Garden Box Part Deux

With the success of garden box one (above), I decided to make a second one. Well, that and I wanted a squash plant. Okay, I HAVE a squash plant, but it's dead, or dying, depending on the day. I figured everything's been happy so far in the garden box so I'll make one for a squash plant. According to Mel, squash need a 3x3 square which is more than half the box so I decided to put a trellis on garden box deux to maximize space.


















I enlisted the help of my friend, Erin (see lesson 3). As Erin demonstrates, enthusiasm is key!


















The supplies I need to make a box are 8 pieces of redwood, 8 corner anchors, 4 tie plates, and some nails. I actually recommend screws but that requires drilling holes first and getting new screws and that's just too much trouble for me! Actually, I recommend going to Walter Anderson. They sell garden boxes for about $5 more than it cost me to make one ($69 vs $65). That's what I'll be doing next time.


















I use the corner brackets inside each corner and build two boxes. These are expensive parts and account for $18 of the total cost. There are less expensive ways to do it, like using pieces of wood in each corner instead, but I wanted everything flush on the inside.


















Then I line up the boxes and nail the tie plates inside the center of each side, attaching the boxes together. One problem with using the nails is that, if you make a mistake and have to take something apart, the nails can be a bitch to get out. This happened to me when Erin and I lined up the two boxes and one of them was bigger on one side than another...ooops!


















To fill each box, I use five components - compost, manure, peat moss, vermiculite, and soil.


















I added a trellis and planted the plants. Each got a tablespoon of organic fertilizer and a good watering every day for several days. Here's the finished product, complete with a makeshift doggie fence (we're watching Sierra, a plant eater - plus she and Woody both like to eat the dirt). I planted squash, sugar tomatoes, heirloom tomatoes, and four cucumber plants.

Lesson 6 Don't Let Your Corn Have Sex

DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT look up "corn sex" in google images. Unlike my google search for "sexy earwigs," which was relatively harmless (as it should have been) a search for "corn sex" is a different ball of wax.

Why, you ask, would I look up "corn sex?" Good question. And I have a legitimate answer. It is my understanding that without enough wind (and plants even), corn needs help reproducing. And without said help, no offspring (read: corn) will be produced. So how do I play love doctor with the corn? I bet you don't know the answer. But guess who probably does? GOOGLE. Now, I can read all I want about how to make the corn plants have sex, but I really just need to see a picture. Which brings us to the GOOGLE image search for "corn sex." Makes perfect sense, right?

Suffice to say, I pressed a couple plants together and called it a day. Which, by the way, is NOT how you have corn sex. But that was before I did the GOOGLE search and learned my plants don't have all the requisite parts. Why, you ask, don't they have the requisite parts? Because they're dead. Lesson 6.

Earwigs - Not So Sexy

So in a previous post, I complained about the earwig problem I'm having and a friend commented that I should put up pictures of sexy earwigs to distract them. For reasons I don't care to explain, I decided to google "sexy earwigs" just to see what would come up. I'm naive in many ways but even I had a hunch that I'd probably get a nudie shot or two with any kind of search involving the term sexy. How many pictures would it take before this happened, I thought? Let's find out.

Turns out, there's nothing sexy about earwigs. I got pictures of earwigs, a picture of an ear with a wig, pictures of fish and birds and people's food, and even a picture of earwigs with Rick Astley. I finally came across what I thought was a boob but then realized the subject in question had a goatee and it was actually a moob. A very large, unsexy, self fondled moob. Disturbing. I guess I got what I wanted.

I don't understand...

how organic gardeners do it. I've been picking earwigs off my plants for the last three nights. I must have lost a dozen marigold flowers to them. They like basil, too.

You know what they don't like? Containers of veggie oil. Or rolled up newspapers. Apparently they live in opposite land in my garden box.

Lesson 5 - Buy Marigolds

Yesterday the marigolds had to give up their shade. They had three days of peace and now must face the elements. I noticed even as they first were exposed that their leaves had some insect damage. At least there were petals still on them though. Much better results so far than last time. But today, the damage worsened. I decided to hold a stakeout to figure out who the culprit was.

I waited until it was dark. When the time was right, I peeled myself away from Enter the Dragon - Sidebar - Why, even though they're speaking English, does it still seem like everyone's speaking Chinese with radio personalities from the 20's doing the voiceovers? Anyway, I grabbed a flashlight and told Woody the plan. Complete silence and darkness until we get to the plants. The element of surprise is vital. Woody looked at me and sat at the door. That meant he was ready. I opened the backdoor and Woody went out screaming. Well, at least he was enthusiastic.

I checked the marigolds and saw, nestled between the soft orange petals, earwigs! I didn't really have much of a plan as far as bug removal. I definitely wasn't prepared to pluck them off with my bare hands. So I went to the garden shed and grabbed my shears. The first one dove for cover before I could get him, the second wasn't so lucky. The third I'm not sure about. I was in such a blind rage by that time I was running the shears through the dirt just hoping by volume I'd kill me a bug.

