[Note the above pic is from the 2008 garden] The garden is already bursting with life. The mild Utah winter didn't force many perennials into dormancy, and a few tenders and annuals actually pulled through. If you read my entry, "January Broccolli" you have a general idea how alive our garden was all through the winter. To get you up to speed, allow me to offer a brief (potentially boring) synopsis of where the 2009 garden stands to date. Officially, Rainbow chard, sorrel, Chinese cabbage, and dandelions (one man's weed - another man's medicinal herb and delicious salad green) survived the winter and are already harvestable. Broccoli and brussel sprouts pulled through the winter and are setting fruit. Fall planted carrots and onions are doing great. the carrots are harvestable but not sweet enough to bother yet. Cilantro, chamomile, bachelor buttons, cosmos, and sunflowers reseeded and are popping up all over the garden. The last week in march, we seeded in new cold weather veggies and salad greens with the exception of peas, beets. turnips, and radishes. Little baby salad is popping up all over. On Sunday I planted turnips, beets, and radishes. Yesterday I planted peas. Today it snowed. Ah, spring in the rockies.
Now for the gardening wisdom of the day: I am absolutely fascinated by the life in the garden (although I could do without the volunteer grass). If I did nothing but water the garden from here on out, I am certain it would be beautiful; full of wildflowers and volunteer crops. Last year a petunia volunteered on the edge of a bed. Somehow a little seed survived the winter and the decomposing power of the compost pile, was turned into the soil as compost in the spring and by mid summer was a proud and beautiful flower. Several fruit producing squash and the biggest cosmo I have ever seen sprung forth from compost crumbs around the bin. The year before a tomato volunteered in front of our mailbox and actually produced fruit despite our neglect. My devoted plant-loving counterpart transplanted a mystery weed all over the garden last year in hopes that it would bloom and attract pollinating insects. When plants volunteer I try to let them be. If they are in a really poor location, I try to transplant them to a more favorable spot, but I never assume a weed is a weed is a weed. People always comment on how beautiful our garden is. In truth, if we pulled everything that we didn't plant on purpose our garden would be very dull and very void of color. Our weeds are often wildflowers and wildflowers attract beneficial insects and guests with mojitos. The moral of todays blog post? I challenge you to let a few "weeds" grow. You may be pleasantly surprised by the outcome.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Just Let a Few Weeds Grow
[Note the above pic is from the 2008 garden] The garden is already bursting with life. The mild Utah winter didn't force many perennials into dormancy, and a few tenders and annuals actually pulled through. If you read my entry, "January Broccolli" you have a general idea how alive our garden was all through the winter. To get you up to speed, allow me to offer a brief (potentially boring) synopsis of where the 2009 garden stands to date. Officially, Rainbow chard, sorrel, Chinese cabbage, and dandelions (one man's weed - another man's medicinal herb and delicious salad green) survived the winter and are already harvestable. Broccoli and brussel sprouts pulled through the winter and are setting fruit. Fall planted carrots and onions are doing great. the carrots are harvestable but not sweet enough to bother yet. Cilantro, chamomile, bachelor buttons, cosmos, and sunflowers reseeded and are popping up all over the garden. The last week in march, we seeded in new cold weather veggies and salad greens with the exception of peas, beets. turnips, and radishes. Little baby salad is popping up all over. On Sunday I planted turnips, beets, and radishes. Yesterday I planted peas. Today it snowed. Ah, spring in the rockies.
Now for the gardening wisdom of the day: I am absolutely fascinated by the life in the garden (although I could do without the volunteer grass). If I did nothing but water the garden from here on out, I am certain it would be beautiful; full of wildflowers and volunteer crops. Last year a petunia volunteered on the edge of a bed. Somehow a little seed survived the winter and the decomposing power of the compost pile, was turned into the soil as compost in the spring and by mid summer was a proud and beautiful flower. Several fruit producing squash and the biggest cosmo I have ever seen sprung forth from compost crumbs around the bin. The year before a tomato volunteered in front of our mailbox and actually produced fruit despite our neglect. My devoted plant-loving counterpart transplanted a mystery weed all over the garden last year in hopes that it would bloom and attract pollinating insects. When plants volunteer I try to let them be. If they are in a really poor location, I try to transplant them to a more favorable spot, but I never assume a weed is a weed is a weed. People always comment on how beautiful our garden is. In truth, if we pulled everything that we didn't plant on purpose our garden would be very dull and very void of color. Our weeds are often wildflowers and wildflowers attract beneficial insects and guests with mojitos. The moral of todays blog post? I challenge you to let a few "weeds" grow. You may be pleasantly surprised by the outcome.
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