TheLibra's Journal

Frequently, I ask myself why I’m gardening, and I always come up with a different answer every time.

Certainly there’s the issue of a rising food crisis around the world, and the Victory Gardener in me feels the obligation any parent and spouse should feel to ensure their family is fed. And the philanthropist in me seeks to spread this mission with The Victory Garden Society
But this doesn’t seem to quite encompass the why and wherefore of doing backbreaking labor and spending hundreds of dollars, to turn out about $50 worth of produce, much of which we’ll simply give away.

Then there’s the part of me that just needs to get outdoors, away from the electronic detritus that makes up our everyday lives. In the garden, there are no phones, no computers, no televisions, radios, no advertisements, no salesmen, no game consoles, and the only blackberries that will ever find their way into my garden will be the kind we can eat. It allows me to feel connected to the Earth, rather than the Grid. After spending all day in front of a screen, trying to help other people with their electronic problems, it’s nice to find quiet solace where the only buzzing comes from happy little insects, and the only ringing is the gentle tinkle of wind chimes.

The teacher and parent in me loves taking my baby boy out to the garden, and showing him each of the plants, and teaching him the names. According to young Jack, our “Hmmmehhh” is growing quite well, though the tiny little fruit doesn’t seem to be gaining much mass the last two days. The “Dah-hoo” is nearly done for, and will require extensive cutting back and surgery if it is to recover from the Dah-hoo vine borer. I am regrettably losing this fight, despite my best efforts. Our recent crop of “Bwab-bwah-bwab” is doing great, and some of our friends are already queuing up for them when they’re ready for harvest. While is understanding of the ecology and philosophy of the garden is superb, his taxonomy leaves a bit to be desired.

Then there’s the part that my father taught me, and his father before him. “A man who loves his land will treat it better than one who is paid.” My grandparents each kept victory gardens back in the day, and even though they later replaced fruit and veg with bushes and flowers, they kept them immaculate as long as health allowed. Actually, immaculate is an inadequate description. My grandfather was an engineer, and any yard that fell under his jurisdiction had to be perfectly flat, and at a 3-degree incline away from the house in any direction. Every bush had to be of uniform height, growing equidistant from its neighbors. Purple Martins were allowed, but Starlings and Grackles were warded off with slingshots and ball bearings. Dogs and cats were warded off with his special “throwin’ shovel,” which he could heft with the precision of Apollo.

My father, while not quite as specific about his yard, still managed to convey to me a number of methods for mowing, edging, and weed-eating, that, while I was a teenager, seemed ridiculously obsessive-compulsive. Now that I have my own yard, I can see why he was so adamant about using the driveways to turn the mower (that way the wheels don’t chew up the grass), or why you should always weed-eat before you mow, then edge after you mow (so that the wall-grass is mulched by the mower, and the edge-trenches are cleaned out). My mother went on to teach me many things about caring for plants, and has since taken over the yard in light of my father’s cancer. We now share ideas and new techniques on a nearly weekly basis, and her own gardens are a delight to look at. I’ve tried to get her on MyFolia, but am not sure if she’ll ever get into it. Still, it gives me a connection to my parents, and my grandparents, that will last long beyond words and mortal coils.

And I suppose no small part of it is pure vanity. The first thing strangers passing by your house will ever judge you on, is your lawn. Don’t believe me? What is your impression of the family down the street? You know, the ones with the overgrown yard, where the grass is over a foot high, the flowerbeds are filled with trash, and you can’t even see the front door for the trifid standing sentinel-like in the way, ready to eat any callers. Do you stop by to say hello? Or do you drive past and shake your head, wishing those trashy people would do something about their yard, or that someone would call the city and get a notice posted. Now what do you think about the other family down the street? The ones with the perfectly manicured lawn, where perhaps the grass isn’t the greenest, because they don’t waste too much water, but it’s nice, trim, and neat. The bushes and flowers and all well manicured, and the landscaping is in an eye-pleasing arrangement that makes the whole house look more elegant than its square footage. It wouldn’t matter if Mother Teresa lived in the overgrown house, people would judge her to be as trashy as her yard. It wouldn’t matter if Ted Bundy lived in the trim house, people would say “there lives a fine upstanding citizen who takes care of his lawn.” When they pass your house, people you have never met, will never meet, and plenty of those you will, along with family and friends alike, will all judge you by your yard before they ever see your face.

