Finally, some rain!

A select few of you may have heard me, once, mention my spring allergies. I don't like to make a big deal out of them, but I guess if I had to create a comparison the experience would be similar to the most horrible anyone could ever suffer, far worse than childbirth, terminal disease, starvation or watching American Idol. Which is probably an understatement, but, as I said, I prefer not to whine.

Obviously, I don't need any assistance bearing this weighty physical burden, but sometimes Mother Nature lends a hand anyway in the form of rain. Rain knocks the pollen out of the air, which helps assuming you can avoid line-snorting the earth. Rain is also good for fledgling gardens like mine, because I know it's only a matter of time until I lose interest with watering. And at this stage of the game, it takes about one day of that for your seedlings to be goners. So thanks nature.

When we last spoke, I was threatening to move my second garden. I did, a week ago today (see above). I also planted more stuff. Wanna know what? I knew it. Remember, we have 16 squares:

• Beets (five plants, one square)
• Carrots (32 plants total, two squares)
• Onions (16 plants, one square)
• Bush beans (four plants total, two squares)
• Peas (16 plants total, two squares)
• Cantaloupe (one plant, one square)
• Potatoes (four plants, one square; planted those today - just got around to buying the seed tater. I love the word tater. "Go get me that there tater, boy!" I can't imagine why anyone would ever say that, but if somebody does I want to be there).
  

As some more advanced readers have noticed, that only adds up to 10. The other six squares bear special mention because they were or will be filled with MY SEEDLINGS!!!!! Three broccoli have so far made the transition from seed pack to seed cup to garden, as have four collards and, as of this weekend, two watermelons. That's right, in your face Lowe's and your 75-cent plants. These were like a quarter of a penny. Suck it. Of course, my taunting has now assured punishment from the vegetable gods in the form of the death of these plants and a trip to the store to replace them with seeds somebody else grew, but you know what? It won't be Lowe's. Just out of principal. And you're probably wondering why the vegetable gods would punish my taunting by killing their own. Uhhh, because I'm the center of the universe and no being or entity does anything without me in mind. Duh.

On the growth front, while I planted three of the broccoli I have three left. That's OK. Only two of my cauliflowers (one of which can be seen at right) have come up in the first square-foot garden, so I'll need something to put in there. And just when I was considering that my other seeds were duds, as of yesterday celery, bell peppers and hot peppers were spotted peaking out of the dirt as well. Do I have anywhere to plant them just yet? Not exactly. We'll figure that out in due time.

By the way, the plural of broccoli is broccoli. It's like bread. But if it helps you can pronounce more than one broccoli "brock-o-LAY" for no reason other than I like to think of Derek Stevens. That's what I'd tell a Japanese exchange student to do, just to keep him good and confused about English and to learn a little about humor.

Here's a picture rundown of the breathtaking garden progress after two weeks:

These are the transplanted broccoli seedlings. Yes, there are two plants in each of the left two squares. That's because I plant two seeds in each hole, convinced that one will not germinate (I have no reason to believe that, by the way - just superstition). Then, I have to decide which one to pull up because you don't want them competing with each other. Which is actually pretty agonizing for me, because they're both working so hard. Why should one be murdered? I really hate it. I've got some problems. Oh, and I don't know why the one on the right is lying down. Maybe it's taking a nap. Or it misses the brother I already pulled up. Sniff.

Here we have the transplanted collard seedlings. They should get bigger. Except for the one that died.

These would be the green onions I planted in the first garden two weeks ago. I like how they look like grass coming up.

Radishes. You know, the crop for children and the mentally challenged. I was wrong about the 100 percent survival rate, by the way. Looks like I have at least three duds in there.

I can't think of many things easier than planting potatoes. I went to Hendersonville Nursery and bought what is known as a seed potato. It's just a potato. Potatoes have eyes, or places where it will sprout, and you'll get as many new plants as there are eyes. Just cut said said potato accordingly and plant each piece four or five inches deep (I know this works because we did it last year. And forgot to harvest the potatoes. Go to hell.)

Ignore the sign telling you this is cabbage. These are the two-week old broccoli, who are definitely outgrowing their home. Two of the plants are supposed to be cabbage, which explains the marker, but I can see no difference between the seedlings and am starting to think I screwed up. Then again, they are in the same family, so we'll see.

