Hum

Something wonderful is happening in the sound scape at Mucky Boots: humming, lots and lots of humming. Bees, in every flowering plant from the chestnut tree to the stands of comfrey to the raspberry bushes to the rhododendrons. That's great news, especially in the vegetable garden, berry patch and orchard, because bees mean fertilized flowers which means a chance for apples and strawberries and peas and tomatoes this year. And with the collapse of bee colonies all over North America, it's not news we take for granted.

I tried to take a picture, but bees are busy little creatures, and wouldn't stay put long enough for me to point, focus and click. So instead, here are some of the blooms that had bees in them today - until I showed up with the camera, that is.

Welsh onion

Last year when I was surfing through seed catalogues making picks for the 2010 growing season, my eye fell on Welsh onions, described as a perennial onion. Well, anything edible that's also a perennial sounds good to me, so I bought a packet and grew six clumps that I transplanted into the herb bed. They grew happily, looking very much like scallions, and overwintered just as happily, staying green through all the snow. And now, this spring, they're flowering - gorgeously.

Here's my problem: what exactly is a perennial onion? I know I can cut the green part off and it will regrow, like chives. Is that all it is - a beefier version of a chive? Because for sure, if I dig up the bulb, the life of that particular perennial comes to a close. Somehow I expected more than just big chives. Did my imagination simply run away with me?

And while I'm asking what are probably really stupid questions, why don't seed packets give harvesting tips as well as planting information? Just wondering. . .

Return of the poppies

It looks like it's going to be a banner year for poppies here at Mucky Boots. The San Pellegrino poppies (so named by me because they're the exact colour of San Pellegrino Aranciata, one of the most refreshing drinks known to humankind) have been blooming up a storm for about a month now, in their simple, modest way. But this week they were joined by their slightly-more-flamboyant orange cousins. . .

. . . and the first of the jaw-droppingly gorgeous, dinner-plate-sized Oriental poppies.

Look at all the future blooms on this one plant - and there are scores more all over the property. We're in for a show!

Lost

I am generally a good person, and I try to live my life in a thoughtful and responsible way. But I have a few shortcomings, as the people who love me can attest to. My tendency to over plan at the expense of spontaneity, as one example. Or my seeming inability to stop taking responsibility for the happiness of everyone around me, as another.

But - oh! - the failing that has me tearing out my hair this week is this: I cannot, for the life of me, hang on to a set of pruners.

I'm rough on tools. This is a well-established fact. I leave tools out in the rain, I rarely clean them, and I never, ever sharpen or oil them. That's why I buy the $5 pruners instead of the $50 ones. I understand and accept this. What I can't figure out is how I keep losing them.

This week I set a new record. On Saturday afternoon I mislaid a set of pruners while tackling the creeping bellflower in one of the perennial beds. I had them. I put them down. I left for a few minutes to empty the wheelbarrow and when I got back those pruners were nowhere. I looked and looked, and never found them.

That wasn't so bad. Kim was nice enough to bring me another pair, even though the ones I had mislaid were clearly marked "Kim". What was bad - really, really bad - was that the next morning, in the space of one hour I mislaid two more pairs.

I don't know where they went. I have retraced my steps, and looked under every conceivable bush. I have rooted through the compost pile, thinking maybe I absent-mindedly put them in the wheelbarrow and then emptied them into the compost. I have hunted and hunted and haven't been able to find any of the three (most recently) missing pairs.

What did I do?

I went out and bought two more pairs. And - so far - I know exactly where they are.

Home

Oh, there's nothing like coming home after being away. And coming home to a garden lush and green, fragrant and blooming - how lucky can one person be?

Of course having been away for two weeks in May means I'm behind on everything, but somehow it doesn't matter. Yes, the winter squash absolutely must get planted tomorrow, and there are weeds everywhere. But somehow I look at the perennial beds filled with fresh, lime green hostas, and red-stalked rhubarb, and the first of what I call the San Pellegrino poppies, and tulips of every colour, and all those weeds just don't matter. At least not today.

When I travel by air I have to go on steroids to clear out my sinuses - which means that for about two months I have the gift of a sense of smell. When I got out of the car to open the gate I was overwhelmed by the wonderful scent of the air - just the air. Green and fresh and woodsy. Is this what it smells like all the time?

So in the two days I've been home I've had my nose stuck in every plant and flower, storing up all the wonderful scents while I can. Especially the lilacs - there's a whole childhood of memories tied to the scent of lilacs.

Home!

Flower parade

Okay, I'm 100% convinced: spring is really here, and it's not going to snow next week.

To celebrate my new accord with Mother Nature, here are some of her most gorgeous peace offerings, appearing now at Mucky Boots.

Trillium and magnolia blossoms . . .

. . . bleeding hearts and peach blossoms . . .

. . . and the first entrants in the annual Tulip Parade.

I'm taking a bit of a break for the next two weeks. Until I see you again, I wish you sunny skies, gentle showers and peace in your heart.