But most of all, more than anything else, I guess the reason I toil for hours a day to make the yards and gardens presentable, is because of Life. There’s a certain wonder in watching a baby something you planted grow up to be a “dah-hoo,” or to watch the leavings of your evening veg become broken down over time in the compost heap, and watching the layers upon layers at work upon one another. To see the intricate web of ecosystem, transpiration, degeneration and regeneration work upon one another. The slowly emerging awareness that everything around you, from the grass to the tree to the veg and fruit, are all living things, put on Earth to achieve the same purpose of converting energy from one form to another so that it may be used by yet another form for conversion…is almost like that old time religion to me.

I’m not much of a church-going man. Like most Texans, I belong to a church, and to keep the family peace, I occasionally bring the family to attend it, but I’ve never really felt comfortable in one. My church isn’t one of walls and bricks and mortar. My church is of dirt and leaves. Within the walls, being preached to, sung at, and judged by my fellow man, I do not feel the presence of God; I feel the presence of an organization that wants my time and money. I know that my “stewardship” for this organization will do little more than add on another building, or send more people out to sell the religion to others who probably had something better to do in the first place.

But in the garden, in the yard, I find God. I find God inside of a flower bud just starting to open its blossom in the rays of dawn. I find God in a wriggling mass of worms when I turn over the compost. I find God when I see the tiny little honeysuckle I planted a year ago has somehow become this beautiful giant that covers my wall with orange and red flowers. There, I find proof of God. There, I feel whole, content, and at peace. There, I know that every ounce of stewardship I put into the land, goes to God. I love the land, I love it dearly, and it is such a shame that the more devoutly religious among my friends and family are unable to recognize that I can lead a far more spiritual life when left to my spade and shears, than when forced to hold a plate and hymnal.

So, I suppose, in the end, I garden for many reasons, some selfish, some altruistic, and some for purposes divine. Whatever the reason, in the end, it amounts to this:

Because I want to.

After a long heart to heart with the wife, the household harmony has been restored, and new life has been introduced to both our relationship and our garden. Perhaps the most important thing we learned from all this is that just because you’re not doing anything wrong, doesn’t mean you’re doing everything right.

Harmony is important to me; I seek a life of balance and strive to keep the peace. Yet, when part of that life dips down too far on one side, the natural impulse is to overcorrect, which swings the balance too far the other way, and forces me to overcorrect again. And just when I think I’ve managed to attain perfect equilibrium, I’m faced with another set of complications, and a new set of challenges to rise (or fall) to.

The same is paralleled in the garden. Am I watering too much? Am I watering too little? Does this get too much sun, or too much shade. Is the blossom-end drop due to the temperature at night being too high, or is it because there’s not enough nitrogen in the soil, or too little? The doubt, questions, and frustrations are enough to make my head spin, and the constant talk is enough to drive my wife insane.

So now comes a new balancing act… my squash have all ceased production, damned be the squash vine borer, but my peppers and tomatoes have just started to produce (hooray for…something). And my wife’s love of a good tomato, and my newfound silence on the puzzles the garden has to offer, will allow this to be the perfect gift for her once it has ripened. I suppose, in life, as in the garden, what grows around, comes around.

“If I were a stamen, would you show as much interest in me as you do the garden?” my wife inquired. To my folly, I responded with humor “Of course not, honey; I’m a pistil man!” Eight words too late, I realized that was the wrong answer. Eight hours later I could hardly even speak.

My wife is in the unique position of having the ability to completely crush my spirit in anything I do or accomplish. Perhaps it is because I love her so much, or value her opinion above all others, or that everything I do, everything I’ve done since I met her, I’ve done for her. I can put my heart and soul into a project, for hours, days, weeks, even months on end, and finally finished, I can step back, admire my work, and share it with her, beaming pride at what hard work, research, practice, and skill were able to accomplish. And with one simple sentence, she can bring all that crashing down, and make me regret having ever lifted a finger in the first place.

I needn’t worry about her reading this blog, because in her latest spirit-crushing tongue-lashing, she made it quite clear that she considered my garden a waste of time and money that could be better spent on “something productive.” The MyFolia pages I’ve been working to keep updated are even less in her mind than the garden itself.

On Saturday, I was a successful gardener on my first attempt, bringing in food, and fresh herbs, and preparing meals from them, and beautifying the outside of our house. By Sunday, I can hardly even bring myself to look at the garden anymore. In my head, it’s come to represent everything wrong with my marriage. This isn’t to say that my marriage is wrong, or even in trouble. Every marriage has hard times, struggles, fights, etc. Show me a married couple that’s never had a fight, and I’ll show you a couple that either hasn’t been married long, or has one member as the ultimate authority.

I think of marriage as a partnership of equals. I treat my wife with respect, love, and give her equal say on all things. I never make a major decision without consulting her, unless it is a life or death emergency, and then someone has to take charge immediately. I work a full time job, but I get off work before her. When I come home, I take care of the boy, inspect the garden, and then cook dinner, which lately has entailed items from the garden, and tend to the dogs. After dinner, I clean up the kitchen, give the boy a bath, and put him to bed, and make the final preparations for the night. I never go out to bars or strip clubs, I don’t do any sort of drug, and my hobbies are all things that tend to produce something (like gardening), improve the value of the house (like remodeling the bathroom), and/or prepare and prevent emergencies (like making sure we have an adequate supply of food, water, and first aid items stored up). In our more private affairs, I am as generous as is humanly possible. On the weekend, I’m either working on the yard, the house, taking her on a date, or we’re visiting family or friends. And I have never been unfaithful. Ever.

I’m not a bad husband, but because of the garden, and my wife’s feelings on it, I feel like one. If I want to see my garden now, I have to do it on the sly, as if I were visiting a mistress in some cheap hourly hotel room. “We only have a half hour, baby, and then I’ve got to get back to work.” I can’t talk about the garden, in fact, I need to pretty much hide gardening stuff from her sight. If she catches me on MyFolia, I’ll get a tongue-lashing like you wouldn’t believe. And yet, it makes me want to garden more… perhaps to escape from someone who seems less like my best friend, lover, and life companion, and more like my boss after the annual review. “Yeah, you made your numbers last year, but we’re going to need you to take on some additional duties, and don’t expect a raise this time around. Budget cuts, you know.”

So there you have it. I don’t know why I’m putting this out there. Maybe it’s because I’m looking for an answer, maybe its because I want her to read this, or maybe it’s a preamble to my retirement from gardening and MyFolia. I don’t know. My spirit’s crushed, and there’s no pride to be had in doing something you have to do behind your spouse’s back. Regardless of what any reader may think, my wife and child mean more to me than anything else in the world, including gardening. I just wish I didn’t have to feel ashamed of it to prove this.

The joy of carrying my babbling baby boy to the garden each day is nothing short of magical.

Every day, I pick him up from daycare on the way home from work, and when we get home, the puppies (now dogs, but they’ll always be puppies in our hearts) leap about eagerly to get a whiff of us both, before darting out the back door to do what dogs do best.

“Da da dAAAH! Dah da da Hooooooooo,” Jack bounces excitedly up and down on my arm, his gaze darting from dogs to plants and back again.

I stop at each plant, giving it a careful inspection, telling the boy what I’m doing at each step of the way. Our first stop after the Spice Wall is the Not-Actually-A-Zucchini plant that turned out to be yet another beginning pumpkin patch. With a growing sense of dread I realize the few parts that aren’t yellow or brown are attached to dead or dying vines, and my pruning shears only underscore the fact that we’ve lost this one to the damnable blight known as the Squash Vine Borer.

It’s a harsh blow, harsher than I thought. Being a man, I’ll never know the experience of childbirth, or carrying a child to term, but there is what I’d imagine to be a similar type of connection to plants one has raised from seed. The sweat, the tears, the literal blood that was shed…the sunburn from getting so caught up in my gardening work one morning that when sunset kept me from working any further, I, Lobster, endured several days of pain, and several more of peeling. It’s as much a badge of parenthood, only a different sort. I did not have to push my crops through a tiny opening in my body (that would be highly illegal in our state anyway), but neither did my wife endure several months of labor. I would be a fool to propose being a gardener puts me on par with being a mother that gave birth to a child, but it does give me a bit more of an understanding of the special connection between mother and child.

And so, it was with a deep mixture of sadness and anger that I put the ailing pumpkin bush out of its misery, and laid it to rest in the compost box, next to its slightly more decayed brethren. Jack pulled himself up and gripped the edge of the compost box, coasting along the edge, and felt the need to say a few words.

“Daaa-hoo!”

Daa-hoo, indeed. The grim work of the reaper done, we continued our inspection of the garden, and the pruning of the dead leaves, occasionally cursing the squash-vine borer to the Nth generation.

The rest of the garden brought a bit more encouragement. The yellow squash had not only grown considerably since yesterday, but several other yellow squash had begun to fruit from their blooms, and the two tiny zukes had turned into two rather large tubes that are looking to be a very tasty meal in the near future. Bees buzzed happily among the mint, drugged out of their mind, and I felt compelled to snap a few photos of them. The bees were so stoned that I was able simply sit there, inches from them, and snap close-ups. They didn’t care in the least; had I been a bee, they’d probably have asked if I wanted a hit of the mint bloom.

My watermelon plants had begun attacking a lone yellow squash plant that dared grow within a few feet of it. I decided to break up the fight, gingerly snipping the thin little watermelon tendrils that were attempting to throttle the competition, and carefully moving it towards another direction when I noticed something amazing. It had actually started to bear fruit. There, on the vine, was a teeny, tiny little watermelon about the size of a shooter marble. These things were half-dead when I planted them, and I’d given up on them before I’d even started. Their transplanting consisted of taking them out of the pot, setting them on the ground, and taking whatever I had left of the compost and peat, mounding it around the thing, and covering it with grass clippings. Now it’s bearing fruit!!!

I guess where one life ends, another begins.

We finished off the day with an inspection of the pumpkin patch, and found two ripe 15 pounders ready for harvesting. When the wife got home, she snapped a photo of them, along with our 18 pounder, and then had the boy and I pose there with them. I like the photo. It’s a reminder of the duality between being a father, and being a gardener, and the work that both entail. Maybe someday little Jack will feel the same way.

I love it when another plant starts to produce its first fruit or veg. Here’s some photos of what I’m currently growing.

First off is a mystery veg. I’m not sure if it’s yet ANOTHER Pumpkin vine that’s grown, or if it’s the beginning of a really fat zuchinni. It could go either way.

The Yellow Squash looks sorta like an Olympic Torch. It’s cool. I didn’t think I was going to get any Yellow Squash to come in. And another plant looks to be producing the beginnings of some yellow squash as well.

The Zucchini plant is doing rather well, and already producing two more zukes, one of which should be ready for harvesting within the week. The second one should be well timed to go with the yellow squash for a tasty meal.

Now that I’ve learned how to prepare pumpkins without having the end-result taste like pumpkin (see my Pumpkin Enchilada Soup Recipe), I’m looking forward to more of them coming in. Just this morning I saw a pumpkin in my patch that looks like it may end up beating the 18 pounder if it keeps growing.

Now if only the tomatoes, watermelon, and peppers would start producing something besides blossom drop. (Sigh)

This is currently the description for my Victory & Spicewall Garden, but as I’m about to update the description, I figured I’d archive what I already have in a journal entry. Enjoy! New journal entry and description of the garden to come soon.

This is the garden overall. Early on I had nice tilled rows, clean soil, and paths between them, etc. I found out two things really quick: almost everything died or failed to sprout from seed, and the one thing besides the pumpkin patch that flourished was lawn grass. When I let the grass in, and stopped fighting it, things started to live. When I started using the grass as mulch, starting two weeks ago, stuff just started to thrive.

I guess mother nature just likes a little bit of a mess sometimes.

To enclose the garden, I’ve started a Spice Wall, which is basically taking cinderblocks and turning them with the holes up and down, and using it as both a border and a flower pot. Pictured is a section of the spice wall that I have set up. On either end are marigolds, which keep rabbits and other pests at bay, and the petals of the marigold can be used as a colorful additive to salads. Between them, from left to right, there’s Sweet Basil, Foxtail Rosemary, African Blue Basil, more Foxtail Rosemary, more African Blue Basil, and Tuscan Blue Rosemary. Against the fence, from middle to right is Wild Mint. In the upper left is part of the “main” pumpkin patch. Other herbs in the garden include Sweet Marjoram, Italian Oregano, Greek Oregano, Spanish Lavender, Stevia, Curled Parsley, Italian Parsley, Dill, Chives, Chili Pegquins, Sage, and Garlic.

The most thriving part of the garden is the Jack-O-Lantern pumpkin patch, which was a total accident. I had a mature compost heap that I threw last year’s old, uncarved, unopened jacks into when spring came around and they got soft and rotty. A few weeks later, I had a sprout. Curious, I moved the composting box over a few feet to start a new heap. Within days, the growth exploded out, and now I’m already yielding Jack-O-Lantern’s right and left.

The photo with me in it is from a few weeks ago, holding the first yield of my whole garden. The wife snapped that photo in the middle of me saying “Oh Yeah!” like Joe from Family Guy. That pumpkin went to Mr. and Mrs. J, as a thank you for all they taught me. They turned it into three of the best pumpkin pies I’ve ever had, a large serving bowl for beef soup, and some very fertile seeds for their own garden.

Well, as part of my Victory Garden experience, my goal is to try and find a use for everything in the garden. I finally harvested my pride and joy, an 18-pound (8.16kg) pumpkin, which, to be perfectly honest, I have no idea what I’m going to do with, because it’s too much to cook, and the farmer’s markets aren’t going to accept pumpkins till late August. However, I did use one of my smaller pumpkins to harvest seeds and to make the following recipe, my very first pumpkin soup ever, with Tex-Mex flair!

It serves 4-8, depending on the size of the bowls, and goes well with garlic bread or crackers. If you enjoy this recipe, and live in the North Texas area, feel free to check out the North Texas Victory Garden Society

Libra’s Pumpkin Enchilada Soup

Ingredients

• roughly 6-8 cups diced/cubed pumpkin meat (skinned, gutted)
• 3 diced carrots
• 1-2 cups sweet corn kernals
• 1 cup peas
• 3 large diced radishes
• 2-4 cups snap beans
• 2 diced tomatoes
• 2 cans chicken stock
• 7oz tomato sauce
• 1 can Ro-Tel Original
• Sweet Basil
• Foxtail Rosemary
• Sweet Marjoram
• Italian Oregano
• Curled Parsley
• 1-2 Tbsp Garli Garni seasoning
• Ground Pepper
• 2 Chicken Breasts
• Olive Oil
• 1 sauce pan, with lid (no holes)
• 1 skillet, with lid (no holes)

Directions

1. Collecting the ingredients will be the hardest part. Most of them can be prepared as you heat the mixture. Add the chicken stock, rotel, and tomato sauce to pan first, and begin heating at a 6/10 (just over medium)

2. If you are preparing the ingredients as you cook, toss in your radishes and carrots first, as they will take the longest amount of time to soften. Then add the rest of the veg, going from hardest to softest. BUT NOT THE CHICKEN OR SPICES/HERBS. If any of your veg are frozen, give them priority. The idea is to keep adding your veg before the mixture begins to boil. Each addition will delay the boiling time longer and longer. Stir after each veg, mixing well.

3. Once the mixture begins to boil, lower heat to simmering, add your spices and herbs, mixing them up well. I add my spices in thirds, stirring well after each third. Once everything but the chicken has been thoroughly mixed, cover with a lid that does not have holes, and put on the lowest heat that will keep the soup bubbling.

4. Put a light coating of olive oil in the bottom of the skillet, cover the oil with a light powdering of Garli Garni, then lay the chicken breasts on top, then sprinkle them with Garli Garni as well. Cover with a lid that does not have holes. Cook on a 6/10 (just barely over medium). Once the tops have turned white, flip the breasts and continue cooking till cooked through.

5. Once chicken is done cooking, dice it, add it in thirds, stirring well between each addition.

6. Let soup continue to simmer on a low heat, covered, stirring every 15-30 minutes or so.

7. When the pumpkin chunks turn translucent, the soup is technically ready, but for it to taste its best, it should be allowed to stew for several hours.

8. When ready to serve, ladel into a bowl, then sprinkle a light layer of colby/jack cheddar mix (or mexican cheese blend) over the top.

