she's just saying...

Skunk work

 

My brother's "conservation of bustedness" theory goes something like:  when you fix something, something else has to break, to keep the level of bustedness balanced. So of course when I fixed my car headlight (for the third time in three years), the burnt out driveway light, the leaking hose faucet and the screen door where Bindi busted through, something big had to go wrong. Which is that a skunk moved in under the deck.

Actually, I think a critter has been living there for some time as my previous dog showed a lot of interest in that corner of the deck, but I always assumed it was a family of brave mice (given the cat ratio in the neighborhood). But the other evening, I saw a large skunk waddling around checking for possible compost leavings before he scooted back under the deck again. Because as you know, skunks are crepuscular. (One of those cool words you learn in a wildlife museum. Look it up.)

After an initial panic, I called a number of wildlife control companies. Oddly enough, none of them seemed very eager to help me with this problem. The first one quoted me an astronomical figure to dig all around the deck and install chicken wire. When I expressed surprise at the price, he asked me if I just moved here from Mexico. Random, and belligerent, so I moved on. The second guy made and broke an appointment, then confessed he wasn't really comfortable with skunks, in spite of being certified by Oregon Wildlife to remove them. The third said he'd trap it for $180. However, due to state laws, he'd either have to release it on the property or euthanize it, neither of which work for me.

It all seems too much to deal with, frankly.  So I'm contemplating the live and let live approach.

Pepe Le Pew hasn't bothered us yet, really. If he's been around for awhile, he's got to be a pretty comfortable with our family;  kids, dogs, cats and I all hang around on the deck and back patio. I spray the hose and entertain, Bindi barks and pees, cats sprawl and kids pound across it while yelling and shooting water guns. Or maybe he's a really sound sleeper.

The potential downside is that Bindi, who isn't the sharpest pencil in the box but has plenty of enthusiasm, will spot it and chase. I've had dogs skunked before and lived through it, but it's no fun for anyone. While I'm figuring out what to do, I've researched the best skunk smell removal formula and laid in some hydrogen peroxide, just in case.

I've started a mild harassment program to gently convince the skunk that he'd be more comfortable elsewhere. Various suggestions I've found include sticking balls of ammonia-soaked rags under the deck, applying cayenne pepper solution around the den, putting dirty socks by the entrance (I'll need Henry's assistance with that one), installing a flashing red beacon or using commercial "predator urine" repellents. In the meantime, I've trained a light on the entrance to his den and am thinking about playing a radio there all day. Rap music, probably. Or heavy metal - that would make me move.

I made dirt!

Rich, loamy (great word), homemade dirt. I finally cleared out the bottom of the composter and discovered a few things. Eggshells never decompose (or at least within three years), nor do corncobs, pine needles, plastic bags or pieces of clay pots. I found my worms which was very exciting, and a few random glass marbles from that unfortunate compost-diving episode.

                              Bindi on squirrel-watch

 

Three wheelbarrowfuls later, my vegetable beds were ready for that perennial exercise in hope, planting seeds. I'm participating in my annual attempt to grow arugula, which consists of throwing $3.99 worth of seeds to the wind and going down to the farm stand to buy a few bunches. What can I say? It's summer!*

*today's Bulletin headline: "Temperatures may break 70 Thursday." June in Central Oregon...

I has a spuragrus

Look, Mark! We finally made one!

(Mark was my gardening partner to whom I owe my many many garden beds of which I can't handle the upkeep.)

Just one. Not sure what happened to all the others. I can't bring myself to harvest it. I just go visit it now and then and feel very proud.

The whole garden has had a late start this year. I wonder why: could the snow this Saturday be one of the reasons? I think we hit 45 degrees as a high that day. That's all right - I'll be complaining about the heat in a few months.  I hope.  Happy Memorial Day!

Fiddlehead!

I'm feeling very earthy and springlike today, though it appears to be snowing outside again. I just got a precious pound of fiddlehead ferns. Fiddleheads are tightly spiraled fern fronds, not yet unfurled. These alien-looking curls are only available for about two weeks in May - that's it, so if you haven't gotten any yet, you're out of luck.

They are a New England delicacy in my mind, but here they are in Oregon. I scored mine from the Agricultural Connections, a community-supported agricultural group here in Bend who have some adventurous vegetable offerings as well as the basic stuff.

People describe fiddleheads as tasting a bit like asparagus, but they really don't. They taste very green and deep and mysterious, with an addictive texture and crunch. Trim, rinse and blanch, then saute with butter, salt & pepper, a little lemon and maybe some garlic. I served them over angelhair (seemed fittingly delicate), and maybe ate too many last night.

