Liz was out landscaping, AKA planting bushes, and noticed this little guy back where the honeysuckle hedgerow had been ripped out:
It’s only a weed if you don’t want it.
–Simon
Perspective
My daughter, like any reasonably well-balanced child, holds a general concern for other living creatures. She does not capture and flay squirrels a la Peter Wiggin, which is good, but she also takes issue with her dad threatening to shoot them. The same goes for bunnies.
The she started her own garden. After the bunnies worked their way through two of her plants, her sympathies quickly evaporated. Now, she’s actively asking me to shoot them to save her plants. Maybe I’ll get to teach her hunting after all.
–Simon
Tomato Connoisseur
Nah, not really. I don’t find the differing tastes of tomatoes to be all that unique. Some are sweeter, and some are more acidic. There’s a much greater variation in how they look.
But of course they’re all awesome. And in following a tradition, I always take a photo of the year’s first tomato.
Granted this was from one of my purchased plants, so it’s still kind of cheating, but the sweetness of the victory is compensated for by the sweetness of this variety.
–Simon
So Much I Don’t Know About
No, this isn’t an existential post. Well, maybe a little. So Liz wanted a tiered strawberry bed. That wasn’t a priority project, but something she had been keeping in mind. Recently, we had a kid-free day, and she suggested a couple options to fill that opportunity: Dayton’s 2nd Street Market, and Mendelsons liquidation outlet. The former didn’t sound very interesting to me as I had envisioned food and hippies peddling art (we went there later anyway, and my prediction wasn’t far off). But Mendelsons sounded just odd enough that I became intrigued. And so, off to Mendelsons we went.
“Liquidation outlet” didn’t do this place justice. It was somewhere between hoarder’s opus and nerd’s paradise, if that means anything. It occupied 3 stories of a downtown Dayton manufacturing compound, and was filled with surplus/deprecated products, ranging from plastic restaurant containers to decommissioned business electronics. One day I’ll have a server rack, and I now know where to acquire one to refurbish.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Liz found some nice wooden boxes on the ground floor, which we would go back to. A sign, however, informed us of electronics being on the 3rd floor (the 2nd was off-limits for an unknown reason). Following these signs, we were led down a hallway to a choice: elevator or stairs.
A service elevator with a dubious last-maintenance date? We took the stairs.
It was on floor 3 that I realized there is so much in this world I just don’t know anything about. There were piles of circuits and various mechanical components. Alarm systems, telecommunication systems, closed-circuit surveillance systems, row upon row of capacitors and resistors. There was a section filled with ball-bearing rotation devices. There were things I was afraid to even touch–what appeared to be high-pressure sodium light bulbs. How is this place allowed to exist? I don’t know, but I’m glad it does.
There were many, many ideas for future projects. But, back to the strawberries. Downstairs, we picked up the two boxes we had set aside earlier. They were labeled as NCR boxes–a company I had to research as I am a non-native to these parts. Once I did, however, I remembered the logo. Sadly, it was another big company that had abandoned Dayton with the recession. The meaning behind those numbers, written upon the wood, will be forever lost to time as the sun physically erases them from existence.
But the wood is solid and looks nice. One placed inside the other, raised on bricks, created the tiered strawberry garden Liz wanted.
They just don’t make ’em like they used to.
–Simon
Insectopia
I’m understanding more and more the appeal of hydroponics. I could grow vegetables in a controlled environment, maximizing yield while minimizing space, all the while eliminating pest problems. I realize of course that this is an overly-simplified view of gardening, but frustrations lead me to consider it.
This, The Year of the Garden, has me experimenting. Before I choose how to invest my energy and resources, I have planted a variety of test plants. At the end of the year I will consider the results of these subjects, then use it as a baseline to decide what to grow in the future. Except tomatoes of course–I will always grow those.
Still, it’s irritating when something doesn’t work out. Yet I’m quite the gardening pragmatist on all matters besides tomatoes, so rather that fight nature, I strike bargains with it. The rabbits are eating my flowers, so I plant beans and clover–something far tastier. The rabbits in turn have, for the most part, agreed to leave everything else alone.
But, there are forces with which I cannot reason. And said forces are always of the insecta variety. I had a tentative relationship with my local ecology, until the Japanese beetles arrived. Nasty little harbingers of death. First they attacked my crabapple, then the ash, then the peppers, then the basil. So I did what I don’t like to do–applied insecticide. I’ve also installed a beetle trap for the first time. I don’t like to take these measures because they always have adverse and unpredictable effects on the balance. But it was either that or lose my entire garden to the scourge.
I had a couple pumpkins volunteer, no doubt from the Jacks who withered away post-Halloween. And wouldn’t it be cool to grow a pumpkin? I did successfully manage to do so one year at the townhouse. My pride and joy this year is big and happy.
Then I noticed some interesting wasps frequenting the plant. From experience, I generally take that as a good sign, as they prey upon things that eat my vegetables. But this wasp was one I hadn’t seen before. Curious, I took to the Internet, but as we can still only search with text, it made identification difficult. So I consulted a better resource: the family chat. It is often quite convenient that I have contact with such a variety of biologists whose degrees and hobbies frequently overlap. I took a photo of the questionable insect and sent it to the group.
Moments later, I received a response. I was instantly concerned. Such a quick turnaround couldn’t possibly be good news. My sister advised me it was a vine borer, followed by the comment: “mother fuckers!’ and the suggestion that I “kill them!!!!” as “THEY WILL DESTROY ALL YOUR SQUASHES”. I must say, that was very clear and concise expert instruction. So many of my colleagues could learn from this effective communication.
So it turns out that this little fucker is a moth. As the name implies, their pupae bore through the stems, often with fatal results. The myriad of treatment suggestions ranged from targeted excision of the grub to injecting BT. This seemed like a lot of trouble for a plant I wasn’t terribly vested in, so I guess I’ll just wait to see what happens. The main stem is already chewed, so I doubt there’s much I could do anyway. Pity.
Are there any bugs that selectively eat dandelions and thistles?
–Simon