Attack of the Catnip (Part 2: Redemption)

If you're a follower of this blog, (So far I count one, thanks mom) you know that I recently vented about my ever spreading catnip plant. While I don't regret what I've said (The plant continues to be a pain) I'm not giving you the whole story. After returning home from a weekend away from the garden, I've discovered evidence of what may soon become the silver lining around my dark cloud of a mint problem.

Upon inspection of my neglected garden (My roommate apparently didn't get my message to water it) I found everything in fairly good condition. The strawberries were continuing to thrive, the lavender is sending out roots and the catnip had hundreds of beautiful purple flowers. As I was inspecting said flowers, I discovered what looked to be a flattened out bed and some cat hair. It appeared that my prolific mint had attracted one of the neighborhood kitties! At first I was a little upset. After all, it's my garden and I don't want to share it with a mangy alley cat who's just going to lie in the sun getting high of my catnip, before taking a dump as he leaves. (Oh, I found 'evidence' of this as well, rolled around in the dirt it looked kind of like Almond Roca but I digress...) Upon further reflection however, I think my anger was misguided. Cats after all, are highly adaptable predators, widely known to prey on birds and small rodents. Hence, if I could attract a cat or two, I would have a natural defense against the strawberry (and tomato) robbing squirrels and earthworm grabbing birds. Essentially (and please allow my abstract analogy) it's like buying your crazy uncle Rufus a 12 pack of Natty-Ice to sit in a lawn chair and watch your freshly poured cement driveway cure. Sure, he'll be piss drunk when you get home and your leftover BBQ chicken will be completely gone but at least your driveway won't have all of the neighbor kids' names written in it. (Along with any curse words they can misspell) All in all, a fair trade.

So Mr. Catnip, I apologize for my harsh appraisal earlier. I failed to see the obvious benefits you could have. Yes, you spread like fire in a windstorm and threaten my vegetable beds with your very existence but you attract potentially valuable guard dogs (or rather cats) to my precious garden. May your aroma attract the most vicious squirrel killing cat possible. I will gladly clean up his smelly presents in return for a healthy fruit harvest.

Attack of the Catnip

A lot of horror stories probably start out with the words, "My mother told me not to but..." This horror story is no exception. Against her advice (Incidentally, my mother is a certified Master Gardener to qualify her) I planted some mint plants last year in my garden. A happy little catnip and some orange mint. For fragrance right? (facepalm) They started out inconspicuously enough. The catnip actually took a while to establish itself, by the end of summer last year it had spread a few inches and took over my upper planter's left side, nothing too obnoxious. The orange mint (which had to compete with the strawberries in the lower bed) seemed to spread much more easily. Its vines lined the edge of the planter, even finding a way to flank the upper bed right next to the catnip. Luckily, winter came and wiped them out. Right?

Fast forward 1 year, they're both out of control. The catnip in particular has become a massive bushy plant, nearly 3 feet tall and almost as wide. To keep it from spreading to space that I've reserved for vegetables, I'm now forced to cut it back everyday. The prospect of doing this daily, initially excited me. (I'm what you might call a naive optimist) My thoughts went something like this, "Well, we have a cat so he'll really love all the catnip I can bring in." Unfortunately however, he hates fresh catnip and will hardly touch it. This has forced me to come up with alternate plans, namely throwing all of the catnip in a waterproof bin to dry and somehow use it later. My roommate assures me that he loves dried catnip, I'm counting on this as my proverbial, "light at the end of the tunnel. Otherwise, I'm doing this all for nothing because catnip is a pain and it's really not that pretty or fragrant.

On to the orange mint which I was sure had died. (The area where I planted it looked like a wasteland, completely bare) While yes, the original group of leaves associated with the orange mint I brought home from the nursery had died, it's vines remained, albeit mostly hidden beneath my strawberry plants. This Spring, wherever those vines lingered from last year's spread, mint popped up, and boy does it ever pop up. On the edges of the lower bed, right amongst the strawberries, in the waste bin next to the garden, everywhere! Unlike the catnip however, it does smell nice and my mother assures me that I can use it in teas and possibly with food preparation. We'll see.

The moral of this story, listen to your mother.

It's Raining Earthworms

This last weekend was thankfully, a lazy one. Plenty of time to prune the old bug eaten leaves off of the strawberries (my obsession), weed and sweep the patio. As I was nearly finished sweeping up after Saturday morning's gardening, I heard a loud plop behind me. I was a little startled (more like intrigued) by the sound but even more startled at the sight of the largest night crawler that I'd ever seen. Seemingly straight from heaven, this enormous creepy crawler was nearly 7 inches long and thicker than a licorice whip. Normally, this kind of thing might elicit an, "ewww!" or two but as a gardener, I could hardly believe my luck. I scanned the trees above and found the likely source of my bounty, a nervous looking crow. I had stolen a meal from a crow chick! Yes!

It's not that I hate crows, or birds for that matter however as a Ballard resident who commutes to Fremont for his daily bread, I see a lot of them. A lot. Thus, my remorse over stealing a meal from a newly hatched crow (or ratbird as my friends like to call them) was quickly swallowed up by the joy of finding a living, crawling, fertilizer machine. As I put him in the planter, he took a few moments to get acclimated before beginning to furiously devour my rich soil. I hovered over (guarding against marauding crows bent on revenge) for nearly 15 minutes before the earthworm was completely underground. My lone regret is that I didn't snip him in half, because two earthworms are of course better than one.

My First Post!!!

I've long been described by my friends as a technological dinosaur. I don't have a cellphone (I know, I know...), I rarely email and I update my Facebook page with even less frequency. Needless to say, the idea of blogging is very daunting to this old soul and admitted technophobe. However, much to my own chagrin, I have come to a two-fold realization of late;

1. No matter how excited I am over my burgeoning strawberry plants, my close friends and family have a threshold for my musings on this topic.

2. I need some sort of outlet for this energy, especially one that has the potential to help me become a better gardener and/or writer.

Thus, with little fanfare the "Adventures in Urban Gardening" blog is born. It is my hope that I can share stories and anecdotes from my patio planter garden, while soliciting advice on how to tend my crops and keep those darn squirrels and birds at bay. (You may hear a great deal on the latter topic) I hope to implement my blog with pictures as soon as possible, however (as you may have guessed by now) I am digital camera-less. Anyway, a blog has to start somewhere and to those who may stumble upon it, thank you.

With a Happy Heart and Green Thumb,

Sylvan Strawberry Farmer