The Gardeners Anonymous Blog

They Eat Fungus Don’t They?

I was photographing mushrooms, when I noticed something under one large toadstool. I became very excited. I thought of all the folklore and legends that I’d read growing up. I thought perhaps it was a gnome or a fairy. Then I put on my glasses and took a closer look. It was a slug. I didn’t know that slugs actually ate fungus, too. Nothing is safe from those slimy vermin.

This whole mushroom thing led me to think of another question: Have you ever seen a toad sitting on a toad stool? This could be a Steven Wright joke, but I’m no sure. (Here is a Steven Wright joke for sure: “Why don’t they make planes out of that black box material?” But I digress.)

According to legend, toads sit on mushrooms—causing them to become poisonous. Now what kind of bad rap is that? Toads are great for the garden. They eat slugs. So, I encourage them in my garden. There is no way they poison mushrooms.

No. Mushrooms are poisoned by gnomes.

Gnomes are sneaky. During the day, they pose as bad garden art and at night they wreak havoc in the garden and loiter around under toadstools.

Yes. I did a lot of research about these disdainful little creatures. Some people think they’re good, but if you recall, in the Harry Potter series they were garden pests.

Merry Chistmas from Gardener's Anonymous

I'm so happy.
My wonderful husband gave me a newt for Christmas.
Well, not a real newt.
He gave me a picture of a newt.
He and my boys were spelunking in a local cave this afternoon and they ran across this little guy.
My husband knew that I've been having trouble getting a picture of one, so he whipped out his camera and made a couple of newt portraits for my blog.
I said newt portraits.
Now, when you read my posts Saving Newts and It Rained Today, you'll know exactly what the little critters look like.

Oh Christmas Tree Farm, Oh Christmas Tree Farm

On Dashiell on Dancer, on Prancer, on Vixen,
on Comet, on Cupid, on Donner, on Blitzen.

On Dashiell?

Wait a minute; you’re not a reindeer.

Even though I’m an avid gardener, I still take my kids out to
One of the many Christmas tree farms in my neighborhood to cut down a tree instead on using a live tree. Or buying one cut two weeks ago at a big-box lot.

First, I think it’s a fun tradition.

Second, we go to little family-run farms that only sell a few trees per year.

Third, we always cut our trees so that we leave a ring of branches at the base where a new tree can sprout.

This year my son found a chunk of trunk that some one had trimmed and left on the ground. My husband told him that we could grow a tree from it. So my son picked it up and hauled it back to the car.
When we came home, we put it in a big saucer of water.
My son has been checking its progress everyday since.

Another great thing about the little Christmas tree farms we go to is they give away bulbs. Yippee—bonus!

Merry Christmas everyone from Gardeners Anonymous.

Stumble It!

How to Get Your Kids to Do Their Homework.

I know now why my mother said I gave her grey hair—and why I used to call her a nag.

Homework.

I read this great book the other day called The Case Against Homework. I’m convinced that the person who invented homework never had 3rd and 5th grade boys.

I am sick of dealing with the nightly tantrums. There have been many, many nights when my 8-year-old has spent 4 ½ hours or more sitting at my kitchen table staring at his math facts—one 8 ½ by 11 inch sheet with 100 multiplication problems. Is he lazy? Is he stupid? Is he stubborn? Well let’s see—he IQ is upward of 130. He is in the gifted and talented program at school. He knows his schoolwork forward and backward.

I can understand that kids who had been held captive in school for seven hours don’t want to spend any more time chained to a desk. I imagine they would rather find an outlet for the energy. Maybe they just want to unwind, decompress, and do something that they are in control of. Even though I don’t like to hear the whining, I do understand the reason for it: He just needs a break from school.

One study shows that having dinner with their families is way better for kids—and a better predictor of educational success—than is doing homework.

My husband always tells his friends that if there were no women “men would still be living in caves.” Then he loves to add, “And we’d be happy.”

A week or so ago I was trying to prepare myself mentally for the nightly homework tantrum when an idea came to me.

It Rained Today

My dogs are old, and when it rains they can’t be bothered to go outside. They don’t like to get wet and they don’t like to get cold. When there is nasty weather outside they just stay in and get old.

I, for one, was happy it rained. We need the rain badly. But I’m just a foolish human who actually goes for walks in the rain.

Since it was one of the first rains of the season, I ran up the hill last night to save newts from car tires. I saved four newts. This morning I went searching for newts again. I brought a camera because I don’t have a picture of a newt for my blog.

