Nine Hundred Onions

Sounds like a bluegrass song title.

L-R: 1015Y, White Bermuda, Southern Belle Red,
Yellow Granex, & Texas Early White

It's onion planting time!  We got the sets in at work from Dixondale farms the other day, and I've been chomping at the bit to get some planted.  I've had two of the three rows ready and waiting for a couple weeks now, all nice and turned and amended with Minerals Plus, humate, 8-2-4, Flower Power, and oodles of compost.

Nitrogen is a good thing for onions.  The bulb isn't a root structure, but an enlarged part of the leaf, and since each leaf corresponds to a ring of the onion, you want leaves.  LOTS of leaves.  Which means nitrogen and planting early so they have time to make as many leaves as possible before the daylength triggers bulb production.  The other macronutrients are important, too, but nitrogen is key.  And planting early.

We didn't get Contessa this year.  Instead, we got Texas Early White, an open-pollinated variety new to the market this year that's supposed to be disease and bolt resistant and a really good keeper.  The sets looked nice and small and the open pollinated part turned me on, so we planted quite a few of those.  I'm looking forward to seeing how they do.

The other types were 1015Y, Yellow Granex, White Bermuda and Southern Belle Red.  The Yellow Granex outdid the 1015s last year, but the 1015 sets were big and they bloomed a lot.  This year the reverse is true, so I'm betting the 1015s will do better.  Last year, Contessa did a bit better than the White Bermuda, but I think those sets were also large.  This year, all the sets but the Yellow Granex looked really good, all nice and thin.

In case you were wondering why I'm seeming to say that big sets are bad, here's the scoop.  Bulbing onions are biennials, which means they'll bloom in their second year.  Unless you want to save seeds, blooming in bulbing onions is bad.  It takes energy away from bulb production, forms a tough flower stalk that is a pain in the ass to cut out of the middle (and a pain in the ass to pick out of your teeth if you don't), and bloomed onions don't keep as well ~ they tend to rot from the middle out.  So you don't want blooms.

After you plant the sets out they'll be exposed to cold over the next couple months, and when temps warm up, the large ones will think they're two years old and will be more apt to bloom.  Small ones, smaller than a pencil diameter, will be a lot less apt to do that.  It's counter-intuitive to do this, pick the small ones.  One would think that you'd want big ones to get a jump on the growing.  Nope.  Little ones.  Size does matter here.

UPDATE 1-22: The day after I planted them, it rained.  I hurried out after work to look at them and they were all standing straight up in little lines like little soldiers.  Too cute!  And here they are two weeks later.

Those are the Southern Belle Reds in the bed in the front.  You can see that they've already started elongating present leaves and putting out new ones.  Exciting!

Learn to Knit

I've been absorbed in my knitting lately, so I've been doing a lot of it at work and people have noticed.  Quite a few said they wanted to learn, and I'd love to help them.  Hence this post.

It's hard to know where to start.  There are so many choices, so many methods, so many yarns, so many needles, and so many people who say their way is The Only Way.  It's all so overwhelming.  I hope what I write here will help guide you through the maze of choices and information to a place where you can be happy learning.  It's certainly not meant to be The Only Way.  It's definitely not going to be The Best for everybody.  But if you've never tried knitting, then you have no idea what's the best way for you.  Therefore, this will be a great jumping-off point for most people, and good enough for everyone.  After you get some experience, try different things.  Eventually you'll find out which is the best way for you.

First of all, you need yarn.  One skein will do for now. In a nutshell, pay the few extra bucks for a good quality, plain old, pure wool yarn; a plain, three or four plied, light-colored DK or worsted weight.  Things to avoid: eyelash "fun fur", lumpy homespun bits, itchy acrylic, hard cotton, single ply, five plies or anything other than 3 or 4 ply pure wool that feels soft and not a bit itchy.

Second of all, you need needles.  As for needles, get size US 6, 7 or 8 24" circulars.  Wooden ones or bamboo are good because they're grippy and don't let your stitches slip off, metal are good because they're slick and let your stitches slip off, and plastic are okay because they're a happy medium.  Get whichever ones you like.


Third of all, you need demonstrations:
Knitpicks.com's Tutorials
KnittingHelp.com


Fourth of all, you need a project and pattern for it:
A Simple Scarf
CO 30
Rows One through Twenty: Knit.
Row Twenty-One through Forty: Purl.
Keep alternating these blocks of rows until you think you have the hang of knitting, until the scarf is long enough, or until you almost run out of yarn.  Bind off and weave in ends.


And eventually patterns and camaraderie with and advice from other knitters:
Ravelry.com = Knitting Heaven.

And that's all you need to know.  Oh.  And booze is good.  Booze is very good.




