Spring Harvest and Summer Planting

I have been so busy in the garden the past two weeks, I thought it best to make a slide show to share all the growth and changes. Even I have been surprised how many hours it's taken to prepare for summer growing, but I've loved every minute. With my neighbor giving me clearance in front of his townhouse, I'm able to plant more this year, and cultivating that bed from grass has been a 5 month process of tilling by hand, weeding, and adding all kinds of dirt and soil amendments. Now, the space holds the bulbs of gladioli (though I'm not convinced they'll do well in this n.c. clay), various types of basil, tomatoes, flowers, herbs, and my first perennial - a butterfly bush.

I've been holding back from planting anything too "permanent" not knowing how long we would be in this location. Now, almost 4 years later, I decided, what the hell, let's plant some stuff that'll come back. After the butterfly bush, the floodgates opened and I invested in a medium sized lavender that already has some blooms, a coreopsis that I am in love with, a purple columbine that has already dropped all it's flowers, and this beautiful red grass inspired by The Habitat (my aunt and uncle's land of gardening bliss).

Much of my seed starting for flowers failed, and I was itching for more color, so Friday I picked up 3 6-packs of dragon flowers that fit the bill perfectly. This morning I transplanted just-sprouted italian parsley and too-little bell peppers I've been coaxing to grow for almost two months now - and when I discovered slugs had nibbled more than half away this morning, I threw up my hands, planted the surviving three, and will shell out some dough this weekend at the farmer's market for a few more.

Last week, I got a huge bag of pine mulch (one of my favorite smells in the world) to help keep weeds down and hold in moisture. I love how all my in-ground plants look more intentional and protected now. Also, I got to use my own compost for the first time! It was such a proud feeling of the first bucket from my compost trashcan to flower bed. It was light, fluffy, and fresh smelling - it only took two years . . .

I'm being more vigilant with tomatoes this year, which started with getting hardier varieties (sorry heirlooms, you're delicious but you suck in the growing and producing departments). Upon suggestion from the wise people at Stone Brothers, I purchased rock for the bottom of my buckets to help with drainage, and now I'm on the lookout for scrap brick to set them off the ground. I also worked to lighten the soil a good bit because I think the roots got too compact last summer and made them even more susceptible to disease. I was planning on planting 9 tomatoes, which for two people is already more than enough, but 4-packs as they are, now there's 14 in my garden. Yum.

Lastly, with all this summer planting has been spring picking. Most of my stuff did not do well with the spring weather as it was, but in the end I got some great radishes, enough chard for a decent sized dish, several big salads from the lettuces, more scallions than I know what to do with, and peas that are the only thing I've left to keep growing because they're so delicious and in the middle of producing. If you're a local, come by and give things a look in person. Plenty of people from the street already do, and I have enjoyed all the conversations and questions from neighbors and strangers while my hands are covered in dirt and I'm doing who-knows-what on any given day. This garden has brought more people to say 'hi' than I would have imagined. And as always, thanks for reading!

Muffins and Blooms

After four days of celebrating turning 27, which included Bull City Burger, a dozen Daisy Cakes cupcakes to last the weekend, and a fair amount of booze, I woke up this Monday morning craving hot tea and bran muffins. Usually, that doesn't sound as appealing as about any other kind of muffin, but these are the fluffiest, moist bran muffins ever. Once again, America's Test Kitchen hits it out of the park. Bran twigs, soaked raisons, yogurt . . . I've had three.

While I had to pull up bolted spinach and cabbage, there's enough happening in the garden to distract my too-hot-spring woes. Behold, the very first blooms and a baby sugar snap pea:

 This pretty purple iris just bloomed this morning. I have no idea how long these have been planted here, but as I see different colored irises around the townhouse complex, it could be decades. I rescued these and some other bulb flowers in February from ivy and other invasive vines choking out everything else. I'm sure I'll have to keep vigilant throughout the summer to keep creeping weeds at bay, but I'm not complaining as this is my neighbors side of the yard - I'm just happy he's never home and doesn't mind me taking over.



My sage is also blooming for the first time. I've had this plant through two winters now and I love the delicate violet flowers.

In other garden news, about two-thirds of the seeds I've started indoors have flopped. The only ones I'm still counting on (and are doing okay) are my bell pepper plants and basil. Everything else, I'll replant directly in the ground in three weeks. I can't believe it's almost time for summer vegetables, and yet, where's the spring salad? Where's the chard and spinach? Such a weird season.

