Unearthing an Unexpected Bounty

This Spring, I double-dug my raised beds, worked composted manure into the soil, and gently planted my seeds and seedlings after all danger of a frost had passed. As the tiny plants began to establish themselves, I kept the beds weeded and stood sentry against any invasion of would-be pests.

And then I got distracted.

I mean, like, criminally distracted. Like, I should be barred from calling myself a gardener. I basically ignored my garden. For months.

I know, I know. How could I just leave a carefully planned garden to languish? How could I let all my hard work be taken over by weeds? The answer is complicated, but the simplest explanation is that my head just wasn't in it. I had so many other things going on in my life and in my mind this summer, I just simply did not have room for caring for Swiss chard and cucumbers.

And then slowly, as the weather cooled, I came back to my garden. My mind quieted, and I found myself longing for the feel of the soil between my fingers again. I began to pull the weeds from the garden. At first, the sight of all those spent plants, choked by vining brown weeds shamed me. The growing pile of pulled vegetation was a rebuke: Where have you been? But the simple act of kneeling in the dirt was so calming, so nourishing, that I let all the should have's go. It just felt so good to get my hands dirty again.

And then I found them. Beneath a mass of weeds, a few green tops of carrots remained. I pulled them, thinking I could at least get a carrot or two out of all of this mess. To get the full group of carrots out, I had to dig in the dirt with my fingers. And I just... kept digging. All through the patch where I had planted those carrot seeds back in May, carrots were waiting under the soil. Many of them had had their tops chewed off by the local (active) bunny population, but under the surface, big fat beautiful carrots remained. Just... waiting. Waiting for me to come find them. Waiting for me to be ready to appreciate them.

I sat there with my harvest, and laughed. With joy, with relief, and with gratitude for a world that holds its gifts in reserve, waiting for me to be ready to accept them in all their secret, delicious glory.

Home

I have just returned from three delicious weeks at my parents' house in Maine. Truly, one of the most beautiful places on earth, and we had a lovely, lovely time. Kayaking, swimming, building sandcastles at some of the world's most gorgeous beaches, walking in the woods, and just relaxing with the grandparents. I feel so incredibly blessed to be able to take such an extended break from "regular life."

But honestly, three weeks is a long time. Yesterday was relaxing in its own way, as we return to the routines and rhythms of our daily life.

And of course, there was the garden.

Three weeks is a long time to be away from a garden. Thank goodness my husband was here to keep things watered and harvested. Because, oh my how things have grown.

Before I left I planted some basil, tiny plants my neighbor had given me.



Can you say, pesto?



This morning glory is a weed. It grows in my rose bed and tries to strangle them. I had pulled it all up before I left. And in three weeks, it reached the top of the trellis. Beware the morning glory, I tell you. These things are crafty.

When I left, I had finally put cages around the tomatoes.



Now the tomatoes are taller than me. Oh my.

And these zucchini plants and not only ginormous, but they're prolific! The zukes just keep on coming.



The marigolds I planted to protect the tomatoes and zucchini are lost under all that foliage. They must be working, though.



Because just take a look at this:



And this:



Oh. my. goodness. These plants are just overflowing with green tomatoes. I could just jump for joy, I really could.



I ate this Swiss chard last night. It was incredible. I swear I could take it to the county fair and win prizes. It's unreal.



Uh-oh, the pumpkin vine is trying to escape again!



Dude, what is it with pumpkins?? Stay in your bed, dagnabbit!



The arugula is in flower, but that's okay. I'm surprised at how much we got from it, and how long a season we were harvesting it. Thanks, arugula! You were great!



The broccoli is still getting munched to within an inch of its life, but somehow it's growing! Many, many thanks to my devoted husband who dutifully removed cabbage worms for three weeks. It's a thankless job, but my broccoli is grateful.



Munched, but still hanging in there.

The green bean house is amazing.



You really can (if you're three feet tall) climb inside and sit in the shade.

