Wasps and Rakes

I'm really glad that I found these before they found me.

Do you see them? Look close...

Gardening often has it's surprises, and wasps are one of the more common. Many folks are apt to pull out the bug spray and destroy the nests, but I encourage everyone to think twice.

Social wasps, like these Polistes paper wasps nesting in my American beautyberry, are important parts of the garden ecosystem. They are excellent predators, and particularly like feeding caterpillars and spiders to their developing young. They are also pollinators, and you can often find them rooting around inside flowers for pollen and nectar.

Of course, wasps can build nests in dangerous places and those need to be dealt with from time to time. I try to keep an eye out for the queens when they start  building their initial "seed" nests in the spring. Before the nest gets large and any of the workers grow, they are pretty vulnerable, and the queens aren't very aggressive either (generally). You can basically just sweep the nest away without harming her (or while she's out foraging), and she'll find another spot.

Just beware the hidden nests hanging under a leaf or on a branch in your garden!

Wasps are beautiful, complex creatures.

All this came about while we were cleaning things up a bit in the garden prepping for Fall. Weeding after these rains is super easy and good to take advantage of. It's a great time to pull all the little weeds (mostly straggler daisy on our property) growing in the pea gravel.

Hasta Luego Agaves

We planted the three agaves above when we first moved in to the house about 8 years ago. All three were hand-me-downs from friends. They provided great structure for our early garden, but they have worn out their welcome. The middle one in particular is a variety that just has never looked good in my opinion. It's hella spiky and always kind of floppy from not being in full sun. Plus, the pups drive me crazy and have started coming out of cracks in the wall and in the paths.

I've been thinking about removing them for a while now, but always balked in the end. Well, this weekend, I got to courage to go for it.

Too bad I don't have a tequila making operation in the garage. 

In the end, I couldn't bring myself to get rid of all of them and left one as a specimen, for now. I'm not sure if I'll like to keep it there, but will do so until spring blooms forth and I can see how everything works together.

After I get a haircut, I usually look in the mirror a feel like I look weird for a day or two. It's kind of the same thing with removing plants. 

That said, I'm looking forward to filling this space left by the agaves with more zexmenia and other flowers plants that will attract butterflies and birds. It's hard to tell from this photo, but the front garden has plenty of other spiky yuccas and things, so I don't think the agaves will be a great loss.

I'll be pulling up pups for a while yet, and that one agave left in the ground will continue to send them up too, but hopefully less so than three of them together.

I'm late getting to trimming all my plants for the spring season, but that was a good start. Today, I'm thwarted by rain and cold weather. Meh. Still need to get out their an trim, prune, plant and transplant before spring hits in earnest!

Work It

You know what this means...As RuPaul would say, "You betta work!"

Dividing Red Yucca

For a blogger, I'm awfully bad at documenting processes sometimes. Case in point: I decided to divide one of our three red yucca plants this past weekend. It would have been neat to photo the whole process of digging these up and dividing them, but above, you can only see the end point, which is a couple of pieces of the red yucca supported by a stalk of bamboo. (The support was called for because the divisions don't have any roots to speak of.)

Red yucca, Hesparaloe parviflora, is not a true yucca, but an agave. According to Mr. Smarty Plants, dividing them is best done in fall or winter and can be a successful way to propagate the plant. Another chance to cross my fingers and hope it works! I love the idea of getting more new plants from old ones, but it's not always as easy as it sounds...

Raised Veggie Beds, the Good, the Bad and the Ugly

I've been growing veggies in raised beds now for about 7 years, choosing the method for three reasons. One, we live in an urban area and I just thought it easier to bring in uncontaminated, fertile soil rather than till down. Two, I like the modern confinement and lines of raised beds and always heard they could be really productive in a tight space. Three (and this is actually the biggest reason), for most of that time we had a blind black lab that knew no boundaries. That last reason was also cause for us to build the beds more than 14 inches high. Good bumpers for a dog of Libby's size.

Unfortunately, those beds - which were installed in August 2008 to replace an older rotting set that came with the house - are already buckling and breaking apart. They are only 3 years old!

For sure I should've used cedar instead of untreated pine (it was cheaper and I knew it was a risk). For sure, our construction is not ideal (I recommend using some metal braces on the corners instead of screwing the sides into a post). And for sure, I would never use wood to build raised beds again nor probably recommend it, especially in our climate. Wood doesn't last, meaning it's really less sustainable in the long run, and the soil dries out extraordinarily fast, particularly because these beds are too tall.

In a hot, dry climate like Central Texas, raised wood beds just don't seem to be the best way to go. Now, that being said, I've seen some that are extremely successful for some reason or another. Those are much lower to the ground and bracketed, which are big pluses. And maybe someone is replacing the wood every year or using treated wood filled with chemicals. At any rate, I've pretty much sworn them off.

