Seedling identification made much easier

 

Are you like me, one of those gardeners with the best intentions, who just can’t seem to get it all done?  I ummm.. finally started most of my seeds at the end of May.  They were supposed to be started in February, March, and maybe April at the latest. 

Well, May was still a good month I say. 

One of the things that holds me back, other then time, and disorganization is tagging each pot.  I find it tedious, time consuming, and rather a bother. 

“Hi, my name is Jen, and I am a bad gardener.”  I am sure there are support groups for people like us.

So here I was, a hour free, piles of seed packets desperately waving at me, peat pots, starter mix, flats, and no more excuses.  Then I remembered my gardening fiasco last year.  Being overly confident that I could remember what each pot contained, I had not bothered to label anything. 

Yes, I am a bad gardener, and I should know better.

Which worked fine until things got moved around. Especially my prized heirloom sweet peas, vibrant blue, and coral pink.  When it came time to give away a few pots to a friend for her garden, I accidentally gave most of the blue to her.  Every time I looked out onto my patio and saw only coral blue, and not the stunning blue I had envisioned, I kicked myself. 

She had a remarkable showing of glorious blue heirloom sweet peas, that gambled up her antique trellis. Leaving everyone to comment on their beauty, I saw a inordinate amount of coral pink. Live and learn.

So this year, I had resolved to do a better job of identifying my seedlings.  Poor babies, they deserved a better life, with a better gardener.  But this new gardening resolve didn’t involve too much effort, so I looked around for something to mark the pots with.  And found my scrap paper from all my card making.  Perfect size, perfect colors, and so easy to use.

I cut strips of the same color for each variety, and tagged one pot with a name, and date.  Placed them into each pot of dry starter mix, added the seeds and watered.

Now even a month later, they are still holding up well, slightly stained, but so easy to know which is which.  This might be a little late as a seed starting tip, but keep it in mind for next year.

And anytime you want to join my support group for bad gardeners, just let me know.  We will be arranging a meeting sometime in the future, maybe after we finally get our seeds into the ground.

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Jen

 

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The good, the bad, and the wormy

 

When you are a gardener, you come across all types of garden pests. They are nasty, that’s why they call them pests.

So the other day when a friend and I decided to go for a walk, two nicely dressed  middle[ahem ]aged women, little did we know that we would have a upsetting encounter with a very aggressive worm.

Our destination was Dunsmuir community gardens in Crescent Beach, near White Rock.  Many people stroll through these picturesque gardens admiring the community plots.  With a huge waiting list it’s hard to get a plot, and some plots have remained with the same gardener for decades.

We quietly wandered, not touching anything, with me taking the occasional macro photo. There is no signage saying “private, or do not enter.” These are public garden plots owned by the City of Surrey.  Many people come and go without any hassle.

Then we encountered the “bad worm” who at first was fairly pleasant to us.  She described a huge celery like plant in her plot as the “Maggi plant” if you are of Dutch descent, you will instantly recognize the name Maggi as a aromatic seasoning, it’s delicious. She even offered us a leaf to crush and smell.

Flowerishous and I had wandered a little further, when the bad worm came back at us with a aggressive demeanor asking if we had a plot in the community gardens. Caught off guard I said no, I was a blogger, and was just taking a few pictures. 

That set her off on a tirade about the internet, photographers, and those who may look innocent, but are only out to steal the precious plants from the community gardeners.  My guess is that I shouldn’t have told her I was a blogger.  I never told her that I was going to publish anything, so I have no idea what she was objecting to. 

“You might be taking photos and putting them online for everyone to see,” snarled the nasty worm. If the worm had spent some time on the internet she might notice that there is a Flickr site, and a website specifically for this community garden, looks like I am not the only one who admires the beauty of this place.

All we were doing was innocently walking through and admiring the flowers, as so many others have done for decades.

We left, and as we went we checked with another long time extremely pleasant gardener who said there were no restrictions on who might venture into this little piece of paradise.