And exciting things are happening to the green beans, too:



Now, I need to get back to my weeding. The vegetables aren't the only things that thrived in my absence.

Quick Kitchen Garden Update

I believe the word is "flourishing."

These raised beds have been the best. idea. EVER. Thank you, Pioneer Woman, for the step-by-step tutorial. I've even got my friends building them in their front yards. Woohoo!

So we harvested our first zucchini! Very exciting.



Our two zucchini plants are the happiest ones I've ever had.



And more baby ones on their way!



Even more exciting, the first tiny little green tomatoes have appeared.



The tomatoes are entirely surrounded by marigolds as a natural pest control, and so far so good.



The tomato plants are very healthy (knock on wood). And remember: no pesticides, no fertilizer beyond organic compost. These are all natural, baby.



Are those the cutest tomato cages you ever saw? I'm in love with them.

Meanwhile, I am keeping my family and friends well-supplied with Swiss chard these days. Warning: if we have plans to meet for coffee, I will show up with Swiss chard, spinach, and arugula. It is simply a given.



The leeks crack me up. I planted them approximately one million years ago, and they are just now beginning to thicken beyond a blade of grass. Will they ever turn into nice fat leeks? The world may never know. Meanwhile, they amuse me.



Now, do you know what this gorgeous little thing is? A baby pumpkin. Awwww!



And finally, the green beans have made it to the top of the fort. It is now officially a little green play house. Swoon. Ignore the weeds, they give the place charm, don't you think?



Want to come play?

Making Friends with Carnivores

My two younger children are born naturalists. They greet each bug, each flower, each bird, and each weed with a spirit of fascination and wonder. They eagerly observe and study the world around them.

But they are also children. Which means it is not enough to observe the praying mantis we found in the bushes by the hose -- they want to make him their pet. We often have these temporary additions to the menagerie, but I try to make sure that after a few days, their new friend gets released back into the wild. In the meantime, my hard-and-fast rule is you may not keep anything unless you are able to feed it the right food. So once we have a new friend in the bug habitat, off we troop to the kitchen computer to find out what it is and what it eats.

"Okay, guys, it says here that praying mantises are carnivorous. That means they eat other bugs. The really big ones even eat frogs, lizards, birds, and small rodents. This one's small, so he'll eat smaller insects."

There's a pause as this sinks in. "So... we'll have to catch bugs to feed it?"

I'm thinking this will be a dead-end. Bugs are friends, thus they cannot also be lunch for a praying mantis. I'm even thinking she may have some harsh words for her praying mantis "friend," for his heartlessness in eating such adorable creatures as ladybugs.

But no. Off she troops to the garden to find prey. She knows exactly what she can feed her new friend without remorse, the perfect snack for her fastidious friend.



Cabbage worms. I tell you, kids who garden are nothing if not practical.

Eventually, though, it was hard to catch enough bugs for our voracious little buddy. We decided that the praying mantis himself was surely a much better insect-hunter than we could ever hope to be. So we set him free. In the garden, where he can be a force for good, snacking on aphids and cabbage worms.

But surely not ladybugs.

This post is part of the Moms' 30-Minute Blog Challenge, hosted by Jamie at SteadyMom.

The Battle for the Broccoli

Back in mid-March, I planted broccoli seeds. I had high hopes. But I'd never grown a brassica before, so I also knew it was kind of a crap shoot.



The seedlings were so sweet.



Then, we had a heat spell in early April, and I accidentally left the seedlings outside. Oops. We had some heat damage, and I was thiiiiiis close to giving up on my poor pathetic broccoli.

They went into the ground looking sad and pathetic.



But suddenly... they found the will to live! They began to grow! Oh, happy day!



And then... came the cabbage worms. At least, I'm pretty sure that's what they are. Oh man, these things are voracious. When I first found them, there were fat pale green caterpillars on the underside of all the leaves, plus lots of tiny ones and eggs. I carefully scraped each leaf of each plant.



And now that I know the danger, I'm out there every day, scraping off eggs and tiny worms.



And still they come and feast. Buggers.