I sprayed (for the second time today) with the insecticidal soap, which specifically lists earwigs. If this is the effectiveness of organic gardening pest control, I'm going to seriously rethink organic gardening. As a last resort, I've consulted some voodoo methods on the web and am implementing them tonight. More on how well the bugs like to read newspapers and drink veggie oil tomorrow.

UPDATE:Apparently Woody likes to eat veggie oil, the bugs? Not so much.

Transplanting with Care

So one of my problems is that plants are too damn sensitive. I feel like I have to walk on eggshells around transplants. Well, Mel (from The Square Foot Gardening book) suggests shading transplants for a few days after planting. So that's what I'm going to do.


I bought some wire and shade cloth. I fashioned wire cages to go over a 1 foot by 1 foot square. Then I covered them with the cloth and set about planting my first three squares - Marigolds.


Now, the last time I planted Marigolds, they were gone the next day. Literally, gone. Nothing. No friendly speck of orange to remind anyone what the stubs in the ground used to be. As you can see, I'm even following Mel's suggestion to water with sun-warmed water (REALLY!?!?!). I'm so desperate for success I'll try even that.


Here's Woody with his friend, Sierra. Why do dogs always act like they're starving? They kept drinking from the water bowl and trying to eat out of the fertilizer box.


Here are my marigolds carefully placed in my garden box. Woody, get out of the picture! (He's actually on his way to munch on my chocolate basil. Really Woody? You eat my chocolate basil? Maybe I didn't kill that one after all...)




So this time, I'm shading those suckers until they acclimate and get over the so-called shock of transplanting. THEN, and only then, can they be properly eaten by whatever bug comes along in the night. They'll be in my garden for at least three days, of course, I won't be able to SEE them, but they'll be there. Damn it, they'll be there.

Building My Garden Box

I recently read "Square Foot Gardening" by Mel Bartholomew and was inspired by his very organized, mathematical approach to gardening. So I decided to give it a go. I'd heard from other sources how wonderful box gardening was and coincidentally, my friend Lauren, had just built one the other week. Of course, she had the help of her boyfriend who is a contractor. Okay, okay, before you roll your eyes at my total lack of carpentry skills that I'd need a contractor to build a BOX, you have to understand something: I'll do pictures on a wall, hanging curtains stresses me out, putting up shelves? Call an expert. But I was inspired, and I was going to build a box!

I think the most difficult part was the time I spent at home depot. Just finding everything was a pain. And there's the constant looks from the people who know what they're doing wondering what the hell this girl is doing (looking completely lost) in the lumber department. I must have looked pretty pathetic because I got a lot of offers of help but I just needed time to absorb all the products. I had to make sure I knew exactly what ALL my options were, which meant checking out EVERY piece of lumber in EVERY section. I didn't want to miss something, after all. Finally, I picked out my redwood pieces and had them cut. I also bought manure, vermiculite, peat moss, and compost to fill the box. After maybe two hours and two trips to the cash register, I was ready to roll.

My plan was to build two four foot by four foot boxes. Since each box would be six inches tall, I'd place one on top of another so I'd have a twelve inch deep box. When I got home, I realized I hadn't planned on how to actually connect the two boxes together. So back to home depot I went. In talking with the store employee, I learned 2x6's were in fact, about an inch and a half thick. What does the 2 in 2x6 stand for then? I asked. The employee tilted his head to one side and thought for a moment. He gave a rather lengthy explanation about production but I was just thinking how my measurements would be off by a half an inch on each side. I guess I could live with that.

With all my supplies in order, I set to work. Actually building the box was easier than I thought and within no time I was in business. I prepped the ground where it was going, filled it with my fancy materials, and made my grid lines (the most important thing!).



(above) This is the lucky piece of real estate. Here I am getting it ready. That's Woody's blue pool, by the way. Wet dog + dirt lawn = not so good. So the pool has been out of use for awhile, until now!



(above) After I tried to level the ground...who am I kidding, I didn't try that, I put down some trash bags because I was too cheap to buy weed cloth.



(above) The smaller box with the wire bottom was not my invention. It was built by whoever previously owned the house. It made a great sifter for when I backfilled the box with some of the existing dirt.

Lesson 4 - Plant a Branch

In lesson 3, I mentioned an Australian plant I bought at a gardening seminar. Something about the petite white and pink flowers on my Matilda made me think of sitting outside on a sunny afternoon while drinking tea. I imagined her all grown up, filling the space behind my patio bench as a living romantic backdrop. In addition, Matilda was drought resistant and didn't need much care. Just the thing for me.

But in an unfortunate trampling incident, Matilda was taken out by none other than my number one herbicide, Woody. But not all hope was lost. Matilda wasn't completely severed from the ground. It seemed she had joined the ranks of the late Gryffindor alumni Nearly Headless Nick, "Once again, you show the sensitivity of a blunt axe." I set Matilda back up and used my number one defense against plant death: happy thoughts. Maybe she wouldn't notice the damage.

But she did, and she fought for awhile. I guess there's only so much water and nutrients that can go up the few strands left connecting Matilda to her roots. I decided drastic measures were needed. There was a branch just below the injury that I thought might survive. So I promoted Matilda to the Headless Hunt and completely severed her. Then I did what seemed to make the most sense, I took the severed piece and stuck it in the ground. It died.

