It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.

Over the years that I have been keeping a garden, I have never made an effort to plant or maintain a winter garden. Not being much of a morning person (my wife and children will certainly attest to that), I do most of my gardening work in the evening after work. That doesn’t work very well in the winter when it is dark by the time I get home. What I do work on during the winter months is the improvement of my garden’s soil.

In real-estate, the mantra when buying a house is “location, location, location”. When growing a garden and especially growing tomatoes the equivalent advice about gardening is that “it’s the soil, soil, soil”. In San Diego, unless you are extremely fortunate or you live where someone else has amended the soil, lurking under that first few inches of topsoil is the nastiest, hardpan clay that when mixed with the right amount of water is nearly as good as cement. For the untutored, tomatoes do not grow well in cement.

I have been growing tomatoes for a number of years, and when friends and acquaintances find out about my avocation they ask what are the “secrets” for growing good tomatoes. I can talk to them about buying plants or growing from seed, what fertilizers to use, how to spot insect or disease infestation, but in the end, it always comes down to what is the condition of your soil. Sometime this winter, try this experiment. Put on some boots or heavy soled shoes, get some gloves, a shovel and pick a spot in your garden where you would normally plant tomatoes. Dig a trench approximately 6” to 8” across and 18” to 24” deep for a length of about 2’-3’.

Generally, and certainly in 99% of San Diego back yards, you will dig to a depth of 4” to 6” and you will begin to encounter a hard substrate. This is that nasty clay I spoke of earlier. You will find that your shovel does not cut through the clay as it is too dense and hard. At this point you will need a pick axe. I didn’t tell you about the pick axe earlier as I did not want to scare you. A quick note about tomato characteristics is that a fully developed tomato plant will have a root system that will extend 2.5’ to 3.5’ below the tomato plant. Roots will extend in a rough circle approximately 18” to 24” around the plant. Now I have a question for you. If you could not penetrate the soil of your garden below 6” to 8” with a shovel, how do you expect your tomato plant to do so?

The best advice I can give to anyone contemplating growing tomatoes is to enrich and amend your soil to a depth of at least 24” and 36” if possible. I speak from experience when I tell you this is hard, back breaking sweaty work whether you do it yourself or hire someone to amend the soil. The bottom line is that there is no better way to ensure good tomatoes than improving the soil they grow in. In future blog posts, I will provide some tips about amending your garden’s soil. Remember, “it’s the soil, soil, soil”.

November Bloomday

The garden is looking a little thin. I have my one vegetable bed that is filling in with more lettuces, radishes, and cauliflower (as long as I can keep the slugs away). I still have beautiful plumeria and rose blooms thanks to the sunny, warm weather. I've successfully nursed my geraniums back to health. The fig, plum, and pomegranate trees are dropping their leaves slowly but surely. The truly bright jewels I have in my garden this month are Humming birds. They buzz by me as fast as their wings can carry them, not caring a wit about the human in their presence. I have tasty treats for them - Mexican Sage and fuchsia. Lastly, I am really excited about my Anna Apple blooms - will there be apples come early spring?

 

 

In the Zoro Garden

Past the Ruben H Fleet and beyond the dramatic Bea Evenson fountain, off the beaten path of El Prado, visitors will find the maze-like grotto of the Zoro Garden. As the elevation descends, so does the temperature, the foliage providing cooler pockets of air in between patches of sun. The garden is historically and presently a tactile tease, for the visitor is tempted to touch what the garden rules have deemed forbidden fruit.

Like the Alcazar Garden, the Zoro Garden was also constructed for the 1935 - 1936 Pacific International Exposition. But rather than showcase fountains and plants, the Zoro Gardens was marketed and portrayed as a Nudist Colony. Ever popular and scandalous, many peeped through the garden fence to get a glimpse of the comely women nudists cavorting in their “natural environment.” See pictures.

The Zoro Garden is now a butterfly garden, providing sanctuary to migrating monarchs on their way to Mexico. It has multiple varieties of plants that serve as food as well as shelter for transformative chrysalises. There still exists that tactile temptation to touch one’s surroundings or even a brave butterfly that ventures too closely. Park signs forbid it: Do not touch butterflies, caterpillars, cocoons, or disturb the winged wildlife in any way. The visitor must be satisfied to run a hand over the uneven mortar and stone that forms the meandering pathways of the garden.

While we missed the migrating monarchs, we followed the paths toward the central amphitheater, noting the remaining autumn blooms, white milkweed, purple salvia, and yellow cone flowers. The dappled sunlight was unmoving in the still air, providing relief from the late fall heat.  The tall ferns further augmented the sensation of tropical coolness.

I hope to revisit the Zoro Garden in early spring to experience the northward monarch migration. Perhaps if fortune favors me, I will be blessed with the light, feathery touch of butterfly wings.