If you want to know more, here's more (a lot more) on each subject:

More about yarn:
Fiber content (what it's made of): I would advise you to not get the cheapest you can find.  Most cheap yarn is acrylic, but you may find cotton or a scratchy wool blend.  Don't fall for it.  For just a couple bucks more you can get lovely, soft, squooshy, dreamy wool that has an inherent inner warmth and is a joy to play with.  A yarn so soft that you just want to rip your clothes off and roll in it.  DO EET!  (I mean buy it, not the getting naked part.  At least not yet.)  That extra two, three or even five bucks will be money SO well spent.  Think about it ~ when you're learning, you're already having to put up with your fingers doing all sorts of weird motions to make the needles go where you want them to go and the yarn to do what you want it to do.  At times it can seem a bit of a trial.  Why add to that discomfort with scratchy yarn that rubs your fingers raw?  You want something so lovely that you just can't wait to pick it up and get all wrapped up in it.  Just like a favorite blanket ~ soft, inviting, and squooshy.  I just love that word: squooshy.  I want to say it again and again and again: squooshy, squooshy, squooshy, squooshy, squooshy.

Some acrylic yarns are soft.  Some acrylic yarns are inviting.  But I have yet to meet an acrylic yarn that is squooshy.  Yes, acrylic yarn has come a loooong way since the seventies when your grandma would make those harvest gold and avacado green zig-zag afghans with it.  You know the ones: the ones that stayed firmly on the back of the couch because they were so itchy and cold you'd never actually want to cover yourself with it.  Nowadays, it's not always that bad.  Some modern acrylic yarns are actually soft, at least at first touch.  But no matter what they've done with it, it isn't as nice as a good quality pure wool yarn.  Go ahead, treat yourself.  You'll be glad you did.

A note about wool allergies: most people are actually allergic to the chemicals used in processing the wool, not the wool itself. And still others are actually sensitive to cheap wool, wool that hasn't been processed in such a way that it avoids sticky cut ends or stiff guard hairs.  Nowadays people are truly allergic to all sorts of unusual things, so it's not hard to believe that there are people out there who really and truly are allergic to wool.  But I'd bet that most of those who think they are really aren't, and it would be SO incredibly sad if you were one of those who avoided all animal fibers for years; then, one day, near the end of your life, you found out you really weren't allergic in the first place.  You'd have missed out on so many glorious years of knitting with wool, llama, cashmere, alpaca, and ... gasp ... qiviut.  Makes me want to cry.  And you don't want to make me cry, right?  SO, just humor me ~ if you've always thought you were allergic, try going to a specialty knitting shop instead of Michael's or Hobby Lobby and have them help you find a naturally processed wool yarn of good quality.  If that doesn't work, try alpaca or some other animal fiber.  If it still doesn't work, then you are one of those really and truly allergic people.  Get the softest acrylic you can find.  And know you have my deepest sympathies.


Type: Get a nice plain yarn, one without fancy bits, hairy "eyelashes", extra fur or knobby lumps.  You want a nice, plain yarn so you can see exactly what you're doing.  If you get a novelty yarn, those extra fun bits will obscure the stitches and you won't be able to see clearly what you're doing.  And you need to see clearly what you're doing.

Plies: Plies are the number of single strings twisted/spun together to make the individual yarn.  Generally speaking, the more the plies the stronger the yarn, and the fewer the plies the softer the yarn.  A single-ply yarn may be quite soft, but it pulls apart easier than a plied one, so avoid those.  A two ply would be okay, but some kinds of those make for an unevenly-sided yarn so make it harder to see your stitches.  A three or four ply yarn has nice, smooth "sides" to it, so make it much easier to see your stitches while still being quite soft.  Any more plies than that and it can be rather hard and definitely not squooshy.  Remember, squooshy is important.  You want squooshy.

Size: I'd get a DK or worsted weight one, though you may prefer a bulky.  This refers to the size of the yarn, how big around it is.  This is also so you can see what you're doing and actually be able to work with it.  Sport weight or fingering weight (those "baby" yarns) are many times too small and fiddly.  Even though they are my favorite to knit with, when I'm learning something new I prefer at least a DK size so I can see easily what I'm doing and so the stitches and associated "holes" where you put your needle are bigger.  Believe me, it's quite the pain in the ass to try to knit a tiny little stitch when using lace weight yarn.  That's just a step up from sewing thread.  You can hardly even see where to stick your needle.  Conversely, bulky yarns are just so big that it makes me feel like I'm holding one of those giant pencils we used to use in kindergarten.  It's so big that sometimes the yarn actually gets in the way of what I'm trying to do, and it tires my hands out holding all that weight.  But you may think differently, so if bulky works for you, go for it!

Color: get a light one.  Trying to see what you're doing when knitting with black is a nightmare.  You need to see those subtle shadows around the stitches since those are the holes and where you put your yarn.  When knitting with black yarn, everything is a shadow.  You can't tell a hole from the yarn itself and will end up trying to stick your needle through the yarn.





More about needles: 
Type: get circulars.  Most straight needles are a pain in the ass to knit with since they're so long.  For learning to knit, you'll only be using the first six or eight inches of the needles.  Most straights are much longer than that, so that leaves the ends out there flopping around. getting caught on things, and propping themselves on places like chair arms making the points of your needles where you're working have to sit at a weird angle forcing you to shift yourself into a weird position.  Not good.  Circulars are the first five or so inches of the pointy end of a knitting needle mounted on a "string" or cable, making them all bendy and stuff.  That's a good thing.

