Slide Down My Rain Barrel

The Wrangler and I learned how to build a rain barrel today at the Ecology Center, and we might be able to put it to use as early as Monday--there is rain in the forecast. Harvested rainwater is a great source of high-quality water for the garden. Here in Laguna Beach, it's an especially good means of reducing the storm water runoff that ends up in the ocean. As a general rule, a 1,000-square foot "catchment area" (i.e., your roof) yields 600 gallons of water per inch of rain. My rain barrel is a 55-gallon recycled food-grade plastic drum (with no harmful BHT), which I estimate will be filled after only an hour or so of moderate rain.

Constructing the rain barrel was extremely easy. It's just a matter of having the right tools. There are only four steps: drilling a hole in the lid, which will be positioned beneath the downspout of the rain gutter; using silicone caulking to attach a piece of screen under the hole (to keep out mosquitos and debris); inserting an overflow spout; and installing a spigot for the garden hose or watering can. The Ecology Center provides more detailed instructions on its website.

Urban Flower

'Shrooms

Tonight at Whole Foods the Wrangler spotted a little mushroom garden kit by a California start up called Back to the Roots. The kit comes in a cardboard box similar to a milk carton. Unlike mushrooms in the typical grow-your-own mushroom kits, these mushrooms grow not on logs but in recycled coffee grounds.

The garden must be kept indoors in an area with good air flow and indirect sunlight. We put ours on the windowsill next to my wheatgrass garden (which is, I might add, growing like a weed. I planted the seeds last Tuesday, and the grass is already six inches tall!). The mushroom kit includes a misting bottle for daily watering.

Apparently, we'll start seeing growth in about seven days, after which the mushrooms double in size each day. A crop yields about a pound of mushrooms, and the little kit should give us two to four crops. We'll know by next week how this turns out.

Orchard in Bloom

Our tangerine, orange, and lemon trees are bearing fruit. Last year we had only lemons, so this is a nice surprise. No word yet from our avocado tree.

My Green Thumb

My newly transplanted succulent clippings

Yesterday at the grocery store, I lamented having to buy fresh rosemary. "It was so nice having a spice garden last year," I said with a sigh. The Wrangler looked confused. "Huh? You still have a spice garden." It was my turn to look confused. "I do?" I haven't given a thought to that bowl o' plants on the patio since March. I assumed it was dead. Turns out, my spice garden is alive and well. Thanks to the Wrangler's periodic watering and care. And no thanks to me. I don't think that this exchange in the produce section did much to build the Wrangler's confidence in my lavender farming abilities.

Well, there's no use setting oneself up to fail. I am a rather relaxed, not to say neglectful, gardener. Thus, my latest gardening project involves succulents--water-retaining plants that can pretty much fend for themselves. I bought a collection of succulent cuttings and am planning to plant a living picture as soon the cuttings have settled in. (See the instructions in Sunset magazine.) I'm debating whether to take the easy way out and purchase a living picture planter kit from the Succulent Gardens that includes the frame and cactus mix for the cuttings. Somehow this seems like cheating, though. A true cowgirl would build her own frame...but on the other hand, an urban cowgirl might buy hers online. Why do I feel like I'm at a crossroads?

Just 12 Years To Go

Last December I blogged that the Redrock Farm in Chelsea, Vermont will plant a Fraser fir for me in May and care for it until it is ready to harvest in approximately 12 years. Twice a year I'll receive pictures of it with a yardstick so I can track its progress.

It's hard to believe that five months have passed and it's already May. This morning I received word (and photos) from Redrock informing me that my tree has been planted! Hello, little tree. Looking forward to a spectacular Christmas tree in 2022.

Loam Sweet Loam

I'm back...it's been a busy month here at the RDR. I guess I should start by revealing the results of my soil test. As I left off, the soil sample in my Mason jar settled into layers. The bottom layer is sandy and is about 4 cm high. The next layer is silt, which measures about .5 cm. The top layer is clay, which also is about .5 cm. The total height of all layers (not including the water) is 5 cm. I divided each layer by the total height of all layers and then multiplied by 100. So, my soil is 80% sand (4 cm divided by 5 cm, multiplied by 100), 10% silt (.5 cm divided by 5 cm, multiplied by 100), and 10% clay.

