Is Mel’s Mix Really Marvelous?

Four lettuce plants per square foot

Making a batch of Mel’s mix for our raised bed involved a trip to the garden center and the labor of two people to mix the ingredients on a large tarp and then shovel the mix into the box. Done. No digging, rototilling, or fertiziling required. Ever. Compare this to the advice on soil preparation offered by garden writer Adrian Higgins in the Washington Post, this week: “Our native clay soil is a beast, but it can be tamed, initially with large quantities of compost, leaf mold, well-rotted manure, mineral soil conditioners and even sand.” And don't forget the Advil. 

So what about those grids? The whole point of square foot gardening is to make maximum use of minimal space. The grids provide an easy visual cue for planting: 4 lettuce plants per square foot, 2 peppers, or 1 tomato. No wasted space, and no need to plant hundreds of seeds, only to thin most of them to achieve the right spacing. I’m sold.

Gardening by the foot

Like baseball fans, gardeners literally "spring" back, undeterred by memories of last year's disappointments. This year, we are adopting a new approach to edibles - square foot gardening, as described by Mel Bartholomew in his book All New Square Foot Gardening. Mel wrote the first Square Foot Gardening book in 1981 and has been tweaking the method ever since. He also offers loads of practical advice on his website.

The basic idea is to grow more, in less space and with less work. (No, he doesn't promise you'll loose 10 lbs, too. That would make it too good to be true). Planting in raised beds filled with garden soil made with Mel's own recipe is the main strategy here. We purchased our raise bed from Rebuild, a nonprofit in Springfield, Va., that recycles used building materials. It is sitting on pieces of slate and Larry added the cedar planks along the top edge as a place to rest tools and bottoms.

Our raised bed is made of recycled 2x8s

The bed is filled with Mel's mix, a lovely, loose-structured gardening soil made up of equal parts peat moss, compost, and course vermiculite. Since our box is so deep, we made two batches, mixing the ingredients on a large plastic tarp. Both the peat moss and the vermiculite are very light and dusty, so we wore masks and picked a not-so-windy day on which to do the mixing.

Peat moss is readily available at the big box stores, and we located the vermiculite at a full service garden center. Mel recommends blending compost from two different sources, so we combined a bag of commercial compost with some from our own pile.

For the grids, we bought plastic lath, cut it to fit and used Liquid Nails to glue the joints. Why the grids? Good question, and the subject of a future post.

April Showers and Signs of Spring

Daffodils nod

Hyacinths and yes, that is a dandelion

A good year for the magnolias

At last, time to come out of hibernation. For this first post of 2011, on this rainy Friday, the photos say it all.   

Edibles and Ornamentals

Here was a happy accident: a cantaloupe sprouted along the walkway to the front door. Initially, I didn't recognize it as a cantaloupe -- it could have been a zucchini or pumpkin, for all I knew. But the large leaves offered a nice contrast to the smaller-leafed caryopteris, and the two seemed to enjoy a happy co-existence. Since they were happy, I was happy, particularly since my attempts to grow tomatoes and raspberries haven't yielded much of a harvest. Today's breakfast table included the first fruits of this accidental blending of edibles and ornamentals, a practice I plan to continue. In fact, I think I'll save some seeds for next year.

Rain at Last

4 inches of rain on Sept. 30, 2010

I don't know about you, but my gardens -- as well as my enthusiasm for gardening -- were severely stunted by this summer's prolonged heat and lack of rain. How bad was the summer of 2010? Here in the DC-area, we set a number of heat records, including the warmest ever June, tied the record for the warmest ever July, and had the warmest ever summer. There were 64 90-degree days extending well into September. See The Washington Post for a complete run-down on this summer's heat records.

Cooler temperatures and soaking rains (including a record rainfall on September 30) have gone a long way to reviving my flagging interest and my garden's withering stems. So what now?

Here are the top 5 things I plan to do in the garden in October.
1) Plant a couple of shrubs I picked up at recent plant sales while the soil is still warm
2) Collect seeds for sowing next year
3) Clean up some beds neglected in the summer heat
4) Prune drought damaged branches -- testimony to my frugal ways with water
5) Bring in tender house plants that have summered outdoors.

What is on your list? Post a comment to share your garden plans for October.

Where *are* my naked ladies?

Okay, they are not really naked or ladies, but members of the Amaryllis family, also known as “surprise lily” or “resurrection lily.” The flower scapes (or leafless stems) emerge in late summer or early autumn after the foliage has died back and disappeared. Each stalk bears 4-7 flowers that are quite fragrant.  When shopping for bulbs, look for Lycoris squamigera.

After seeing these blooming abundantly in California in late August last year, I was pleased to find them for sale at Green Spring’s Fall Garden Festival (this year’s Fall Garden Festival will be on Saturday, Oct. 2). I know I planted them somewhere (hmm ... where I don't recall) but have yet to see any trace of them. I had all but forgotten, until this group of naked ladies waved hello to me this week at Oatlands Plantation near Leesburg, Va.

Experienced gardeners advise patience; they say it may take a year or two before my naked ladies settle in and put on a similar show.

Queen of the Night

This post comes from my sister, Beth Skulas, and features a night blooming Cereus (epiphyllum oxypetalum), a member of the cactus family. It is also called Dutchman's Pipe.

A bit like Cinderella at the ball, the night blooming Cereus blooms only at night and for only one night. By morning the blossoms have wilted.  Due to bad luck or bad timing, some people never see the plant in bloom.

Beth’s plant is about 15 years old, a descendant of one that our Grandmother raised and our cousin propagated. It began blooming every summer about 7 years ago, once with as many as nine blooms in a single night. The blooms are especially fragrant. Some say the center stamens depict the nativity scene, with the largest "starlike" stamen, representing the star over Bethlehem.

There are a number of videos available in which you can see the buds slowly opening. Follow this link to see one in which three flowers opening simultaneously.  Enjoy and thank you, Beth.