This is an iris. No, I don't think we can eat it, smart-ass. I just think they're pretty blooming off of the back deck, and I still can't believe they growing in the bog. When I stuck the bulbs in the mud I was like, what can grow in this shit? Check it out. Yellow irises can.

They're doing their job ....

So I've been called out twice in the last week. First, Kristy said my last post "wasn't as funny as usual." There's a compliment in there, I know, but like most writers I choose to ignore it. Then, my friend Mike promoted his new blog "Turn Your Head and Chof" by calling me a "noted hippie" before accusing me of siding with pollen in his case that pollen should be inducted into the "Douchebag Hall of Fame."

First of all, my last post wasn't supposed to be funny. It was deadly serious, because the food I grow over the next two years will be used to sustain my ragtag band of survivors when the impending doom of 2012 becomes a reality (Hint: Blog followers get first dibs on the potatoes). Plus, there's nothing funny about canning except for the fact it's woman's work. Secondly, I defend pollen only in the sense that is sustains all life as we know it. Otherwise, I hate that shit. It makes my life living hell every spring, and, as I pointed out to Mike, there's something bitterly ironic that I am made so miserable by two things I love so much: Nature and rampant, shameless fornication. Really, as far as I'm concerned things like this are the strongest evidence I see for a God. A sarcastic, bored God who sometimes fucks with us to give itself a brief moment of levity before he or she goes back to making quantum particles simultaneously exist in multiple places (seriously, that shit happens). It also makes me question evolution, because how are our immune systems so freaking stupid after all of this time supposedly adapting perfectly to our planet that they still think plant sperm is the ebola virus? Wait, that doesn't work, because our immune system doesn't do anything to the ebola virus.

Stupid immune system.

So with that out of the way, let's get to the progress of my little seeds. In a word, it has been astounding. Sure, they have tiny reserves of carbohydrates that couple with a genetic miracle to create life, but I still take most of the credit. I've watered them daily, and put them in the sun. The broccoli and cabbage are the most advanced, more than an inch tall, though the radishes and collards aren't far behind. Oh, and the lettuce seeds I sprinkled in a planter on the back deck rail are also coming along swimmingly. All of this took less than a week. Amazing.

In the the last few days, the tomatoes and artichokes have also sprouted, as have the kale, swiss chard, cauliflower, spinach, green onions and basil outside (along with some other random seedlings that I have not identified as of yet. All I know is that I didn't plant them and they will have to be terminated in the near future). The only things that haven't done anything are the watermelon, cherry tomatoes, peppers and okra. I fear for the okra, because, as mentioned earlier, Bonnie the cat has taken a particular liking to that pee spot. Oh, don't worry, I took her to the animal shelter for it, but it could still be too late.

Sadly, watering dormant seeds was probably easier than keeping actual plants alive. In fact, I think I've already lost a couple of collard greens that, in literally only five hours of sun yesterday, wilted from lack of water and broke. Still, despite their disappointing lack of survival instinct, I am quite pleased thus far.

My project this weekend is to get the second garden moved and prepared. There will be no more chance of frost in a couple of weeks, so we are about to be inundated with various herbs, veggies and flowers looking for a home. Coupled with the fact that I'm sure Juliet the cat would like a new place to defecate as well, and I have what you could call motivation.

Like all yard destruction that comes from our dear animals, I find that funny. I hope some of you found this post equally amusing. Laugh it up now. 2012 won't be so cute.

Here are a few photos I can't figure out despite my advanced html knowledge how to weave seamlessly into the text up there:

What you're looking at are collard greens, though I thought they were pansies with how poorly they handled a little sun. Get it? It's funny because pansies are real flowers. The fellow on the top right I don't think is going to make it. His stem appears to be broken.

Maters! I put a pair of seeds in each square, and both seem to have survived in two and neither in the other two. Almost as ironic as our immune systems.

These are the radishes. There appears to be a 100 percent survival rate thus far, which would make me feel better if radishes weren't often described as "one of the easiest vegetables to grow - great for children!"

That guy there in the middle? That's cauliflower. It's supposed to be there. That guy above him, with the two robust leaves, looks like he's flipping me off? Not supposed to be there.

