Dill patrol

When weeding, the best way to make sure you are removing a weed and not a valuable plant is to pull on it.  If it comes out of the ground easily, it is a valuable plant.  ~Author Unknown

carrots and dill weed can co-exist

Back in the spring of 2005, when we first settled this small piece of Lethbridge, we bought a package of dill seeds and planted them in the garden.  Haven't planted dill since, and every year it seems we have more.  I noticed that the plant is often referred to as dill weed, mainly to differentiate the feathery leaves from the seeds in order to achieve the desired result when cooking with dill.  Nevertheless, if dill is sprouting spontaneously along the sides of several of the raised bed, utterly uninvited, shouldn't it be considered a weed?

dill umbels (potential seeds)

The dictionary I checked offered the following definition of a weed - any undesirable or troublesome plant, especially one that grows profusely where it is not wanted.  Grows profusely - yes.  Where it is not wanted - yes.  It's not recommended as a good companion plant to carrots or tomatoes; it made a full scale invasion of the carrot patch on the left (seen after a good weeding).  Undesirable - no.  It smells good in the garden and can be put to use in the kitchen.  Also rumored to attract beneficial insects.  Troublesome - no.  The carrots are doing fine in spite of the encroaching dill.  Still, I don't want dill out-competing  the carrots for water, nutrients and light, so it is subject to some control.  Recently I pulled several plants out by the roots, or broke the stems near the ground because the roots hold so well in our concrete soil, but left many more to continue growing and supplying.  However, I am practicing some birth control to deal with the population explosion.  From now until severe cold arrives, I'll have to conduct regular patrols of the dill and pick off any umbels that have formed in order to prevent seeding.  I don't even worry that we'll have no dill next year.  There must still be many ungerminated seeds from past years, deep  in the ground, that will inevitably be brought close enough to the surface one day.  And there will be those plants which escape my notice until it's too late.  The dill patrol will carry on.


Dill is much more desirable than some of the other species growing profusely where they are not wanted.  Top five: black medic, black nightshade, yarrow, bindweed, and something from the huge Asteraceae family that I've been calling knapweed even though it turns out not to be.  They are all in reproductive mode right now and I can't keep up.  Black medic is the lowest priorty because it's already everywhere.  Yarrow also has become well established and we settle for just pulling up the flowers when they arise instead of going after the vegetative parts (we've been told that Roundup is the only way to get rid of it).  I tug at bindweed when I spot it, but it takes more patience to deal with than the others because it usually has a tight grip on a plant I want to preserve.  Nightshade is less profuse than in past years.  We might be winning that war.  The not-knapweed is my focus this year.  Obviously I let down my guard last summer, or the one before that, allowing a plant or a few to go to seed.  It's everywhere.  It grows among the densely packed parsnips, inside tomatoes' cutworm collars, next to bolting radishes that look much to similar to the hurried eye, and in the protected inner circle of a pea cage.  Next thing you know, there's a tuft of seeds on the top of it, ready to drift away with the slightest motion.  Dill patrol is a cake walk compared to this.

yarrow would be more appealing if
 not bent on world domination

black medic

not knapweed

black nightshade
pretending to be a
pole bean

The news isn't all bad.  This week's harvest included, again, snow peas, shell peas, Swiss chard, a couple of carrots, papaya pear squash, lettuce, dill, rhubarb, strawberries, and raspberries.  The garden is serving its purpose very well this summer.  The war on weeds is an investment in next summer.

Experiments in propagation

 I hacked of two branches of the Berry Blue honeyberry bush today, and didn't do a great job of it.  Ouch.  On April 25 I wrote that two rooting pots had been attached to the bush, after scraping the bark and stabbing the twig to allow roots to form more easily.  A check of the pots after nine weeks did not reveal the  dense root balls I had hoped for.  Discouraged, I closed them up and just about forgot about them, which wasn't difficult given how well they were hidden in the now dense foliage.  Today I decided to face them again.  After the warm spell we've had, it was now or never.  Never was probably a viable option.  The branches didn't seem to be suffering any adverse effects from the attachments.

