Building from the Ground Up

A lot has happened since my last post.

Everything has changed.

On May 1, I expressed my excitement about pulling the first pretty little radishes from the small garden our landlady allowed us to till in the yard near the entrance to our basement rental. The tilling was done on New Year's Eve, and provided us with greens and a few sugar snap peas along with the radishes.

I planted some tomatoes in that area, but I dug them up and transferred them to the large tubs that I had been using for my garden since a year ago when we decided to sell our beloved 30 acres in order to move to a smaller space with less of a work load. In my July 17, 2025 post I discussed our decision to sell, then the sale, and the transition to the neighbor's basement, which was not, nor was it intended to be our final destination.

In the spring, our search was on again. at the end of May we found our home, a small berm house on top of a hill at the end of a small cul-de-sac in Lawrence, Kansas. A sweet, sweet spot.

We rejected the house the first time we looked at it, partly because it was more than we wanted to pay, and partly because, at first glance it had features I didn't particularly like.

The price dropped, and we decided to look at it again.

And I wondered why I didn't like the features that had bothered me the first time. What really clinched the sale was that the seller, who had lived there for 20 years and rented it the past 15 years, had not quite finished sweeping and tidying the front of the house.

Meeting her made a huge difference in my mind. She told about the history of the house in her experience and repeatedly said how much she had loved the house. We fell in love with the house through her. 

We closed in early June and immediately started moving things in, having it set up well enough to sleep there within a few days. But before we had even moved in, we started meeting neighbors and discovered that the house was not the only thing to love here. The neighbors are wonderful The neighborhood is beautiful, with many houses having front yards containing native plants, other flowers, and even vegetable gardens. I am in Heaven.

A feral woodland edges the back of our backyard, providing plenty of birds, squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks -- and I even saw a fox one morning. 

I wondered if I could find peacefulness living in town. When I sit in the backyard looking toward the woods, in spite of distant traffic noise, it is peaceful. 

We have finally gotten the inside of the house organized enough to start building garden space.

The above photo is how the "garden" looked a week ago, but it has changed every day. In another week, we'll have four 10-foot, by 4-foot beds tilled and, I hope, planted for fall harvest. Short season things, of course, such as kale, lettuce, bok choy and other leafy greens.

I will keep you updated. The heat has been brutal the past couple of weeks, but change is promised, so things will move more quickly when I don't have to limit my outdoor work to morning.

See you in a couple of days.

 

Radishes!

 I have waited and waited.

Checking once, twice and again to see if any radish roots were enlarging. Each check ended in disappointment...

Until a few days ago when I found these little beauties. A couple of days later I found a few more. 

Sigh of contentment.

Once the roots begin to enlarge, it seems the harvest comes quickly. Some varieties of radishes with longer growing seasons still haven't sized up yet, but they will. Unless the seed packet lied and they don't do well with a spring planting. Seed is left yet, so I'll try again in fall, regardless.

I love radishes. I don't know why I find them so appealing. Is it their crunch, their color, their hint (sometimes more than a hint) of spiciness?

(Shrug). Whatever. They do feel therapeutic, like they are something I need to eat. 

I do love radishes, especially my homegrown ones.

Something's in the Air

 The other day I walked up the driveway and caught a whiff of something fragrant.

I paused and sniffed the air, looking around for the source.

The columbines offer no fragrance, but are lovely.

First I saw the deep purple iris. Then I noticed the big patch of lily of the valley. I looked up and there was the lilac bush, blooming sparsely, but blooming nonetheless. I stuck my nose in close proximity to each type of bloom. Each type of bloom emitted a luscious fragrance, each with its own character. 

Delightful. 

But the few blossoms on the lilac bush were the one releasing their fragrance in enough quantity to be inhaled from 10 feet or so. The scents lifted my spirits.

Today when I took my walk I passed through another pool of luscious fragrance. I could not discover its source, though. Possibly it came from something with inconspicuous flowers. A nearby spirea full of little white blossoms gave out no fragrance. So it will remain a mystery. Until tomorrow, maybe.

Always pay attention.

Plant Happy

This warm, sunny was perfect for hanging laundry on the line strung between the posts on the porch, and potting up little plants in between washer loads. What a happy day for me. Mysteriously, I really enjoy laundry day (every Monday), especially on warm days so things dry quickly on the line. And this was a stellar laundry day, as everything is folded and put away already.

I potted up some of the eggplants and peppers that had stalled out at about an inch tall. I'm hoping that this little disturbance of changing their pots will stimulate growth. Saturday and Sunday mornings the temperature fell into the 30s F., with patchy frost predicted for Sunday morning. I pulled all the porch plants closer to the wall and threw a sheet over the most tender ones on Friday evening, then brought the tender ones inside Saturday night.

