Stop, Thief!

Arriving home, arms full of ingredients for dinner, I make a quick stop by the garden to check on progress and harvest a few herbs. Arugula and lettuce are coming in nicely I see, although still too early to thin, and, yes, I can just make out dark red and green beet shoots poking through the soil. Garden peas are slowly making a showing but alas, no sign of peas comma sweet.

But wait, what's this I see? Sacrebleu! There's been an invasion! Indeed, every last top of my adolescent dill has been cruelly lopped off! Upon closer inspection and, adding insult to injury, the fronds lay scattered randomly about, wilting quickly in the late afternoon sun. My eyelids narrow and brow furrows as I channel Mr. McGregor and consider the possible culprits.

Suspect Number One: Humans. I purse my lips in thought but quickly eliminate any upright but not upstanding thieves. I'm on good terms with all neighbors in close proximity and Oliver, the dog next door, is happy to alert his owner (a fellow gardener) to anyone setting foot on the property, friend or foe. On second thought, there are two notoriously unfriendly folks a few doors down, but, no, they wouldn't dare sully their shoes in manure for a dirty deed such as this.

Suspect Number Two: Rabbits. There's plenty of them to go around and they're fast and furious but I eliminate them from the perp list as well. I've a good, strong rabbit-proof fence of high quality chicken wire that I've checked and rechecked for possible entryways. No pawprints were found at the scene, though I did lift a partial from a nearby stake. Still, I say no, a rabbit couldn't have committed this dastardly crime.

Suspect Number Three: Birds. Hm, I intoned, as I twisted my moustache. (No, wait, that's not right!) Hm, I intoned, as I jutted my jaw and looked to the skies. They travel in packs, speak in tongues and rise early enough to see us off for the day. No fence will keep their getaway wings at bay and their small stature draws little attention. The dill was low enough to the ground to favor their spindly, leave-no-trace feet and its stalks just tender enough for the snap! of a concrete-sharpened beak. Yes, my money is on these little rascals, cloaking their innocence in pretty feathers and song, all the while training their beady, calculating eyes on my fledgling dill.

And so, with one last glance at the crime scene, I tag and bag the evidence (still needing it for the salmon, after all) collect my packages and head upstairs to write up my report and plan my thwarting revenge.

Vignettes

The terrible traffic and ramped up security made me suspicious, the sea of Port-a-Potties and a rainbow of tracksuits confirmed it. Today is the start of Penn Relays, the oldest and largest track and field competition in the country. With more than 22,000 high school- and college-age participants, this event is held annually at Franklin Field, just a block from my offices.
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Just after the rains had passed, I walked down Walnut Street in the track meet bus shadows across the Schuykill to meet up with a friend. We chatted and ate at Tria Cafe, a busy wine bar on a breezy corner near Rittenhouse Square. The highlight, besides the conversation, was definitely the Tuscan Three Cheese Potato Chips with Herbed Truffle Aioli, aka fancy chip-n-dip. Afterward, we walked the paths of the Square until dizzy; wet, fallen petals sticking to our sandals and hair.
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After careful consideration, Gus decided tonight to accept a generous offer to work as a CRNA at Harborview Medical Center in Seattle. The Chief CRNA whom Gus told squealed into the phone, so clearly she is as happy as we are with this news. At 208 days and counting, we now know where we will be post-graduation. Oh, what a feeling!

Purple Pansies

I set my sweet pea seeds to soak last night with the intention of putting them in the ground today. Unfortunately, the weather took a turn for the wetter, but with only a light drizzle falling, my Seattle roots told me it wasn't rain enough to call off the planting.

Donning my winter jacket (unseasonable, but my only hood option) and rainboots, I headed out with spade and seeds for a quick planting. My upstate downstairs neighbors showed up just in time to see me, rear in the air, mucking an awkward backwards path along my garden's fence, carefully pressing a shiny, wet seed into a straight shallow trough.

Minutes later, duty done, I filled my now-empty jam jar with a fragrant posy and headed back upstairs, tramping my caked boots on the uneven cement and wiping my muddy hands on my black sweatpants.

