Fragrance: Dianthus and Don

Dianthus & Don

This evening was designed for sitting on the front-porch glider, shelling peanuts as the temperature eased toward 70 and a gentle breeze rustled through the purple-leaf plum trees that cast shadows longer than the trees are tall.

Straight ahead of me two flowering kousa dogwoods framed a birdless bluebird box because this year a pair built their nest in the “white box” in the backyard and already have three blue eggs there.  Nearer me the first dark-blue Siberian iris blooms, a gift of Cindy S., a Howard County Master Gardener.

To my right, in, hopefully, a deer-proof fortress of iron stakes and welded wire, pink rhododendron blossoms proclaim, “This is our best weekend,” as lavender azalea petals loosen and float to the pine-bark mulch.  Nearby a Knockout rose lofts buds that promise future visual delight, and lingering bleeding-heart flowers bob in the freeze.

'Our best weekend'

To my left, bright-blue delicate brunnera flowers and miniature yellow trumpets of corydalis—gifts of Pat H., another Master Gardener, say, “Enjoy every day of May,” while pink, blue, and purple columbine flowers arch over their leaves—gifts of Pennsylvania cousins Curt and Jean W.

A high-school teacher once defined a “weed” as a flower growing where someone doesn’t want it to grow.  I don’t have any weeds.  I let flowers grow wherever they wish—usually—and, of course, as long as they aren’t real weeds.  I hate to uproot them with my hoe or Cape Cod weeder.  I prefer to let them grow—or share them with fellow gardeners.

As the wind shifted slightly on this May evening, a fragrance surrounded me.  I inhaled deeply. It was sweet and spicy.  It was from the patches of dianthus hunkering by our hardy ground orchids, a deer-resistant perennial recommended by Irene M., another Master Gardener.  I wondered how such small dianthus flowers can perfume such a wide area.

My mind wondered to two friends, Don and Joyce O.  Ellen and I have known them for half a century.

Sometimes a flower says it all

You know that kind of friends ...  classmates at high school or college … young families with children about the same ages … later, as empty nesters, chatting over dinner at Sierra’s Grill or enjoying plays at Olney Theatre or concerts at Wolf Trap or Strathmore Music Center. 

For years Don raised black raspberries in their back yard and prepared a quart of “concentrate” each summer that I made into a gallon of black-raspberry ice cream for late-summer gatherings of friends.

A month or so ago Don, a rose grower, was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disease.  With our tears on Friday we mourned his passing.

I sat on our porch and inhaled the fragrance of the dianthus, but that spicy sweetness was overpowered by an even greater fragrance—memories of Don, husband of Joyce, father of Don Jr., Allison, and Karen, grandfather of four, noted scientist, our friend.

Clean Water Begins at Home

Sylvia says the height of your grass
can make a difference.

If charity begins at home, so should clean water, says Sylvia, a member of the Bay-Wise Committee of the University of Maryland Extension Howard County Master Gardener program.

“Some of our major pollution problems—such as algae-laden ponds—result from fertilizer run-off from neighborhood lawns,” Sylvia explained.  “Since scores of homeowners contribute to this problem, we’ll take a step toward solving that problem every time a homeowner chooses to do lawn care in ways that protect our waterways.”

Intrigued, the Ancient Gardener asked Sylvia to explain her thinking.

Ancient Gardener:  What are simple, practical steps I can take to help clean up local ponds and streams?

Sylvia:  Read a good fact sheet about responsible lawn care, perform a soil test, and don’t over-fertilize.  When you fertilize, use fertilizers with a high percentage of water-insoluble nitrogen (WIN) and no phosphate unless the soil test indicates that you need it.  Keep the fertilizer off your sidewalks, driveways, and other impervious surfaces, where rain can wash it into local storm sewers that will end up in a pond, lake, or stream.  One of our local ponds is green and stinky in the summer because it’s full of algae that fed on the nutrients from fertilizers running out of neighborhoods and into the drains that end up at the pond.

Sylvia keeps her lawn mowed
between 3 and 3.5 inches.

Ancient Gardener:  What publication do you recommend?

Sylvia:  A great place to start is the University of Maryland Extension’s newly revised HG102, “Lawn Establishment, Renovation, and Overseeding.”  It covers a wide range of environmentally sound lawn-care principles, from pre-planting decisions to seeding, care and maintenance, renovation, even common turf problems.  It’s available free online, where you can read it, print it out, or download it for future reference.

Ancient Gardener:  Once I have a nice lawn and control the fertilizer, what should I do next?

Sylvia:  Keep your grass mowed to between three and three and a half inches.  Grass that length shades its own roots during the hot summer months and reduces weeds and thatch.  Leave the clippings right on the lawn, where they’ll provide about a pound of nitrogen per thousand square feet a year.  Mow frequently enough that you remove only the top third of the grass blades at a time.

Ancient Gardener:  What about watering my lawn?

Sylvia sweeps fertilizer onto lawn
to keep it from entering runoff.
(Photo by Sylvia)

Sylvia:  Actually the best grasses for most of the mid-Atlantic area are tall fescues, which are cool-season varieties that naturally go dormant in hot, dry weather.  Let them enjoy life naturally.  Let them go dormant.  Don’t water them.  They’ll revive when cool weather returns in late summer.  If you water, do so early in the morning to minimize disease problems and then only water up to one inch at a time so run-off doesn’t carry nutrients, pesticides, or herbicides into the storm-water system or directly into a nearby pond or stream.

