garlic and marigolds

According to the U of M extension folks, I'm about two weeks late on planting garlic. It should be done within one to two weeks of the first frost, so that roots are developing and shoots are growing, but not above soil level, by the time of the first hard frost (28 degrees - so that answers that question for me. Thank you U of M).

Having adopted the stance of my father-in-law ("try it and see"), I planted my garlic today (adding compost to my bed, digging 1" deep holes, spaced 8" apart with rows 1' apart, (which took up 2 rows of my 10' bed (bed #5))), despite being off on my timing. Then I mulched with straw and I'm about to go water (knowing that water is fundamental to all life, I forgot that part until now) and maybe it will work and maybe it won't. If I get to the point where I can harvest garlic, I'll know the time is right when the foliage dies back. Then dig up bulbs, dry in the sun and store in a cool, dry well-ventilated location (which I don't have).

Does it work to save marigold seeds? As I was digging out the frost-bitten marigolds, it seemed worth a try to save the seeds. I'm drying them out now and then I'll tuck them in an envelope and and see how they do come spring.

fall action plan

Since I learned from Bob Flowerdew that I don't have to dig my vegetable beds in the autumn, I'm working on a new checklist for "putting my garden to bed" for the winter.
1. Pull out vegetable plants and annuals.
2. Pull out little metal stakes that hold the soaker hoses in place.
3. Move hoses to the side. (This is the first time I've not rolled them up and put them in the shed - is this laziness or an example of "working smarter, not harder?"* We shall find out come spring.)
4. Rake up debris (see elucidating photo above).
5. Hoe to get any pesky weeds that have survived my eternal vigilance.
6. Rake debris up again.
7. Replace hoses in beds.
8. Cover beds with mulched leaves (I ran out of mulched leaves, so most of my beds will be bare. It feels wrong, but my mower having played out, I have fewer options than normal. Apparently taking the mower to the fix-it shop is not an option.)

I also pulled out my elephant ear bulb and have it drying out for a few days before I put it in sphagnum peat moss or garden vermiculite. But before I settle it in for it's winter storage, I'll trim the top growth.

Friend or foe? I saw several of these guys while I was cleaning my veggie beds. I left them until I could learn more.

*A phrase that I understand is used in the corporate setting and which must be a number one contributor to work-place dissatisfaction and stress-related heart disease.

hard frost

I don't know the exact definition of a hard frost, but my understanding is that below-freezing temperatures that last for more a few hours qualify. At 5 a.m. my husband told me it was 23 degrees and when I checked at 7:30, the temp was still 23 degrees, so I'm calling this a hard frost. Plus a visit to the garden beds revealed rock hard ground - rock hard when rapped with the knuckles, but still diggable (the technical term) with a shovel.
(Fortunately for me no whistles sounded alerting me to the freezing temperatures and routing me from my bed so I could take the only blankets in the house outside to cover my precious, tender tomato plants on whose survival hinges my entire livelihood. See Eudora Welty's "The Whistle" for a stark portrayal of a night in the life of tomato farmers in Mississippi during the Depression).
I have been anticipating a hard frost and hoping I'd have straw on the premises in time to mulch my lettuce bed (see Bud Markhart's advice in Norther Gardener, sept/oct 2010 issue).
And lo and behold I got straw yesterday. But did I put it on the lettuce bed before temps dropped below freezing? Hmmm. As my kids like to say when they are on the defensive, "why would I?" And really it's a great defensive stance because usually, as in this case, the reasons why one would are so numerous there isn't time enough in the day to go into it.
So... the lettuce froze and I put straw on it anyway and we shall see what we see come spring.

This truly dynamic photo enlightens the viewer as to what straw looks like and how dead my marigolds are (upper right).

I dug out my scarlet nantes carrots, too, by the bye. They are now stored in a plastic bag in my hydrator. Potatoes - last plant - are still in the ground.

mellow fruitfulness

The kids found two raspberries on the raspberry bushes and claim there are flowers on the bushes ready to produce more. I thought I had June bearing raspberries - is there an everbearing in there or is this the effect of perpetual Indian summer.

tomato experiment results

Q: Will tomatoes wrapped in newspaper and stored indoors ripen?
A: Yes, maybe 25% of the tomatoes will ripen, the rest will decay.

Q: Would diligently checking the tomatoes every other day have staved off decay in some?
A: I don't know.

Q: Did the light frost before the tomatoes were picked affect their quality and or create a tendency to rot?
A: Uhhh... maybe.

Q: When the subject of autumn and tomatoes and tomato harvest comes up with with people aged 65 (or so), will they suggest that you try wrapping the tomatoes in newspaper and storing them until they ripen?
A: Yes, 100% of the time (sample size: 2)

Q: Will the wrapping in newspaper technique yield tomatoes into December, as per the anecdotal evidence found in blogs?
A: Not according the the anecdotal evidence found under my bed.

composing compost

I've been waiting for the mosquitoes to die off so I could deal with my compost which looks neglected, but I think compost likes to be left alone. I know some folks turn theirs and some folks water theirs and my mom layers hers. I throw debris and kitchen scraps into whichever bin is empty and I wait, using from the bottom of my handy black bin that I bought many moons ago.
The other day, I went to use from the bottom and found that my bin was almost empty! Why that astounds and pleases me, I don't know, but it felt like an accomplishment. And it meant I could take advantage of a pleasant and mosquito-free day to move compost from the dilapidated chicken-wire bin I made myself, to the black bin with the use-from-the-bottom feature. And it made room for autumn leaves! I just hope I have more compost by spring planting time.
A third bin my be necessary.

keeping my autumn sensibility

I'm going to reveal myself as belonging firmly on the side of the complainers, the glass-is-half-empty types, the sour-pusses when I admit that my autumn sensibility is wearing thin. More than three weeks of perfect, sunny, warm-during-the-day, cool-at-night, dry weather have left me longing for an excuse to go dormant with my plants - hide in the house, cook stews, bake cakes and work on indoor projects, like the plants do underground.
But, the plants aren't going dormant. The tomatoes are out, sure. Lettuce I can deal with. A pepper blossom means coming fruitfulness and I'm not ready. How do folks in California stand it?