Now They’ve Gone Too Far…

(Via An Iowa Garden)

Posted by admin to Uncategorized on 2007-12-20, 08:10:00

I may seem pretty mild-mannered but we all have our limits, and let me tell you, this time the taxonomists have gone too far! I just learned on Ki's blog MucknMire that the taxonomists have moved our native sharp-lobed hepatica (Hepatica acutiloba) to the genus anemone. I went along with them when they lumped Hepatica americana, acutiloba, and japonica, all into Hepatica nobilis; I was very nice about it, and just changed all my labels. But now they've moved acutiloba, and are in the process of moving all of nobilis, into the anemones, with rumblings that they'll be back for the rest, so the genus hepatica will disappear. Well, I say, who asked them?? Why don't they go analyze some chick-peas or something, and leave the charming little hepaticas (who've never harmed anyone) alone? I'm NOT making up another set of labels.
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Companion Planting For A Healthier Garden

(Via Home and Family: Gardening Articles from EzineArticles.com)

Posted by admin to Uncategorized on 2007-12-20, 07:47:53

Companion planting is an easy method to make your plants healthier and vegetables produce more. Best of all, it doesn't involve any work after the initial planting!

“Holiday for Gardeners”

(Via gardenauthor)

Posted by admin to Holiday for Gardeners, gifts for gardeners on 2007-12-20, 05:26:00

















































































"Holiday for Gardeners" by Deb Lambert

Wrapped in snow, but not far from the mind,
Our gardens lie dormant, just biding their time.
Overlapping bud scales, tight against cold,
Protecting the burgeoning life they hold.

Rhododendron leaves in a downward curl,
We anticipate spring when their buds unfurl.
The flowering crab is festive, in berry,
A mockingbird dines, seeming quite merry.

While we’re warm indoors, the songbirds strive,
Seeking food and shelter, just to survive.
As cold winds blow, the snow drifts deep,
Yet never is heard a complaining peep.

We hang our feeders and scatter some seed,
For small, clinging birds and those that ground-feed.
The unyielding ground may stay frozen and bare,
We must provide water, if truly we care.

Yes, here we sit, all cozy and warm,
Ready to weather the winter storm.
Relieving our plants from the burden of snow,
Armed with a broom, outside we must go.

We stake and wrap and spray and tie,
Hoping that winter will pass us by.
Hoping our garden is spared the brunt
Of howling winds from the weather front.

For now, settle back with a good garden book,
As you give your landscape a close, second look.
As you sit by the window and peer through the glass,
You envision bright blooms and emerald-green grass.

But it’s time to relax, this holiday season,
A joy in giving, not needing a reason.
A trowel, a hat and maybe a book,
A sundial, a birdbath for some little nook.

A saw, some pruners to keep things in trim,
Flower seeds, gift certificates, all on a whim.
For a gardener, you see, is easy to please,
With gloves for her hands or a bench for his knees.

She envisions, she reads and sometimes she dreams,
Of gardens ‘midst rocks or by cool, shady streams.
The holiday gift, you so thoughtfully choose,
Generates joy that’s quite hard to lose.

So gather some goodies in a basket or pot,
A few select items, or maybe a lot.
Your favorite gardener will glow with delight,
Pondering your gift, well into the night.

May your backyard gardens stand upright and strong,
May your family and friends stay snug and warm.
As we rest from our labors, may we take the time
To enjoy our surroundings and let nature shine!

©Deb Lambert 2007

Photos ©2007: courtesy of Corliss Bros. Nursery & Garden Center staff (Ipswich, MA).

Help me name Freya’s underling!

(Via Girl Gone Gardening)

Posted by admin to Little Osa, Mr. Hyper, Sasha, family, pets, photos on 2007-12-20, 04:23:00

Help me name our newest foster kid! (Peeking out of hiding) Kitten doesn't give a rats behind about the ferret, but the dog on the other hand, "What is that horrid smelly monster?" Still keepin' her eyes peeled on the big fuzzy lump. Moseying on to the next hiding spot. This kid came to us last night---she had been living under Mr. Hyper's aunt's house. She's somewhat used to people but

Robin Red Breast

(Via Snappy's Gardens Blog)

Posted by admin to Garden bird, robin on 2007-12-20, 03:21:00



Just in time before Christmas this robin was watching me today plant the fruit bushes, and put down the new bird water containers. I have sunk two plastic bowls into the ground and surrounded them with little stones.There are now two small water sources in the garden.
I sprinkled bird seed around one and I think a large blackbird was eating before I turned around in the kitchen. It shot off quickly before I could even focus on what it was.
I love Robins and was so happy to see one hopping along the fence. He was on the fence, on the compost bin, and in the bird seed ground feeder!

aaahhhh, The Lord of Misrule and Saturnalia

(Via Idaho Gardener)

Posted by admin to Journal entries on 2007-12-20, 00:09:47

Now this sounds like my idea of fun: inverted social order. Merriment. Gypsies in the palace. Lord of Misrule. Feasting. Music. Alas, I am but 1700 years too late. Damn. Double damn. Guess I’ll just have to make my own fun. Here’s what I found on the delightful pagan ritual of Saturnalia, often thought to be the precursor of Christmas:

“During the holiday, restrictions were relaxed and the social order inverted. Gambling was allowed in public. Slaves were permitted to use dice and did not have to work. Instead of the toga, less formal dinner clothes (synthesis) were permitted, as was the pileus, a felt cap normally worn by the manumitted slave that symbolized the freedom of the season. Within the family, a Lord of Misrule was chosen. Slaves were treated as equals, allowed to wear their masters’ clothing, and be waited on at meal time in remembrance of an earlier golden age thought to have been ushered in by the god. In the Saturnalia, Lucian relates that “During My week the serious is barred; no business allowed. Drinking, noise and games and dice, appointing of kings and feasting of slaves, singing naked, clapping of frenzied hands, an occasional ducking of corked faces in icy water—such are the functions over which I preside.”"

And while I especially like the notion of singing nekkid, you won’t ketch me at it. I promise.

The winter solstice is upon us, coming at about 11 am on Friday morning, MST. The darkest, shortest day of the year. Don’t I know it.

Then on Saturday, things will start lookin’ up as I head south. Feliz Navidad. Magaritaville. Suh-rimp. Sand. Fun.