as do the Penstemon venustus, and the oatgrasses. The veg garden needs to be put to bed for the winter, garlic needs to be planted. I need to finish the south borders. October’s arrival means that the deck will need to be torn out, and all the shrubs and forbs by the Alberta spruce will need to be transplanted somewhere as they are in the way of the great fir transplant slated for December. But where will I put them? And the spruce itself needs tearing out. I’m looking forward to that like I would look forward to a root canal, but it must be done.

    And the bulbs! The bulbs! 

    I have a few more days left in September, though. Maybe there’s still time to hop around.

    Reminder: As with all MGRs, the photos for September are in the previous post as a photoset. Enjoy.

    Clueless Natives

    Why I Don’t Use Round-up

    Originally, I posted this in the comment section of my last post on Bindweed, in which I stated that I was a bit spooked to use pesticides like glyphosates like Round-up and others, so I try to garden organically. Ginkgograss questioned me on this, and after posting a too-lengthy reply in comments, I found that it probably merited its own post.

    Pesticides are taboo for me. I’m not saying using pesticides is a moral question and that you are a bad person if you use them. And I try not to be preachy against those who choose to use them. I do use some rarely, and with extreme caution, protecting myself with long-sleeved shirt, goggles, mask, and nitrile gloves.

    And yet, I watched my mother in law battle with a rare non-hereditary form of cancer for years and endure an early and painful death. She didn’t smoke or drink and had fairly healthy eating habits, but she did grow up and live for almost her whole life in food and cotton agriculture country where pesticides were and still are applied heavily. In addition to living in an already potentially toxic environment, for many years, she used Round-up to control weeds encroaching on her backyard from a neighboring field. Now, no, we don’t know for sure if the pesticides were the cause, but I know she certainly thought they were, especially the Round-up. As she reasoned, she was the one who applied it and then she had ended up with cancer while no one else in her family did. I’m pretty sure if she could go back, she would have done something else to those weeds in the back, even if it meant pulling them out by hand. What was a few hours weeding compared to the years of her life now taken away?

    Again, I can’t prove pesticides like Round-up gave my mother-in-law cancer. I suspect that it was a combination of exposures to different substances, but who knows? I just remember thinking how awful it must be to believe that you yourself had caused your cancer by doing something you could have easily avoided. So, I’d rather take the safe route and not use things like Round-up if I can.

    I realize that this is a pretty heavy-handed answer to Ginkgograss’s comment, and I apologize for that. I don’t want to make anyone reading or commenting on the blog feel badly for using pesticides, but please be careful if you do and if you can, only use them as a last resort. Again, what’s a few hours of weeding to an untroubled mind?

    While we all may hope the Endangered do not become the Extinct, nobody can keep a Snow Leopard in their backyard. As with so much else in our beautiful Biosphere, essentially you can only pray for them. …The Garden is the last real refuge and power spot for most of us. In it, we take personal responsibility for our own tiny corner of Nature, and each of the creatures in it. So plant something untamed or ancient or unusual; protect something that could use a helping hand. Make the most of the opportunity to enrich your own experience, while making it possible for what you love to flourish.

    Marissa Fishman from the Greenmantle Nursery website, www.greenmantlenursery.com

    Gardening En Seul

    When I encounter some stunning garden that is immaculately kept, I sometimes find that the garden is a collaborative effort between someone and a partner, often a spouse. These gardens are packed to the gills and always well-staged and weed free. I am envious of these gardens for they are not loved and looked after by one, but two! and it shows. I imagine, in this circumstance, tending the garden becomes more like raising children and less like growing stuff, and a child that is loved is a good and beautiful child.

    I wish my husband would share my garden enthusiasm. I don’t expect it; one shouldn’t try to muscle my interests onto others. But as I’m out tearing up sod, weeding, or prying out rocks, I fantasize about him deciding to grow Cypripediums and consequently falling in love with gardening. The possibilities someone else’s intimate perspective would bring is tantalizing, provided it didn’t include those fat yellow marigolds I hate. Also, in a lowly way, the idea of being able to blame someone else for failures has some appeal. Imagine being able to blame the other person for failing to water the new Penstemon transplants—”It’s not my fault! That was your job!”