Moving day

The six Red Rock Cross pullets, now about 2 months old, have made the move to Big Chicken Land, otherwise known as Chicken Coop #2. We finished leveling the building and stabilizing the foundation as much as we were prepared to (it's just a chicken coop, after all), Kim laid a new plywood floor inside and made a chicken door into the chicken yard, and we joined the fencing of the yard to the walls of the coop, to make it secure for the new residents.

Then we introduced the teenage pullets to their new home - how exciting!

At least we thought so. The pullets themselves weren't sure what to make of it all. To a chicken everything new is something to be cautious about, and it took them some convincing that the chicken door wasn't a gateway to somewhere horrible.

There is still work to be done: Kim wants to build a new gate into the pullets' part of the chicken yard, a new human-sized door for the coop with a window that opens, and some additional ventilation holes. And the coop itself is a blank slate inside - the pullets are making do with a movable roost, and Kim wants proper roosting and nest box space, plus a separate enclosure to increase chicken arrangement flexibility.

When I made my first tentative gardening steps and wondered how much work it would take until the garden was done, a more experienced gardener friend laughed (a bit hysterically) and assured me no garden was ever done. I'm thinking the same must be true for chickens. . .

First harvest

I am one happy camper today. Today I harvested the first food of the Mucky Boots 2011 growing season: 3.5 kg of rhubarb, which translated into 1.5 kg of stalks.

There is rhubarb growing all over the property, and this year I'm going to do it justice. I'm going to make vanilla rhubarb jam, and rhubarb chutney, and rhubarb-strawberry-raspberry crisp with last year's berries still in the freezer. Maybe not today - we're still working on Chicken Coop #2. But I'll keep harvesting, and will stick it all in the freezer until I have a spare afternoon for some canning.

Yum!

Jack

I've had some interesting experiences since we moved to Mucky Boots, and I've done some things I never would have thought I'd do. Like picking rocks at a quarry, or making medicinal salve, or installing a toilet, or putting new roofs on outbuildings. Or looking more closely than I ever would have imagined at a chicken's butt. But yesterday - yesterday takes the cake.

Yesterday I jacked up a building.

Okay, a tool shed. But still, aren't you impressed?

We all knew this was coming: as soon as we had transferred the contents of our tool shed into the new improved wood shed, Kim's eyes fell on the emptied building and its transformation into Chicken Coop #2 began. But we also all know that nothing is too good for Kim's chickens, and so the sloping floor of the shed simply would not do. Part of the foundation had rotted and sunk, and Kim was insistent that we jack up the building and put in some cement blocks to make it secure and level. Nothing easier, she claimed.

I needed convincing. The words "jack up a building" conjured a vision of a collapsed shed with Kim underneath like the Wicked Witch of the West, and me frantically reading an instruction manual to figure out how to operate a jack so I could rescue her.

Turns out it really was easy. We used the jacks from the car and the truck, went really slowly, and were very careful to not leave any appendages lingering underneath parts that might fall down. The whole operation was much easier, and went much faster than either of us had anticipated. How many home improvement projects can you say that about?

It all made for an afternoon of entertainment for the chickens. It seems like Chicken TV works both ways...

Tonight I am thankful to be safe under a good roof and calm skies. I hope that wherever you are, you are, too.

Letter to self

To be opened on April 1 2012, and every year after that.

Dearest Miriam,

It's your self here, with a few words of wisdom and advice for the month ahead. April may be a month of cherry blossoms, sunshine and gentle spring showers - in some other universe, maybe, not yours. Honey, you need to hike up your pants and lace up your boots because the month ahead is going to test you.

The weeds in your garden will outnumber the flowers by two or three orders of magnitude. Don't worry. This is normal. It was the same last year and it will be the same next year. When you look at the whole garden it will seem overwhelming, but please remember that every time you get started on the weeding it goes much faster than you expected, and you end up thinking "That wasn't so bad..." If you're really desperate, you can remember the year you were so keen on the weeding you mistook baby poppies for dandelions and pulled them all out. That would be a good excuse for taking it easy.

The grass will grow 3-4 inches every night while you are sleeping, but it will keep raining so you won't be able to mow it. Don't worry. This is happening to everyone. Instead of fretting, think of the romance of lush green pastures and remember that as soon as the hot weather hits the grass will go back to sleep.

Your muscles will hurt. Don't worry. This is a normal by-product of a lazy winter. You will get stronger every day - just remember to take breaks and change tasks every so often so you use a different set of muscles. And please, please, pay attention to that little voice inside your head that whispers "Maybe you've done enough for today..."

There will probably be lots of jobs that just don't get done. For example, how does anyone in this climate find three consecutive rain-free days to apply dormant spray to fruit trees before they leaf out? Don't worry. This is normal. So maybe you didn't get to the pruning early enough, and maybe that ramshackle raised bed didn't get rebuilt before you had to fill it with onion seedlings. The onions will still grow, and the beautiful old apple trees will produce fruit like they have been doing for many years.