Using these percentages, I identified my soil as "loamy sand" on the USDA's soil texture triangle. Incidentally, the soil textures in the lower left corner (sandy loam and loamy sand, in particular) are ideal for growing lavender. This makes me roll my eyes, as I don't plan on growing lavender here at the cottage--I want to grow it on my ranch. And I'm sure that no matter where I end up buying my ranch, the soil on said ranch will be far from ideal for growing lavender.

So Here's the Dirt...

My lavender class assignment this week is to test my soil type. I learned in class that I don't need a fancy professional analysis; anyone can perform a simple soil test. I dug down about five inches and collected a few samples from various locations in my planting area. I put some dirt in a glass Mason canning jar, added dishwasher detergent to break up the dirt, filled the jar with water, and shook vigorously.

Over the next day, the soil will settle into distinct layers. I'll measure each layer and do a little math to determine the percentage of clay, silt, and sand. I'll take these numbers and find where my soil falls on the USDA textural triangle. I'll explain this in more detail when I figure out my percentages tomorrow.

Everything's Coming Up...Lavender

Lavender: From Soil to Sachet, the six-week online course I'm currently taking, is not only interesting, it also includes little surprises--my instructor just sent me a care package filled with lavender sachets and organic culinary lavender.

The first lesson covered the illustrious history of this uber herb. Unlike so many things, the more I learn about it, the more I like it. Lavender is a natural sedative, antidepressant, and insect repellent. The Romans regarded it as a symbol of cleanliness, and the British used it as a disinfectant and a pain reducer on the battlefields. Lavender's family, lamiaceae, includes the genus mentha (mint) and the genus nepeta (catnip).

I wish I had a lavender lesson every day instead of just once a week. In between lessons, I'm scratching the itch with a few good books--a practical guide to growing and using lavender, a beautiful coffee table book on the lavender fields of Provence, and an enjoyable memoir of a New York journalist who traded in her glamourous life in the Big Apple for a lavender farm in rural Texas, population 1,600. And you can guess how thrilled I was to find the latest issue of Hobby Farm Home in my mailbox--with lavender on the cover! It's a sign, I tell you.

What Color Is My Parachute?

So here we are, nearly three months into 2010, and I have to give myself some props for making decent progress toward moving the Rainy Day Ranch into the physical realm. I've attended a farm conference, enrolled in a class on how to start a farm or ranch, and thoroughly researched various farm/ranch financing programs. The time has come to get serious about the actual business enterprise. Is it a Christmas tree farm or a pumpkin patch? Am I keeping alpacas or starting a creamery? Should I be a real cowgirl and raise grass-fed beef?

I guess I'm not that excited about trying to master multiple crops, so general organic farming is out. I'm gruff and not particularly social, so I cringe at the thought of a bunch of hooligans traipsing onto my beautiful and serene ranch to cut down their Christmas trees or pick out pumpkins during my two favorite seasons. And as cool as it would be to keep goats and run a creamery, I suspect that the regular milkings and food safety issues might be a headache.

Hmm, what to do, what to do. What's beautiful, fragrant, sustainable, holistically medicinal, and all-around lovely? Why, that would be lavender. According to my research, small-scale lavender crops can be very successful. Lavender shrubs attract few pests or diseases and thus don't require chemical pesticides. Nor do they require fertilizers or extensive irrigation. Lavender is a good "entertainment crop," meaning it does well on the festival and agri-tour circuit. Lavender grows very well in California, Oregon, and Washington state. Of course, all the great lavender farmers regularly travel to the heart of the lavender industry in...the Provence region of France. Alors, quelle horreur! Seriously, can you imagine the annual trade shows and conferences?

As thirty-something women with no kids tend to do, I signed up for yet another class. This one is a six-week course called Lavender: From Soil to Sachet. I can tell I'm onto something.

Planning Ahead

Next May the Redrock Farm in Chelsea, Vermont will plant a Fraser fir for me and care for it until it is ready to harvest. Twice a year I'll receive pictures of it with a yardstick so I can track its progress. For now, this seems like a reasonable alternative to starting my own New England Christmas tree farm. I can rest assured that I'll have my Fraser fir for Christmas 2022. And you can rest assured that this is my last post on Christmas trees for a while.