    The hubby helps, of course, through forced volunteer labor. He has dug many a hole for trees, moved large rocks, has mowed the lawn on occasion, despite having bad grass allergies, and perhaps most importantly, has agreed to budget a large portion of my time and our money to the garden. And he does walk in the door occasionally and say, “the flowers look really nice, don’t they?”

    Still, it would be nice to have someone help with the deadheading once in awhile.

    Gardening V. Micro-farming

    There’s been a whole lot available on the interwebs about growing your own veg. Many blogs are devoted to such pursuits, with the growers proudly extolling their crop as well as the ingenious ways they have developed to grow them.

    But if you are gardening and only growing vegetables, are you really a gardener? Really, it seems like you’re more of a micro-farmer.

    Most gardeners are growing trees, shrubs, forbs, grasses, in addition to veg and fruit crops. It is rare to find someone growing vegetables who isn’t also growing these with them, but it just seems that with the “eat local” trend, more and more, I’m encountering gardeners who espouse a belief that gardening is worthwhile only if you are growing food. Not only that, they make glowering prophecies about the oncoming dark ages when people will only allowed to grow food crops because aesthetics are entirely gratuitous and therefore expendable; growing flowers will be allowed only if it helps to grow better veg.

    As to that last point, I’ll stop growing flowers when you pry my spade out of my cold, dead hands. In defense of my titular argument, I’m not saying that people who only grow vegetables aren’t worthy of the title of gardener or suggesting they are as not as good at growing things than others who allow for a broader focus. In my experience, growing a good vegetable crop is incredibly more difficult than growing perennials and trees. I just think that micro-farming is a better title for what veg growers do and why they are doing it.

    Let the flaming commence.

    Cultivation of [Penstemons] outside of their native ranges, or in climates dissimilar to their native ones, should be considered experimental at best. It is probably worth moving to a warmer, drier climate if you have trouble growing these plants.

    Some garden humor from:
    Penstemons. Robert Nold, Timber Press, 1999, p. 80.

    Gardeners named Susan

    Is it just me, or does there seem to be an awful lot of gardeners named Susan? It first came to my attention when I came upon a garden blogroll somewhere and there were a lot of Susans on it. 

    This is odd, because growing up I almost never ran into Susans. I was it—Susan en seul. I bumped into other Susans occasionally when I moved around after college, but when I finally settled here, they began crawling out of the woodwork. In fact, there was an eerie, yet short-lived period in the neighborhood where each woman that moved in was named Susan.

    But now that I’m more involved in the online gardening world, I run into them regularly. Susan Harris at Garden Rant is probably the most well-known Susan. Her blog had a post on landscape designer Susan Cohan. And, I’ve just discovered Susan Ranner of the eponymous Susan’s Garden.

    Are women named Susan destined to become gardeners? Do I have a gardening doppelganger named Susan out there somewhere, who’s also wearing a pink hat? 

    I’m curious as to how many of us gardening Susans there are. If you are a Susan or know of a gardening Susan, please make note of it in the comments. Consider it a gardening-Susan census. We’ll see if I’m just paranoid or narcissistic or both.

    If life gives you lemons, stop complaining because you’re probably living somewhere awesome like California or Florida where it’s warm enough to grow them.

    My husband’s grandfather is in his 90s and owns a half-acre in NorCal in the valley. He used to grow just about everything. I once asked him if there was anything he couldn’t manage to grow. “Nope.”

    My husband says that the garden is now a shadow of what is once was. Still, that’s an impressive shadow.

    Why Do Birds Loot Nests?

    I found two dead baby birds on the lawn and I was fairly upset about it. I even let out an audible gasp of horror over it. Earlier this season, I saw a blackbird pick a baby bird out of its nest; that was disturbing, but I figured it has to eat or feed its young. But why do some birds—I’m looking at you, bluejays—throw out nestlings for no apparent reason? Are they asserting their territory? Can birds just be jerks?

    I happened on them just as I was walking out to weed a bed. I kills me because I had arrived home an hour before and heard a bird calling in a manner different from what I had heard before. When I happened on the dead nestlings I remembered this in an instant. I felt rather guilty, wondering if I had gotten there sooner if I could have saved them and put them back in the nest.

    Yes, I realize it’s an ironic twist—I was fuming over this as I was weeding.

    I know I’m a sentimental pansy when it comes to this, but as I’ve said before, survival of the fittest sucks.

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