The Pros

For some real garden inspiration, Gus and I skipped church this morning and drove out to Chanticleer Garden in Wayne, Pennsylvania. The weather was sunny but with a cool wind; fortunately, Gus had a few extra sweaters in the car that we put on before we set out to see the grounds.

From the garden's guide: "The estate dates from the early 20th century, when land along the Main Line of the Pennsylvania Railroad was developed for summer homes to escape the heat of Philadelphia. Adolph Rosengarten, Sr., whose family's pharmaceutical firm would become part of Merck & Company, chose the Wayne-St. David's area to build his surburban retreat."

Here is a view of the main house at the entrance to the gardens:

Beds at Chanticleer Terrace:

The darling Spring House in the lower grounds:

And a little pond friend...I thought he was a statue!

Incredible fields of daffodils - some were already spent but there were still plenty to enjoy:

And quite possibly the world's most enviable set of cold frames...if only!

Finally, what could make for a more relaxing spring Sunday, strolling with Gus through such beautiful scenery?

Garden Gnome

Few days send my heart into such a flutter as today, Plant the Garden Day. When we first considered this apartment and I eyed the overgrown but intact raised beds just west of the house, I knew this was the place for us. The first year's garden was the most difficult, removing knee-high weeds and a bumper crop of mint from the forgotten ground, borrowing the neighbor's unruly rototiller, and adding compost and manure. I wasn't sure what would grow here (everything) or how well (think Jack and the Beanstalk) so I tried a little of this, a little of that. Last year, I was overeager and planted too much, resulting in a too-full garden that bordered on the insane.

This year, I've gone back to basics, planting more flowers and the edibles I truly love. I'm using as many heirloom varieties as I could locate, in addition to seeds from a "New Year's Resolution Garden" packet my mom gave me. Each item you plant is related to a common resolution, as you'll see in the details below. The heirloom seeds are either from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds or D. Landreth Seed Company. Landreth is the oldest seed company in the country, dating from 1784, and located in New Freedom, Pennsylvania.

One of my garden's raised beds is below where an air conditioner drips, so that rectangle is reserved for flowers only. A mess of Sweet William survived the winter and looks fantastic; in its midst I also planted sunflowers ("I will make more family time"), Monarda Bergamo ("I will help the environment") and mixed annual cutting flowers ("I will have less stress"). I also bought a flat of snapdragons, pansies and violas which I added to this bed and to my half-round brick-lined flower bed.

My chives, lavender, Italian parsley and thyme survived, and to these I added cilantro, dill, sage and rosemary. I planted "Rocky Top" heirloom lettuce mix, heirloom Chioggia beets (pre-1840 Italian), carrots "Tonda di Parigi" (19th century Parisian), arugula and Alaska garden peas. I've also cultivated wild strawberries and various mosses which grow in between the bricks and elsewhere in my garden.

Here are most of the herbs with the survivor Sweet William in the background:

Here are the garden peas just before I covered them. Hopefully the birds will leave them alone!

And here is a photo of the lettuce, arugula, beets and carrots, all in a row!

Springtime

Each and every year I'm convinced its glory unleashes overnight, a miracle at work while we sleep. With the absence of Evergreens, the east coast spring is that much lusher, bare to absolutely beautiful. It seems impossible to believe that a few short months ago this ground was covered in inches of snow. Now, everything's a-bloom, fragrant and unfurled, all except the large tree outside our bedroom window. The only living thing holding on to the memory of winter.

On my walk home from work, my ears pricked at a quiet, gentle sound, but one I hadn't heard for a season: the rustling of leaves. I love the shoulder season, between closed windows and air conditioning, when open windows mean my favorite alarm, a cacophony of twittering birds.

Welcome spring!

Absence

For the past few months, it's been difficult for me to come here, to set down my thoughts. I've started a dozen blogs, composed in my mind a dozen more, but none has felt good or important enough to press "Publish Post" for. I can and I can't say why. Apathy. Boredom. Compart. Comport.

It's not as if life hasn't continued to happen, the good, bad and otherwise. I just haven't felt compelled to record its truths and what's been revealed in these first new months.

I want this space to continue to live, so I'll try, try again to remember my experiences here. To put down for posterity these last 224 days.