They should have come in on Friday, because the leaves of some of the really tender ones -- namely the baby cukes and bitter melons -- got burned just by the chilly breeze that blew. I'm sure they'll come out of it, but they'd be happier if I had taken better care. 

Had to show off this year's strawberry patch.

Today I checked the little radishes in the garden for enlarging roots. Nothing yet. Sigh. 

However, the lettuces on the porch are looking almost ready to eat. This batch grows in the bottom eight inches of a plastic garbage can. I cut it off a long time ago so I could use the upper portion as a bottomless container for something. Then this part was used for various other things until I decided last summer to drill holes in the bottom and use it as a planter. It's worked wonderfully. 

These lettuce plants were purchased at a nursery so I could have pretty plants for the Master Gardeners Garden show last month. These are a butterhead lettuce that forms loose heads, so they're not quite there yet. But we have plenty of  grocery store lettuce to last us a few days. Maybe they'll be ready by the time that's gone. 

The plants that I put out in the garden look more likely to head, but they're much smaller. Plus, several of them got taken out by cutworms. From now on, any transplants that go into the garden will be accessorized with cutworm collars. That is, sections of toilet paper inner rolls buried an inch deep with at least an inch above ground. This has successfully thwarted the cutworms in the past. 

The little lettuce seedlings in front of the bigger lettuces in this photo are a variety called Tom Thumb, a mini-romaine. I'm eager to see them grow.

And now the cabbage white butterfly caterpillars are hatching. They've chewed on my tub broccolis. So tomorrow I bring out the sprayer and the Bt. Along with the broccoli, I'll spray the bok choy and Chinese cabbage seedlings, as well as the kale and collards. 

Tomorrow promises to be another beautiful day, so I'll be out playing with plants again.

A Different View

 Gardening looks much different for me this year.

It's not simply the "every year looks different in the garden" kind of different.

This is gardening in a different place.

I've gone from hundreds of feet of raised beds, established strawberry and asparagus beds, fruit trees and berry bushes, as well as established native wild flowers and other perennials, to a 60-foot long, 5-foot wide in-ground garden bed and 20-some mineral tubs for my vegetable gardens. I also have a few smaller containers and flower pots for vegetables, flowers and herbs on the porch.

I can't grow quite the abundance that I used to, but we'll manage.

So this is what my gardening looks like this year. 

A portion of the in-ground garden mulched with hay provided by a neighbor. We tilled this strip on New Year's Eve, a perfect thing for starting the new year. Right now it contains seedlings of kale, collards, lettuce, peas and radishes.

It brings me great joy to go out in the morning and look at all of the little green things popping up.

As usual, critters besides me want a portion of the produce. Rabbits started nibbling my peas, so I wrapped row cover around the trellis to thwart them. Cutworms took out some lettuce that I had transplanted into the garden. And unexpected deep cold  threatened it all. But these things are to be expected. Any little plants I stick in the ground from now on will get cutworm collars made from the inner tube of toilet paper rolls. 

In spite of all the growth in the garden, I'm feeling impatient. I want to pull some radishes now! I have made my first harvest. A couple of days ago I thinned kale (no matter how hard I try I always scatter the seed too thickly) and kept most of the thinnings as infant kale for salads, etc. Some of them were cooked with several kinds of wild greens -- garlic mustard, dandelions, nettles and cleavers. Eat your weeds, kids!

The other part of my gardening adventure this year looks like this:

These tubs and buckets contained my summer and fall garden last year, such as it was. Our landlady did let me use part of her small garden for my winter radishes once she dug sweet potatoes and cleared a few other things. Maybe she'll let me do that this year, too... if we haven't bought a house and moved.

I have tomato, pepper and eggplant seedlings I started from seed, but they don't seem to want to grow. I will repot all of them and see if that helps. Mystifying. Frustrating. Disappointing.

It hurts my heart to have them not thriving. Maybe I planted them in the wrong sign of the Moon. I haven't paid attention to that for some time because I do so much that I just plant when I have time -- at least that's how it used to be. I'll repot them all now, while the Moon is waxing. Maybe that will help?

If planting time rolls around and they're still tiny, I'll go and buy plants. I hope they have the varieties I want. I overplanted these summer plants. I only have room for six tomato plants in the garden, and I'm not sure I have enough room in the tubs for all the peppers and eggplants. Overplanting the way I do things.

Three tubs and one bucket contain five broccoli plants. It started as six, but a cutworm (which I could not find) took one out. Some tubs also contain an abundance of mini bok choy seedlings, and I have some tiny Chinese cabbage seedlings ready to plant in one of the tubs. For some reason I'm craving bok choy and Chinese cabbage. These will become stir fries and kimchi, as well as salad ingredients. A little lettuce is in a couple of tubs, and I planted radishes and carrots in two more.

I wouldn't have considered carrots in a container, but I read an article about vegetables that will grow in containers and it listed carrots as one. Nothing to lose. 

