I need a lawyer

It is truly the season of whiplash - sweat, freeze, green, brown. It makes you wonder if you need one of those tv personal injury attorneys to "get you what you deserve."

I know it happens every year, but that doesn't make it easy to cope with. The beds are ready to dig then they're covered with a white blanket. I'm ready to spread mulch, but the snow drift on the drive needs shoveling first.

The piles are starting to grow in the house. Between seed packets coming in and the stuff I'm hauling in from winter storage, like flats to plant in, it took me about five minutes this morning to make a stack that wouldn't avalanche in the corner of the living room.

Thank goodness I told the shippers to wait until April 19 before sending any plants this way. Then I scrape a few dried leaves away from the base of what is supposed to be a perennial, and, wow, here comes the green stuff.

Despite how it sounds, I am trying to be good and not trim plants back too soon. And I started some seeds Sunday in frustration in a kind of fancy holder for making sprouts. Maybe that will help when in a few days, in theory, we'll have sunflower, fenugreek and broccoli sprouts to make it taste like spring.

But could someone speak to whoever is responsible for scheduling and let them know these weekend storms are getting on my nerves and trashing my schedule.

Spring unsprung in the garden

Boy, the momentum was building, but as happens every year (when will I learn) that frosty Mother Nature just had to show off who's boss this weekend.

The chilly winter afternoons lolling through the seed catalogs are passed. One frenzied weekend of making the hard choices of who will get our money for what plants and seeds (no fancy starter kits this year, just flats and seed starter) left me feeling bad..."Sorry Johnny's, I know we've been faithful to each other, but that perky new Cook's Garden got your share of the cash this year. Well, her and that High Country Gardens in Santa Fe." And the afternoons sketching what holes remain in beds as I add more and more perennials are just memories on a legal pad.

Now the action is to begin. My wife pruned like a buzz saw. I planted potted chrysantemums outdoors. We both brushed away the brown refuse of winter from the expanding green crowns of plants. All that on Saturday. Then the winds turned chilly on Sunday. We were limping around a little when we went to Lowe's to stock up on supplies for mostly outdoor chores we're planning on. As long as the product wasn't on a low shelf where we'd have to bend too far over, things were passable.

Then Monday morning got here. It was dark outside, thanks to the stupid time change. A chilly rain/snow was falling and our backs were even stiffer.

Sorry Mother Nature. My bad. But your reminders that we're another year older and the average frost date (not to mention the Easter snow storms) are still to come are fully understood. We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness.

But the next sunny Saturday can't be too far off, giving hope for more adventures. Not to mention the first seed packs have arrived. Do you think it's too early to start cukecumbers?

NOTE:
By the way, there will be a three-day seminar on "Planting the Seeds of Sustainability" this month in Amarillo. It's sponsored by the High Plains Institute for Applied Ecology, High Plains Food Bank and Wildcat Bluff Nature Center. It runs March 19-21. Check out the above link for details.

Blood On My Hands

To kill or not to kill - the choice is at hand.

It's chilly out there now, but the coming freezes in the next few days have started the internal debate about the outside plants. Which ones to save and how to do it are the questions that keep popping up unbidden.

I've been known to go to ridiculous lengths like using a tarp made for a semi truck load of hay, but I'm not sure I'm up to it this season. Everything has slowed its growth to a crawl except the wild tomatoes, but there are a few flowers to take inside and they need to be in their inside clothes to look acceptable. That means repotting them.

This is a tough time of year, but it's probably time to be tough. One thing to be sort of thankful for, I didn't have time to get a fall garden in, so no lettuce, spinach or radishes to protect.

I just don't know if I'm ready to kiss goodbye my enormous hibiscus or basil tree. Arrgghh.

Maybe the weather guessers are wrong again and the 15 bedsheets I covered plants with a couple of weeks ago should come out a few more times. They kind of make it look like the yard is haunted with a scattering of ghosts.

The transition from brown to green is too hard. But you know, the more I make room for inside, the less carbon that will be floating around in there. Maybe we could have a greenhouse-gas-free Christmas. Very eco-friendly.

Your life in a box

It's like a land rush, but not.

An excited news release came my way recently, positively vibrating with the news that Facebookers can now be virtual farmers with virtual green thumbs making piles of virtual money and doing it all with their virtual friends.

“Zygna, the No. 1 social gaming companion the Web, is opening up millions of acres of virtual farmland with the launch of its new FarmVille,” the release reads.

First, a disclaimer, they said No. 1, not me.

Players can “run a profitable farm while also enjoying the social aspect of a rural community. They can select neighbors, exchange gifts and even chat amongst each other in real time,” the release continues.

Does anyone want to volunteer to go to the local coffee shop in Spearman or Dimmitt and poll the farmers on this? Players, with no idea where bread comes from, can build their bank accounts if they tend their farms diligently. And they can "share the social aspect of a rural community" from the safety of their bedroom in the suburbs.

And I can’t even go to "chat amongst themselves." It’s personal, but "amongst" and "atop" should never be seen outside Southern Living magazine.

And the best thing is, you can bank on this game being authentic because Zygna says it is building on its success with other games like Mafia War and Texas Hold'Em.

Okay, my assessment is at its heart unfair because I can’t even remember how to get on Facebook to be with all my fans and test FarmVille for myself. Guess I won’t get to earn my virtual green thumb.