Ancient Gardener:  Why do I see so many lawn-fertilizer advertisements in the spring and so few in the fall?

Sylvia:  They are selling fertilizer.  The best time to fertilize cool-season grasses is September and October.  The brochure has charts with recommendations.

Ancient Gardener: What’s considered best today in lawn care?

Sylvia:  Many homeowners are downsizing their lawns and upsizing their gardens with groundcovers, perennials, shrubs, and trees.  Gardens absorb much more runoff than turf does.  They reduce the sediment and pollutants that go into our waterways.  In the process they provide protection, food, and homes for wildlife.

Ancient Gardener:  The last word?

Sylvia:  A lawn that never has fertilizer, pesticides, or herbicides applied is the friendliest to our neighborhood ponds and streams and to our great waterways, such as the Chesapeake Bay.

To link to the University of Maryland’s publication HG102 on lawn care, CLICK HERE.
If you want to review the earlier posting, “Clean Water: Does Your Lawn Measure Up?” CLICK HERE.

Fertilizer runoff can turn a sparkling pond into a smelly algae pit.
(Photo by Columbia Association)

Jim’s Row Cover Protects Kale into January

Jim pulls back row cover that protects kale

After Irene M. of Columbia noticed a mention of row covers in my recent posting about my mini-greenhouse, she sent me an email note: “Jim has had a row cover on kale and it is going strong.”

Irene, a Howard County Master Gardener, wrote that note several days before temperatures dipped into the teens here in Central Maryland.  Temperature was 13.3°F here at Meadow Glenn at dawn Wednesday, the day I had arranged for Ellen and me to visit Irene and Jim to check out his row cover –and to see her pesebre.

“I’ve never grown kale before, but in October I saw some plants at Frank’s Produce and Greenhouse,” Jim said.  “I thought I’d buy them and see what happens.  Most fell over after I planted them, but soon their leaves turned up and resumed growing.  When the weather got colder, I thought I’d extend their growing season by giving them some protection with a row cover.”

Jim said the temperature Wednesday morning at their home was 17°F.  He hadn’t yet checked to see how his kale had weathered the cold, but when he pulled back some of the row cover from its PVC support hoops, the kale appeared in perfect condition—ready to cut and take into the kitchen.

Jim's kale thrives under row cover even
when temperatures drop into teens

“I use the row cover in the spring also,” Jim said, “to protect my early vegetables from late frosts.”

A row cover is a very light synthetic fabric, often described as “gauze-like,” that gardeners drape over plants.  The ultra-thin fabric lets in sunlight, air, and water but, when properly installed, excludes insects and other pests.  In cooler weather it can create a warmer micro-climate that helps protect plants from the cold.  The fabric comes in various lengths and widths and can be used in a variety of ways.  Jim’s row cover forms a protective tent over his raised bed of kale and onions.

Here are two sources where you can learn more about row covers.  To view the first, a short (<4 min.) University of Maryland Extension Home & Garden Information Center video, “How to Use a Row Cover in Your Vegetable Garden, CLICK HERE.  For the second, a print article with more than 20 explanatory photographs, “Stink Bug Barrier for Tomato & Pepper,” in a Maryland Home & Garden newsletter, CLICK HERE.

This posting is about row covers, but I did mention Irene’s pesebre.  A pesebre is a traditional Nativity Scene with roots in Spain.  Irene continues a family tradition started by her father 60 years ago.  To see the 2010 setup of her pesebre, CLICK HERE.

Deer Country: Deer of a Feather…

Her snack...

Beth, a Howard County Master Gardener, puts out sunflower seeds for the birds—and a few neighborhood deer that dine on the high-quality seeds.

His snack...

“I buy black-oil sunflower seeds in 50-pound bags and we go through one in two to three weeks.  I also have a feeder with thistle seed and had one with suet, until it fell last winter and disappeared. I put sunflower seeds in the feeder in the photo plus two other feeders and in a pile on a stump in the adjacent woods, which is part of a tree conservation area we share with our neighbors. It hosts many animals and I'm happy to feed them seeds. I just wish they would stay away from the stuff I plant.”

Yes, Beth, that’s the joy of living in Deer Country, where deer love to eat things we plant.


“In any case, I've not put much thought into deterring anyone as everyone has to eat.” Beth continued.  “My only solution for keeping the deer out of the feeder is not to fill it completely as we would be broke from how much seed we would go through!  Instead, I get the camera out and shoot them.”

Their snack...

“This summer three does and four fawns came by occasionally.  I've seen them more often in the late summer and early fall, maybe as often as three or four times a week. I imagine as their food sources get leaner, I'll see them more often. Last winter I believe they even ate the sunflower shells they were so hungry.”


Thank you, Beth, for shooting your deer with your Canon (camera)—and sharing the photographs with Deer Country.

Thank you, Beth

I'm Thankful He Lifted Me over the Fence

Is a child watching?

“What do you think they are?” asked Mr. Rau as he lifted me high enough to peer into his rain barrel.  I must have been five or six years old, and Mr. Rau was our next-door neighbor on Main Street, Alloway, New Jersey.

My eyes focused on several living and moving things just below the waterline in the oak barrel.  I had no idea what they were.