Length: The length of the cable isn't really important right now, but can be later, so get a 24" long one.  Those are easily used for a multitude of projects: flat knitting of most any size except a full-blown blanket, socks using the Magic Loop technique, or even a sweater knit in the round (yes, one day you WILL be able to knit a sweater! Trust me).  Shorter than that and it cuts out much flat knitting (pieces wider than a few inches, like a cardigan or sweater front) and circular knitting (like that aforementioned sweater body).  Longer than that and they can get tangled a lot, and that's a pita.

Material: I like metal because they're slick.  Most new knitters tend to knit tightly, so metal ones will be easier to force into those aforementioned holes.  But they're easier to drop stitches with (let them slide off the points of their needles accidentally).  New knitters tend to do this a lot and it always ends in tears, and not a little frustration.  Picking up those dropped stitches is a skill better learned later, after you've got the basics down pat, so it's really important to avoid dropping any now if you can.  Wooden or bamboo needles are grippy and help avoid that, but that grippiness works against you when you knit tightly ~ it's harder to slide the needle through a tight stitch.  Plastic can be a happy medium from what I've read.  I hate plastic in all it's shapes and forms since it just feels fake and dead to me, so I avoid it whenever I can (I'm funny that way).  Sometimes those cool looking, see-through, purple ones call to me, but I haven't fallen yet.  So I don't know much about plastic needles and can't tell you whether they're really good or bad except, like I said above, I've heard they are that "just right, in the middle" kind of grippyslick.

IMHO, wooden or bamboo is the best to learn with because you avoid those dropped stitches AND it forces you to learn to knit loosely.  So I'd say get those.  And a bottle of wine.  When you find yourself all a fluster because you're knitting so tightly that you can't get the needle through, put the knitting down and go drink a glass of wine.  Once you come back to the knitting and you'll miraculously find yourself relaxing enough to start knitting loosely again.  Trufax.

Size: Sometimes the needle size is crucial, but for learning it's not.  Whatever feels right to you when you're knitting is the right one, so if the needles you bought don't feel "right", go back and buy another size.  Once you start knitting in earnest, you'll use different sizes for different projects, so having many sizes is a good thing.  Plus, you'll likely have more than one project going, so having many sets of needles is a good thing that way, too.  I like a US 6 or 7 for DK yarn and a US 7 or 8 for worsted.  Look on the label of your yarn (the "ball band").  It should say the recommended needle size on there.  It's usually two numbers: one US and one metric ~ needles will also have both of those numbers listed, or usually do.  If they don't, you're up shit creek.

Nah, I'm kidding.  If you can't tell from the labels, for instance if the yarn only lists one kind of size and the needles only list the other (a rare occurrence), look for a something called a "needle sizer" in the knitting notions and tools section.  It's a little piece of plastic that looks like a fat ruler with holes in it.  Those will list both numbers of needle sizes and you'll be able to translate whatever your yarn and/or needle package says.



So, you've got your tools and you're raring to go.  Now for the good stuff:
KnittingHelp.com ~ knitting videos!!!11!!elebenty!  The most wonderful thing to ever happen to a beginning knitter.  These are so great because you don't have to feel like you're imposing for asking the teacher to repeat what they just did for the seventh time.  And you will have to ask.  For the seventh time, and the twelfth time, and the forty second time.  The video doesn't care.  You can also pause it right in the middle.  No feeling bad because you're asking the teacher and the entire class to wait on you while you catch up.  Again, the video doesn't care.

Which ones to watch: all of them.  Eventually.  For now, start with the casting-on videos.  Casting-on is simply getting started, making those first loops on the needles, the ones you'll eventually knit into.  Watch all the videos and pick which one looks easiest to you.  KnittingHelp recommends the Long Tail Cast-On for beginners.  I don't know if I agree.  It takes a while to learn that one, and you want to get knitting right away, right?  It's kind of like those old Cat's-in-the-Cradle string games we played as a kid, the ones where you take a piece of string knotted into a circle, wrap it around your fingers just so, get a friend to stick their finger in the middle, then let it loose and have it either trap or not the finger.  Took a while to learn that, didn't it?  If you were good at that, then try the Long Tail Cast-On.  If you weren't, try it anyway, but if that's taking too long, then try the Single Cast-On.  Like the website says, it's easier to do but trickier to knit from (to knit your first row after doing that).  If you just be absolutely sure to do the cast on loosely and then knit it loosely, it won't be as hard since you'll have more yarn there to move around.  But if you try that one and knitting that first round just frustrates the hell out of you, then try one of the Cable Cast-Ons.  I like those a lot.  But, there are two versions: English and Continental and you'll have to pick one.  Let's stop right here and discuss what those are.

There are many ways/methods to knit, but three are the most prevalent nowadays: English, Continental and Combined.  In all styles you hold one needle in each hand, but in each of the methods you hold the working yarn (the yarn feeding into your project) differently.

English is where you hold the working yarn in your right hand.  English is seemingly the most popular, but not necessarily the fastest or best.  It's the way I knit since it was the most prevalent 25 years ago when I was learning.  Those "I Taught Myself to Knit" books taught you English style.  That's probably why it's the most popular nowadays ~ most knitters who've been doing it for years didn't have the benefit of being taught by a grandma from the Old Country who knitted Continental, so learned the only way available at the time.