Here we have the lettuce seedlings. The big lettuce came up unexpectedly once the weather got warm, though despite their tasty good looks they're for some reason so bitter as to be just this side of inedible. Nothing a bottle of Annie's Naturals Green Goddess Dressing can't sort of fix ...

The new digs

So after I helpfully pointed out to my friend Matt that by picking Georgetown to win the national title he had extended his remarkable streak of finishing first in quickest bracket pool elimination, he responded that I should "go grow some bok choy." As impressed as I was by the reference, I don't know. I think that was more of a crack than a real suggestion. But his bitterness at his pathetic prognostication ability reminded me that I was supposed to be trying to feed myself in ways that involved more than peeling the tiny wrappers off of those infernal Hershey's kisses Kristy bought. Thus, with a determined wipe of chocolate on my work pants, last weekend I went to work.

For months I'd waited for snow to melt, me to feel like it, the soil to move itself or the desire to have my own garden to pass. Outside of the snow succumbing to our temperate climate, none of those other things happened. I was forced to bite the bullet and do stuff.

First, two azaleas and a dozen crocuses (croci?) had to be transplanted. Then, five wheelbarrow loads of growing mixture were trekked from one end of the yard to the other - a physically difficult job made even more harrowing by a crooked wheel and a 45-degree hill that had to be crossed parallel to the top and bottom (long story). The final step was to haul the wooden garden frame and fill it with the aforementioned growing mixture, or, as it's known in some areas of the country, dirt. Not especially fun, but by the time the sun went down on Sunday I had a place to plant seeds that might actually get sun and Bonnie the cat had a new place to take a whiz (that would be her pee mark on the left, above). Win, win.

After a night spent tossing restlessly on sore muscles (it was hard, I say; I'm not a pansy), I got immediately to work on Monday planting seeds before my momentum had a chance to fade. The beginning of April is a little tardy, especially for vegetables that should be started inside, but some should be sown outside right about now. There are 16 "squares" in the garden, and more plants can fit into individual squares than others. Here's the rundown:

• Swiss chard (one square, five plants)
• Radishes (two squares, 32 total plants)
• Green onions (one square, 16 plants)
• Spinach (two squares, 12 total plants)
• Kale (two squares, four total plants)
• Basil (one square, four plants)
• Cauliflower (four squares, four total plants)
• Okra (two squares, two total plants)
• Cherry tomatoes (one square, one plant; yes, I called it a "cherry mater" in hopes it'll be fooled into thinking I'm a grizzled, old-school farmer who won't take any of its shit)

I came up with this combination very scientifically: These were the seeds I had that should be started outside. While I was rolling, I also decided to get some inside stuff going despite, as I said, the late start. The list:

• Bell peppers (six plants)
• Hot peppers (six plants)
• Broccoli (five plants)
• Watermelon (two plants)
• Celery (five plants, maybe. Those seeds are freaking microscopic)
• Cabbage (four plants)
• Artichokes (four plants)
• Collard greens (five plants)
• Tomatoes (four plants)

Do I know why cherry tomatoes are supposed to be started outside but regular tomatoes inside? No, I do not. Do I know why I planted celery when the celery I've grown in the past tasted like persimmons dipped in lemon juice? No, I do not. Do I know why I'm growing artichokes when I'm not even sure what the hell an artichoke is or which part you eat? No, I do not. What I do know is that the broccoli apparently couldn't wait to get started, as you can see to the right, germinating only three days after leaving the packet. The artichokes have also already pushed to the surface, as have a few collard greens. That's the good news.

The bad news is that the same thing happened last year, and everything died as a result of the wrong soil, not enough water and/or a light deficiency (I know, who knew, right?). I have vowed to not make those mistakes again. The seedlings (can you spot the collard pushing out over there?) and potential seedlings are already in the sun. They have been watered every day day. And I used actual, you know, potting soil instead of some stuff in a bag I was trying to get rid of.

The outside plants have not come to life yet. One of the reasons could be that they did not get their first water until Thursday's rain, and the nighttime temperatures have been much cooler. I won't get worried for another two weeks.

There you have it. This weekend, I will move the second garden and get a whole new batch of stuff started (which reminds me - I need carrots. I like carrots. I actually want to eat carrots, as opposed to half the other shit I planted). Of course, I'll keep you informed.