Best Birthday Ever — Little House Party

While this post may be a few months late, today I had a reminder that taking time to do the little things can result in something very special.  I was in my daughter’s 2nd class for the first time this year to volunteer and the teacher brought her up the front to read her “Best Birthday Ever” writing. It was all about her birthday party last April and how much she loved it.

We had a Little House on the Prairie theme, and while it took a lot of planning and research, sewing, baking and running around, it really was one of the best kids’ parties we’ve had, and one that I think will be the most memorable for all of us.

With grandmas helping me sew 13 bonnets and aprons, and my sister, Auntie Robin, to help the kids bake bread and make butter, I was lucky and thankful for the help. When the kids arrived, they got to “go shopping” for an apron and bonnet to dress up in. We gave them each a few coins to buy penny candy at Aunt Robin’s candy store. (In retrospect, we should have done this last!)

They made corn cob dolls and strung button necklaces. The dolls were a big hit and they spent more time than I expected dressing them and styling their corn tassel hair. Then they formed loaves of bread from dough we had made ahead. We let them add cheese, cinnamon sugar and jam to the loaves to let them participate. We shook mason jars full of cream to make butter.

Instead of goodie bags of plastic junk, they took home loaves of bread, jars of sweet cream butter, corn cob dolls and penny candy.

The chickens behaved amicably and participated, and everyone took a photo with one. Big sister and her friend were chicken wranglers and photographer (and later, cattle rustlers).

Pa made a covered wagon to sit in and climb on, and Ma (me) and the girls made a giant ice cream wagon cake that was a memory making event of its own!

It was a birthday we will never forget!

Covered Wagon Cake

Covered Wagon Cake

Prairie Girls with Chicken

Prairie Girls with Chicken

2013-04-20 13.55.29 2013-04-20 18.28.00 2013-04-20 15.56.51

Cattle rustlers take our calf! Oh no!

Aunt Robin helps make bread and butter.

Aunt Robin helps make bread and butter.

Cleo has to participate in everything.

Cleo has to participate in everything.

Doll making fun!

Doll making fun!

Thanks for sewing my costume, Grandma!

Thanks for sewing my costume, Grandma!

Happy day!

Happy day!

Easter Greetings

Tags

, , , ,

fountEaster Greetings! Here are some photos from this morning. We had fun with our fake eggs and chicks.

Why does it seem like everything is blooming today?  Even the Geranium Maderense is blooming for the first time!

henreitt a and chickThe coral bells are blooming…coral bellsAnd my favorite new flower for the hill, Bill Wallis Geranium or Geranium Pyrenacium is fabulous and nativizing. I have baby blue geraniums growing all along my rock wall in the clay soil (with hardly any water.) I love this plant. Thank you Annie’s Annuals (and perennials!)

photo (117)We had some fun with our chickens and some baby “chicks”

hen and chickThey actually hated them and ran away.  Then we added these eggs for our neighbor who is collecting them today. Surprise, Chuck!

photo (110)egg boxThe only sad thing is that our puppy is sick and at the kennel so here is a photo of her. Wish her a speedy recovery! We miss you, Cleo, but at least we didn’t have to worry about you eating chocolate and Easter grass!

photo

Spring Flowers

Last night the two kids and two dogs and I took a first day of spring walk. My daughter wanted to bring her chicken but I wouldn’t let her. Anyway, I felt we should commemorate the Equinox!

The first day of spring is a happy day for the gardener!

Yet here on the Point, we are in the gloom of spring fog. I see the edge of sun on the horizon, and think I will have to leave the house and drive to get some sunshine. (I haven’t seen the sun since Sunday when we were in Alpine at a friend’s house.) Living here in spring fog begins to wear on me after a while. And it’s only just the start. This could last into June.

Despite this gloom, which isn’t anything like the weather in the other parts of the country so I know you are saying “Geez, get over it!”, I have some beautiful flowers (and a few pets) in my garden. Here are a few photos from last weekend:

ranuncphotophoto (108)

swpee

February Planting with No Coffee

Tags

, , , ,

Other than the travesty of our coffee maker breaking, the week has been off to a pretty good start.

Warning—this blog was written entirely without coffee.

Even though it was not a perfectly sunny weekend, it was warm enough to garden, and I got a lot done. I planted almost all the plants I bought last fall and I only have one rose left from last spring’s order that I still need to plant. I’m scoping out a new spot–that means I’ll have to get another rose to plant where I thought I would plant this one.  You can never enough roses!

It’s good not to have planting last spring’s plant purchases hanging over my head.

For some reason, I finally worked up the nerve to start using the Rose Pro method of fertilizing, what appears to be a complicated series of odd things you have to hunt down at nurseries and drug stores to pour on your roses each month—urea, potash and Milogranite—just a few of the things in my future.  This week, I put Epson Salts and Super Phosphate on half of them today (the half that didn’t get the Ada Perry’s Magic Formula—I just love that name and won’t stop using it!).