Continental is where you hold the working yarn in your left hand.  I wish Continental was more prevalent back when I was learning as I think I would like it better.  From everything I've seen and read about it, it seems easier and faster (so better for a beginner it seems).  But after so many years knitting English I'm having a hard time learning it. *sigh*

Then there's Combined, which is just what it says: a method that combines English and Continental.  I'm thinking I'll try to learn that one one day.  Might make the transition to Continental easier.

It would be good to learn or at least be familiar with all of them, but for now pick the one you're most comfortable with.  To do that, watch both English and Continental Knit Stitch and Purl Stitch videos, just watch not do, and see which one looks the best to you.  Later, if you find it's just not working, try the other.  But don't give up on your first pick too soon ~ it might not be working not because of the method but just because it's knitting, and knitting is just new to you.  So stick with it for a while at least.  Then try the other.  

If, after all this, you're still stuck, or if you just want more information, here is another place you can read up on knitting, see still pictures of each step, and watch more videos: Knitpicks.com's Tutorials.  Those are really cool because they combine a text description and photos of each step with videos.

Now go forth and knit.  Start with that simple pattern above, more fully explained below.  ProTip: Never underestimate the power of booze for getting past a frustrating spot.  Seriously.  You wanted to take up knitting to help you relax?  Well, there's one way it'll do it.  It also not only loosens you up, but the knitting.  Most knitters knit quite tightly.  It's hard to not do that when you're grasping those needles and that yarn to keep it all from falling into your lap.  It takes a while to get the hang of doing that without hanging on to them for dear life.  Try to relax.  Really try.  If you just can't ... booze.

And don't give up.  Taking a break is different than giving up.  You may find that to preserve your sanity you must put the knitting down for a while.  Do it, go outside for a long walk, watch tv, go to work ~ then pick it up again tomorrow.  Just don't put it down only to never pick it up again.  Finding a friend who wants to learn and doing it together might help avoid that.  They can give you those constant reminders to pick it back up and keep going.  If you do this, try not to be upset if they seem to catch on quickly and zoom right on by while you sit in the slow lane and struggle.  People learn differently, and at different speeds.  Just imagine wrapping your yarn around their neck and pulling tightly, then go back to your own knitting (booze helps here, too).  So long as you don't give up, you'll get it eventually.  I promise.

 A Simple Scarf
Cast on 30 stitches, all onto one needle.  Watch the cast on video you picked as you do this.  Once you have the stitches cast on, hold that needle in your left hand with the point pointing to the right.  Grab the other needle in your right hand, with the point pointing to the left.

Row One: Knit.  You may also see this as "Knit across" or "Knit even" in some patterns.  This means knit every stitch, all the way across.  Watch the video as you do it.

When you finish this row, all the stitches will now be on your right needle.  At the end of the row, you'll turn your work (most patterns don't say this, but it's what you'll do at the end of every flat knitting row) ~ this means transfer the needle with all the stitches from your right hand to your left, with the point pointing to the right.  Put the empty needle in your right hand, point pointing to the left.  You're right back where you were when you started.

Row Two through Twenty: Same as Row One. Knit every stitch, all the way across.  Turn your work.

Row Twenty-One: Purl.  Just like that first Knit row, this means to Purl every stitch, all the way across.  Watch the video as you work.  Turn your work.

Row Twenty-Two through Forty: Same as Row Twenty-One.  Purl across.

Keep alternating these blocks of rows until you think you have the hang of knitting, until the scarf is long enough, or until you almost run out of yarn.  Then, Bind Off, aka Cast-Off ~ that's finishing off those stitches so that you can remove your needles and they don't unravel.   Just like with Casting-On, you'll need to look through all the Cast-Off videos and find one you like.

You're done!  And you have a scarf!  You are ah-MAY-zing!!!





One last note: try not to let what others say sway you.  If you knit in public, there will be people who will comment.  Period.  They can be lumped into three main groups: The Whiners, The Teachers and The Entitled Snots.  The Whiners are the ones who say, "Oh, that's sooo haaaaaaard/takes so much time! I could never find the time/learn that!"  Well, with that attitude, of course they can't.  And won't.  Don't let their attitude make you feel like it's not worth your time, or it's too hard.  If you want to do it, it IS worth your time.  And it's not that hard ~ they're just that dense.  Some of them may point out that you can buy socks at the store.  Just smile and nod, knowing that no, you can't buy These Socks at the store, socks you spent many a blissful hour knitting.  All the money in the world can't buy These Socks.

Some people you at first may think are Whiners are really just Commenters, people who just want to make conversation and use the unusual thing you're doing as the ice breaker.  You can tell the difference in the two by the presence or absence of That Annoying Tone.  In the absence of That Annoying Tone, you might want to ask them when it was that they tried, or mention something you tried and just couldn't get in to: you know, make conversation.  These people can sometimes be nice.

The Teachers are those sometimes kind souls (sometimes not) who only know of one way to knit and think that if you don't do it that way, you're doing it wrong.  They'll snatch your project out of your hands and cluck about how you're supposed to do it this way because this way is The Only Right Way.  What the hell ~ do they think that if you don't do it The One Right Way the freaking scarf you've already knit a beautiful foot of won't keep your warm?!  Just smile and nod, maybe thank them because most of them really are just trying to help (though those will usually ask for your knitting instead of snatching), and go back to knitting the way you were once they're gone.

