On lawns

Our former front lawn

I like this dialogue (author anonymous) sent to me by a gardener I met when she came on a tour of our gardens last summer.

God said: "Frank, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on the planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, milkweeds and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But, all I see are these green rectangles."

ST. FRANCIS: It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. They started calling your flowers 'weeds' and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.

GOD: Grass? But, it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees; only grubs and sod worms. It's sensitive to temperatures. Do these humans really want all that grass growing there?

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.

GOD: The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make them happy.

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it-sometimes twice a week.

GOD: They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?

ST. FRANCIS: Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.

GOD: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

ST. FRANCIS: No, Sir, just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.

GOD: Now, let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And, when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?

ST. FRANCIS: Yes, Sir.

GOD: These humans must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.

ST. FRANCIS: You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it, so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.

GOD: What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn, they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. It's a natural cycle of life.

ST. FRANCIS: You better sit down, Lord. The humans have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.

GOD: No!? What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter to keep the soil moist and loose?

ST. FRANCIS: After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.

GOD: And where do they get this mulch?

ST. FRANCIS: They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.

GOD: Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore. St. Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?

ST. CATHERINE: 'Dumb and Dumber', Lord. It's a story about....

GOD: Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St. Francis.

Friends

Bok choi and Tuscan ("dinosaur") kale in the hoop house

A rainy Sunday -- a good day for soaking the garden, working in the hoop house, and catching up on my blog.

The past two weeks have yielded large quantities of March-planted bok choi (a Chinese cabbage) and kale -- some crowed in the hoop house and some transplanted to more roomy quarters outside. I have 2 quarts of kim chee (Korean pickled cabbage) almost done fermenting and another two quarts started. We've acquired quite a taste for it, typically having a small serving along with our meals; we've missed it the past 2 months since finishing the last stored jar from the fall. Dinner typically also includes sizable servings of braised greens (a quick stir fry in some sesame oil, with some tamari added at the end), with left-overs for lunch the next day.

Harvested red kale from the hoop house

If I could only grow one kind of vegetable, it would be these members of the leafy green brassica family. They are reliable and prolific, require minimal fuss, can be harvested year-round, are easy to prepare, and delicious.

The other yields from the past two weeks are a collection of photos of garden friends. The diversity of life in our gardens continues to amaze us. The more "wild" -- that is, the more like a biologically diverse meadow or native woods -- our plantings become, the more life they support. It makes clear how much of a "desert" the typical lawn is. Here's some of what we've seen within 15 feet of our house in the past two weeks:

These gentle garden snakes are probably feasting on the numerous garden snails and slugs. Warm rock piles, like our small stone wall, make attractive nesting places

.

Harvester butterfly

According to my Pocket Naturalist Guide to New York State Butterflies and Moths, the Harvester is the only carnivorous North American butterfly, feeding primarily on aphids. We've been finding many in the hoop house, as well as the gardens. This one came to visit during my breakfast on the porch, landed on my finger, and then returned after I came back with the camera. It stayed for about 10 minutes. My friend Petula says that in her native Guyana they have a saying that butterfly visitors like this herald the arrival of money. Stay posted ...

A Monarch butterfly sipping nectar from (and pollinating)

the chive flowers.

Helpful pollinator: either a honey bee or a solitary bee;

I'm not sure which.

One of our infrequent sightings of one of pileated woodpeckers, on one of the pine trees at the edge of the woods, viewed from the living room window (early morning, early May).

Sleeping baby robin, under the eaves of the shed.

We've seen three robin's nests near the house -- one under the shed, one in the plum tree, and one in a dead pine tree at the edge of the woods. Apparently when the larger flock arrived early in March, they were so many remaining berries that a number of breeding pairs stayed. They are also voracious insect eaters, so we're happy to have them.

Of course, there are "pests" as well as friends. One of our apricot trees appears to have succumbed to a virus. I periodically pick asparagus beetles and their larvae off the leafy fronds. And the squash borer beetles and striped cucumber beetles arrived this week. I've procrastinated about putting floating row covers over the many squash, and now it's probably too late. I'll have to hope for the best -- along with a combination of hand-picking those beetles I see, a little help from my varied "friends" to keep pest populations in control, and (hopefully) healthy plants that can withstand some stress. When I find myself worrying, I try to remember that although yields may be reduced, we always harvest plenty of food.

While I don't consider deer to be garden friends, this fawn was outside the deer fencing. Richard came upon it while wandering in the woods at the end of May.

Fawn, snake, and Monarch butterfly photos by Richard Lansdowne.

Anticipation

Our strawberries, planted in unimproved, thin soil at the edge of our beds or competing with larger perennials, have never done well. Still, we get a handful each day for some weeks -- enough to add to my morning smootie. Later this summer, I plan to build a proper strawberry bed elsewhere in the yard. Meanwhile, we'll supplement by visiting the U-pick Brookside Berry Farm in Dryden.

Baby peaches

Our first-ever pears