Part of my incentive to begin a Victory Garden is that nothing tastes better than veg straight from the garden. The difference between herb and veg bought from the store, versus harvested from the garden is night and day. Previously, I was not fond of pumpkin pie. All I’d ever had was the stuff made from canned pumpkin gel. It wasn’t until I’d had a pie made from a pumpkin straight out of the garden that I realized just how delicious it could be. Aside from herbs and spices, that was the first thing I ever ate that grew in my garden.

Last night I got to try the second thing: A huge zucchini! Check out the photo, this thing is huge. Longer than an unsharpened pencil (I didn’t have a ruler handy), and more than three times the width of a quarter. The other photos are from when we first discovered it growing, and we excitedly snapped a photo. The other photo is the engorged zuke right before I snipped it from the vine.

That zuchinni, along with herbs and spices from my Spice-Wall, and some additional produce from the local farmer’s market, I made a chicken ratatouille, my own recipe, and one of which I am very proud. The chickens aside, most of you veteran gardeners probably already have these items growing in your own Victory Garden.

Anyway, enjoy the recipe, and if you liked it, and grow a veg and/or spice garden in North Texas, be sure to join the North Texas Victory Garden Society (in the Flora local groups). I’m trying to spread a resurgence of the old Victory Garden movement from the 1940’s.

LIBRA’S RATATOUILLE (serves 4)

INGREDIENTS

• bottom layer herbs: sweet basil, dill sprigs, fox rosemary, sweet marjoram

• top layer herbs: italian oregano, italian and curled parsley

• half a clove of garlic (minced)

• 1 stick of unsalted butter

• 1/2 cup of milk

• 3 cubes (or TSP) of McCormick Caldo De Tomate Con Pollo (tomato boullion with chicken flavor, available on most grocery store mexican food aisles)

• 3 cups water

• 1-2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese

• 7-8oz tomato sauce

• 1 bunch of green onions.

• 2 zuchinni squash

• 1 yellow squash

DIRECTIONS

1. The herbs should, if at all possible, be fresh. If you want to substitute any herbs, keep to this concept: “sweet” herbs on the bottom, “tart” herbs on top.

2. Pre-heat oven to 425F. Pour the tomato sauce into the bottom of a standard-sized round pie pan and distribute it evenly. Lay your “bottom layer” herbs into the pan, as evenly spread out as possible, and set aside. Do not stir, let the herbs “float” on the tomato sauce.

3. Slice all 3 squash into circles as thin as possible.

4. Boil the water in a pot. Once boiling, put in the Caldo De Tomate and stir until fully dissolved, then place sliced squash into the pot, while still boiling. Turn the heat down till it simmers, and cover.

5. In a different pot, put the milk and butter, turn to a medium-low heat, and cover.

6. Use this time to slice your green onions as thinly as possible, including some of the green part. Mince your garlic into fine, small bits. Once done, the butter should be well-melted into the milk. If not, wait until it is, then add the Top Herbs, the garlic, and the onions and stir gently. Simmer and cover.

7. Remove the squash from the burner and drain through a strainer, then lay the slices out in the pan, on top of the tomato sauce, as evenly as possible.

8. Using a strainer spoon (something with holes or slits in it), scoop out the herbs, onions, and garlic from the butter-sauce, and distribute evenly on top of the squash slices. Once all of it has been distributed, then ladel about 1/4-1/2 cup of the buttersauce juice evenly onto the mixture. If it begins to pool up anywhere, there’s too much. Try to stop right before that point.

9. Place pan into the oven for roughly 10-20 minutes. Once you can smell the dish, wait about 2 minutes, then remove.

10. Cover evenly with a thin layer of mozzarella cheese, and return to oven for a few minutes. As soon as cheese starts to brown, remove, and let stand for a moment or two, to firm up.

I recommend using a metal spatula to “cut” downward through the ratatouille layers and scoop it onto a plate. A knife won’t find enough purchase, and serving spoon won’t penetrate without messing up the layers.

This will not make enough to be a meal on its own, serve either as a side dish, or the main course, but have other things to complete the dinner. If matching for flavor, match towards chicken.

Enjoy!

-The Libra
North Texas Victory Garden Society