Then there are The Entitled Snots.  Oh, sigh.  These are the ones who see you knitting and immediately put in orders: "Hey! You can knit me/my kid/my girlfriend a scarf/hat/socks/sweater. You'll do it for twenty bucks of course since you love doing it, and besides handmade is always so much cheaper.  And I'll expect it in a couple days, since knitting doesn't take any time at all!"  Sigh.  Just sigh.  These people would be entitled twats no matter what, but they seem to ramp it up when near handiwork of any kind.  I have a theory about that.  I call it The Grandma Principle: because their grandma loved knitting, did it all the time, had gobs of yarn everywhere, seemed to finish things really fast, and lovedlovedloved to give those things to them, they think that's The Reality of Knitting.  It's not.  The reality is that yes she loved knitting, and she also loved them (despite their twatty twuntiness), so was happy to give them things she spent untold hours making.  And they were kids, and kids don't pay that much attention to things that don't interest them, so what did they know about what yarn costs and how long it really took grandma to knit that blanket?  Sorry, asshole, but I don't love you that much.  What to do about them: nothing.  Really.  There's nothing that can be done.

Don't confuse Entitled Snots with Well-Meaning Sweethearts.  Well-Meaning Sweethearts are the non-knitters who mean well and love what you make, but just really don't have any idea of the time, effort and expense invested in even small knitted things (The Grandma Principle might apply to them, too, but the entitlement part is replaced by a heap of kindness and sincerity).  Even after you tell them the yarn for the scarf you're knitting that they want a copy of costs $32, they may offer to pay for that and your time because they admire your work so much and really think it'd be worth it.  Then they find out it took you eighteen hours to knit that scarf, so even at minimum wage that would set them back a really pretty penny.  They're probably shocked and might try to cover it by agreeing to pay whatever you say since they went on and on about how gorgeous your work was and how it's really worth a lot, so how can they NOT offer to pay what it's worth since they just kind of said they would?  Don't do it.  They really had no idea, and if you did agree to do it, thinking you'd make some extra cash doing something you love, it would be taking advantage of someone nice.  Or maybe you'd rather spend that eighteen hours knitting that hat and those fingerless mitts you've had your eye on.  If Well-Meaning Sweethearts knew this, along with how long it'd take, they'd have simply Ooooohed and Aaaaahed and that would be that.  This is what makes it so hard to turn them down ~ they really are well-meaning, and it is nice to hear that they think your project is so gorgeous they want one, even if it would be expensive.  Who doesn't like hearing something like that?  But, unless you really don't mind putting off other projects you want to make so you can knit for other people, you'll have to say no, maybe easing the blow by thanking them for the compliment and offering to help them learn.  Start practicing crafting that kind and friendly refusal now so when the time comes you can do it without inadvertently hurting their feelings.  They really don't deserve that.  Entitled Snots do, but certainly not Well-Meaning Sweethearts.

Now that I think about it, there is a fourth kind of Commenter who you should let sway you: the Warm and Fuzzy Reminiscer.  The these are the sweet old lady or kindly old man who, when you catch them longingly staring at your knitting, they tell you they used to sit at their grandma's feet when they were a kid and watch her knit, that they sure miss her, and they're sorry for staring but they just got lost in the memory for a bit. *sniff*  These people make me want to hug them.  What to do about them is obvious: ask them about their grandma.

Happy New Year!

Nomnomnomnomnom.

Greens and Hamhocks

A mess of collards and kale

Hamhock pieces to taste

Thoroughly wash greens, remove ribs and chop into large pieces.  Put into a large stock pot, add hamhocks, and enough water to set to boiling.  Boil for three hours and see if they're done.  If not, keep boiling.  

Salt to taste and NOM.  Don't forget the pot liquor.  It's the best part!

Hoppin' John and White Cornbread

Black eyed peas

Bacon

Brown Rice

Mix all the above and eat with ...

Cornbread

Make the above recipe (with sugar for people with sweet-tooths ... uh ... sweet-teeth? ~ without for me), but instead of a regular baking pan, put a cast iron skillet into the oven for ten minutes, take it out, melt a tablespoon of butter in it, then pour in the batter.  If you can find a cornbread pan like mine, you, too, can have cute little pieces already pre-baked.  I LOVE that pan.

I Have an Asparagus Patch! And a Mess of New Year's Greens

And I'm so damn proud of it.

I've always wanted an asparagus patch.  It's one of my favorite vegetables, right up there with bok choy and broccoli.  I can eat it twice a week, or more if I prepare it differently each time.  Steamed with Hollandaise sauce, baked wrapped in prosciutto, asparagus quiche and just plain raw.  Nomnomnomnom.

The permanence of an asparagus patch always gave me pause.  It lives over twenty years or more and resents transplanting once it's a few years old, so where you put it is where it'll be.  If you plan wrong and it's in the way, you've got to lump it or replant and wait another two years before you can harvest.  Yep.  You can't pick it for a couple years.  Quite the investment of time there, and makes it even more important that you pick the right spot from the get go.