I'll just go sweat in my dirty little garden.

I'm a victim. Really

They've driven me to dream of mass murder.

I don't mind prying a tomato worm or two off my plants and stomping them into bug heaven. Okay, don't stomp because they're really juicy. But the grasshoppers are making me a little crazy.

Crazy enough to load up with Sevin dust and start sprinkling plants that haven't seen any herbicides or insecticides all season. You can walk across the lawn and stir up clouds of hoppers like puffs of dust. Walk near the wrong plant, and you can hear them fleeing, thumping off other plants or walls.

And speaking of dust, I had been hoping that if it was going to be in the 100s and dry, maybe it should stay that way long enough to drive them off to Kansas or somewhere. But no, it starts raining. That makes them happy to stay and washes off the Sevin.

I'm no organic zealot, but I try. I used insecticidal soap until my pump-pressing finger wanted to fall off.

And there's some plants that they find less than tasty, like salvia, coreopsis, Russian Sage, hyssop, rosemary and Mexican marigolds. But somebody has to save the pitiful zinnias, and one butterfly bush (another one is untouched in the same yard).

I would have chosen more hopper resistant plants, but these are not normal times.

The ultimate insult, or maybe payback, was the daddy grasshopper that landed on my glasses this weekend. It was massive and just grabbed hold of one lens like it was going to throw me to the ground or something.

Maybe this is all karma. I admit I bought compost this year instead of making it. And remember, my plants are sequestering carbon for the good of the globe. I'll turn my life around. Just free me from this plague.

I've never really believed confession is good for the soul in every case. Carrying unspoken guilt can build character. But here we go.

After starting way too many plants from seeds in the chill of winter and buying way more than enough clearance plants at Irwin's wholesale greenhouse blowout clearance, the evenings have been filled with careful, gentle watering of said plants. But time, sun, heat and wind never let me get ahead so that it didn't have to be every day. But running a sprinkler to throw the water to the wind was not an option and the need to not wash them away meant no flooding.

So I finally got the landscape fabric and soaker hoses laid out. You remember, the stuff purchased months ago. Anyway, I happily turned on the water-saving helpers last week and walked away. Know what? They're great for not having to be tended - unless you just forget them.

This won't be the first time I left the water running all night, but they did a great job, so I'm not too disappointed. And at least they were just dripping along instead of spraying. Now the beds are fully soaked and the plants are very happy instead of droopy.

One consequence is the grass around the beds is also very happy since the soaking moved out into the yard in irregular blobs. Mowing in July, can't beat that for fun.

But if you want to do a good watering and get the most out of your water, I love those leaky hoses that just weep the water. But don't forget them. Maybe I need a post-it on my forehead.

Food, fun and a little freaky

There will be some interesting, sometimes even in a good way, stuff in Chicago at three food trade shows June 16-18.

Now, Chicago is a food town deluxe, from that pizza to Mexican, yes Mexican. But the shows, All Things Organic, Expo Comida Latina and All Asia will be showing off everything from hardware to foods that don’t necessarily fit the every-day shopping list.

How about dinnerware made of residue from sugar cane processing or Hawaiian Health’s Ohana-Lavender Noni Lotion for Pets? It’s supposed to be for fungal and bacterial infections, cuts, muscle strains and more. Sounds like what I need for those gardening days gone wild.

And don’t forget the fun. There will be jigsaw puzzles that bring a new meaning to Greenpeace (green pieces, get it?). TDK Games’ Greenpieces puzzles are printed on paper embedded with wildflower seeds. After you finish the puzzle, take it apart, plant and water the pieces for flowers if you’re not embarrassed to be seen planting puzzle pieces.

But the food – everything from purple carrot juice to fruit pastes made with grape skin extract.
Carmelized flax seed, blueberries and basil packed together to top salads, organic and biodynamic wine, green tea beer and a full range of organic spirits, will be on display, according to the shows’ Web sites.

But I’m drawing the line at beer made from green tea, at least until I have a couple of boring beers.

From the Ground Up

Carnage has ensued

After all the seed catalog shopping on winter afternoons and planning more projects than a team of landscapers could finish, it's time for the digging.

Actually, the recent rude reminders of winter, complete with six-foot snow drifts kind of delayed things, but last night I got the garden fork out and ripped into a bed. No rototiller, just handpower to turn over the straw mulch and loosen the soil. That means less gas burned and better soil texture. A seemingly noble task.

But not so fast. Apparently, over the years the roots of elm trees 30 feet away have crept to the bed. I guess the regular doses of water tasted good.

No, it wasn't the roots from last year's cucumbers that stopped me from getting a fork full of dirt. The entire bed is filled with tree roots. Not large in diameter, but very tenacious. With dreams of finishing one bed, I struggled to do half of it before it got dark. And the whole time I was getting madder.

It reminded me of a long-forgotten Greek play some high school teacher thought I should read. The one line that stuck with me and a few of my friends was "carnage ensued." We used it for a while to describe even the smallest upset, then it went away for 30 years.

It's back.

I cut and pulled and cut and pulled, ripped and tore and ripped and tore.

More of that action is on tap for tonight, but only if my back holds out.

See, there's a priority here because during the aforementioned snow storm, what should arrive but a box of 25 raspberry plants intended for that bed. Two weeks in the coolest, darkest closet I have has probably been too long for the plants. I've been afraid to look, so the carnage needs to pick up the pace.