“They’re mosquito larvae,” Mr. Rau explained.

That encounter took place at least 65 years ago.  Mr. and Mrs. Rau—I never would have thought to call them Carl and Mary—welcomed my daily visits.  At first Mr. Rau lifted me over the fence that separated our yards.  Later I learned how to climb over myself.  Mr. Rau called me “Farmer.”

“Yes, sir, you’ll always be Farmer Nixon,” Mr. Rau chucked as he puffed on his pipe years later when I visited as an adult.  “Mrs. Rau and I had a good laugh when we looked out the kitchen window one January day and saw you planting seeds.  You were having a tough time with your gloves on, your thick Mackinow coat, your hat, the packet of seeds, and a trowel.  But the next summer that bed produced the best crop of zinnias we’d ever seen..”

I’m sure I had zero skills for growing great zinnias.  In fact, as I recall those early years, I realize I was the learner and Mr. Rau taught me important principles of good gardening just by practicing them and letting me watch and help.

Mr. Rau’s rain barrel:  The rain barrel sat at the corner of the Rau home closest to their large garden.  The rotund oak barrel sat on several bricks, and Mr. Rau bored an overflow hole near the top and built a wooden top with handle.  He painted the exterior white to match their house but hadn’t thought of installing a screen at the top to keep out the infamous Jersey ‘skeeters or a spigot near the bottom. Rain water Mr. Rau used from the barrel meant he didn’t have to pump water from his well.

Mr. Rau’s drip irrigation system:  Mr. Rau would be fascinated by today’s simple and inexpensive drip irrigation systems, but he made do with the simple materials he had at hand.  I used to watch him dig-in clay flower pots between his tomato plants and fill them with buckets of water from the rain barrel during summer droughts. Today I place five-gallon plastic buckets with holes drilled in the bottoms in my Tomato Patch.

Mr. Rau’s pole limas:  In post-World War II years when nearly every backyard in Alloway still contained a vegetable garden, Mr. Rau often commented that other gardeners—especially Mr. Bowling just a few houses closer to the center of town—were trying to see who would grow the best pole lima beans.

Beans are beans, I suppose, to most modern shoppers, but pole limas were the prized vegetable in South Jersey gardens in those days.  They’re notoriously temperamental.  If the weather is too wet or cold, the seeds may rot before sprouting.  And when they grow, sometimes they produce a huge harvest—and sometimes little or none.

I used to watch Mr. Rau set up his two rows of bean poles in late spring.  He used a heavy, pointed steel bar to make holes every four feet for the cedar poles that were all approximately the same size.  He’d plant hills of lima seeds around each pole.  Then he’d string binder twine across the tops of the poles and in huge Xs between them.  As the plants grew, he’d guide them along the twine.

Growing limas took lots of work, time, patience, and good weather, but near the end of the growing season the rewards were mouth watering, a “mess of limer beans,” as a visitor from New York City once joked, or one of the signature dishes of South Jersey cookery, lima bean potpie.  Lima bean potpie also was work intensive, but I’ll not detour there.

Planting onion sets:  One early-spring day I watched over the fence as Mr. Rau worked in his khaki shirt and pants in his garden in early spring.  I climbed over for a closer look.

“What are you doing, Mr. Rau?”

“Planting onions, Farmer.”

“Can I help?”

“Do you know how to plant onions?”

“No.”

“Well, watch what I do.  First, take a set from the paper bag. … Put the round end down in the row I’ve made with the hoe. … Put the next set down about here. …”

Mr. Rau took my small left hand and placed it between the two sets he had placed in the row.
“See,” he said, “that’s how you do it—one set every five fingers.”

I must have finished planting the onions in a reasonably acceptable way because Mr. Rau didn’t redo them before he carefully hoed soil up around them.  When he had finished, he said, “Here, Farmer,” and placed a dime into my dusty hand.

I can’t recall whether I climbed over or flew over the fence on my way home, but I remember yelling as I ran into the house, “Mom!  Look!  A dime!  Mr. Rau gave me a dime!”  Ten cents then was enough to buy two huge single-dip ice-cream cones at Ewen’s General Store or Dunham’s Market, the two small groceries at town center.

Thank you, Carl G. Rau, 1893-1971, for lifting me over the fence and letting me learn by helping in your garden.

Is a child watching as you work in your garden?  Lift him or her over the fence into the fascinating world of gardening.

A Pile of 1,202 Stink Bugs

Come and get 'em!

When I saw four Rescue Stink Bug Traps around our neighbors’ home and vegetable garden, I asked if I could count the brown marmorated stink bugs when they cleaned out the traps and replaced the lures.  A recent email from Debbie and Jeff said to come and get four bags of stink bugs, one bag hanging on each trap.  The traps had been in place for four weeks with their original “two-week” lures.

Wow, what great neighbors—they gave me their stink-bug harvest!

I made the rounds of their four traps last Thursday morning and retrieved the sealed plastic bags with mostly dead stink bugs. Each of the bags contained living stink bugs, which indicated to me that the lures were still attracting their quarry long after their advertised two weeks.

I put down the gate of my pickup, laid out old newspapers, slowly maneuvered the living stink bugs into a bottle of soapy water, and with a plastic fork began separating and counting the dead bugs. 

Here’s what I found—plus a few comments:

Four bags of stink bugs to count

Trap One, with solar-powered LED light to attract stink bugs at night, is, like all four traps, located in the lawn.  This one is near the detached garage and about 60 feet from the family vegetable garden.  It contained 332 stink bugs of all sizes (phases or instars), including many first instars about the size of a dog tick.  This number included 10 green stink bugs, another species.

Trap Two, without LED light, contained 378 stink bugs, including one green one, again in all phases. This trap is about 25 feet from the vegetable garden, where most tomatoes show pin pricks from stink bug feeding and where stink bugs still feed on the fruit.  This was the largest count, so did absence of an LED light increase the catch?  I don’t think so.  I suspect the number is evidence of the trap’s proximity to an excellent food supply—garden vegetables.

Trap Three, with LED light, contained 305 stink bugs, including an amazing 68 live ones.  What fun I had getting them out of the plastic bag and into the bottle of soapy water.  Two managed flights to safety, but they are in the count.  I have no idea about why there were so many live bugs in this one trap.

After the count, a pile of 1,202 stink bugs

Trap Four, with LED light, contained only 187 stink bugs.  Why so few?  The message on the bag said it all: “Dropped Catch.”  Oops, accidents do happen, but if we don’t get a National Science Foundation mega-grant, you know why.  When I looked at the collection from this trap, I noticed that all but a few were the larger phases of stink bugs, so I assume that the smaller captives got lost in the grass when they were dropped.  How many were lost?  I decided I’d estimate by averaging the number of bugs in the three other traps, which came to 338.  That suggests that about 151 stink bugs were lost when dropped.

Bottom line: The four traps contained 1,202 stink bugs plus the estimated 151 lost for a total of  about 1,353.

Were Jeff and Debbie impressed by their catch?

Debbie:  “No, I thought after two weeks the traps would be overflowing, but that was not the case.”

Jeff:  “No, but hope springs eternal that we will have fewer of the smelly, fair-weather bugs in the house this winter.  I’ve killed more with pesticide around the flood lights by the garage at night.”

Have the traps reduced the stink bugs in your vegetable garden?

378 stink bugs in nearby trap while these
continued to damage tomatoes

Debbie: “No.  In fact, most of the blooms in our vegetable and flower garden were decimated.  Although the garden was green, every one of the gigantic sunflower heads was thoroughly enjoyed by the bugs.”

Jeff:  “Yes, but the number of bugs in the garden was a few orders of magnitude greater than in the traps.  Stink bugs increased production costs, and although one of the traps was about 25 feet from the garden, the stink bugs preferred the green, leafy vegetation over the green and yellow hard plastic of the traps.” 

Do you think you’ll use them again next year?

Debbie:  "First let’s see how the seven-week refills work.”

Jeff:  “Next year perhaps we’ll set the four traps either under the lilacs or near the back porch light.”

The four traps, with new lures installed on September 13, are now attracting a new collection of brown marmorated stink bugs.

Basil Bouquet for a Friend

Vivian and her basil bouquet

I posted a link on my Facebook page to my recent posting about pruning basil, and a friend added a Comment that her basil had died in the drought, the neighborhood farm stand was fresh out of the herb, and would I consider selling her a few sprigs. I also learned on Facebook that our friend had taken a spill while weeding her garden on Friday.

I gave Vivian a call Saturday night. Yes, she’s doing fine, she insisted--no bones broken. “I was lucky to tumble into some weeds and not onto the edge of the sidewalk,” she explained. “I was tugging on a clump of ‘wire grass’ when it decided to give up.” She said she was grateful that she didn’t land on the concrete on her hip that hasn’t done well since joint replacement several years ago.

“Well, Vivian,” I said. “I don’t sell my veggies. Will you be home Sunday morning so I can bring you some basil?” She said she and her husband, Curt, would be there and that she would love some to make some pesto. Sunday morning Curt welcomed me to their “down-sized bungalow,” as Vivian calls it, when I drove up in my pickup. Vivian came down the steps from the kitchen to join us in the shade of a backyard tree.

“Here, a bouquet just for you,” I said as I handed Vivian the basil I had cut that morning. She seemed so appreciative, so happy, as she admired her bouquet.

“And here’s something for Curt,” I added, handing him a bowl of red raspberries I had picked that morning. “And some Sungold and Juliet tomatoes for snacking—and several large Brandywines and a Virginia Sweets that most farm stands don’t have for sale.”

We chatted for a bit and I took my leave with many thanks—their thanks for the basil, raspberries, and tomatoes and my thanks for friends like Vivian and Curt, who are four score plus in years and continue to tend their garden of flowers and herbs and care for their lawn.

If you have extra produce, give some to a friend, a neighbor, an organization that accepts produce on behalf of those in need. If you live in Maryland or the District of Columbia, CLICK HERE for some ideas of where you might donate to an organization. If you live in another state, perhaps the link will give you an idea for sharing in your town or city.


Grow It, Eat It, Give It.

How Barbara Grows Garlic

Barbara & her German White garlic in April

Have you ever thought you might try growing garlic? Now’s the time to think seriously about that possibility, because you have three months to read up on the subject, research suppliers, and order the seed bulbs of the variety you select.

Barbara Billek, who gardens at the Westside Community Garden site of Columbia Gardeners, Inc., has been growing garlic—German White, a “hardneck” variety—for five years.