 At the same time, the bush has become far too dense and it was probably to its benefit to remove the branches, an option that included the possibility of two new bushes and many more berries next summer.  Getting the pruning shears under the rooting pot to make the cut was awkward and I couldn't see what I was doing.  Hence the botched attempt above.  The second cut was very clean.  Two bad that ugly gash was further down.  My attempt to clean it up was far from successful.  What's that they say about an ounce of prevention?

 Fortunately, there is pruning sealer, a substance much like extra-firm Vaseline that is smeared all over the wound, preferably at least 1/8 inch thick.  This wound got extra.  I hope it will be okay.

That was the good branch, the one I started correctly after failing to remove the bark on my first attempt. Somehow, that first branch put out a few roots as well.  In fact, it had more roots than seen here, but they mostly dried out and broke off due to neglect.  What's left doesn't look like enough to keep the branch going, but at this point we have nothing to lose by planting it.  The stems below the new roots were scraped up a bit and coated with rooting hormone, then each plunged into a small container of very wet potting soil.  They look pretty smart so far (after a few hours).  If they look this good in three weeks, I'm declaring the mission accomplished.  In the meantime, they will sit in the partial shade of the struggling apple tree and receive my guilt-fueled coddling.

We are looking forward to the buckets of honeyberries we will be consuming in the future, but what happens when the season is over at the end of June?  Obviously, we will need to boost the strawberry crop in order to meet our growing expectations of delicious berries.  I worked on that today, too.

The back yard strawberries occupy four apparently random positions in the lawn and are now mostly surrounded by tall red clover.  We have to clip out a border now and then so we don't lose sight of them.  The plants have been thriving in this area.  Maybe it's the clover, maybe it's the relative calm - the original strawberry bed is a breezy location.  For weeks now the plants have been sending out runners into the grass and the clover.  They are unlikely to find a good place to root that way.  I really must build them a proper place to live, but for now I'm providing soil-filled potted for the offspring to stick roots into.  By the time the new bed is built, there should be at least a dozen new plants to put into it, if this scheme works.

Today's harvest included:

Schweiserreisen snow peas - many gleaned in a culling of the mess left by high winds a couple of weeks ago. The oldest pea vines had grown well beyond their extended pea cages and had been holding onto each other for support.  It wasn't enough to stand up to the wind and they all bent at their highest contact with the cages.  Most of them survived and continued to grow and blossom, but they also continued to grab on to each other, forming a dense mass and making it hard to locate the pea pods.  I got rid of a few but just couldn't snip the ones that were most healthy and productive.

Green Arrow shell peas - we can't keep up, but I believe they have good longevity in the refrigerator.  One wants the pods to be full, but not mature.  Mature peas tell the vine its work is done; we aren't in favour of that.  I've been squeezing the pods gently before picking, choosing those that can't be easily compressed.  If I do pick one that has a little extra space in it, I justify it as avoiding the risk that the peas will mature if I don't happen to pick again for two or three days.  The peas have been incredibly sweet.  I'm starting to think they are second only to tomatoes as a good reason to grow your own.

Raspberries - they are not exactly dense in the thick tangle of thorny canes I have to reach into, but it looks like that should improve.  Picking in our raspberry patch turns around the idea of "the low hanging fruit".  The low hanging fruit is the hardest to get at.  I'm quite relieved when that is all picked.  At the end of the season I'll cut down all the fruit bearing canes and maybe the growth won't be so thick next year.  Maybe.

Swiss chard - it's doing very well in the raised bed, getting the odd bit of leaf miner blight but mostly keeping ahead of it.  The other patch, under the scarlet runner bean tipi is not so good, hardly worth harvesting.  You just never know how things will turn out.

Yesterday, Barry picked a plethora of basil leaves and uprooted a bulb of garlic to make pesto.  I've worked insanely hard on this garden, and yet I sometimes feel pampered by it.

Food stuff

Tonight's supper was combined home-grown zucchini, Swiss chard and shell peas with fish and chips from the freezer aisle.  (We don't have a fish pond and our potatoes aren't ready yet.)  The zucchini was our first Costata Romanesca, a variety reputed to be tastier than the basic smooth dark green zucchini we have grown the last few years.  It was good, but I couldn't tell that it was really different from the others.  It was a bit pale, though.  The recommended size is 10-15 inches and we took it at ten.  Maybe we'll let the next one grow bigger.  There were also a couple of little deformed individuals, darker than this nice specimen and looking a bit like long balloons only half blown up.

This wasn't our first summer squash of the season, though.  On Tuesday I took a chance on a few papaya pear squashes, uncertain if they were the right size and shape, and sliced them up for the barbecue.  Completely lacking any culinary intuition, I seasoned them with thyme and sage only because it was available at the other end of the same garden bed.  They were tasty and beautiful.  Now we have a couple that have grown bigger, so we can find out if that's better.




After supper we had a small quantity of berries to enjoy.  Strawberries have been available for about two weeks now, raspberries for a couple of days.  It's not a huge amount, but a huge treat to slowly savour a small handful of these intensely flavoured fruits every evening.

Everything is growing so fast, the once-a-month photo is not enough.  The standard shot from the upstairs window was taken in the morning sun.  The camera instruction book might give me a hint for how to deal with the reflected sunlight, if I ever bother to read it.

Odd stuff

Vegetable gardening is an endeavour filled with successes and failures to varying degrees, small triumphs and disappointments, fruition and futility.  Not everything that happens, however, is measured on the win-loss scale.  A big portion of what I see going on with these plants is just entertainment for me, no added value judgments required.


The cucumber planted upside down in June has been trying to right itself ever since.  We tell it to relax, that it can get adequate water and sun by growing downward.  It pays no attention and tries to turn the corner to crawl up the side of the planter, sending out grasping tendrils to no avail.  Clearly, this is just a plant doing what a plant does and I have resisted feeling that we are cruel to put it in such an unnatural position.

I'm glad the delphinium blossoms have all opened now.  In this state, they remind me of those movie aliens.  Creepy.

We have several new delphinium plants this year.  This is not surprising, given that the blossoms grow on very tall stalks and the stalks always keel over.  What's odd is that it had not happened before.

Why do garlic scapes grow in circles?  Whatever the reason, it's quite charming.  This photo was taken following removal of the scapes (seed heads) themselves.  They are removed to promote bulb growth, but I couldn't see the harm in leaving the circular stems behind on the stalks.  Two or three plants were left alone to produce bulbils to be planted for another generation, to be harvested maybe three years down the road.

See the panel under the blog title for a nice shot of a scape that has tied itself into a knot.

Potatoes are persistent.  More than once I have lopped off the growing tips of half a dozen potato plants pushing up through the rattlesnake beans, parsnips, and this borage.  They just keep coming.  They aren't doing any real harm, but I can't have them taking over the bed, which they would do if they grew to the size of this year's intended potato plants.  The surprisingly huge borages are casting enough of a shadow over the parsnips already.

I wonder if these same potatoes will keep at it again next year.  Maybe I should leave a bit of each plant intact so I can follow it down to the source in the fall.




Other interesting goings on include squash and (especially) grape vines growing out of control, honeysuckle twining around rhubarb flower stalks, peas that refuse chicken wire in favour of clinging to each other, and strawberry runners setting off into the tall clover looking for a place to put down roots.  With almost three inches of rain down this week and sunny warmth in the forecast, I think it's going to get very busy in the garden.

Unsatisfactory, or Tries With Some Success

Counting the garden's blessings last weekend was a good thing to do.  Sometimes the agony of defeat drowns out the the thrill of victory and it gets all my attention.  Nevertheless, there are shortcomings, mistakes, and abject failures that must be acknowledged, not only to give the impression of fair and balanced reporting, but to encourage reflection, atonement, and maybe, just maybe, learning a lesson or two for the sake of future wisdom.

What I'm not so thrilled about in the garden these days:

1.  This scabby excuse for a beet green is the victim of spinach leaf miners.  I knew they were almost inevitable and did mention them just after planting all the susceptible varieties in the same bed where they were attacked last year.  The bed was covered with a white row cover with only a few bird-pecked holes in it.  But I don't know if the miners came in through the holes or had been lying in wait in the soil.  Beets and Swiss chard planted elsewhere in the garden, not under cover, have also fallen victim to this pest.  Still, the plants are vigorous and we have enjoyed an abundance of blemish-free spinach leaves.  So we continue to hope for well-nourished beetroots.

2.  White beans have gone missing.  There were 28 Ina's White Bean seeds in the package.  Three were planted around each of eight poles in one bed and the remaining four at the posts for the shell pea fences.  The latter may have been overwhelmed by cauliflowers and weeds, but the former had no obvious hindrances and no places to hide.  One pole at the top of this picture has no beans, another has one.  What happened?  It seems that most of the others germinated and made it to the surface.  It's unlikely that there were a few duds and they all happened to be planted right next to each other.  A quick web search has just revealed that this could be the work of cutworms.  No direct evidence has been presented, but I'm willing to say "Death to cutworms!" again regardless.  Okay, beans are now to be planted within cutworm collars.  Isn't learning fun?

3.  The biggest parsnip flower is home to an intensive feedlot operation - aphids being the herd, ants being the ranchers.  Having aphids on this flower is not really a problem.  This item could be moved to the "Oh, Gross!" list if I had one.  Last year I had to cut down the big seed parsnip because I couldn't avoid brushing past its umbels and being showered with black ants.  This one is located so as to be easy to avoid touching.  If the ants want to concentrate on the stalks of this plant, which is robust enough to continue producing seeds despite the feasting on its sap, this is fine.  It's a sacrificial plant that isn't making much of a sacrifice.  My main objection to this activity, besides the revolting appearance of it, is its contribution to the health of the ant colony.  Like we need more ants.







4.  Overly heat-sensitive greens get on my nerves.  Very much like that one isolated incidence of frost that needlessly ruins everything, it seems to take only one warmish day to send garden cress or pak choy bolting into a seed-generating frenzy.  Lettuce isn't much better.  Mind you, it has been very warm for about two weeks now, so I could understand if they want to bolt, but this happened some time ago.  We are trying shade cloth on a small patch right now.  Results are inconclusive thus far, though germination and growth are definitely good.  This pak choy is all over the place, growing long seed-bearing branches and dangling them over the adjacent beets and beans.  I trimmed those ones today, thinking that half a million seeds will likely be enough for us.

5.  It's starting to feel like Dry Gulch around here.  Ennio Morricone music plays through my head and I expect to see tumbleweeds bouncing up the alley toward me.  Yesterday's wind left me coated in grit.  And cracks are opening up in exposed soil. This morning I noticed this fissure along a row of young beets.  They weren't doing well to begin with and now their roots have been exposed.  I did my best to fill the crevices with handfuls of purchased topsoil.  It was a tricky operation with the beets clinging tenuously to the side of the the crevasse.  We may have lost a few.  Did this happen because I water them everyday?  But I don't see how they could survive a hot day in the dry hard soil without a little surface moisture added.  Could be the location is just too sunny.  The beets in the big garden get more shade and they look much better.


Only five complaints this evening.  Not bad.

State of the garden - Canada Day weekend

The garden has erupted.  Snow peas have overshot their support systems.  Potatoes have obscured their serpentine bed.  Scarlet runner beans are starting to bine.  Garlic scapes are on their second revolution.   Bok choy, garden cress, and the first radishes have already bolted and gone into seed production. Both honeyberry bushes have peaked.  A few strawberries have ripened.  Spinach and Swiss chard are raising the roof on the raised bed.  Asparagus ferns are taller than me.  Squash vines are on the move.  Summer is short.    Everyone is in a big hurry.

Straw mulch 

Straw path

Two weeks ago Barry bought two straw bales at a farm east of Granum.  It was shortly after the permaculture consultant had kindly offered some of her extra straw, but she had run off to Vancouver Island to build an earthship, so it was good that Barry happened to pass this farm.  We left the bales on the front lawn that night, giving the mice (if any) a chance to escape into the street instead of into the garage.  Over the next two or three days I removed all the paving stones and boards and slimy leaves that had comprised the garden paths previously and threw down armloads of straw, some clean and yellow, some brown and musty.  The entire two bales could easily have gone into the pathways, but I thought the marginal utility would be greater if I reserved some for mulching.  Potatoes, strawberries, squashes, cauliflowers, garlic and onions were the lucky beneficiaries.  It's likely that the straw is reducing (though not eliminating) weed growth and it should be retarding soil surface evaporation (it's impossible to say whether it cuts down on how much watering I have to do).  After a week of dry heat, I like the aesthetics of it.  All the bare soil is pale and cracked.  At least I can imagine it being otherwise in the bed mulched with straw.

Good things in the vegetable garden:


1. Schweiserreisen snow peas are ready to eat and it looks like they will be in production for a good long time.  Seeds were sown over several weeks in April and May.  The second batch are just starting to blossom and the third lot are still preoccupied with climbing their cages.

Costata Romanesca

Papaya Pear

2. Summer squash are fruitful.  I haven't lifted a finger to ensure pollination of the Papaya Pear or Costata Romanesca squashes, and yet it happened.  The perfect yellow PP's are growing slowly, but I have a feeling the CR is going to be ready to eat within a week.  Just a feeling.

Tiny Tim tomato

3.  Tomato blossoms are open and willing, even the Tiny Tim, which is no more than 8 inches tall yet.  This might be a normal time for blossoms, or even late, but I'm relieved to see them after a late start, especially knowing that I can count on only another 70 frost free days.  The plants finally have stakes and cages in place for support when they require it and have undergone a thorough de-suckering in the last week.  Curious to see what the results of that will be.The potatoes also have blossoms, not yet opened, but I don't know what their purpose is.

4.  Scarlet runner beans have begun climbing their sunflower stalk poles.  The Vegetable Gardener's Bible told me that pole beans and sunflowers are bad companions, after I had planted all of the beans and given them what I thought would be a great climbing structure.  Vines certainly seem to prefer winding themselves around things that are approximately circles in cross-section.  Sometimes vines wave around for days, and resist all coaxing on my part, before they commit to a climbing pole.  Then they can't seem to move fast enough.  We hope the red blossoms will draw hummingbirds this year.



5.  We remembered that we have shade cloth, a green mesh that is supposed to block just the right amount of sunlight (So much and no more, as Mr. Carp might say) to allow growth of the more heat sensitive species, like lettuce and radishes.  Actually, I forgot to plant radishes last weekend, but we already have garden cress, lettuce, beets and pak choi sprouting away.  It looks like they're camping.  The ubiquitous quack grass is doing okay inside the shade cloth tent, too.

6.  Asparagus ferns are huge, some taller than me (the photo is a bit out of date.) We enjoyed all of four, or six, or eight spears of asparagus this spring, which is quite disappointing, since we were supposed to begin last year to reap the rewards of waiting through two years of root development.  There were tense days after I had snapped off all visible spears and no more were apparently forthcoming.  How would the roots be replenished?  But the spears did finally emerge and unfold into substantial ferns.  A couple of bees were busy in the flowers this evening.  It bodes well for a better harvest next year.

7.  Sun chokes (Jerusalem artichokes) appear to be thriving in all their locations.  Shade from the boulevard trees does not seem to be a problem, nor does being planted in a box of earth and compost set atop a sheet of cardboard.  Whether they can survive encroachment by everlasting sweet peas remains to be seen, but we are willing to intervene to a reasonable extent should they appear threatened.

8.  Honey berries.  I may have picked that last of this year's crop.  We took in more than a kilogram altogether, from both bushes, by my extremely rough estimate.  That may not sound like much, but after feeling fortunate to get a dozen berries from our now deceased Saskatoon bushes, I consider this to be a wildly successful endeavour.  A new variety, Borealis, is now planted in the front yard, where I hope its minimum sun requirements will be met.  It will be great to have a bush I can walk all the way around to get at all the berries.  Planting the first two near the neighbour's fence was not such a good idea.




These are the good things that come to mind, and this post has gone on long enough.  Next time: the bad, possibly the ugly, perhaps the rather interesting.