Salty Gardening

Spring has about a week to go although it has been very “un-springlike” this year. I imagine the TV weather people are tired of saying “For the next five days, cloudy and/or rainy early in the day with sunbreaks in the afternoons. Winds will be moderate with a small craft warning in the Strait of Juan de Fuca tomorrow. Temperatures will again be five to ten degrees below average and our next 70 degree day is at least a week away”. Not exactly a tropical forecast. Freddie has not been able to find many sunny patches to loll in. But we all rationalize that the snow is gone (although some mountain ski areas are still open) and we do not have to deal with the tornadoes as in the eastern half of the country, nor their 100 degree/90 % humidity conditions. Also, we do not have to worry here that hurricane season officially started on June first on the east coast. Let’s hope that summer comes soon and is really summer, not some diluted version that is more like an average spring.

The plants in the yard seem thoroughly confused at the reduced degree-days that normally urge them to grow. Transplants from seed starts in the house are only marginally bigger than when first moved to the yard. Holdovers from last year are half their usual size at this time of year. Happily, the winter rains appear to have washed accumulated salt down deeper in the soil and plants in the worst-affected areas have not swooned as they often do.

Salt comes in the yard several ways. If we get a high wind together with a high tide and a westerly wind direction, waves can top the bulkhead and green water comes into the yard. More often, a high tide and northwest wind combine to send a spray of salty water across the yard as the waves erupt against the bulkhead. If the spray hits the plant directly, it causes damage and can kill it. The salt in the soil inhibits plant growth and can stop it altogether, especially with certain new starts or seeds. Curiously, some plants are fairly resistant to the salt so it has been a 20-year saga of trial and error. Perennials Armeria, or Sea Pink, asian lilys, a rugosa rose, artemesia, bearded iris and yellow flag iris have survived years of saltwater inundation and are healthy. The most hearty perennial in the yard is an African daisy that transplanted itself when it was washed out of the yard to a semi-sheltered spot at the side of the house. Any succulent, or plants with broad or soft leaves like geraniums, simply will not grow in salty soil. Some bulbs like gladiolus will do well for several years but it has been difficult to get crocus, hyacinths or daffodils to grow or bloom right except in containers on the deck. Native valerian grows on the face of the bluff in our cove but hasn’t done well in the yard. As for trees or bushes such as azaleas, rhododendrons or split-leaf maples, forget it. One bush that has flourished here is something called mountain mallow (I think) that showed up several years ago, presumably courtesy of a bird. To get summer color, small annuals like lobelia, petunias, alyssum, calibrachoa, genta, snapdragons and stock tolerate the salty soil and do OK as long as they’re not hit directly with the salty spray. Most do well, best actually, in hanging baskets or containers. Seeing the petunias always reminds me of a little poem Mom used to recite when I was a pup:

                                  Mary, Mary,

                                  quite contrary.

                                  How does your garden grow?

                                  With silver bells and cockleshells

                                  and one damn petunia!

Mom had another about a garden varmint, spiders:

                                  Little Miss Muffett

                                  sat on a tuffet

                                 eating her curds and whey.

                                 When along came a spider

                                 who sat down beside her

                                 and said "Is this seat taken?"

This year the emphasis in the yard is on veggies and herbs. As a result, growing now are: potatoes, four varieties of tomatoes, beets, carrots, bush beans, arugula, chives, red onions, shallots, and dill. There’s a ton of dill coming as it reseeded itself from last year’s crop. The beets and carrots are an experiment to see whether they will do better having started in the house from seed. Some are in containers too to try that approach. In the house there’s one container of basil doing well (so far) that was started from seed in a Chia pot, a gift from a friend. Basil keels over outside with just the salty air, even without the salt spray.

All of this may sound like this is a farm. It’s not It’s a quarter acre lot right on the water with eight hanging baskets, fourteen containers on the deck and less than 200 square feet of in-ground planting area between the house and Saratoga Passage. As a result of the salty environment, it’s a twenty year work in progress. There will never be enough to feed the neighborhood or even to sustain one person through the winter. But, hopefully, there will be enough tomatoes, red onions and dill to give out. In the early spring, some of the more durable plants like the armeria, artemesia, and yellow flag iris will have multiplied enough to thin and spread to friend’s gardens.

Seems too that this year there is a paucity of bees and butterflys. I hope enough come around to at least pollinate the tomatoes. Several of the flowers do attract both but, I'm just not seeing many so far. Could be the lower temperatures have held them back.

When/if their growth finally takes off, it will be fun harvesting things. Hunting around in the soft warm earth for potatoes always reminds me of hunting for easter eggs when I was a kid. Fresh beets or carrots pulled, washed and eaten while still pulsating with growth is a thrill and who doesn't cherish memories of biting into sweet, juicy, vine-ripened tomatoes just picked? When mature enough, dill and chives will be consigned to duty as flavoring for salmon fillets and roasted asparagus, and to help flavor baked potatoes and other dishes as will the shallots. It shouldn't be too long either until the arugula can come live in my salads. And the red onions, when big enough, will taste great on burgers, etc. I trust this isn't just a fantasy and will all really happen as long as the weather craps-shoot goes in my favor.

So, basically, gardening at the beach is a hobby and for fun. There’s a satisfaction in growing one’s own things, even if the veggies will only be enough for a meal or two. Flowers bring a beauty and brightness to the yard and to the soul, especially on cloudy days. And when they show in the sun, the whole world seems like a better place.