Now I have an experiment going. We will see what works better. I can’t put the Ada Perry’s with Bone Meal on my roses where the dogs will eat it so it goes on the plants outside the wall. The puppy took a lick of the Epson Salts but I stopped her right away and most of my roses are fenced off (for this reason and the because of the chickens) with that low green wire fence.

I put my first chicken poop compost on a few of my plants too. Hoping that doesn’t burn, but it sat for six months and looked like real compost you’d buy in a store (Ha ha) and the dogs don’t want to eat it because it doesn’t smell like chicken poop anymore—just a guess…

I planted rosemary and horsetail reeds in my chicken garden. I need to buy more to fill out the space because they look nice and the chickens aren’t eating them. Rosemary chicken is a new joke around here.

I planted two azaleas because I have acid soil and they are supposed to like that. We planted artichokes, tomatoes, delphiniums, blue berries, onions and Iceland poppies, which I had to fight over with little sister who wanted them all for her fairy garden. She is envious of big sister’s fabulous fairy garden but hers is just as good…

Boy, I’m so random. That’s a problem with liking plants and not having enough coffee.

My husband bought a Raticator. You should hear Henrietta squawk when she sees a rat. It sounds she is being strangled. I heard chickens can stop laying eggs when the rats come so it should make Henrietta happy to have a new rat trap to save her.raticator

Anyway, here’s stuff I don’t want to forget to buy:

More Bill Wallis geraniums—they are looking great.

More Peruvian lily

Rosa Rugosa alba

Ferns for fern grotto—new idea for under elm tree

Coral bells

Remember to consider weeping willows because Tacoma Stands look terrible and may need replacing

One new Zuni Crape Myrtle tree

Cat mint to plant under roses

New lemon (dwarf)

Plant eggplant this year

Okay that’s enough! It will probably take me a year to plant all that.

If I had a decent cup of coffee, I would probably make more sense. The French press is our salvation and our curse–it’s a slow process for a small cup of coffee. Today I heard my husband talking to my father about how to make cowboy coffee or boiled coffee, his lifetime specialty.  We have to do something while we wait for our new coffee maker to come in the mail. Here is his try at cowboy coffee.

coffee

New Year Gardening

While I haven’t written for about a month, I have been gardening.  First task of the New Year garden in San Diego is rose pruning. With 21 roses, this takes me about two weekends with all the other things on our weekend “schedules.”   But I split it up nicely with pruning one weekend and cleaning, mulching, dormant spray and Ada Perry’s Magical Formula the next.

I hate dormant spraying and it always stresses me out to the point of in-action and ridiculous-ness (like three trips to Ace Hardware, fights with the hose, freakouts about chemicals and the chickens, kids and dogs), but it did help my roses last year with all the humidity. This year I had fruit trees to spray as well so I had to do it.

That done, now I still have mulching–my compost never seems to be ready. Fortunately, there were no rose pruning accidents like getting stabbed by giant thorns (2011 pruning), resulting in about 12 doctor visits and ending me up at a rheumatologist to diagnose what she decided was some type of arthritic condition brought on by a thorn lodged in my knuckle.  That took six months of diagnosis, lots of out-of-pocket fees and ended in me running from an MRI after discovering I really do have claustrophobia. (I had no idea when the technicians asked and then sent me into that outer space tube. I don’t know why they have a black hole at the end–really, they should tape up comforting pictures.) I now wear gauntlet gloves up to my elbows when I prune because I never want to go through that again.

The year 2011 a fading memory, 2012 a success and 2013 well under way, we are celebrating our winter garden and eating lots of wonderful plump sugar snap peas, lettuce, arugula and kale.  Bulbs are coming up everywhere and I’m waiting for a long stretch of day when I can get back out there to finish planting, pruning and mulching.  Oh yes, and with our weather fluctuating between 75 and sunny and 50 and foggy, drizzle, I’d like next Saturday to be sunny and balmy, please. I know we can’t complain about winters here in San Diego, but I do like to garden in the sun.

sabrina pea

Long-Winter Fall

I have been feeling nostalgic for the year of gardening, thinking back on all I did this year. Now that Winter Solstice is behind us and it’s the eve of Christmas Eve, I am looking at a sunny, green yard, still blooming roses and pansies, sweet peas branching across the ground waiting to be staked and my Christmas garlands and wreaths drying out.

photo (106)

Sunny Southern California offers no rest for the gardener in the winter. July and August are my resting months.

While I haven’t been able to write much this fall, I still found time to garden. Ten minutes, thirty minutes here and there, running outside at 5 p.m. in the fading light to plant seeds or bulbs. It all got done–my ritual fall plantings of sweet peas, pansies and bulbs. Then the vegetables.