“Most of the garlic you find in grocery stores is softneck garlic,” Barbara explained. “Softneck has multiple rows of cloves in a circle. The outer circle has large cloves, and the cloves get smaller toward the middle of the bulb.”

Barbara said hardneck garlic—like the German White she grows—has only one circle of cloves around a central stem. “Each plants sends up a scape, which would contain its flower and then seeds if I didn’t cut it off,” Barbara continued. “German White has large cloves, about eight around a central stem. They are easy to peel and have excellent flavor. You can tell how many cloves each plant will produce by counting the number of leaves the plant has during its growing cycle. Each leaf equals one clove—roughly.”

Barbara planted this year’s crop last November 1. “The University of Maryland Extension’s ‘Planting Dates’ guide for Central Maryland recommends planting garlic from October 15 to November 15, so I planted at the mid-point.” Some growers plant in the spring, between March 15 and April 15, but garlic planted then tends to produce smaller bulbs with smaller cloves.

An organic gardener, Barbara explained how she does it: “I first rake in one inch of compost—about 40 pounds per 10 square feet of my raised garden. I then incorporate about one pound of organic 10-10-10 fertilizer per 50 square feet of garden. I then set out the cloves, root side down, pointy side up, about an inch and a half deep and six inches apart in each direction. I then sprinkle some kelp along the rows and water them in.”

Barbara said that by late fall, after a few frosts, the young plants are about six inches high. “I then mulch them with about four inches of straw. In mid-March I remove the mulch and fertilize again with the 10-10-10 and kelp. I add some cottonseed meal in early April and again two weeks later.”

Scapes curl like pigs' tails

Barbara said the scapes emerge about the end of May. “Scapes curl as they grow and ultimately straighten and grow little seed-like bulbils, but its best to remove them so the plants will use their energy to form bulbs rather than seeds. It’s best to harvest scapes when they’re curled like pigs’ tails, before they straighten, cutting them off about an inch above where they emerge from the plants.”

Barbara stops watering June 1 because garlic doesn’t like much water during its last month of growing.  She harvests her garlic when half of the leaves on each plant have turned brown, sometime in July in Zone 7.

“Don’t pull the plants with your hands,” she advised. “Use a fork or small shovel to left the plants. Brush off most of the soil and then let the plants dry in a well ventilated and dry area. I lay them out on a table in our basement. When all the leaves have turned brown—in about two to three weeks—they are cured and will keep for months. I then cut off the roots and the stalk near the head of the bulb.

“By the way,” Barbara added, you don’t have to wait for the garlic to cure before you use it. Curing is necessary only if you want to store it.”

Harvest began June 30 this year

What does she do with the scapes that she cuts off in the spring?

“I use scapes in recipes instead of spring onions,” Barbara said. “I use just the part of the scape from where it emerges from the plant up to the bulbil. I discard the rest. I use it in stir fries, on pizza and pasta, and in soups and scrambled eggs. I’ve found good scape recipes at the Mariquita Farms (California) website.

Where does Barbara get the cloves she plants each fall?

“Like most garlic growers, I use the cloves from the biggest, best bulbs from the previous growing year as sets for the next crop. That means I don’t buy new seed bulbs to plant each year.”

Would she buy seed bulbs from the same company if you had to start with new sets?

“I bought originally from Cayuga Farms in New York State,” Barbara said, “but the smallest order they accept now is for 50 pounds. I could never grow and use that much garlic. I think I might be tempted to buy from the Two Sisters Garlic website.”

I asked Howard County Master Gardeners who grow garlic where they buy their seed bulbs. Here are their answers, starting with the supplier with the most varieties: Jerry B., Territorial Seed Co. (35 varieties); Paul K., Burpee (24 varieties); Barbara W., Southern Exposure Seed Exchange (21 varieties); Jane H. and Jerry B., Seed Savers Exchange (13 varieties); Mary S., Seeds of Change (9 varieties); Jerry B., Johnny’s Selected Seeds (3 varieties); and Deborah P., Le Jardin du Gourmet Seeds (2 varieties).

Most seed companies ship garlic bulbs in September or October for fall planting, so if you’re interested in growing garlic, you have plenty of time to read up on the subject, check out seed suppliers, and order.

Finally, to read the University of Maryland Extension’s “Vegetable Profile” on garlic—which contains additional information about how to grow garlic, CLICK HERE.

Our Bluebird Quintuplets

Mark gets ready to band
the Nixon quints

There is lots of action at Meadow Glenn these days. Our quintuplets are doing well—eating regularly and rapidly growing both in size and feathers.

Our quints are baby bluebirds. A bluebird pair chose our front-yard bluebird box as their nesting site this spring.  Four weeks ago, Mark Wallace, whom we call “Our Bluebird Guy,” announced that the box contained five light-blue eggs. Then for about two weeks, the parent bluebirds brought insects to their brood of five every few minutes from sunrise to sunset—and occasionally carrying away the bird equivalent of dirty Huggies.

We think Mark is a neighborhood hero. He monitors nesting boxes in Howard County and a few neighborhoods in nearby counties—more than 600 boxes. He visits some of the boxes as many as six to eight times over the nesting season, and he’s been doing it for 40 years.

Why? “It’s just my contribution,” he answered.

Mark checks the condition of the boxes in early spring. When nesting begins, he monitors more closely. His years of experience give him a pretty good idea of when the eggs will hatch and when the young birds will fledge—leave the box on their first flights.