I hear that warm weather has arrived elsewhere on earth, but here in the mountains, it's still a rumored event. The flowers and trees are doing their best and the late evening light is stirring up the animals, but it's still in the 50's most days. We're getting a little tired of it, but given the weather elsewhere I'm not complaining. I'll just eat my way to summer - I hear Paradise Farm Stand has morels again...

A riddle for you

On our dog-walk early this morning, Bindi and I observed a man leave his apartment complex, cross the street, and start pulling blades of grass from around the mailbox post. He saw me trying not to notice and called over two words to explain his actions. It made perfect sense and I no longer thought he was a crazy person, but actually kind of cute.

What did he say to explain his actions?

Answer tomorrow... (see how I keep you reading?)

The War of the Hoses

If they can land a man on the moon, can't they invent a non-leaking hose?  Or, to be more timely: if they can stop an underwater well from gushing oil, why can't they stop hose nozzles from dripping?

I hate dealing with hoses. I'm always buying random parts, fittings, couplings, hose ends, plumber's tape, connectors, and nozzles. They always leak. And kink, and drip. A few years ago I was taken in by the coiled hose concept; I can't remember why. They're particularly annoying, tangling up like a telephone cord, only heavy and wet.

Here's this year's collection of hoses and parts. Notice how wet it all is. Has anyone found a leakless hose/nozzle?

Hosed.

the evil weed continued

Those of you bored by gardening posts or looking for some anti-marijuana polemic can stop reading now. See you tomorrow.

I continue the good fight against the invader on the homefront. The problem is that, when small and not blooming, the evil one looks like a many other benign plants that are growing happily and innocently in the garden. Bee balm looks almost exactly the same, but there's a quality to the evil one that makes it stand out for me, from even a number of feet away. I can't explain how it's different, but I can sense it. Most of the time.

See?

Bad plant (orange hawkweed): 

Good plant (bee balm):

 

And if I pull up a bunch of balm, oh well. It's kind of invasive as well, but more nicely. OK, back at it. Just me and the mosquitoes.

Sunday morning mowdown

A momentous day today: Henry mowed the lawn.

Not all of it, and not quite in the pattern I would choose, but hey, it's a great start.

I'm beginning to see the possible benefits of this whole kid thing.

This is the effect we're working towards. Maybe next year.

Loose morels

Morels are a type of wild mushroom that grow in the Northwest in the spring. Their flavor is deep and mysterious and substantial, and they look really cool too, like little alien coneheads.

There's an underground culture of mushroom pickers here in Central Oregon who jealously guard their picking spots, so really it's easier to pick them down at our local farmstand. Adam gets them from a picker on his way back into town every day, and sells them dirt cheap. 

For some odd reason most morel recipes online involve saltine crackers, bread crumbs, or even corn flakes. All you need to do is saute them in butter or olive oil. You can add some shallots, parsley, garlic and lemon juice, a splash of white wine, serve them on toast or whatever. Or eat them with a fork right out of the pan.

The morels of the story

(Puns: the last refuge of lame writers.)

I've planted catnap

I think I figured out why my herbs aren't growing this year.

 

It's A Gnome Run!

(This is actually a baseball post)

Back when Henry went to the local Waldorf preschool, they seemed to be weirdly fixated on gnomes. I've since learned that that's a typical Waldorf tradition, along with believing that children can't learn the alphabet until their first permanent teeth come in, which is a topic for another post. Anyway.

They built gnome houses, went on gnome-spotting walks, teachers had "Gnome-Powered" bumper stickers on their cars; the whole thing seemed odd and a bit twee, as they say across the pond.

So, what does this have to do with baseball?  Well, hang on. I had a bet going with a Phillies fan last week when the Red Sox and Phils faced each other during interleague play. I must admit I wasn't hopeful of my chances, but the payoff was good either way: whoever lost had to buy the other person a winning-team-logoed item of about $30. So either I got something Bosox-related or I got to buy something outrageous for my winning friend.

So, when the Sox won the series 2-1, I was looking forward to receiving my Red Sox nightie, towel set, bobblehead dashboard decoration or whatever.

So here's what showed up today in the mail.

gnome sweet gnome

I'm not sure where in the yard I'll put the little guy. Somewhere where I can see him whenever I look out my window, or maybe where he can stun the neighbors and passersby.  He'll look good anywhere, I reckon, because after all, there's no place like gnome.