In more promising news, the uninjured piece still forges on, barely.

Lesson 3 - Get a Dog

That's Woody. He's a natural born plant killer. Don't get me wrong. He doesn't set out to kill plants. He takes no pleasure in their demise. They just get in his way. When we moved into our house. There was a green lawn in the backyard. Now it's dirt. What happened? Woody. He needed the space for running, after all. Then there's the corn stalks (yes, I'm growing corn. CORN!!) Except a couple are bent over because Woody sometimes walks over them to get his ball when it bounces into the garden (I just prop them back up, maybe they'll straighten some day). And then there's the beautiful Matilda I bought from an Australian grower. Matilda was my first big girl plant purchase since I didn't buy it at Home Depot. Woody trampled it no doubt trying to get to the bush next to it that houses his arch nemesis, lizard (see lesson 4).

But most notable is the small bush that grew in the corner of the yard. It was perfect for me. It didn't need water or any special care. And every year, it bloomed with the most beautiful flowers. I remember the day clearly. I wasn't actually home when it happened. My friend Erin brought her pit bull, Dakota, over to visit Woody for the evening. I received a text message, "You are going to be so mad."

First of all, friends, don't begin a conversation that way. Ever heard of a compliment sandwich? Every bit of bad news should follow this format: Something good...bad news...and something good. Example, "You have a great smile...but there's a big piece of food in your teeth...but it gives your smile a little extra spice today." Bad news needs a fluffer, if you will. Something to soften the blow, a bit of friendly preparation to lubricate the bad news. And anyway, how am I supposed to respond to "You are going to be so mad?"

But I digress. I stared at my phone, images of a fire or a mess of astronomical proportions swirled in my head. Knowing the dogs were playing, I figured it had something to do with the backyard. "You know that bush in the corner..." her next text began, but the rest is hazy because everything at that point just got blurry. Now, I'm no stranger to dead plants, but this one was different. It was a reminder that plants indeed can live, and produce flowers, and give me warm fuzzies. It was a promise of good things to come, of the hope of better days in my garden. But its days were numbered, just like every other plant in my yard. And its day of reckoning came without warning, in the form of a carrot colored canine who just wants to run and play and eat lizards.

And run he does, says the dirt that used to be a lawn. And play he does, say the cornstalks to the ground (because that's the direction they're facing). And eat lizards he does, says Matilda (in an australian accent). And what does the plant from the back corner of the yard say? I'll never know. It will forever remain nameless, voiceless, and of course, dead.

Lesson 2 - Plant from Seed

This is my Great Seed Experiment 2010: 72 seed trays for cultivating 72 plants. Think about it, what greater pleasure to a beginning gardener than seeing 72 small sprouts growing under her nose? What could be more rewarding than raising 72 plants that were started from seed and raised to such health that you can literally enjoy the fruit of your labor? And who can argue the cost savings of starting 72 plants from seed instead of buying 72 transplants at the store?

Of course, 100% success is a bit optimistic, even for me. I decided to maximize my chances by putting several seeds in each tray with the intent on thinning down to only the strongest, most robust plant. I did some fancy math to convince myself my chances were good, "3 seeds per tray...72 trays...216 seeds planted. If even one quarter survive I'll have more than 50 plants..." So went the conversation in my head.

Then reality set in. Okay, some seeds were really big so I only planted one or two. And of the supposed 50 plants, how many would be in the same tray and would get thinned? Then there's the little detail about how the seeds that came in my handy dandy seed kit were mostly moldy. I decided I might need to see if I had anything better in my garden shed. I had, after all, bought many kinds of seeds in the past. Of course, I never got around to planting them. Until now. So I dug out those dusty seeds and ignored the fact that they had been in the shed for probably well over a year. They couldn't be worse than the moldy seeds, right?

I planted several types of seeds - vegetables, herbs, flowers, and yeah, probably mold. At first, it was like opening a present every day as a new sprout would grow. I'd check the tray it was in and then cross reference it to my handwritten table of what went where and when it was supposed to sprout. Within a few weeks I had 20 new sprouts. Okay, a bit lower than my original estimate, but they were 20 sprouts hand planted and cared for just by me. And, like a new mother who sees no flaws in her offspring, my 20 sprouts were like Mary Poppins. Practically perfect in every way.

Then came the hard part, keeping everyone alive. Apparently, seedlings need sunlight, and sometimes sunlight through a window isn't enough. But they're too delicate to go outside until they're strong enough. And they aren't strong enough until they have real sunlight (apparently a way around this circular path is to buy a special light, but that's waaaaay to much trouble for me). So I decided to toughen up the little guys and put them out for several hours a day. But the back and forth became too much trouble so I just left them outside for several days. And they died.

Even the tree guy, who came to check out a dead eucalyptus in our back yard (yes, even the trees come to our house to die), took a look at my experiment and just had one comment, "they need water." Which brings us back to lessen 1.

The silver lining? I've noticed some new sprouts in the trays...so I'm back up to 8!

Lesson 1 - Water it

Everyone knows too little water can kill a plant. But did you know too much water can also kill a plant? Yeah, it can. Take my word for it.