“And that this was a very bad year for garden pests.”

Sounds like one bad worm in a otherwise beautiful apple.

Don’t worry, they sprayed with a organic pesticide after we left.

Jen

 

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Garden glove weather forecasting

This just in, Muddy Boot Dreams has discovered how to forecast the weather using only her garden gloves. 

Simple, efficient, and it works.

Just how does it work, you might ask?

Take a moment to peruse our demo photos, and soon you too will be a expert gardening glove forecaster.

1. If the glove is wet – it’s raining out.

2. If the glove is dry – it’s sunny out.

3. If the glove is sweaty – you are having a hot flash.

4. If you can’t find the glove in all the foliage – it’s time to weed.

5. If the glove is hanging off of a bush – you’ve gone and misplaced it again.

The situations are endless, just like the rain that we are experiencing this so called summer.

See how simple and easy it is to incorporate garden glove forecasting into your day.

This has been a public service announcement from Muddy Boot Dreams.

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Jen

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It may not have been perfect but.

I suppose if I were truthful, I would say that the longer we are separated from a actual event, the more idyllic the memories become. It’s Fathers Day, and we are all celebrating, and although my Dad lives five hours away, he is still in my heart.

My Dad may have been encouraged to take us kids with him on his Guy Days one time too many, but if he did, I never knew about it.  Fishing, hunting, snowmobiling, we did it all.

And one too many trips to the local sporting goods store. Where all the guys would stand around for hours, and tell tall tales, each one topping the other.

“Dad, I gotta pee.” me crossing my 3 year old legs desperately!

“Just a minute, I’m about to explain the humungousness of the one that got away.”

The sound of liquid trickling into a yellow puddle on the floor, of course my Dad was the last to notice it and thought that the sounds of silence were just amazement at the size of the fish that got away.

Finally he noticed that no one was watching his arms spread wide, and all eyes were on the tearful little girl, awash in pee.

“OK, that’s it we are LEAVING RIGHT NOW.”

And you know what, I don’t think I ever had to go back there again.

So Dad, here’s to ages spent in the sporting good stores, the decades of sitting quietly in a wildly rocking boat in the middle of the ocean, without any vision of land, or fish.

For not throwing us out of the boat the first time we sobbed over a dead duck, petting it and calling it poor ducky.  We know that all the other hunters were laughing at you.

For showing me how to hook a fish, and when to throw it back.  Thanks for showing me how to shoot, even if I will never hunt. 

For taking us on innumerable snowmobile trips, even when it was probably the last thing you wanted.  And thanks for introducing me to the wonders of a frozen malted milk chocolate bar pulled from the back of a snowmobile’s trunk, a perfect accompaniment to reaching the mountain summit. 

And thanks, for doing the best you could.

Happy Father’s Day, I love you.

Jen

 

 

For Sale: One used camera raincoat

Granted they don’t actually make raincoats for cameras, but you do understand that this glorious burst of sunshine means we wouldn’t need it anyways.  We are on the first step to summer, the staircase of sunshine extending out in front of us. 

It’s leading to the beach, the BBQ, and bliss.

There is nothing quite like the beginning of a dry spell after rain, fog, and mist for such a long time.  Retire that used camera raincoat, and pull up the deck chairs. 

Not a moment to soon, my poor petunias have received the soaking of too many raindrops. They are drooping, with their anemic, tattered, and down spirited blossoms,  hanging limply over the edge of the pots.

So to celebrate the last of that liquid clear stuff that fell for so long, here are the Rhodo blossoms. Just now finished up by the sudden heat, they did their best against a soppy downpour.

The sheer size of the towering bush, over 12 feet, by 20 feet, reflected a mass of hot pink onto my bedroom walls. 

And that camera raincoat?  Well you can make one yourself out of a clear shower cap if you need it.  Let’s hope that you don’t. 

Happy Summer.