That’s why Mark came on a recent Friday afternoon. He wanted to band the young bluebirds before they fledged, and he was concerned that he might have waited a day or two too long and they might have left.

Mark removed the screw that holds the top on the box, and mounted the five-gallon bucket he carries as his ladder, and looked in.

“I’ll have to be careful. I don’t want to have to chase and catch one that decides to take off now.”

Mark reached in, and brought out a nestling, which he held gently in his left hand. The bird was calm.

“Female,” Mark said, and he attached a numbered band on the bird’s right leg. He put the baby back into the box, to one side, to help him keep track of which birds had been banded.

How does he know females from males? Baby females have much less blue in their feathers.

“Female,” Mark said, as he repeated the process.

One of the three males

“Male,” he said, and the wing feathers of the nestling in his hand were much bluer at the tips.

“Male,” he said again.

“Male,” he said for the last time. Three males, two females—the Nixon Bluebird Quints.

“When do you think they’ll leave?” I queried.

“They could leave today if they wanted,” Mark replied.

Saturday evening the parent bluebirds still were taking food into the box. On Sunday all was quiet. The flights had ended. The nest was empty. But now I hear a delightful sound, the “Cheer, cheer” songs of seven bluebirds. I hope they’re saying, “Let stay here at Meadow Glenn and search the gardens for our favorite insects to eat.”

One day soon Mark will drive his gray Ford pickup down our driveway, park, and walk over to the bluebird box. He’ll open it and clean out the old nest, so the box will be ready for the bluebirds—or another pair—to start building a new nest. Some pairs will nest three times in one year.

Most of the boxes he monitors and the birds he bands are bluebirds, but his nesting list is much longer: tree swallows, chickadees, titmice, nuthatches, even great crested flycatchers and wood ducks.

When Mark finished banding the Nixon Bluebird Quints, he looked at this watch, said he had to leave to go to work in 15 minutes, and walked across the lawn to the box on the fence by the Gabels’ swimming pool.

“Three females, two males—about two days younger than yours,” he said, when he returned to his truck. “Not bad—five females, five males in the two boxes.”

Mark looked at his watch again. “I’ve got to get going.”

Thank you, Mark, Our Bluebird Guy.

Barbara's Secret to Early Lettuce

Barbara & one of her lettuce beds

Barbara Billek, who gardens at the Columbia Gardeners, Inc., Westside Garden Plots, has been harvesting Buttercrunch, Deer Tongue, and Parris Island Cos lettuce for several weeks now, while most of us gardeners in Central Maryland have been struggling to plant our lettuce seeds in rain-saturated soil.

What’s her secret for jump-starting her spring garden?

“I planted my lettuce seeds on September 26,” she explained. “September is a great month for gardening, with its sunny days and temperatures in the 50’s and 60’s. Compare that with the cold, wet days of March or April, when many gardeners start thinking of planting their spring vegetables.”

How did Barbara’s lettuce survive the freezes and snows of Winter 2010-2011?

“I cover it with a floating row cover,” she explained. “I’ve been doing it for six years. I use a light-weight cover--.6 ounces per square yard—that I buy from Gardens Alive. The label says it provides light frost protection and also is a good insect barrier.”

Does Barbara use hoops or some sort of a structure to support the cover?

“No, I just cover the seedlings sometime in November, when the weather turns cold. I use large plastic clothes pins to attach the cover to the sides of my raised beds so it won’t blow away. Some gardeners use plastic or wire row-cover pins, bricks or stones, or even the soil itself to anchor the cover in place.”

When does she take off the cover?

Barbara sowed the taller lettuce on September 26
and the shorter lettuce on March 13

“This year I took it off March 2,” she said. “You can see the difference the row cover makes.” She pointed out three sowings of the same lettuces. After two months, seeds she sowed on March 13 are plants about an inch and a half tall. After nearly a month, seeds she sowed April 17 are plants about a half inch tall. Seeds she sowed September 26 are now plants about 10 inches tall.

“We’ve been eating lettuce salads for dinner every evening,” Barbara explained. “We give some away, and still we have too much lettuce.”

Barbara sowed this chard on September 4
and covered it over winter

“With vinegarette?” I asked.

“Yes, ” Barbara replied. “I make my own. It’s three parts grapeseed oil and one part high-grade balsamic vinegar, both of which I get at Trader Joe’s.”

Do row covers get other veggies through the winter?

“Yes,” Barbara said. “I do the same with chard, kale, and spinach. They do well too.”

Thank you, Barbara, for the lettuce sampler

Thank you, Barbara, for this gardening tip—and for the gift bag of lettuce. Ellen and I have already enjoyed a mixed salad for dinner and put some of the deep-red leaves on our Gardenburgers at lunch. The lettuce is delicious.

Additional Information: To see photos and read more facts about row covers, CLICK HERE to link to the University of Maryland Extension’s information sheet GE 004, “Floating Row Cover.”

Arne & Dolly’s Springtime Delight

Arne and his 'pride & joy'

“We’d like you and Ellen to come over this afternoon to look around our gardens,” Dolly said. “It’s just so beautiful right now.”

Dolly and Arne live in Laurel, in Prince George’s County just a mile or two from Burtonsville. They built their home on a wooded lot 48 years ago. He’s a retired medical technologist, she a retired nurse.