Fred

This is my first attempt at creating a blog and I’m not clear at this point where it will go. I have a wide-ranging set of interests and passions so this can go anywhere over time, and probably will. . Since this blog is surrounded by books, you can infer that is one of my passions, especially cookbooks. It’s a special (but maybe not unique) world we live in and an extraordinary time in our history so, there’s a lot of material to work with. And, there’s a lot of material in everyday living to talk about. So, here we go!

Maybe I’ll start by talking about my housemate, friend and confidante, Fred Katz. Fred is seventeen this month and we have been together since he was only a few months old. Seventeen is pretty old for a cat, 119 years old in human equivalents. He and I both agree that getting old “ain’t for sissys”. Age brings wisdom, one hopes, but it also can bring infirmities which suck. But, as is said, getting older sure beats the alternative!

Fred is a handsome striped tabby cat with large sensual ears, long legs and an orange nose. He was one of four in his litter at my daughter’s house and we bonded immediately when introduced. His mom was known as “the Ninth Avenue slut” as she was an outdoor cat and had several litters a year. Dad is unknown. Before bringing him home, I had him declawed in the front and “fixed” at the same time.

Fred has always been an indoor cat. Other than periodic trips to the vet he has never been outdoors except once. When he was younger and more curious, he would run to the door any time it was opened and linger there threatening to run outside. He would occasionally escape onto the deck for the 20 seconds it took me to react and capture him but one time he ran out and just kept going. It was a summer night and I couldn’t coax him back and eventually, after several trips around the outside of the house, he disappeared into the darkness. All I could do was anxiously wait and hope he could find his way back. He was gone about an hour and a half but did return and it seemed that he got it out of his system because he rarely runs to an open door any more.

With Fred, aging has meant behavioral changes like no longer jumping up on the bathroom counter to help me comb my hair, or a kitchen counter to supervise preparation of his meals. Nor does he any longer go across the kitchen counters, jump to the top of the fridge, and on to the open top of the kitchen cabinets. From there he would leap across a 4 ½ ft open hallway to a shelf next to clerestory windows where there is often a warm patch of morning sunlight to bask in. It could be wisdom exerting itself instead of anything physical too, i.e., a value judgment that I can be trusted to manage simple chores like feeding him by myself and/or an awareness that he could hurt himself if he tries the high wire stuff anymore. Yet he will still jump up on my lap and onto the bed in the morning when his breakfast is due.

Fred has always been skinny but has lost weight the last year or so and feels bony down his back and haunches when petted. The vet doesn’t find anything wrong but he sleeps 20-22 hours a day and only eats half of what he used to eat. Now he even turns his nose up at his long standing favorites. So, there’s tension lately on my part when I put his food out to see whether he will eat it, and on his part while he makes a decision about whether to or not. Five or six years ago Fred started losing weight and a blood test revealed a thyroid condition then. It was corrected with a radiation treatment and has not recurred. Except for that, he has been healthy his whole long life.

As many of us are, Fred is a victim of several compulsions. One is with hands. He will seek out any exposed hand and stick his head in it to have his ears rubbed. He also has a fetish about water. He will still jump up on the kitchen counter to get to the spigot in the sink in order to lick out a few drops that remain after running it. No amount of chastising has stopped him from doing this. He is completely incorrigible. I put a sandwich bag over it now to keep him away but he will still check it out when my back is turned and he knows he won’t get yelled at to see if I forgot the baggie. He also insists on getting in the bathtub after I take a shower. He sits there watching in fascination as the drips run down the tiled wall and occasionally licks one. Fred has trained me to be sure and put the toilet lid down after flushing. If I don’t, he’s right there head down, butt and tail in the air. He loves to watch the flush too.

Fred is also a slave to certain routines. If I lay down on the couch to take a nap or watch TV, no matter whether he has been sleeping or not, he gets up on the couch and paces back and forth between me and the TV until I rub his ears a while. Then he goes back to wherever he was sleeping. When he was very young, he always wanted to sleep with me at night so, at first, I would let him. However, every few hours he would wake me by his sitting up and frantically scratching himself (no, he has never had fleas). So that ended our sleeping together. For years he has come onto the bed in the morning when I wake up and he oversees my getting properly dressed. When I move to the bathroom to brush my teeth and comb my hair, he follows to make sure I do it right. He’s not fond of the battery powered toothbrush though. Also for years he would walk me to bed at night. He always got a tummy rub and his ears scratched and would then go to bed himself. Now it only happens once in a while since he is usually sound asleep when I get ready for bed. He also used to run to the door when he would hear my truck drive in but has not been doing it lately.

As with most cats, Fred hates the vacuum cleaner. He hides in the bedroom closet when he sees me bring it out and stays there till I tell him I’m finished. Fortunately for Fred, since I’m not known for good housekeeping, this doesn’t happen very often.

Other than companionship and being a nice warm cat on my lap on chilly days, Fred has one primary job. He's the watchcat. Each time I leave the house for a while, I remind Fred that he is in charge and that it's his job to keep all the ghosts and goblins away. He is also to watch out for seagulls, ferrets, rabbits, crows, other birds, otters, mice and, especially, RATS which I emphasize. We are occasionally visited by one or more of these critters and some have tried to stay a few times. While I'm telling him all this, Fred sits dutifully in front of me, giving me full eye contact and a hard stare like Paddington bear. Often he responds which I take him to mean "Yeah, yeah, heard it all before. No worries!" Too bad he doesn't have thumbs. I would be able to have him do more if he did.