The bloggers over at Root Simple, based in L.A., have also been questioning the wisdom of raised beds, and I really like their list of trade-offs:

Raised beds have some pluses and minuses. Lately I've been thinking about their drawbacks. Namely:

• Cost
• How fast they dry out in a hot climate.

Now I can also think of a few reasons one might want to grow vegetables in a raised bed:

• You do a soil test (and you should do a soil test, especially if you live in an urban area) and the results come back showing that you have heavy metals in your soil.
• You live in a very wet climate.
• A disability prevents you from kneeling or leaning over to garden.
• Your soil has no contaminants, but has some other problem, say bad texture or lots of buried rocks/chunks of concrete.
• You have dogs/rabbits/chupacabras, etc. 

I've come to the conclusion that for Southern California and, by extension, any dry climate, raised beds are a bad idea unless, of course, you have any of the issues mentioned above.

For more on the topic, check out "Are Raised Beds a Good Idea?"

My plan when these fall apart for good, which unfortunately I believe to be sooner than later, is to keep the raised bed idea, but use native limestone for the walls and sink the beds much lower. If I have pets that needs some boundaries, I'll install a little waddle fence or something around them. I think the stone will prevent drying, and of course, will last a lifetime.

But it'll also mean a lot of heavy lifting and, I'm saying "hell to the no" on that chore this summer for sure!

Beginning the Trimming

I'm never one big on trimming and pruning. Frankly, it makes me nervous. It's such a big commitment to cut off those branches and leaves that have been growing so happily without interference. What if I cut at the wrong time? What if I cut the wrong way? Will I have ruined years worth of growth?

But regardless of that insecurity, pruning is part of gardening. In many cases, it helps plants grow better.

So, this weekend, I picked up the shears and started the big February cut. I've heard from many people that in Central Texas, Valentine's Day is basically the right time of year to cut perennials, grasses and some shrubs back. It's nice to have a rule of thumb. I suppose another would be NOT to prune anything woody that is spring blooming (since I'd be cutting off all the flower buds, getting fat now and ready for warm spring days.)

Mostly I sheared back grasses and sedges, like the lush, evergreen sedges lining the back path.

They were so beautiful and hairy, but I kind of like these little sheared green poofs too. (I hope I did the right thing by shearing them. I think I read that I am supposed to do that.)

I also cut back the old growth from my inland sea oats. The new growth is coming up from the roots (and the daffodils are about the bloom too).

Next for the shears will be my big beautiful bamboo muhly that became less beautiful after the big freeze.

These grasses have been growing for three years with abandon - I've never seen them brown and freeze. So sadly, I'll have to cut them back, but I'm hoping that they are strong enough to return quickly and with vigor. I miss the tall swaying green grass along the patio path...

On another note, the winter veggie garden has found its stride and is producing lettuce, broccoli, cilantro, arugula and greens like mad!

Winter Hoops

Installing these PVC hoops (1/4" diameter, 6 ' long) in my garden beds may be one of the single easiest and cheapest garden projects I've ever done. Just trim and bend. And the end result is protection of these winter greens from the frost.

I think these will also come in handy in the summer when we need to protect the summer veggies from the scorching sun and pesties.

I'm using floating row cover, which you can see rolled up on the edge of the bed in this photo. When it gets cold, the idea is that I will roll the stuff over the hoops and it will make a little warmish retreat for the veggies. The row cover I bought (at Callahan's, because everyone else was out) protects down to 29 degrees, which is largely fine here in Austin. But when we get those crazy colder freezes (oh, I hate you old man winter!), I can double layer it and protect to 26 degrees. If tt gets really really cold, I'll probably pull out the old sheets and throw them over the hoops.

This year, we're trying a new winter protection for the potted citrus too. Instead of a) leaving them out in the cold like last year, or b) moving the heavy bastards into the garage every time it dips below 32 degrees, we are opting for c) put them up against the south facing garage wall and cover them with sheets when needed. The sheets are stapled (for the winter only) on the wall, so we can just drape them over real easy like.

Leaf Mulch

I'm probably violating all sorts of rules by doing so, but I decided to use un-shredded, un-composted leaves as mulch in the garden this year. I figure if it's good enough for the forest floor, it's good enough for the Grackle!

We had a ton of leaves fall after the freeze, and so did everyone else. John swung around the neighborhood and picked up 12 bags of leaves, and I raked all of ours into piles.

I layered the primarily cedar elm and pecan leaves about 4-5 inches thick around the front garden.


My main goal is to suppress all the new weed growth in the front yard, so I figured unshredded leaves would be good for that. Secondarily, as the leaves do their own natural decaying, I hope they will start to turn that front soil into real, nice garden soil - not the hard packed clay that came from years as a lawn.

The leaves pretty well bury the small sedges and such, but those will get large soon enough.

All this moisture and light rain (John's mom calls it "heavy air") will hopefully promote smothering and composting. If we have a dry spell sometime this winter, I may need to soak everything with a hose.

Hope this works...

Yardwork vs. Gardening

I grew up a boy in Suburban America in the 1970s and 80s, which much like the few decades before and since then, meant that I was required to do yardwork. Seas of clipped grass inevitably surrounded our houses, and if I wanted any allowance, one of my chores was getting out there and trimming and shaping that lawn. Of all the chores, I hated mowing the lawn the most. Vacuuming was almost just as bad, but at least it was inside, away from the damp heat of South Carolina and Houston.

Lately, I’ve begun pulling out the reel mower (you know, the old-fashioned, eco-friendly push kind that looks really romantic) to trim down our lawn. The summer season is upon us. Thankfully, we’ve slowly decreased the size of our St. Augustine lawn to two very small patches, one in back and one in front. I also have to pull out the string trimmer to go around those pesky edges.

It still sucks.

Let’s face it, mowing the lawn is one of the crappiest chores that ever existed. And though I try to feel Zen about the push mower and do feel relatively good about not spewing forth carbon dioxide from any place other than the exhale from my lungs, it still sucks.

There is the occasional calming swish swish of the twirling blades, but just when I settle into a groove, that baby gets clogged. By a stick. Or a twig. Or a single damn blade of grass. Ooo, what a pain.

So it has made me think about the psychological difference between "yardwork" and "gardening." Yardwork seems so very Male America, I think, and akin in many ways to “landscaping.” It’s all about lawns, lawns and more lawns. It’s about fertilizing and applying pesticides. Trimming and bagging.

Gardening, on the other hand, implies that one has a more intimate connection with the property. It means nurturing, pruning, weeding, planting, digging, growing and getting down on your knees in the middle of it all to find a praying mantis egg case growing amongst the vines. Gardening is still hard work, arguably more work than yardwork. It pricks me, makes me sweat, gives me sore muscles, and draws out blisters.

But gardening implies connection. Yardwork implies domination.

Thankfully, I come from a family that appreciates the idea of gardening, even though we might have never called it that.

My grandmother on my dad’s side was an amazing gardener with a property in Charlotte, N.C. There she produced enough fresh vegetables and fruit for a small village. She had amazing perennial beds, huge magnolias – the works. And, until moving to Houston, we almost always had a vegetable garden and plenty of perennials skirting around the house. (Still, the lawns dominated. Even at my grandmother's. It was Suburbia after all.)

It's possible that this dichotomy between yardwork and gardening is all a matter of perspective, a difference between being an adult nurturing a property that is my own rather than a child forced to labor for another's (parents included, unfortunately. Hi Mom!). But I do think there is something there, either with the language or just the action of mowing itself. Mowing is generally the one thing that still really feels like a chore to me in my own garden.

I don’t know. Maybe this yardwork versus gardening is an American thing. The English seem pretty happy to call it gardening, and no less macho. It’s a question that will require further thought, or even better, a research trip around the world so that I can better understand gardening across cultures. Anyone got any funding out there?

In the meantime, I’ll curse every time I have to dominate our two small patches of lawn with the mower, and look forward to the day that we’ve just finally removed it all in favor of a garden over a yard.

[Full Disclosure: John has his moments of saintliness, and he generally does the mowing chore instead of me. Thanks babe!]

Shock the Lime

Alright people, I need your collective wisdom.

My potted Mexican lime tree has decided to throw off all its leaves. Pop. The potted Meyer lemon doesn't seem too far behind. Help.

The backgrounder: I left both citrus trees out all winter. We've had a pretty mild winter, and they've both been in bloom almost the whole time. I've been watering, but not too much. I did not fertilize all winter, but since spring is here, I decided it was time to give them a boost. I know that citrus likes nitrogen and needs extra.

In the past, I've used blood meal, which has worked pretty good for the trees. Problem is, Libby (le pooch) loves to snarfle that stuff down, exposing the roots. So this past weekend, I stuck a Miracle Grow Fruit & Nut tree spike into each pot. Now, the directions are clearly meant for planted trees. In fact, the package clearly says not to plant the spike within 2 feet of the trunk, impossible in my potted trees. I took a risk.

So this week, all the leaves just started falling off. Some of them are turning blotchy tan first. I've checked for scale, another citrus killer, and there ain't nothing.

I promptly removed the spikes.

Any thoughts out there in the blogosphere?

(I'll try to post photos this weekend.)

Garden by Dog

Our old black lab, Libby, has her opinions. They include: "treats must follow every entry back into the house." "Walks should never be cut short (no matter how old I am)." And "Plants should never get in my way." I call this last one, Gardening by Dog.

Recently, Libby decided that I had planted a few lantanas in the wrong place. I thought they'd be great at the base of the desert willow by the back walk, just in front of the screen. I liked the way they smelled in flower and it was nice to see their calico blooms when I came home every day, summer to fall. Libby, on the other hand, thought that they got in the way of her laying down spot.

So she munched and munched on the one until she finally just pulled it out by the roots. Then, she pruned the next one down the line until it was a little stump. That's when I decided she meant business and some changes would have to be made. So, before she completely destroyed that one (and the third), I took her advice and pulled them out myself.

In their place, I transplanted 5 Mexican feather grasses from the front.

Frankly, Libby was right. The grasses are going to look way better there, and the lantanas, which were always a bit scraggly anyway, have been transplanted to a nice new sunny spot.

But I gotta keep an eye on that old dog anyway. Sometimes, her gardening style just doesn't suit mine...

Plants-o-rama

Today was a beautiful winter day in Austin, Texas. Calm, blue skies, 65 degrees, and John and I planted and planted and planted our new beds. It was fabulous. We have a ton of space to fill and we're just getting started...40 purple coneflowers, 18 black-eyed susan 'Irish Eyes,' a button bush, 3 chile pequins, 5 flame acanthus, bamboo muhlies, some dwarf yaupons, rosemary, golden thyrallis, and a whole flat of salvia 'Indigo Spires' (not what I was actually thinking of planted, but it sort of fell in my lap, so I ran with it). A few pix from the nice December day...

A random coneflower decided to bloom.

Planted some new succulents in the steel succulent bed.




I love the hot pink on this succulent.


The butterflies started cruising in just as the Indigo Spires went into the ground. Here's a painted lady, Vanessa cardui.




The beets are growing big. I've never successfully grown these, and these are the best I've ever had!


Super hot peppers on our native Texas chile pequin. These are really tiny peppers, but they seem to pack a potent punch. Can't wait to cook with them.


Some of the small new plants in the beds.


A winter queen, Danaus gillipus, sucking minerals from the soil beneath the leaf mulch.


Flotsam after a hard days work...

Spray-On Shrubbery

Got a dead shrub that’s driving you crazy? Just spray paint it! That’s a strategy I recently saw used on the University of Texas at Austin campus, where traditional boxwood hedges line many of the landscapes to nice effect.

Notice anything amiss? Look closely...

This dead boxwood shrub was spray painted to keep the hedge looking complete (not a good color match though).

Apparently, boxwood hedges date back to the Greeks, and they are a mainstay for more formal gardens. Though the shrub isn’t suited incredibly well for Central Texas, it is used all over the place. I take it that it requires a ton of water and doesn't like intense sun very much. As an alternative, lots of folks use a few dwarf varieties of the native evergreen yaupon holly, Ilex vomitoria, which can be pruned and pounded into many different hedgy shapes. I’ve also seen dwarf wax myrtle, another native variety, used in this way.

Here's a very cool example of a kind of boxwood knot in a corner of James David's garden:

Austin Blogger Eve

A native fall aster - not sure which one

Here's the great thing about 2008: I'm garden blogging from the garden itself. Ain't wireless grand? It's 6:00 p.m. on Saturday, and the autumn light couldn't be better. As the sun sets to the west, the long shadows and light shine like spotlights changing across a stage. Tonight, the Texas Longhorns play Missouri, and the game starts in one hour. Small planes fly overhead carrying banners, telling us to go to the "Yellow Rose" and etcetera.

Petunia

The grackles are grackling. They've begun to congregate en masse and call their crazy caw. I wish I had my field recorder here to share the sounds. The new fountain (I'll show you that someday soon) is gurgling the afternoon away. Perfect.

Mexican oregano

Tomorrow, the Austin garden bloggers come to tour the Grackle garden. And yes, I'm kind of nervous...I've never had so many people come over just to see the garden. I've tried to follow Pam and Digging's advice not to worry too much. Seriously, I only primped and fluffed a little bit. But it's fall and time to do some of that anyway.

Cutleaf daisy

The temperature here in Austin is perfect. For many people, it's why they live here. 75 degrees. Blue skies. Grackles. What's better than that?

Texas betony


Turk's Cap and Mountain sage (below) await the migrating hummingbirds

If you have an agave, you know that they produce pups like a poor old dog stuck in a puppy mill. For some reason, nurseries around here can still get away with selling agaves for way too much money. I've got a ton that I've dug up to offer to the Garden Bloggers when they visit the garden tomorrow.