I'm the kind of girl who likes to rearrange her furniture a lot (Didn't I just mention that...?), and it seems that tendency follows me out to the garden and yard.  I plan out the beds, sitting out there with a beer just thinkin', taking lots of time to make sure they're just right.  But they never are, so I have to fix it.  Last year, I didn't like where one wide row was, so I turned it into two 4'x4' square foot beds.  I shoveled three too-skinny rows into two a couple months ago.  And the chicken coop is really getting on my nerves where it is, so it'll get torn down and herbs planted in it's place.  Don't get me started on the sitting spot(s).

But I wanted asparagus, dammit!  And it's the time of year to plant.  We just got 1500 crowns in at work.  I counted every one when they came in, then Joe and heeled them in in big stock tanks with sand.  That took all of a day, and the entire time I was dreaming of taking a hundred of them home with me (Yeah, I want a BIG patch).  I've walked by them every day for the past month, thinking I should buy some but talking myself out of it.  Where would I put them?  Along the fence on the east side of the garden?  Nope, not wide enough.  Over in that northwest corner where I planted corn last year?  Nah, it'd block the view of the garden.  Where the chicken coop is now?  Definitely not.  Not only would that be an even worse view-blocker, it'd take too much time to move that thing and break the new ground under it.  That's a project for this summer.

But ... uhmmm ... what about the row at the south end where the peppers were last year?  Hrm ... it's about wide enough, after I enlarged it a bit this winter.  If not, I can always bust out the fence there and make it so.   But won't it block the walkway in summer?  Well, I can plant it as far over as I can to minimize that, and build a little bamboo fence to hold it back if it really gets bad.  But it's not big enough!  It's only fifteen feet long, just big enough for fifteen crowns IF I plant them reeeeeeeally close together.  Well, Linda, fifteen crowns is better than none.  Okay.  That's it then.

I bought fifteen crowns and a bunch of compost just before the winter break at work.  "How exciting!  I'm really going to do this!"  I bagged the compost, got it home, unloaded it and the asparagus ... and there they sat.  One thing after another has happened since then to get in the way of my asparagus patch coming into being.  First there was Christmas Day, then the house needed cleaning, then we got a little carried away with the Holiday Revelry with Spirits and spent the next day on the couch, then I had to set up the Seed Starting Cabinet, then ... then ...

THEN, I said, "Enough!  I'm planting that asparagus THIS YEAR."

"Well, you'd better get on it.  It's the thirtieth."

Ugh.

So that's what I did today, starting with digging a fifteen foot ditch as deep as I could get it, which was about a foot.  It wasn't that hard, but I was sure glad asparagus planting time isn't in summer.  I added in a mix of stuff  ~ humate, 8-2-4, quite a bit of Minerals Plus since you can't really overdose that and I won't be able to dig deep in that bed for quite a while after this.  The I put in liberal amounts of turkey compost, stirred it up, and started planting.  It took me two or three hours overall.

And now, after years of dreaming and planning and hoping, and hours and hours of hard physical labor (oh, woe is me), da-da-DUM! I have an asparagus patch!!



Aaaaaaand, I have a mess of greens for New Year's Day.  All picked today.  Aren't they beautiful?

The regular cabbage still is only tiny little heads (they're so damn cute), so  I hope Chinese cabbage (bok choy) qualifies as close enough for the tradition of eat cabbage on New Year's Day = LOTS of folding money throughout the year.  I'll probably have a hangover-induced anxiety attack tomorrow about this and go pick some regular and eat it regardless of how tiny or how cute it is.  But I have some kissin' cousins of regular cabbage, kale and collards being the most prevalent, so hopefully that and a Holiday Xanax will restrain me.  And I just found out that another name for kale is boerenkool, Norwegian for "farmer's cabbage".  I like that.  A nod to my Norwegian ancestors.  Good enough.

I think I'll make some Hoppin' John instead of plain old black-eyed peas.  And cornbread.  Definitely cornbread.  

Yes, those are tomatoes in the basket on the left.  Black Giants to be precise.  That one was the clear winner of the Thirty-Plus Variety Great Tomato Grow-Off this year (heh, as if I don't do that every year), so I thought about overwintering it.  I hemmed and hawed for a while since in my experience that always ends in tears.  But there were fruit still on it, and I'd borked my seed-saving attempt with that one, so what did I have to lose in at least keeping it around 'til those matured?  Two of those were almost orgasmically good with the ribeye I had tonight.  Looks like I made the right decision.

My Seed Starting Cabinet

I took a seed starting class given by Jeff Ferris at work a month or so ago.  I've worked with him at the info desk and he really knows his stuff, enough to teach gardening at ACC.  AND all the plants in his garden this year are ones he's started from seed.  So I knew that even though I've started seeds for years, I could likely learn a few things from him.

"Though an old man, I am yet a young gardener." ~ Thomas Jefferson, when he was 72 years old.