Spring Salads and Community

While the spring is producing a fraction of the vegetables I had this time last year, I'm still enjoying the little bit I can finally pick and use. My spinach has bolted without me getting any of it, along with bok choy (I'm resigned to pulling these plants today, no use watering them any longer) but I have enjoyed edible flowers, herbs, and my first salad bowl worth of baby greens (though I had to hunt for leaves just big enough).

 

On Sunday we had neighbors over for what turned out to be the perfect spring meal. I was hankering to use my newly planted johnny-jump-ups so I made a "composed salad" of strawberries, bacon, toasted walnuts, chives, and flowers over mixed greens with fresh made strawberry vinaigrette. It was fun putting four plates together that looked so nice, but the presentation didn't deter anyone from finishing off every bite. 

I had also started dough for french baguettes two days before and was thoroughly pleased by the final product Sunday morning. 

Top it off with some raspberry iced tea made with lemon and mint and mini quiches the guests brought (that had such a wonderful, flaky crust) and we all sat to a perfect, light, fresh spring brunch. 

While eating and chatting, a topic came up that I have been thinking about for a while: community. My neighbors, who moved from Florida last summer for Duke, make a valiant effort to invest in Durham and will quickly talk about it's best restaurants and their finds at the farmer's market. Yet, because most of their associations are with fellow students who are from everywhere but this area, the bubble around the university is still prevalent. Hearing what many of their friends have to say about the area and how much people are traveling away from it, I recognized an outsider's perspective of my home that I'm beginning to dislike. Perhaps I'm protective because I've been transient most of my life, and 3.5 years in a single house is the longest I've ever stayed put. But I think there's something else there, and it doesn't just come from students.

Let me be clear that I am not claiming Durham perfect and that everyone should love and settle here for all time. The Triangle itself is a bubble in an otherwise conservative, poor state. My families' family is from N.C. and yet I don't feel particularly rooted here. In fact, with the increasing prejudice in this state, and the country as a whole, toward my identity as a "partnered" lesbian who's vehemently opposed to religious rhetoric in politics, K and I have developed what we call our "Canadian Dream," in which we've researched and are beginning investigative travel to potentially immigrate. While I'm aware of the "grass is greener" syndrome, I still know that girls can marry girls in Canada and Jesus is not carried around on the shirt sleeves of most of their politicians. 

So it's not really about Durham. It's about how people inhabit and invest (or the lack there of) wherever they live. It's a level of consciousness and commitment that I don't see very often. I'm sure it's a combination of tons of factors that I am unaware of, but I see some common, basic things that keep people more distant from where they live: 

(1) Consistent travel away from the area, largely to spend large chunks of time at parents' homes or a past community. There's visiting and then there's identification that somewhere else is your "real home." I am not surprised to see this in students who have yet to choose an area for themselves, but the nature of the Triangle's diversity has many working adults who are here for the job first, community last. 

(2) The "fast food rut" - where most of the shopping and activities are at locales that are largely consistent anywhere in the country. Fast food got popular with the increase of car travel. Driving to a state park, hungry for dinner? Stop in McDonalds and you always know what you'll get. If all a person does is essentially the bland "all-american" variety, it doesn't really matter where you live. It all can look the same, and who'd invest in Taco Bell, really? 

(3) Lack of intention. If you're not aware and focused toward being a genuine part of a community, it won't just happen. Going to work, coming home to kids, dogs, etc, shopping, and watching t.v. does not make community. Hanging out with a group of friends does not necessarily make community. Going to all the hot spots of a town does not make community.  Gardening, going to they gym, or cooking does not make community. It does not just happen. There is no formula or tasks to check off a list. I think it takes intention and gumption. It takes talking to people, really talking. It takes making a stand against something you don't like and talking about that too. It takes sharing experiences with other people you live near. Being a good neighbor, but also being a good stranger, being aware of the people you share the roads with. Knowing families and small business owners so you go to the local seed store rather than the chain store. And you talk to them when you're there. 

Life is crazy, and times are hard for so many of us. I know just keeping our heads above the water is daunting at times, and I am thankful I only have cats. But still, I do think if there was more true community in our everyday, the task of living a decent life would be a collective one. Accountability, encouragement, being called out on our shit, and a general support - this is the community I work toward. This is what I'm defending when I hear people list all the cons of Durham without any balance of investment, without trying to do something about it. They don't have a community here. I can only encourage everyone, if you live somewhere, to really live there.