In the Alcazar Garden

Winter dormancy has reduced my garden to one small winter vegetable bed that may or may not produce as planned. In the interim, I will take a tour of the senses in the beloved and beautiful public gardens of Balboa Park, the crown jewel of planned public parks in the San Diego area.

As visitors stroll across the Cabrillo Bridge, they hear the hum of the busy freeway below and the sounds of auto traffic proceeding into the park.  Little do some know, as they follow the thoroughfare of El Prado, the din of modernity dissipates into the tranquility of a Spanish style garden through the archways to the south.  This is the Alcazar Garden, originally constructed for the 1935 - 1936 Pacific International Exposition.

We walked into the garden after the chimes of the California tower struck noon; they continued their tune, drowning out the buzz of traffic nearby. After the ringing of the chimes, the most noticeable music was that of the two brightly tiled fountains, bubbling in the dry autumn heat. The fountains were recently renovated in 2008. Previously, unsightly damaged tiles and empty basins greeted visitors.  Skate boarders were accused of the destroying tiles, for it looked as if a skate boards had landed on and smashed the tiles.  Ugly, caged-like bars attempted to protect the remaining tiles, further marring the landscape. In an ironic twist, renovating workers discovered that moisture had seeped through the grout causing the cracking and decay, rendering the ugly cages obsolete and necessitating an apology to the skate boarding community.

The Alcazar garden was designed to mimic the more famous Alcazar Gardens in Seville, Spain. Besides the tile fountains, it has a shade pergola and numerous benches for taking in the tranquil scene.  It is a formal, structured garden with boxwood hedges and adjacent pathways that separate six large central plots, showcasing multi-colored annual flowers and eight plots encircling the garden with more permanent water-wise and butterfly friendly selections. At this time, the two largest central plots are planted with perennial lavender and impatiens, allowing the garden to retain its Mediterranean theme, while providing a water-wise solution for the dry seasonal heat.

I think it is the perfect place to while away a pleasant, balmy day, listening to the music of falling water. But Hubby would rather chase butterflies . . .

Re-Seeding the Winter Garden

I started seedlings for a late fall harvest back in July in the hopes that I would be harvesting root and leaf vegetables around this time. FAIL! Despite a cooler summer, most of the seedlings either burned up in the sun or died during the transplant process (a temporary black thumb effort on my part). A small group of broccoli, cabbage, and snap peas survived only to be eaten by slugs. Some hardy lettuces have sprouted as well as arugula from plants I allowed to go to seed last winter. 

My next experiment in is to re-seed now and have a harvest in late winter/ early spring. Using a pen, I poked holes in the still damp dirt in 2.5 foot rows. I deposited two nursery-bought seeds in each hole and covered gently with my weeding tool. I did not water the seeds to allow them to sink and find root in the soil. I'll let the rain and existing moisture water the plants until the soil dries out completely. To top it off, I added a fine layer of nitrogen-rich vegetable fertilizer. My re-seeded vegetables are radishes, broccoli, cauliflower, red cabbage, arugula, romaine, leeks, carrots, yellow onions, and snap peas.

  For my flowers, I used seeds that I had gathered and dried at the beginning of summer. I planted them in a similar process, but instead of rows, I planted the nasturtium at random to fill in spaces in the butterfly garden. I planted the sweet peas in their own separate bed surrounding the base of over-turned round tomato cages. The cages will act as supports as the plants grow. These two types of flowers have also popped up on their own, re-seeding themselves from last year's flowers.

Season's End

I approach autumn with a degree of ambivalence that builds slowly into apprehension. On one hand, I am happy to have the opportunity to work on other projects and goals and not be so tied to tending garden. But as the golden sun spend less and less time in the sky, I grow uneasy with the coming winter: cloudy skies, shortened daylight, plant dormancy or (gasp!) plant death. As it currently stands, I only have an hour of light to tinker in the garden when I come home from work. When Daylight Savings Time officially ends in November, there will be no light left for garden tasks. Although I planned my garden’s winter dormancy ahead of time because of my foot surgery, I feel like the last 3 weeks of weather and light have been stolen from me. Tending garden is my meditation, my retreat from the world that both keeps me grounded and connects me to my roots.

Perhaps this is the time to refresh and renew, to seek out new inspirations and new vistas to help find next season’s purpose. Also, I have many other goals to complete; they cannot be neglected because they do not bring me as much pleasure as growing the perfect tomato.

Hubby contemplating the waves from Self-Realization Fellowship Garden in Encinitas, CA

October Bloom Day

Its been three weeks since foot surgery and I'm doing well all things considered - I just need to get that toe joint moving so I can avoid physical therapy. Before going out on garden leave, I planted cyclamen, sunset orange snapdragons, and winter lettuces. These have successfully taken root and are growing nicely. I can't say the same about my chrysanthemums, but I am treating those as annuals anyway. Rounding out the pictures are my Double Delight Roses, still going strong after some TLC, and Hubby's precious pomegranates.