Lord, don't I know that.  My seed starting has been met with widely varying success.  Every year I have high hopes, and every year Ma Nature kicks my ass.  Well, I shouldn't blame it all on Her ~ there's a helping of my own ineptness thrown in there.  I forget to water them and they crisp up, forget to open the plastic-covered hoop house and fry them, don't close the garden gate and the dogs use them for chew toys.  You get the picture.  But I don't give up.  Gardeners are nothing if not optimistic.

I had been thinking of reskinning the greenhouse for my seed starting efforts this year, but as Jeff talked about doing it indoors, I got to thinking: the best success I've had was when I did it indoors.  We won't mention the thought that I could avoid spending over a C-note and two days on that project.  Uh-uh.  Give a lazy woman a job and fifteen minutes to think about it...

For days, I kept turning the idea of inside over and over in my head.  I knew trying to do it on the kitchen counters would end in disaster.  I keep the extra bedrooms quite cold to save on the heating bill, so they were out.  And the closet, where I started some tomatoes last year, is rather full now (clean it? nope).

After a week or so of mulling it over, I hit on the perfect idea.  I'd bought this big old cabinet from Goodwill way earlier this year thinking it would make a good kitchen for the cabin.  Just drop in a sink, install some lights and viola!  A portable kitchen.  (I have a thing for rearranging my furniture, so the thought of rearranging a kitchen just got me all-a-tingly.)  Anyway, since the cabin remodel has been put on the back burner...

George and I worked all of a day getting the dining room cleaned out.  An extra bedroom had to be decluttered to fit in the freezers.  The fridge is still in the hallway, but we'll worry about what to do with it later.  And actually getting the cabinet in here was a bit trying ~ I almost got squashed flat twice, there was much re-nailing since parts of it fell off on the way in, and once we put the bottom cabinet in place and lifted the hutch up to the top ... it was about three inches too tall.  DAMMIT! ... Yeah, it could be placed off-center. ... NO IT COULD NOT!

Then I noticed the three-inch "lift" board along the bottom that was cut-off-able.  Enter circular saws and curse words to go with the already-in-use hammers and other curse words.

"That looks nice. Really classes up the place," George said.  I agree.

In the class Jeff said most any light except incandescents would do, but the best bang for your buck would be T8s.  So off to the hardware store I went.  Jeff said he uses 4' fixtures and bulbs, but those wouldn't fit in my cabinet, so two foot it was. If you try this at home, four foot ones will be the better deal if you have the room ~ about the same price overall, but twice the lighted area.  And freaking easier to find!  Everywhere had all sorts of four foot fixtures, four foot bulbs, four foot everything.  And two foot nothing.  Almost.  I think the world is bigoted against the two-foot-length-ed.

But I prevailed.  And came home with two of these:

And four of these:

I'd learned a bit about lights when I had planted tanks and everyone in the hobby then recommended at least a 6500K (kelvin) rating.  Then there was the watt thing: how many? LOTS seemed to be the answer from what I'd heard.  I mentioned all that to Jeff and he said that in his experience, that didn't matter nearly as much as lumens.  The more the merrier with them.  Since they're a measure of the actual light output, that makes sense.  He looked up some online for me to give me a direction to go in, but when I went to look I couldn't find many in a two foot length (again sigh).  I searched Lowe's, Home Depot. Brite Ideas, and online and unless I wanted to buy a 25 count case (I didn't), the best I could find in a two foot length was at Lowe's: 1325 lumens, 4100K, 17 watts.  We'll see if they work.  (They. Will. Work. I will. Make. Them. I will Bend The Laws of Physics or WhateverTheApplicableThingHereIs with my Sheer Will and They Will Work.  Says She.  And that's all I got to say about That.)

I got them installed today.  It was great fun wiring them up and mounting them below the shelves.  The shelves are adjustable, so I can move the seedling trays and lights themselves up and down as needed.  I was a bit concerned about the "crystalized" plastic covers on the lights, but Jeff said they might not block any light, might actually throw it all around better, and they'll likely keep me from popping bulbs by accidentally spraying them when I mist the seedlings.  Bonus!

A month of planning and execution and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel (see what I did there?).  

Now comes the fun part: looking through the seeds to pick out which ones to plant.  I love looking through my seeds.  I know what will happen though ~ I'll want to plant ALL THE THINGS.  Which means MOAR LIGHTS and a BIGGER CABINET.  Somebody stop me.  

The Christmas Tree

Free patterns downloadable from Ravelry:

Mini Homespun Santa Hat
Mini Homespun Christmas Stocking
Mini Homespun Mitten Christmas Ornament
Mini Homespun Wizard's Hat

A Bunch of Pictures

Future asparagus patch.  16 feet long, so I can fit 15 plants in it.  Can't wait 'til I can have 100+!

Bok choy.  YUM.

Frost damage on broccoli. None on the bok choy!

The garden so far.  Big, tasty collards in the center.  I picked a BUNCH right after I took this picture and cooked them with a hog jowl.  Now THAT's southern.  

The white mountain on the right foreground is my Black Giant tomato.  It's still hanging in there with a couple dozen green tomatoes on it despite many freezing nights.  Three down to 24 degrees.  It's wrapped with one 25' string of incandescent C7 Christmas bulbs and an entire 12'x24' section of heavy duty floating row cover.  I'm hoping for a few ripe ones, enough to save seeds from (this was my absolute favorite tomato this year and seeds are hard to find).  And Christmas tomatoes would be nice...