Noxious, part deux

Alright, so maybe I poked a little too much fun at the noxious weed police. Possibly I was a bit flippant about the threat of infestation. Perhaps I eradicated only half-heartedly.

For the fact is, the evil hawkweed has gotten a foothold in my gardens and is steadily spreading its voracious tentacles. It still seems weird to me that I admired a little patch of it in the same spot for years when suddenly the invasion was triggered this spring, right after the weed patrol outed me in the media.

It's all very sci-fi and creepy. Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Or in this case, Invasion of the Woolly Thyme Snatchers.

So this weekend I'll be out once again with the industrial jug of Round-Up, fighting back against noxiousness for the betterment of gardens everywhere and the survival of cultivated plant life as we know it. Just consider me your horticultural super-hero.

Long green leaves: bad.

Spud.

I'm primarily a perennials gardener. I never fall for the "color spot" annuals and don't specialize in roses or lilies or begonias, in spite of my horticultural heritage. I've also never gotten serious about vegetables.

To get good veggie results in Central Oregon you have to dedicate your spring to babying seeds and starts in a greenhouse, setting up walls'o'water, running out to protect crops from frost in August, and  fighting off the birds and bugs. It's a very short season and doesn't seem worth it to me.

However, in the past I have produced some tomatoes, a pumpkin, two eggplants and bushels of parsley and mint, which appear to be my specialty. (I also try and fail every year to grow arugula - it's a mythic struggle.) But today I can raise my head proudly and declare myself a farmer: I have grown a potato.

I don't actually remember planting potatoes, but occasionally when one starts to sprout in the vegetable bin I take it out and stick it in the ground. While harvesting parsley this morning, I pulled up what I thought was a weed and found a small red potato at the other end. 

I can't describe the awe and pride I felt when I held it up. Any suburbanite can grow tomatoes and zucchini, but to produce a potato seems like an authentic farmer-type accomplishment.

I think I'll steam it in a (tiny) pan and eat it with butter and salt and pepper.

Note to Kathi D.: no need to be flaunting your Cali harvest abbondanza - we're talking high desert here!

Produce and the City

[Note that I used the word "city" in the title of this post. I've been informed that Bend does indeed have an escalator; therefore by my own definition it is a city.]

I love farmers' markets. Who doesn't love farmers' markets?  However, I'm very happy these days that I don't need to go to the Bend Farmers' Market any more. (correct possessive apostrophe of a plural noun there.) There's the small matter of parking, for one thing; getting there on time, waiting in lines, dodging the shiny happy families and so forth. Just saying.

The reason I don't have to go you-know-where is that a farm stand has opened two blocks from the house.

And it's a great farm stand.

Tomatoes that taste like my dad's eaten right there in his garden.

  Big fat and little donut peaches.

 

Local berries, herbs, beans, potatoes, onions, beets, corn delivered daily right from the field. etc. It's thrilling.

And it's really local.

The best part? I can send Henry down with a backpack and a grocery list. I'm telling you, after nine years of doing it all myself, I'm finally reaping some payback. And it's character-building too.

This is Adam from Richard's. Tell him Melissa sent you.

Compost diving

Note to self:

When dumping a vase of faded flowers into the compost, check if there might be hundreds of little glass balls in the bottom of the vase first. 'Cause they don't decompose.

On the plus side, I can personally attest that my compost bin is alive with bugs, flies, smells and rot. However, I can't seem to find the half-pound of worms I dumped in there last year. I assume they're happily munching away somewhere, extruding compost gold.

Busted with weed(s)

We take our weeds seriously in Oregon. My noxious garden and the kerfluffle around the dread orange hawkweed in our neighborhood made today's paper, front page above the fold.

I'm quoted a bit, ending with the phrase: "It's going to kill me [but] yeah, I'll spray. I'll be a good citizen." So I think I evaded the pokey this time.

Ask not what your county can do for you, ask what you can do for your county.

They’ve got me located

Deschutes County

    1300 NW Wall Street, Ste. 200 Bend, OR 97701-1960

    Phone (541) 388-6570 - Fax (541) 385-3202 - www.deschutes.org

 

NEWS RELEASE                        MEDIA CONTACTS:

Dan Sherwin, 322-7135

        

Bend, Oregon                            June 25, 2009

 

Noxious Orange Hawkweed Found in Bend Landscapes

Immediate Eradication Necessary

 

Orange Hawkweed (Hieracium aurantiacum), an A-rated noxious weed on Deschutes County and Oregon State weed lists, was found in approximately 10 local home landscapes yesterday in Bend. Discovery of the noxious weed outcroppings prompted vegetation officials to ask residents to eradicate the weeds immediately.

 

A Forest Service employee reported the invasive weeds to County Vegetation Manager Dan Sherwin last week. An investigation conducted yesterday by Oregon Department of Agriculture Noxious Weed Coordinator Dave Langland and Sherwin resulted in the discovery of the local infestations. One Hawkweed site is located at the corner of 16^th and Baltimore Avenue in Bend. Another site was discovered at the corner of Colorado Avenue and Broadway. Landscapers were notified and immediately removed the Hawkweed plants.

 

A noxious weed is any weed designated by the Deschutes County Board of Commissioners or the Oregon Department of Agriculture that is injurious to public health, agriculture, range, recreation, wildlife or any public or private property; any weed that impacts and displaces desirable vegetation, such as threatened and endangered plant species, wildlife habitat, and livestock.

 

What is Orange Hawkweed?

A showy alpine native of Europe, … [deleted]

 

 

______________________________________________________________________________

Deschutes County Government provides for the safety, security and health of Deschutes County's 160,000 citizens through public safety, human services, adult and juvenile corrections and many other valuable public services. For more information, please go to www.deschutes.org

Noxious.

I've been identified as noxious. Or at least parts of my garden are.

While I was at work today, my home was visited by the Integrated Weed Management Coordinator for the Noxious Weed Control Program from the Plant Division of the Oregon Department of Agriculture. He left his card and a brochure on Orange Hawkweed, titled: BEAUTIFUL INVADER ALERT!

Apparently the lovely wildflower I was so pleased to see returning in various places in my gardens is an invader. I quote: "This is a priority noxious weed; report sites to the Oregon Department of Agriculture immediately... Document site locations using either local landmarks or GPS coordinates."

The description of the flower is not so pretty:

 Orange hawkweed is a perennial weed with above-ground runners (stolons) that root at the tips. Roots are shallow and fibrous. The plant grows up to 12 inches tall and contains milky juice. The vibrant orange-red colored flowers are clustered at the top of a leafless stem. Stiff, black, glandular hairs cover flower stalks. Leaves are hairy, lance shaped, up to five inches long, and exclusively basal.

Frankly, anything with stiff black glandular hairs covering it is not welcome in my garden, so I have to dig it all up. Or use Round-Up. (You know when the Ag Dept. is advocating Round-Up, it's a nasty plant.)

I actually should feel pretty special, as this plant is very limited in Oregon, in fact: "a few ornamental plantings have been reported and confirmed in Deschutes County." I guess they mean me.  "Infestations are subject to eradication" though I notice they didn't actually do the dirty work themselves.

So, if you see this plant, (a.k.a. Devil's Paintbrush) call 1-866-INVADER immediately. I am not kidding. That's the number. You've been warned.

photo courtesy of Jim Schultz

Really? Snow? June 9?

I missed this weird little event as it didn't hit the Museum south of town. I hear that children were screaming on the playground. Everyone said it was hail, but it sure looks like snow to me. Maybe we just can't face the S word after May.

The hostas took a beating and I've lost all my irises in flower, but otherwise life goes on in the high desert. I'll take this over 95+ degrees any day. That's coming next, of course.

The "working" part of the back deck. I call that snow.

In which I knit. And garden. Though not at the same time.

This blog is supposed to occasionally focus on knitting. However, when summer finally arrives in Central Oregon, my knitting switch goes off and the gardening switch is triggered.

We only get about four months of gardening in here before it starts to freeze at night, so Central Oregonians go into a bit of a frenzy trying to pack it all in between May and September. It's a real challenge to garden in the high desert. The weather is dry, scorching and freezing, so it takes a pretty hardy plant to thrive. The temperature last month ranged from 31 degrees to 82 degrees, though not in that order, so you can see the issues we face.

But I digress. Knitting. I'm working on the tweedy cabled cardigan that is going along pretty quickly. I don't have a lot of motivation to finish it until fall, but I don't want to lose the rhythm of the pattern, so I work on it sporadically.

I'm also oddly stuck in a never-ending loop of coffee cozies and felted mice.
the latest cozies

Each can be completed in the space of a movie so they're pretty gratifying. This occasionally happens to knitters, getting stuck on repeat on a certain pattern. I'll snap out of it eventually. Meantime, I'm producing a lot of little convenient gifts. I seem to have a problem taking the final step of delivering them, but that's just logistics, right?