THERE'S ONLY GAIL TO BLAME FOR THIS...

One of Gail's heirloom tomato plants in my garden 2011

My garden has exploded in a fit of tangled green this year, thanks in very large part to Gail's guidance.  And I've got the bug.  I can be seen around 6:30 each morning, coffee clutched in hand, barefoot and still in my PJs,  gazing at each plant with near romantic passion.  It's true, I don't get out much anymore, but with any luck, I will have a bumper crop of tomatoes, among a few other things, by mid July.   Every time I go out to film, I learn a couple of choice bits of wisdom from the amazing Gail Rose.  You could call them nuggets of "garden gold."  Maybe I'll share a few of them with you... in just a little bit.

I'm getting ready to leave for a week of filming with Gail, and have the problem of who is going to tend my mammoth garden while I'm gone.  Poor Lisa, my housemate, looked a bit shell-shocked when I asked her to water it.

Squash plant from hell

So today, I'm musing on how exactly I've gotten myself into this pickle.  And there are a few people other than Gail who are culpable.  

Besides bearing the burden of watering, Lisa is a bit overwhelmed by how a couple of this year's plants seem destined to take over her house, if not our entire Holmes Run neighborhood.  Lisa has learned, since she invited me to share the house with her almost two years ago, that I have a great deal of trouble doing things in moderation.  When I cook, I make enough to feed a small village.   I'm certain this is the Ukrainian in me.   Hey -- if you're going to feed a village, you need a few tomato plants....   But what my dear Lisa forgets is that she's the one who really got this started, by giving me a copy of the utterly brilliant Barbara Kingsolver's "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" on tape (wonderful -- a must read/listen !!!!).  And then on top of that, she encouraged me to put in the raised bed in her yard!!!  No wonder we're in this situation today.

My "wimpy" garden, 2010

And then there was the humiliation I endured -- last year -- from our neighbor, Olvy.  Olvy sauntered over here one warm summer day last year after returning from his daily walk with the 4 pooches, and casually remarked that my garden was "wimpy."   Wimpy!!!! I was bursting with pride when I showed him my newly dug little raised bed, freshly planted with 2 tomato vines, one squash plant and a carrot.  ;) Those of you who know Olvy will smile and hear his voice, saying "Hey, Kathy, your garden looks a bit ... wimpy." And then he just wanders off to his house across the cul de sac... leaving this little bomb in his wake.  Little does he know that -- this year -- my squash plant is sending its vicious little coiled tendrils his way.

But lest you think these recent influences are solely to blame, you must know that the roots of this new passion of mine go way back to Canada... where my dear Mom was the earliest culprit.  She had me at her side every spring, when I was old enough to hold a garden spade, but our focus was bedding plants.  As the 4th kid in our family, she'd pretty much run out of steam for the hard work of vegetable gardening by the time I was old enough to help.  So each year she slapped those snapdragons in the ground, and they were allowed to grow wild for the 20 sec. long Edmonton growing season (okay, it was about 2 months between frosts).  At the end of all this, I knew how to dig around in the rich Albertan clay, but I couldn't do much more.   But those memories are fond ones nonetheless.  (I confess, as a kid, my experience with veggie gardens was in raiding them --the neighbors' gardens that is!  We actually did that -- like little bunny rabbits we'd sneak in and steal carrots and peas!  I'm embarrassed to admit it and hope my kids won't see this blog.)

While I'm on this kick of blaming everyone, I'll add my brother Tony to the list.  And our Dad.  And brother John -- he was the one who taught me how to raid gardens, after all.  My siblings will remember how Dad, after he retired and had time to do more than mow the lawn, flaunted his hanging baskets bursting with flowers, and those darn tomato plants.  And then Tony did the same with me.  He started flashing around his planting skills several years ago after he'd moved back to Canada from England.   As the eldest in our family, he DID get the benefit of my Mom's planting wisdom, I'm quite sure.  Or maybe it was something that rubbed off on him in the UK, you know, like powdery mildew.  I won't soon forget that giant squash he had sitting for so long on his kitchen counter that summer I visited -- at least he had the humility to admit he didn't even know what it was.  And looking at his whole set up, I confess I developed some garden envy.   He had it all 'going on' -- a community garden a couple blocks from his home in Calgary, his own backyard plot, and even... a worm composter in the basement!  That little feature REALLY made me jealous.  And don't even get me started on my sister, who owns a whole farm.

Kirsten directs raised bed prep

Besides those humble Canadian influences, I also have my dear Cougar Woods friends to blame.  These are a small group of women (and one brave man) who have done the Haycock Elementary School's outdoor eco-education program with me now for several years.  When I started working with Cougar Woods -- gosh now 7 years ago when my son Aidan started at Haycock -- I still knew ... well... not very much about gardening.   Steve and Kirsten are the worst offenders. They both tackle gardening with practiced ease.  Kirsten even knew what to wear, to garden, for heaven's sake.  Watching her float effortlessly around the Haycock raised beds, I knew I had miles to go before I slept.  And I admit it, I was envious. (By the way, she blames her Dad.)

Cougar Woods - a 3 sisters garden

But the moment that really "frosted me" (as my Mom would say -- and that's a gardening expression, you know ) was when Steve had the nerve to plant his daughter's Gr. 5 garden in the raised bed beside my son Dylan's Gr. 3 bed.  By early June, his bed looked like it came out of "better homes and gardens"... mine looked like we wouldn't survive to next week, let alone the winter.  My son's harvest event loomed in the foreground, but there was nothing to pick except ... two cherry tomatoes, and a bean (yes, one.)   I emailed Steve one day (afraid to ask in person) to find out how to explain the difference between my and his gardens to my son and his classmates, who would surely be crestfallen.  And he said, "Well, Kathy, all you can really do is tell the kids to think about their lessons on Jamestown, you know, when many of the early settlers couldn't adapt to planting in Virginia and died, but the survivors learned wisdom from the local tribes...."  Right, Steve.  Thanks a lot.  (Actually, his advice was brilliant -- the kids thought long and hard about this.)  And he shamed me into being sure we did a better job the next year.

Dylan with carrots he grew 2010

And you know, those school programs create little monsters.  Dylan -- yes, even my 10 year old son -- is partly to blame for this year's explosion of tomatoes and greenery at the Laurel Court House (as Lisa's family home is fondly named).  Instead of planting one seed in his little peat pot during our Cougar Woods planting session at his school this spring, he must have dumped in a handful.  So his 30 or so tomato sproutlings were carefully removed from their 3" wide pot and replanted (under his direct orders and with a modicum of assistance from him) -- twice now, and they will soon need their very own yard.  So if any Holmes Run neighbors have extra space... Olvy???  Actually Dylan insisted all his plants STAY. 

Oh... I promised a few nuggets of Gail's wisdom.  Fish fertilizer.  That's all you get for now.  You're going to have to suffer a bit, just like I did.  :)  And listen, if after all my boasting and whining you were expecting a Deauville--sized garden, sorry.  It's not THAT big.  But I've come a whole long way, baby.