I walked a mile and a half up our road and saw none. I was soaked to the skin but I was on a newt-finding mission—a salamander safari, if you will. Some guy finally pulled up along side me and asked if I was alright. I found this so funny. Just because I was soaked to the bone, hiking up a fairly deserted stretch of road at least a mile from any house with my camera dangling around my neck, why would he think I wasn’t O.K.?

Alright, I see his point.

He was just sitting there in his brand new heated black SUV with the paper dealer plates still on. His slicked-back, black wavy hair and his nice suit, his handsome face smiling at me with those white teeth. Damn, why did I say, “Yes, I’m fine, just taking a walk in the rain.”

Why didn’t I start limping? “Well, my ankle does hurt a little.” “Well, hop right into to my brand new SUV with the nice toasty butt heater, little lady, and I’ll give you a ride down the hill.”

Enough of that fantasy, I had to find a newt, take it’s picture, and then save it from black SUV tires.

Greenthumb Sunday

Here in California we are lucky. Despite the occasional cold and rainy weather we can still plant in the middle of December. Here is the flat of beacon silver lamium I was lucky enough to plant. It makes a nice combination with red cyclamen.
Stumble It!

What's In Bloom December 2007

Of all the flowers in my garden this month, my calendulas are doing the best.
They're going crazy. They think it's spring. I wish they were right, but alas, it's been getting cold at night here. Last night—and the night before—it dropped into the low 30's. Frost.
Yikes! I hope this isn't a repeat of last year.
Rain is on the way. The weather "experts" say that there are finally a couple of rainmakers on the way.

Farewell To An Old Friend

This morning I glanced outside and something was different. I had a fleeting thought that something had changed.

The momentary thought was pushed out my head by the Christmas lists, party invitations, breakfast, laundry, homework, lost shoes, barking dogs, screaming children, husband, coffee, cub scout meetings, play meetings, yard duty, leaky gas stoves, car screeching out of driveway, car screeching back into to driveway to retrieve backpack, car screeching back out of driveway.

Just a normal day.

I returned home later to hide Christmas gifts in my husband’s office. I walked though my vegetable garden and there it was lying on its side. You’ve seen pictures of it. It has become a staple in my blog.

It was my much-loved large cherry tomato plant.

It had just fallen over in a heap, perhaps too old and tired to go on any longer. I was deeply saddened by it’s demise. However I suspect that maybe there are some that feel a bit different than I.
There maybe even some that are glad to see this trooper of a tomato go: This stalwart plant, this vivacious vegetable fall to its demise.

You’re probably saying, “It’s Christmas time, for gosh sakes, move on with your life.”

Fine, great, I will. But it’s not going to be the same without my cherry tomato.

All I can do now is harvest some of its seeds and grow its children in the springtime.

Good-bye tomato plant, I’ll never forget you.

How to Dry Birdhouse Gourds

I grow birdhouse gourds. Why? Because I think they’re cool. I feel completely vindicated in my love for gourds because one of the most chic stores in town just did their autumn windows with birdhouse gourds.

The first time I raised and dried birdhouse gourds I didn’t follow any directions I just picked them at the end of summer and put them on top of my refrigerator. They were really small.

This year they are much bigger. So I actually did some research and I am going to follow gourd-drying directions and take my readers along for the ride. Just in case you happen to find weird things like birdhouse gourds as fascinating as I do.

The type of gourd I grow is Lagenaria. These are the hard-skinned gourds, which include birdhouse gourds. Birdhouse gourds produce white flowers that bloom at night.

The gourds are ready to harvest when their stems dry out and turn brown. However, gourds should be harvested before the first hard frost.

BTW: The definition of a hard frost is when the temperature falls below 28 degrees Fahrenheit for a few hours or more. (Living in California, knowing about these things is not automatic.)

Now my gourds are still green and so are the stems but it is getting colder at night and I’m afraid it might get too cold. So I’m in a quandary.

Do I harvest now or wait until the stems turn brown? Thankfully one of my gourds committed suicide by jumping to its death. I found it lying on the ground.

I had my test subject.

How to Smoke Tomatoes

I know what you’re thinking, “enough with the tomatoes already.”
Believe it or not, it’s December but I still go out every day and pick tomatoes off the vine and eat them. They still taste great.

The skins of my tomatoes started to crack as the weather turned cold and the days became shorter. So I stopped watering them about four weeks ago—and they stopped cracking. I learned this trick from my brandywines.

We had an abundance of large cherry tomatoes. I didn’t feel like making a sauce with all these little tomatoes so my husband and I decided to do what we used to do every year at our old house—smoke them. I know what you’re thinking now: Aren’t they hard to keep lit?

Smoked tomatoes are delicious, but very labor intensive. Trust me though, they are worth it. It’s easy for me to say this because usually my husband does the labor. I just supply the tomatoes.