“Here’s my pride and joy,” Arne said, pointing to a wisteria with cascading lavender blooms. The wisteria and nearby lily-of-the-valley flowers perfumed the whole back yard.

Arne and Dolly showed us their favorites now in bloom: dogwoods, azaleas, hibiscus, pansies, daffodils, camellias, a goldenchain tree, and forget-me-nots.

Dolly (r.) shows Ellen a birthday azalea

“Last winter was hard on our azaleas,” Arne said. “The snow broke many branches. We have about half the flowers we had last year.” The azaleas in bloom indicated Arne likes new double-flowered varieties as well as the native variety that grows in Maryland woodlands. “Yes, they grow wild right in the woods just across the street,” he explained. Dolly gives him a new azalea variety every year for his birthday.

A delightful view

After the leisurely tour, we relaxed on their patio shaded by towering oaks and took in the colorful springtime scene.

Arne said he has lots of work to do in the garden—weeding, mulching, turning a rose bed into a bed for giant mums.

“Let’s go inside,” Dolly said. “Arne will show you pictures of the moon flowers he grew last summer.”

“I’ll call you when the moon flowers bloom,” Arne said, as we nibbled on Danish cookies and enjoyed hot drinks. “Each bloom opens at night and lasts only a few hours into the next morning’s light.”

What a relaxing visit and a delightful view—towering oaks and evergreens—a rainbow of springtime flowers—but best of all two happy friends reveling in the beauty of the gardens they have created and tended for nearly 50 years.

Bill’s No-Cost Salad Factory

Bill's no-cost cold frame

Bill Mitchell has been picking lettuce and spinach for salads since the third week of March in his two no-cost salad factories, cold frames he made from odds and ends he had on hand.

The names of Bill’s salad greens may be familiar to many gardeners: Black Seeded Simpson lettuce and Bloomsdale Long Standing spinach.

Bill's Black Seeded Simpson lettuce

“I planted them in early September,” explained Bill, who lives with his wife, Chris, on a wooded lot in Sykesville in northern Howard County. “I put on the glass before frost but took it off on really warm days. During winter, snow sometimes covered the glass cover. The lettuce and spinach came through fine.”

Bill built his two salad machines by recycling materials. “I used untreated scrap 2x6 lumber, which I cut to a size that recycled storm windows would cover the top of the frame, and a dozen nails for each. The soil is basic garden soil plus compost,” Bill said.

His lettuce and spinach are beautiful—and tasty too. Bill shared some that we enjoyed for our evening salad.

For later picking and eating, Bill has more salad greens up and growing in a sunny spot near his cold frames: chard, kale, turnip greens, and more lettuce and spinach.

Bill repairs heirloom chairs

One of Bill’s several other hobbies is repairing chairs. “I splint weave, cane, replace pre-woven cane, and rush weave,” he explained. We know. He recently replaced the pre-woven cane backs of our four kitchen chairs which, after twenty some years, had worn through.

Good jobs, Bill—your cold frames and our chair backs too.

Three Helpful Guys

Jeff & Kevin

Three helpful guys—Kevin, Jeff, and Kenny—recently cleaned up winter damage at Meadow Glenn, and they did it in half a morning.


After surveying all the winter storm damage of our trees and shrubs, I wondered how many weeks, months, or years it would take me to get all the work done. In addition, I wanted to remove nearly 20 Hollywood junipers from my living snow fence because they just didn’t look right among their shorter relatives, Sea Green junipers.


But then our grandson Kevin suggested that he and his dad, Kenny, could come over and help. When the appointed day came, Kevin drove in with friend Jeff, and Kenny drove up a few minutes later.


In about two hours the three younger sets of muscles—with Jeff’s two Stihl chain saws—pruned damaged limbs from flowering plums, our ancient red maple, pines, and a wild cherry or two, plus cutting out the Hollywood junipers. They also cut the biggest limbs into sections and used Kenny’s Ford pickup to stack the cuttings on two compost piles in our woods.


They did all that in about two hours.


Two hours? If I worked on the heavy stuff just two hours a day by myself, the work might have taken weeks, months, perhaps into next year and given me plenty of back, joint, and muscle pain. It’s hard to admit, but I’m not 20, 30, 40, 50, or 60 anymore.


Thank you, Kevin, Jeff, and Kenny. Thank you very much.

Diamond in the Snow: Franna’s Greenhouse

“It’s like a diamond in the snow,” Franna explained. “Most of the orchids are blooming, and I have them positioned so I can see them from the house.”


Franna, who lives in the Hillandale section of Silver Spring, Maryland, is talking about her greenhouse. One of her orchids is the offspring of the first orchid she bought in 1964.


“Five or six years ago, the electric went off in a winter storm and everything froze,” Franna added. “I decided it was just too much. I was going to sell it—or give it away. But I just couldn’t. It’s a part of our family and always will be.

“My husband used to take care of everything in our yard. Once we even grew pansies to sell, but we put them out on the patio for some sun and rabbits wiped us out. Allen and I exchanged orchids on Valentine’s Day. When our son was in high school at Takoma Academy and was going out on a big date, we’d buy another orchid plant. I’d make a corsage for his date, and we’d add the plant to our collection. Oh, the memories.”


“My husband and son bought a Janco kit and assembled it in 1971,” Franna said. “We just had to have a place to garden year-round.” The greenhouse is 10 x 14 feet and tied into the house’s hot-water heating system.


