This is not a fancy picture but an actual reality

I was about to have the most productive evening of my life, but then the Fedco catalog came. And because of that, I went to the liquor store. And now I am just going to sit and read and sip and enjoy the once-a-year publication which I look forward to the very most.

I have heard plenty of praise for the Fedco seed catalog over the years - on account of its all-around excellent selection of useful and interesting seeds and its ethics in sourcing sustainable stock. But I have not heard near enough about how it's just damn good reading. The plant descriptions are insightful, original, funny, and valuable to someone who knows a little and cares a lot about what they grow. I can never get into those academic cutting edge garden design books... but Fedco is where it's at in garden writing, if you ask me.

The way this catalog is written actually exemplifies what I respect and admire in the world of honorable small business (I should say I don't know what kind of business Fedco is - cooperative, for profit, non-profit, etc. - I'm talking "business" in a broad sense)... I appreciate that the information presented helps me choose what to buy based on the experience of serious farmers and gardeners. Where and how will this do well, and what can I do to encourage it? Fedco is not in the practice of fudging hardiness zones or calling things "the only TRUE BLACK suchandsuch" or inspiring amateur gardeners from the far north to try germinating their very own rainforest exotics. (Which is not to say that pushing boundaries is a bad thing, but false or embellished salesmanship is, and Fedco doesn't do it.) Fedco is honest and vital and (best of all) clever, and for that, I give it my undying devotion.

You can order from Fedco here, but if you use their searchable catalog, you miss out on the paper catalog visuals. Take this porcupine with his popcorn, from the 2010 catalog - isn't your life enriched for having seen this? So put in a catalog request, and revel in the pleasantly plump volume of newsprint when it's delivered. This is what winter is for.

Happy seed shopping, folks.

Making pizza from scratch

Golden August afternoons sure do seem a world away, now that we're into the weather where the laundry freezes stiff like cardboard cutouts on the clothesline. This picture, one of my favorites of the summer, went unposted at the time. In the background, those are my tireless companions, always eager to shift the toil from the garden to the kitchen. First we fixed their dog food. Then we fixed my pizza.

Happy Thanksgiving

Today and tomorrow I give thanks for many things, not the least of which is Hillside Farms Heavy Cream (which may or may not give me a coronary at some point, depending on whether some other fate nabs me first). In the summer, when the Jersey cows are on pasture, the cream is butter colored. In the winter it turns white. When you open a fresh bottle, there is what I call a Butter Clot in the neck. It is probably just really thick cream. You have to scoop this out with your finger and plunk it on your tongue, because if you just pour the bottle, the Butter Clot will be stuck and then all of sudden not stuck, and cream will douse your coffee mug and the counter.

I'm rich! (or, All about mulch)

It was a beastly windy day. I sat at my desk, and then went outside to admire my pile of gold, which cheered and warmed me. I grinned like a cat and cracked my knuckles in a miserly way. What to do with my spoils? Such a heap of plenty! So many possibilities!

Here's the thing. Every year I want to order yards of mulch (the ground-bark-and-wood-chips kind). I do order yards of mulch - for my clients, but not myself. The first urge to call in a man with a dumptruck happens on the first day I feel completely out of control. Everyone's garden is tended but mine! There is pigweed in my strawberries! Pokeweed under my roses! Polygonum in my sweet potatoes! THE BINDWEED IS GOING TO STRANGLE MY DOG!

Yes, it always escalates from feeling all a-tad-unkempt to feeling all we-are-in-grave-danger. I'm crazy like that.

So, I do not order mulch. I partly do not order mulch because I am too busy with paying work. I partly do not order it because I do not want to spend the money. I mostly do not order it because I have this thing about how my immediate environment should provide: I can produce all the organic matter I need here on my lot, or I can pick it up in my neighborhood, for free. That's how it ought to be.

We do produce most of our organic matter. We make a lot of compost, and I supplement by hauling bags of the neighbors' grass clippings home each spring, and in the fall, on community-dog-park-cleanup day, requesting that the waste be kept separate: maxi pads and dirty diapers in these bags; nice clean oak leaves in those bags, and then taking the leaves home. (Later, I sort out the dog poop and, at arm's distance, those things I can only hope are balloons.)

This October, I went to the Starzec farm, had my usual "how was the garlic? how was the hay?" conversation with some of my favorite farmers, and drove away with my usual eight bales of straw. But because I was mulching far less garlic than usual, I had seven bales of straw left over. That is enough for the whole rest of the city garden. Good god, all of a sudden, I was wealthy!

I have been reveling in this fact ever since I realized it. I mulched the blueberries. I might mulch the herbs this fall, but I will horde the rest of my sweet, sweet stash until the spring.

Rosa 'Pat Austin' does chores with me

Yesterday, quince jelly...

Today, a clean desk...

Oh, the toil of it all! When I am through mopping my brow with a rose petal, I think I shall faint...

A viola

For Garden Bloggers Bloom Day

Cold blue lanterns

Pineapple tomatillo (ground cherry) husks after frost

Autumn crocus

Yesterday morning, I was delighted to see that Garden Rant posted a story I'd sent them. You can read it here: A Tale of Tree-Dwelling Thieves. Thanks, Garden Rant!