As usual, gardening is an adventure and experiment, as well as a learning experience. Only more so this year. I'm hoping for good results and a decent harvest. Nothing is guaranteed, though, especially with the changing climate. 

Hopefulness has to be an ingrained trait of those of us who garden. We're never guaranteed that our seeds will sprout, much less grow into healthy, productive plants. But we keep planting.

Keep on planting.

Seeds

On the Eve of the Winter Solstice I hosted a party for many friends. First we wrote on slips of paper things we did not want to take into the new year, like bad habits, unhelpful thought patterns, etc. Then we threw the papers into a fire. Since it was chilly and everyone was hungry, we hurried inside where I first gave everyone colorful packets of seeds I had collected from my garden during the past couple of years. Most of the packets of native plant seeds were handed out, so what I had left were poppies and black hollyhocks, as well as a few other things.

Winter Solstice through January and early February is a good time to do a bit of winter sowing. Many of the seeds, especially the native plants, germinate better when exposed to winter's freeze-thaw cycles. You can simply toss the seeds onto the soil. I have often done this with poppy seeds.

But if you're planting something you're not familiar with, or want a little more control over where things go, try "milk jug gardening." That way you know what the seedlings are, if your soil is not contaminated with a lot of other seeds.

A decade ago I did a post about this method. Just follow the link and start collecting  clear plastic gallon containers.

And just keep planting seeds -- seeds of Hope. But don't stop there. Hope won't flourish without it's companions. So plant seeds of Peace, seeds of Compassion, seeds of Love, Generosity, Kindness -- you get the idea. 

Don't just scatter these seeds  "out" into the world, like sprinkling fairy dust trying to get other people to change. These things won't grow in the world if we don't first plant and nurture them within ourselves. Peace won't grow in the world if we, ourselves, continue to be violent in words and thoughts. You don't need to punch people to be violent.

Compassion doesn't grow in the world if we continue to be judgemental of others.

Generosity doesn't grow if we do not give of ourselves (being sure we don't over-give, of course.

Take a good like in the mirror, dive deep into yourself. Are you harboring the traits you abhor in others? Could be, just in a different form.

So don't sit there wishing the world "out there" was different. Look inside and discover what changes you must make in yourself. The cliche "Be the Change you want to See" has real meaning. Don't expect others to change if you're not willing to.

Plant the seeds in your own garden first.

Light Returns

I lit the Solstice candle at sunset on Solstice Eve to capture the Light of the old year to keep me
through the Longest Night and extinguished it at sunrise today, as I welcomed the New Sun and 
the new year. 

Light is Returning.

The Winter Solstice, when the Sun reaches its lowest point in the south, occurred this morning. The Sun is now climbing again and daylight hours will grow -- incrementally, yes, but by the end on January the days will be noticeably longer. 

The Moon also reached maximum darkness on Friday, just two days ago. So between the Dark Moon and the moments before the Solstice we were in double darkness.

But now both the Moon and the Sun are on the increase. Light increases doubly, in both day and night.

The Dark Moon and the Solstice are times for release. We let go of that which no longer serves us, or perhaps never did serve. Last night I held a gathering of friends and we released such things into a fire, asking the Fire to take them and transform them into light. Old habits, old thought patterns, fears, doubts, insecurity were tossed into the fire. We released our hold on old relationships, old ways of living that no longer have purpose in our lives. The fire took these offerings and the smoke carried our wishes and prayers to the Stars.

Light is returning.

As the Moon begins to grow, as the new Sun rises on Solstice morning, we plant seeds of what we wish to bring into our lives -- Joy, Inner Peace, Health, Love, Compassion, new, beneficial habits and ways of viewing the world...

So I gave everyone literal seeds. I had collected these seeds myself from my old gardens -- last year mostly. I created little packets and stuffed them with the seeds for my guests to plant and bring in good things, manifest their wishes as the Light grows.

Light is Returning.

Let us plant seeds of Love with Compassion. Let us plant seeds of Joy with Love. Let us plant seeds of Compassion with Peace and seeds of Peace with Joy.

I honor the Dark, for that is where these seeds will sleep and germinate, in the darkness of soil. We find rest and renewal in the Dark. Dreams and Wishes germinate in the darkness of our inner world. Gestation occurs in darkness. The Dark has its purpose, so I honor it.

The tiny plant inside the seed must first crack the seed coat. That might be quick and easy, or it might take some time. I sometimes feel that a hard seed coat is between me and what I long for. However, that simply means it's not yet time. The seed needs the right amount of moisture, the right temperature. Sometimes it requires abrasion of the coat within the gut of a bird, or to go through a series of freezes and thaws before it can germinate and grow. That might mean we don't just wait for the right nourishment, but we must go through challenges before our wishes are ready to sprout.

Whatever is needed will come if we remain true to our vision.

What is your Vision?

What is your Wish?

What is your Dream?

Plant the Seed now.

Light is Returning.