The greenhouse is home to Franna’s orchids and those of a friend who used to work at Kensington Orchid, which no longer is in business. A neighbor brings red and pink geraniums to overwinter. A bird-of-paradise plant thrives, but a gardenia doesn’t, probably because the temperature occasionally dips too low.

'My Redskins orchid, burgundy and gold.'

If you like the story of Johnny Appleseed, you’ll like the story of Franna Orchidplant. “I’ve encouraged so many friends to grow orchids,” she explained. “Julie and Larry and June and Charlie grow them now in Florida. Arnie and Dollie and Orlando and Selma grow them here in Maryland. They are so good at it that they have blooms when I have none.”


Franna loves her greenhouse. It’s memories, beauty, her diamond in the snow.

The Knot Holds Tight

Happy Anniversary, Ellen!


Pastor Bill Loveless must have tied our marital knot with all his might—it’s held 50 years.


They’ve been great years, as we moved about, experiencing life’s ups and downs, working here and there, and making life-long friends.


Along the way we added Brian and then Lynn and watched them mature, marry, and present us five grandchildren.


Blessed are we.


The future?


Let’s aim high—another 50 years!


The knot holds tight.


I love you.


Bob


I love you too.


Ellen

Irene’s Family Treasure: El Pesebre

You’ve stored your Christmas things until next year, but Irene MacDonald hasn’t even thought of taking down her family treasure, El Pesebre (The Manger), that takes up a large part of their living room.


El Pesebre is a handmade depiction of the Nativity Scene and the town of Bethlehem. Irene’s hands—with the help of those of Jim, her husband—assemble the tableau in mid-December every year. They’re carrying on a tradition that dates back to Irene’s Catalan (Barcelona, Spain) family living in Colombia, South America, and subsequently in the United States.


“My father started El Pesebre about 60 years ago,” Irene explained, pointing to a bridge that her dad made of cardboard, small stones, and glue. “My mother set up the first one in the U.S. on the top of our piano about 30 years ago. The town has grown over the years—from the piano to a small table to its current base, a 4x6-foot piece of plywood.”

Irene pointed out that she and Jim collect raw materials for the village all year in her yard and neighborhood—moss, sand, rocks and stones, bark, clippings of boxwood, yew, and arborvitae and small flowers, which she dries, to incorporate into the town as greenery—fields, trees, even a small garden. The walls and roof of the stable of the Nativity Scene is cork bought in Spain more than 40 years ago. Sycamore and birch bark serve as waterless waterways. An unusual feature is several small “villages” carved out of the tops of fungi from Germany.


In a way, some of the yearly additions from the yard—the greenery—the moss and the shrub and tree clippings—limit how long Irene keeps El Pesebre on exhibit. “They’ve been up for more than three weeks,” Irene said, “and still are quite green, but come back in a week or two and you’ll see how much they have dried out. I’ll take it down then, probably late in January.”


Taking things down is the easy part, I thought. How long did it take to put up?


“Oh, about five days, more or less” Irene replied. “A lot depends on what fresh things are available—and how much time I have. There are so many variables. El Pesebre is different in some way every year.”


“Our daughter, Anastasia, spent a semester in Barcelona and was there at the time of the annual Christmas market in the square by the cathedral and bought us something we never had before, resting sheep,” Irene said. “That’s where people in Spain get figurines for their exhibits. I want original pieces, not plastic. It’s hard to find additions that are to scale.”

Irene gave Ellen and me a “guided tour” of El Pesebre on January 6, the day Irene added the last three figures to the manger scene for this Christmas season. “I follow the traditional date for the Feast of the Epiphany, January 6, which celebrates the arrival of the Magi—the three kings—in Bethlehem.”


Anyone seeing El Pesebre before January 6 would have seen the Magi on camels en route and mostly out of sight. But on January 6 the scene was complete. The Magi had arrived at the manger.

Hmmm, so much for taking down decorations on January 1.

Goodbye, Cousin Dale

Today was a perfect late-autumn day for yard work. The temperature: 52° F. Breeze: none. Sun: full. Ah, yes, the perfect day for using my loppers to reshape the dormant redbud tree in our backyard, divide and replant several daylilies, and do some winter weeding.

As I used my Cape Cod weeder to uproot some young weeds, I came to a clump of grass that had somehow gained a foothold—maybe that should be rhizomehold—in a lily bed.

As I uprooted the grass, I thought of the words I heard yesterday at the funeral service of a cousin, Dale Abbott, of Rileyville, Virginia. Pastor Jeff Taylor of the Luray Seventh-day Adventist Church in his sermon had read parts of Psalm 90: “Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations…. Your turn men back to dust…. You sweep men away in the sleep of death; they are like the new grass of the morning—though in the morning it springs up new, by evening it is dry and withered…. The length of our days is seventy years—or eighty, if we have the strength….”

Several hundred relatives, including his four daughters, his brothers and sister, and friends celebrated his life with tears, stories, and a smile or chuckle at times.

It’s always sad to lose a friend, a loved one.

As I uprooted the invading grass from the flower bed, I faced reality. I too am like grass.

Dale was 71. I am 70.

“The length of our days is seventy years—or eighty, if we have the strength.”

Sometimes I have a lot to think about as I weed our gardens.

Goodbye, Cousin Dale. God be with you.