My sweet peas are climbing across the ground (never had time to make bamboo trellises yet), my winter vegetable garden has lots and lots of edible pea plants — wow, did I plant a lot of peas this year. There’s kale and arugula and one petite cauliflower.

The bulbs my six-year-old and I planted one afternoon are sprouting. My ugly hill is still ugly but has moved out of the “horrible to look at” category. I feel like I’ve planted a million perennials on that thing.  My chicken garden is not planted but the potted nursery plants sit ready for a free day when the ground dries out and I have time to dig. Two more roses sit in pots ready to plant on my arbor.

I can’t believe I still did all that–the things I wait for all summer long, that take fifteen minutes now in the yard instead of a day. You have to be focused when you don’t have time. I think of my sister who planted one side of my front yard for me one day when my children were babies. I had to go somewhere for an hour, and I’d sat the pots all around the fountain where I wanted them planted.

“I’ll do it later,” I said, my voice trailing off because I really had no idea how I would do it.

When I came home, she’d done it all. Like some super-human sprite, she’d planted my entire front yard (well, almost). I have to muster that “inner sister” a lot lately when I am feeling distracted. “What would she do?” I ask myself. “How would she do it?”

Then I pull myself together and do it. I think of her speed and single-minded action.

I wish I had more time, but I suppose everyone feels that way this time of year. We all need our inner-sister or whoever inspires us to get things done. However, as a writer, I tend to dwell on things. Like this blog, which I’ve been thinking of for days. Perhaps I thought of my sister planting my yard because she is not coming for Christmas this year and I will miss the chaos and her ability to cook a giant dinner in the midst of all that Christmas noise and exhaustion as easily and efficiently as she landscaped my yard.

So I am baking a lot, looking out at the sunshine today, thinking of January when I vow to spend a day in my garden pruning my roses and preparing them for spring, willing myself to be efficient and single-minded and enjoy it all.

Agua Linda Farm — Thanksgiving

Tags

, , , ,

This Thanksgiving I was thankful for my family, for my work which has kept me insanely busy for a month, and for a day spent in the country this fall learning about one of my ancestor gardens at the Agua Linda Farm.

We spent the day there in October with my dad, my brother and his wife Sherry and my two girls.  The Agua Linda is special to my family because my grandparents lived there roughly from 1950 to 1957 after they sold part of the big ranch. My parents lived there in a small adobe house (that no one liked) and my brothers and sisters were raised there as babies. My grandmother built a beautiful Joesler designed home and changed the name from Reventon to Agua Linda for the beautiful Santa Cruz River that she had a view of from her sweeping picture windows.

I was married there in 2000.

So the place is very significant for my family. (And any data I give is probably contestable except for my wedding!)

My family sold it to the Loew family in the late 50s when we could no longer afford to keep it. Members of the Loew family (of Loew’s Theaters and other famous Hollywood names) have lived there since and they have been gracious enough to let me get married there and also indulge in our visits. They have also turned it into a fantastic organic farm that’s open to the public, hosting the greatest pumpkin patch you’ve ever been to. (Of course, I’m biased.)

Pumpkin head courtesy of Uncle Carlos

We had a great day there and also a great conversation with my dad who told me all the history I should know and seem to continuously forget. He says it’s a frustrating place for him to remember the crops that didn’t grow and the cattle that he had to sell, but it still seems magical to me and it’s truly one of the most beautiful places on earth. My Grandma was right! And her iris plants (and maybe violets) still sprout along the brick pathways and courtyard surrounding the house.

Well, here are some photos and some interesting things about silage that my dad told me. (I asked about that because my daughter ran away from me in the silage maze!)

Back in the days we started the farm, they had a cattle feeding operation there and they fed raised corn to feed the cattle–Mexican June, was the name of the corn. It grew so high and tall that the producers of the movie Oklahoma used it for the “Corn as high as an elephant’s eye.” No joke. (Later I will post a beautiful picture of my mother standing next to it.) They bought it and took it away from the farm and planted it somewhere else where they filmed that scene. At least, that’s family lore. But here’s the silage details, which are probably boring next to the gossip, but the farmers out there might like it.

“We put 3,000 tons of silage in a pit. We buried it and put water on it and it ferments.  Wheat, soybeans, cotton, …you chop it and ferment it and the cows get drunk on it.”

“First we dug it and with pitch forks feed it to the cattle. Then we found a silage loader. You dropped the silage on a conveyor belt and it went on the feed truck and we fed the cattle. It was the first silage loader in Arizona. Our silage pit was the length of a football field.”

Here we digress into a general history of every ranch in Southern Arizona and who sold what and who bought what and who lived on a crappy piece of land where it never rained (I think that was every rancher in Southern Arizona.)

Well, I wrote enough and I’m boring you. I hope you enjoyed the pictures! If you are ever in Tucson, drive south towards Nogales and go to the Agua Linda Farm. There’s a big sign on the highway so you can’t miss it.

Happy Day with candy apples!

Happy Thanksgiving! What garden, new or in your past, are you thankful for?

New Name–New Attitude? Henrietta Chicken

Tags

Since Grilled chicken started laying eggs, she is nicer. We appreciate her more. She’s not docile, but she lets you pet her without pecking your fingers. We still don’t pick her up, but I’m not afraid of her anymore. Poor thing, maybe her name made our perception of her all wrong.

Hmmm, no, she really was mean! And I’m still a little scared.

You can see from this photo that she is not to be messed with.

Anyway, in honor of her transformation, we decided she deserved a better name. (Sorry, David, she isn’t a rooster.)

Her new name is Henrietta. What do you think?

Chickenland–Not for Puppies; Bring Your Broom

Tags

, , ,

I haven’t done a chicken update for a while. So sorry, gals! They are remarkable and we now get three eggs a day. Along with our garden goods, we are feeling somewhat self-sustaining these days. I just need a goat!

We had an ongoing debate whether our chicken named “Grilled” — terrible name, I know–blame my thirty-year-old nephew for that—but back to my point—we all thought grilled was a rooster. While the two Buff Orphs were laying eggs every day, Grilled was turning on us and pecking so hard that she the broke skin. She made odd cackling noises in the morning.  Bigger and more decorated than the other two, she also had sprouts of rooster-like spurs on her legs, a larger comb and wattle. My daughter took to carrying a stick or broom around with her to protect herself from Grilled “attacks.” She came in the house crying a couple of times, not because Grilled pecked at her, but because she was sure Grilled was a rooster and we’d have to “send him back.” I had no idea if the feed store would really take him. I’d had calls from friends in similar situations who went back to return a rooster and ended up driving around to various East County feed stores because they were all “full” of roosters and couldn’t take more. My one consolation was that Grilled never crowed, which seemed to be the 100 percent sure sign of rooster-in-the-coop.

Two blondes and a red-head.

Then one day, Grilled laid an egg. Whew! Grilled’s eggs have a very nice dark brown shell. Grilled likes to sneak off to find little nests in secret places like the corner of the fence under the bottle brush tree. She did that last weekend—more crying and screaming from my girls. “Grilled is gone,” the cried. “She’s lost!” We all ran around —well, like you know what—looking for that damn chicken. Of course, I found her after the hysteria had gone on for about 30 minutes. I was not about to stick my hand under her to grab the egg and shoo her out of her sneaky nest. Later I went back and there was an egg. Later my husband went back and took away her nest! Poor thing.Anyway, the most challenging part of the chickens, which I find relatively easy to care for in exchange for all the lovely eggs and entertainment they are giving us, is Cleo, the puppy. And, the fact that the two blonde chickens are hellbent on escaping their “free range” area and stepping right into the waiting jaws of our six-month-old pup!

Now our old dog is very good with the chickens. He tried to eat them when they were chicks–you might recall in a past post, but he is sensitive. You yell at him once, and he won’t do it again.

Cleo at her graduation from puppy school earlier this summer.

Cleo on the other hand–as you can see she is a puppy school graduate–but that doesn’t matter. Here’s her perspective: I am out in the yard. Yippee. Yawn. I’m tired, but really I’m full of energy. I’m chewing leaves, crunch, crunch. I’ll eat this stick. Hey, looky there!!!! A fluffy flying thing–it’s coming to me! Ha. And look at that fat fluffy blonde, squeezing between the slats of the gate my dad built to keep me out. Yeehaw! It’s my lucky day! Those fluffy squeaky toys are heading up the hill. Hey, they must be bad, I must stop them, I am a herding dog! Oooo, really…I must eat them–no I shouldn’t–but a taste of feather–oOOOO. Delicious and disgusting–yet, why did that thing squat down. Who wants to chase that limp, prone bird? Is it dead or is this a trick? I am a smart dog. I cannot be fooled by a bird. Oh no, here comes mom with a broom. She’s screaming at me, again! Oh, I must stop myself. She looks mad. She is picking up that fluffy thing and making noises that she usually says to me when I get stepped on. I will chase the other one. Yikes! more broom, swishing the air near my butt!  How does she do that?

Okay. We use brooms a lot around here. (Note to husband: I did not say ride brooms.)

Puppy vs. chicken. Neither of them are learning! Why two fat little birds squeeze themselves through three or four-inch slats on the gate to get chased by a puppy, I will never understand! For now, I’m on standby with my broom–it keeps Grilled chicken in line, and Cleo too!

Cleo waiting for chickens to come out and play.