If you are still feeling overwhelmed, please make yourself a cup of tea and remember April only has 30 days.

May will be much better, and it has 31.

With much love-

Mir

XOXO

Tool shed

The very first blog post I wrote, in October 2009, was about putting a new roof on the woodshed. Boy, were we proud of ourselves. Kim took this picture of me sitting on the roof. I had knee pads and callouses: I was a handywoman!

We've been working on the woodshed again this week. It's a very practical building, with our wood storage on one side and a catch-all of garbage cans, recycling bins and assorted junk on the other. It's a solid little structure, but not the most attractive sight when you first drive up to the house. So we decided to enclose the catch-all half and turn it into a proper tool shed to replace the existing one that is too small and too dark.

One new post, a few cross beams and lots of cedar boards and battens later, we have two new walls.

You may be wondering about the photo of the shovels. They go with the 3 tons of screening that are waiting to be raked in for the floor. Yes, you read that right: 3 tons. We calculated the volume we needed (really, really carefully, given the dirt pile that still adorns our front lawn) and the gravel people said it would work out to 2 tons. So weren't we surprised when they showed up with 3. Turns out they're about as bad at estimating as we were. No matter - we only had to pay for what we ordered, and the rest will be put to good use on paths.

Once the screening has been raked and settled in with a few soakings of water, Kim will build some doors to match her whimsical gates. But that might have to wait a bit: she's got her eye on the soon-to-be-vacated Tool Shed #1. She thinks it would make a great Chicken Coop #2. . .

Wheeeeee

The sun was out today, and the fawn lilies said "Wheeeeee!"

The arrow-leaved coltsfoot said "Wheeeeee!" too, only not quite as loudly.

Spring has gone to our heads.

Stinky

I think I was channeling my inner Georgia O'Keeffe yesterday. This is skunk cabbage, which really does smell like skunk - so I am told by people with a sense of smell. Which is to say it stinks.

But isn't it lovely?

Hanging out

I haven't been talking very much about my vegetable garden (at least I don't think I have - have I?) but it has been poking along. Not in the actual garden. Oh, no - we have to stop having spontaneous hail storms and snow flurries (yes, there was one of those the other day) and the temperature needs to be a bit more consistent before I'll trust my precious seedlings to the ground.

But inside the cozy plastic protection of the greenhouse, warmed by more heat mats than I care to admit, spring is skipping along blithely. The tomato seedlings are too tall for the tray's dome covers, so I have had to rig up an indoor poly tunnel to cover them at night, when the temperature still approaches freezing.

The hardy greens - the chard, arugula, mizuna, spinach and bok choy - have been weaned off the heat mats and the covers at night, and are waiting patiently for me to resolve my trust issues with Mother Nature so they can finally go outside to live out their veggie destiny.

The cabbages will join them - my lovely cabbages. I grew them for the first time last year, and fell in love with the young plants. They look so fresh, so sprightly, so edible.

They're all just hanging out. Waiting.

Two dozen and one

Is there anything - anything - cuter than a Black Australorp chick?

Yes, we have more chicks! 25 more, to be exact. The second batch of Mucky Boots chicks hatched on Friday and Saturday: 7 Black Australorps and 18 Buff Orpingtons.

I should be a bit more precise: not all of the Orpingtons were Mucky Boots bred - some of the eggs came from our chicken mentor Ev. And if you are a careful counter you'll notice when you watch the obligatory cute-chick video below that five chicks are missing: they have already gone to their new home.

The chicks are in their own brooders set up over the toilet in what used to be the powder room and is now Chickie Central. That makes Brooder Number 3 and Brooder Number 4 - it's getting awfully crowded in there! In the next few days some of the chicks will be moved into the larger brooders still occupied at night by the older Red Rock Cross pullets, who spend their days in the chicken tractor outside but aren't quite ready to move into the chicken coop. Soon!

These big girls don't seem overly impressed by their new roommates...

Mystery weed identified

(Photo from here.)

Thanks to my choir friend Elisabeth, the mystery weed has been identified: it's campanula, or creeping bellflower. Some people grow it on purpose, so I guess I shouldn't be calling it a weed. On the other hand, some jurisdictions have identified it as an invasive plant. For any of you non-gardeners, that's really, really bad. It's almost impossible to get rid of because of how well it spreads by way of its rhizomes. So I think I'll call it a weed after all.

In other words, the good news is that it's pretty, and the bad news is that it will smother my garden if I don't do something about it. Oh happy day...

There was some of this in the garden last year - quite a bit, if I remember correctly - and it is lovely, especially in masses when the blue flowers on the long stalks sway in the breeze. But do I want it everywhere?

So I have a decision to make. I think I'm going to end up going with a non-perfectionist compromise: root it out completely of the herb beds on either side of the verandah stairs, keep it to a dull roar in the big central perennial beds, and let it do whatever the heck it wants to in the beds along the property line.

There. Decision made. Sounds good to me.