Stonehead cabbage.  The best looking cabbage in the garden.  Others I have planted:
Late Flat Dutch, Early Jersey Wakefield, Mammoth Red Rock, Red Acre, Golden Acre.   The others are rather long-stemmed so far, too long to hold up a head of cabbage.  We'll see what they turn out to look like in a few months.  But so far, the Stonehead is winning the race.

Pepper Harvest

For a month or so now, George and I have been covering the tomatoes and peppers when temps dipped near freezing.  I'd put big incandescent Christmas lights on them as well and I think that really helped a lot.

Twenty or so peppers and half a dozen tomatoes.  Not too many, but still a pain in the ass.  I was rather sick of it, so today we picked the peppers.  Now that they're sitting on the table all ripe and pretty, I'm thinking it was worth it.

Also, I got a couple pumpkins from work.  I am in LOVE with the white one, but since they were just bought from HEB for decoration, no one knows what kind they are.  I'm pretty sure the cream one is Long Island Cheese, but I sure wish I knew the other.  I'll be saving the seeds even though they may be a hybrid or crossed.  Maybe I'll get lucky and grow the same pumpkin next year.

And two more pumpkins/squashes I'd love to know the type.  

I love winter gardening

Winter gardening is lovely.  The weather is cooler, the weeds grow slower, there are fewer insect pests, and, best of all, the veggies are more beautiful.  The bright and sassy colors of Swiss Chard.  The sexy white curves of Bok Choy.  The fat, deep purple leaves of Red Cabbage.  Just beautiful.

And the flowers.  Pansies are my favorite.  Their little cheery faces looking up at you as you walk by.  It's as if they are gaily saying, "Hello! Hi!"  Corny maybe, but adorable.  

We had the first meal from the winter garden the other night.  I wanted comfort food.  I made stock from some leftover chicken and the smell walking into the house while it was cooking was heavenly.  There's just something so comforting about walking into a warm house with cold-bit cheeks from being outside and having the smell of chicken soup surrounding you.

George and I went to the garden to pick some bok choy.  It was dark already, so he held the flashlight.  I trimmed the bok choy of as many leaves as I thought prudent, then eyed the peppers.  A handful of jalapenos and a bell or two later, I passed the parsley.  Mmmmmm.  Then spied the tarragon.  It had grown so much that it was draping over the sides of the pot.  A couple snips later and we headed back into the house.  

An hour or so later, George and I ladled up bowls of the wonderful stuff.  Some grated parmesan on top, a dollop of sour cream in mine.  Yum!  We found out George likes bok choy!  Broccoli he already loves, and now bok choy.  Hanging around me is apparently a good thing for him. ;)

The artichokes are doing well.  The transplanted one is doing best of all, both parts of it.  It looks like it's forgiven us for the ill treatment (that was the one I ignored the past couple years and George accidentally tilled last spring).  I decided moving it would be a good idea, so divided it while I was at it.  I put each part in the middle of each of the two rows I've dedicated to artichokes, putting two seedlings alongside each one, six in all.  I can't wait to eat those next year.

The free broccoli from work is doing pretty good, too.  The free cauliflower is okay.  But no matter what we get, hey, it was free.  

I've been keeping three wide rows at the far northeast corner of the garden open for onions.  I was going to plant peas in there, but it got late.  I did plant spinach and cilantro in one next to them, with five elephant garlic cloves down the middle.  Hopefully, if all sprouts, it'll look nice.  

I also planted dill in the far four by four square foot garden.  I was going to make it a real square foot garden, but lost my gumption.  

Need to plant carrots.

I also planted some Gladiolus byzantinus bulbs.  I can't wait to see them next spring.

 We still have peppers and tomatoes from summer.  The peppers are just LOADED, especially the Dragon Thai pepper Lauren at work gave me.  I was concerned about the one at first.  While it was still a tiny little thing, the chickens got ahold of it and ate it to almost a nub.  Doesn't seem to have set it back much.

And the tomatoes.  I still have a Juliet, two Romas, the Black Giant and an unidentified one that's probably a Solar Fire.  All of them are just full of fruit, so I hate to just let them freeze.  We strung Christmas lights along them and George has been encouraging me to keep them covered when temps get chilly.  I'm hoping for Christmas tomatoes.  So far, one Roma and three or so Juliets are ripening.


I LOVE that Black Giant.  It was the clear winner this summer for best tasting imho.  Like the Cherokee Purple, my former fave, but more full-bodied in flavor.  And it's prettier, lacking the circular cracks around the top.  It's just a beautiful, smooth, brownish-purple beefsteak-shaped tomato.

And lastly, our Thanksgiving table.  Happy belated Thanksgiving, everyone!

I have a beaver!

And man, has he been busy.  Just two pictures I took of what he's working on, before my camera died.  I'll get more posted soon.  No sign of a dam, dammit.  I was hoping for one.


Biggish mullberry he's taken a bite out of:

The bite:

A water willow he's taken down already.  The ends look like you put them in a pencil sharpener.  Amazing!

Closeup of the branches on the lower left, where he's taken the smallish limbs to make his dam: