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.