And while I am highly annoyed at these little pests, they have given me an opportunity. An opportunity to appreciate my food all the more.

It's hard work bringing food from seed to table. We are dealing with the natural world here, where every living thing is a food source for something else.

But can you imagine? If these plants survive long enough to actually produce edible broccoli? If I am able to put broccoli from these very plants on my table? Oh my... What a day that will be.

Meanwhile, if you're looking for me, I'll be out here fighting the good fight.

Care for a cup of tea?

Compost tea, that is.



I got my worm compost bin for my birthday in December, and have been slowly building my worm community in the months since. It hasn't all been smooth sailing. At one point, I had baby worms but almost no adults. (It turns out I was over-feeding them scraps and not enough paper; too much nitrogen and not enough carbon.) I think I've finally figured out the balance, and since we moved the composter outside, they have thrived.



Yesterday, I collected my first batch of compost tea from the bottom of the composter. What a thrill! I diluted it with water, and it went to feed my tomato plants.

I think they liked it!



Nothing like a cup of tea to perk you up.

This post is part of the Moms' 30-Minute Blog Challenge, hosted by Jamie at SteadyMom.

The Magic of Butterflies

What is it that is so captivating about butterflies? Why are children young and old so entranced with them?



The obvious answer is their remarkable transformation. Metamorphosis is one of nature's most grandiose and extravagant miracles. It is incredible in the truest sense... you seriously cannot believe your eyes, when you get the chance to see it occur.

But also I think it's because they are so fleeting. Their lives are so short, and so tied to the seasons -- the first butterfly is the truest harbinger of Spring. And caterpillars are so accessible. They are easy to find (in their season), and they will crawl all over your arm and tickle you and you can watch them munch leaves.

We have found ourselves quite smitten with butterflies lately. First, there was the tent caterpillar we found at the park. We brought it home to observe it, and placed it in one of our bug-studying habitats. It was so active and had such interesting markings. I was looking forward to trying to get a good photo of it, but surprise! we woke up in the morning to find it had formed a cocoon. And about two weeks later, we woke up to find the cocoon empty. (Sadly, I didn't get a good picture of the moth either. It's so annoying when nature won't comply with my compulsive need to document everything!)



Then we ordered some painted lady caterpillars. They were so tiny and still when they arrived, I thought for sure they had died in transit. But no, they ate their food and grew and pooped and ate their food and grew and pooped, exactly as the enclosed pamphlet said they would.



And they formed chrysalises! And then... they emerged. As butterflies! Beautiful, active, sugar-water-drinking butterflies. They were amazing. We observed them for a few days, and then released them to allow them to complete their life cycle out in the world.



We watched them fly away, and then noticed that this one hadn't gone far. "Look!" I called the five-year-old over, "Look, that one's still right there in the grass!" No sooner had she identified that particular butterfly as her favorite, the one she had dubbed "Late Rose" because it had been the last to emerge from its chrysalis, than we watched as a gray catbird swooped down and caught it in its beak.


Seconds before the catbird swooped in.

Usually, my girl is very matter-of-fact about these things, but this time, she cried. She yelled at the catbird. And then she convinced herself that perhaps that wasn't Late Rose at all, it was some other butterfly who just happened to be there, some other butterfly that she hadn't raised. Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid.

So we were very excited to get to see the butterfly show at the Krohn Conservatory on our recent trip to Cincinnati. It was an amazing display, highlighting butterflies of Japan. First we got to see the butterfly nursery.



Then we entered a room that was literally filled with butterflies, and we each held a silk flower dipped in nectar and hoped that one would land on ours.

They were so incredibly beautiful.



We stood very still. We willed them to come to us.



Over here, butterflies!



And then... magic.



Happily, my yard is full of these beautiful pollinators right now. Butterflies, like bees, are essential to our ecosystem. There are lots of easy ways to make sure your garden is attractive to these colorful visitors -- the National Wildlife Federation has a helpful guide.

After all, we all need a little magic in our lives.