Not-So-Smashing Pumpkins

We brought these home from the pumpkin patch on Sunday, and they started to rot on Tuesday! Guess we won't be carving pumpkins this year.

And, yes, my flat leaf parsley desperately needs harvesting. As is apparent from the picture, my herb garden runneth over. It turns out I am a very lazy gardener. 

Herbal Dilemma

I don't know what is wrong with my purple sage.

Superb Garden

I planted an outdoor herb garden, mice be damned. As you can see, I now have a terra cotta container of lovely purple sage, English thyme, dark opal basil, chives, and Italian parsley.

Over the weekend I helped my neighbor plant rows of cabbage and eight different kinds of lettuce. The cabbage rows were easy to plant; we measured the space between each plant and simply alternated between red cabbage and green cabbage in an orderly fashion. In contrast, planting the eight varieties of lettuce was stressful. I was charged with the task of loosely arranging the plants so they would look natural, "like they just growed there," as they say back in my neighbor's Kansas. Because my rule-loving lawyer brain struggled to implement planned chaos, planting the lettuce rows took three times as long as the cabbage rows.

This week I'm planting cabbage and lettuce on a smaller scale in an antique tub on my patio. The weather here in Laguna Beach has been beautiful--overcast and in the mid-60s. My family back in Minnesota shivered through the first snowfall of the season yesterday! I guess they won't be gardening any time soon.

Double Digging

This morning we helped our neighbor prepare for his winter garden. John has a 1/2 acre, which is a huge yard by Laguna Beach standards. His house is situated on the edge of the property, instead of in the middle, so the 1/2 acre looks and feels a lot larger. This summer we benefited from his surplus of swiss chard, heirloom tomatoes, Italian peppers, and pumpkins. He put the summer garden to bed in August--it's just too hot and dry in August and September to grow much.

Today we helped double-dig one of his five beds in anticipation of the beets, sweet peas, and winter salad greens that he'll plant in two weeks. Unlike the rich black dirt laced with fat earthworms (the presence of which indicate that the soil is very healthy) that is abundant in my home state of Minnesota, the soil here is hard clay. Over the past 10+ years, John has worked hard to soften and enrich his garden's soil. It is now a dry but nutrient-rich dirt. We dug rows and rows of six-inch trenches. With a pitchfork, we worked in bone meal (for calcium), chicken manure, steer manure, and compost. We covered the trenches with dirt and another layer of manure and compost. The earth was dry; had we waited until the rainy season in January to dig the trenches, we probably could have dug six inches deeper.

The Wrangler and I don't know much about gardening. I don't like working in the heat and sun, but there is nothing like a homegrown tomato. I'd also like to have pumpkins at some point. Pumpkins need a lot of room to run, but I've heard of city-folk who grow them in plastic kiddie pools. It's good to know it's possible, I suppose, but the kiddie pool pumpkin patch somehow lacks the charm of the country pumpkin patch that I'm envisioning.

I've never tended so much as a houseplant before, with the exception of an aloe plant that spiraled out of control and threatened to take over the living room. But lack of experience is no excuse. I'm going to have to know how to grow things on the ranch.

Fun with Fungi

One of the Six-Button Cowgirls, a very enterprising sort, grows gourmet mushrooms in her living room. Contrary to popular belief, mushrooms don't have to be grown in manure--a fact for which Charmaine's fellow residents and guests alike are grateful, I'm sure. Mushrooms do, however, have to be grown in a relatively warm environment, which makes Charmaine's outdoor garden near the mountains less than ideal for her mushroom endeavors. Thus, Charmaine's sunny living room is the place to be if you're a baby bella or young shiitake.

Charmaine is a proud member of a mushroom-of-the-month club that sends her monthly mushroom patches (mushroom mycelium growing on a sterilized medium, or substrate), which Charmaine places under a humidity tent in said living room. She's also active in a mushroom growers support club. She reports that club members skew heavily toward the "grown-up Dungeons and Dragons nerd" demographic (Charmaine excluded, of course).

At any rate, she has grown beautiful and delicious mushrooms that taste far better than the grocery store variety. Pictured here are her pearl oyster mushrooms sprouting at the tender age of four days.