Jen

Rainy Day Peonies, I mean People

All this rain is good for the flowers, and great when it stops. But it must be soaking into my brain a little to much.  I seem to be on a musical garden tour. The latest song to echo in my head every time I see these photos is “Rainy Day People.” 

Ackk, a ear worm, get it out, quick, I hate bugs...

Who sung that? Was it John Denver?  Such a pretty little tune, upbeat, and perfect for my refrain in my head, “Rainy Day Peonies.”  No, it’s Gordon Lightfoot that sung it, one of my favorite Artists, and my favorite flowers.  But I am sure that he has never sung this version.

“Rainy Day Peonies always know when it’s time to fall”, OK, I am taking some liberties, sorry Gord, but you know, Rainy Day Peonies, always know when you are feeling PINK.

And regretful that you never bothered to haul out the tomato cages for the poor things. There they lie on the sidewalk, battered and bruised, better pick them quick, before someone steps on them.

“Rainy Day Peonies don’t lie when they tell you they’ve been down there too.”

Everybody join in now!

What’s playing in your ear?  And is it wiggling?

Jen

 

 

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A raincoat for my camera

 

“The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.”             

Dolly Parton

OK, I will admit to not being a Pollyanna about the weather, going around exclaiming it’s liquid sunshine and all that silly“stuff.” 

But after all, there have been some sunny breaks, and even a few days interspersed without any liquid additions.  People, get real, it’s a weird year, put up with it, and like Dolly says “if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.

I really like that quote, really, really, like that quote.  Maybe the next time a soggy customer comes through my till, complaining bitterly about the rain, I might just quip it back at them.

And if you see on the front page news that a cashier was injured during her shift at work due to a irate customer, then you will know it was me.

Meanwhile, I am on the lookout for a raincoat for my camera, the rain is coming back full force.

Jen

 

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Who me? Of course not…

 

Bootsie, the cat, is certainly not much of a hunter.  He seems to have missed the lessons in Stalking 102.  He must have had some lessons in basic stalking 101, for he knows how to crouch down, and watch. But it ends there.  No cute wiggling of the bum, and no pouncing, and coming up empty when the birds fly away. 

We don’t mind at all, and neither do the birds.

So when a few pairs of the most interesting little song birds decided to move into the space out front of our garden, we were not worried.  As Gar says, “there is no chance of him ever getting close to these birds.”

They are too cat savvy, too alert, and just too smart. Besides they graduated with honors from Cat repellent school. There is always one lookout, and you can tell by their chirps how vigilant they are.

But that doesn’t stop Boots from sitting in front of our illegal bird feeder, and staring up at the empty container, as if to say, “hey were did everyone go? 

If you call him back, he gives me the most innocent look, “who me, of course not”

Right Bootsie,  you are just there to smell the flowers.

Meanwhile these little chirpers are dismantling my coconut fiber hanging baskets, piece by piece. They much prefer that, to the jute fibers, and dryer lint I have been putting out for them.  A small price to pay, for such gorgeous fluttering, and singing. 

And Bootsie?  Well, he has no intentions of going to a refresher course on bird watching, and we all like it that way.

This is the clearest photo I can get of them, they don’t like us to come too close, but if you could tell me what types of birds they are that would be great. Someone did mention that they are House Wrens, but there is nothing on the internet showing a male with such gorgeous cinnamon red coloring.

Jen

 

A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall

 

 

It’s been kind of raining here, a lot!

Maybe that’s a understatement, because it seems to be a really wet topic for all the garden bloggers in my area. 

I myself, well... I haven’t noticed it to much.

Except today, when I looked out in my garden, I could swear that my plants were singing and dancing to a chorus line of Dylan’s famous song, “A hard rain’s a gonna fall.”

 So maybe I didn’t notice it, but obviously they did.

Yes it’s a hard rain, and it’s gonna fall, but if it makes for

such beautiful shots, who can complain?

So are you ducking under that umbrella, and flipping up your soggy collar?  Or are you sweating to the unseasonably high temps?

Jen