lwood

Not an official Teal Party Memo, but as I natter about green growing things, this is the best thing I have to qualify with.

Well, three pepper plants are now planted in 12" pots at my house, and three pepper plants are planted in 12" pots at

dpaxson's house (woowoo portions of pepper project to follow under lock).

So...now what?

More Non-Woo Pepper Rambling

One 40-quart bigassbag of potting soil will well fill three twelve-inch pots, without much left over.

It was easy to thin most of the wee pots, as there was clearly one seedling Doing Well and one Not So Well. I didn't like it, and I took one or two and successfully transplanted to pots where none of the three original seeds had sprouted, not even with the heating pad's encouragement.

But two of the best seedlings in the whole batch were in the same wee tiny pot.

I hadn't the heart to decide which to kill, but one had to go: left together, one would strangle the other.

I caved. I admit it.

I picked three others instead, and planted them all succesfully in tastefully decorated pots on Wednesday night. They were big in their peatpucks, but look very lost swimming in the properly-sized 12" containers (blub!)--there oughtta be pictures, I suppose, but the camera can be annoying to retrieve.

The collected wisdom seems to be that the peatpucks' netting, while perfectly all right to leave according to the manufacturer thereof, might strangle the peppers' roots, so it has to go.

I slit the netting with a sharp knife and delicately pry away the husks.

They look like spent coccoons.

I make a hole, plant and water the seedlings, and have hope.

Last night, I took the rest to

dpaxson's house last night so she could pick, and plant, her three favorites. We filled the pots, and I puttered at Our Troth for a few minutes after explaining the situation.

I returned, and found only two spent husks in the seedling tray.

"Why only two?"

"Um, well, I took that one with the two good seedlings and split it instead of killing either one."

"That might work...but I'm worried that you've broken enough roots to kill one or both of them. I should reserve one of the others as a backup."

"Well, we'll see how many we manage to distribute at the meeting on Saturday." The House Business Meetings tend to be poorly attended, so I thought handing some out there would not only reduce the pepper plants in my life, but encourage house member attendance. I'm not proud...well, at least about that.

"Yup."

So now there's room in the seedling tray. What next?

Homegrown Crafts: Gourds

wolfs_daugher has volunteered to grow one vine each of these:

It'll be about four months for them to fruit (assuming no mishaps that kill them), and then a few more months after that for the gourds to dry out completely. But lookitthat! Bowls, dippers, and rattles, all ready with paintable/glueable/funfun surfaces!

I will be sprouting these next, you betcha. I wonder if I can grow one on my balcony, and drape it along a trellis lashed across the top...

Death by Zucchini
One day, at Greyhaven:

"Oh, hey, I noticed that Piedmont Grocery still had nice herbs for sale, so I got a dill to send out to Dublin--turns out that was the next thing

wolfs_daugher was going to buy."

dpaxson "Oh? I was at the store, and they had a variety of zucchini called 'Raven!'. I should have gotten some."

"Diana," I murmured gently, "

wolfs_daugher is growing three zucchini plants already. Any more, she'll be able to bury her house, your home, and my place. With plenty left over."

"Yeah, but ravens!"

"Buried in zucchini!"

"I like zucchini!"

"Enough to get buried in it?"

"hmpf."

A few days later, we are at OSH, a local chain hardware store that is still pretty good despite having been bought by Sears.

"Anyway, this twelve-inch pot is just the thing for the chili peppers, 'cos they need a lot of room. And, hey, they come in red and black." (significant for crazy woowoo reasons)

"None of the racks of vegetable seedlings had Raven zucchini. Darn it, I should have bought some the other day!"

I turn to the seed rack while she's returning some wire nuts. It's got a lot of Renee's Garden seeds, which have informative, pretty packets, and are local and sustainable and all that good stuff.

I see this, and know my doom:

Yes, my doom is to be buried in zucchini. Sleek, greeny-black zucchini with high Goth value, full of lutein and all good things, but really? Buried. In zucchini.

"Diana?"

"Hm?"

"Did you really want Raven zucchini?"

"...yes?"

I held up the packet. "'cos I found seeds. I could sprout 'em and, uh...something."

"Ooo!"

"Diana, where are we going to put them?"

"We'll figure that out later!"

She made cute eyes! There was pouting!

It's not like I wasn't on the, y'know, "ooh, 's ravens!" groove, but I knew better! I've studied my Keillor, I know how this works!

This will end with us running through the Long's Drugs parking lot, throwing sleek black Raven zucchini through open windows as we go. Zucchini in the neighbor's mailboxes. Baskets with friendly notes and recipe sheets on doorsteps far from home, saying "please take care of this squash, thank you".

...

...I bought the seeds. And more cute little peatpotpucks in which to start same.

I'll figure something out.

First step: This morning, I dug around and determined that, as a Zucchini of the Bushy Habit, Raven is well-suited to container gardening.

It will grow on the balcony! I can leave seedlings under cover of darkness on kindred members' doorsteps! "Please take care of this raven, thank you." I will leave more on

dpaxson's back deck, keeping the peppers company!

AHAHAHAHAHAHA!

-- Lorrie