Gardening Hints and Helps. Insect Eating Plants.

Gardening Hints and Helps

Insect Eating Plants

            When I started this blog I promised that I’d touch on gardening every now and then, because I believe that plants and trees give a house character, make it more than a drab pile of bricks and wood. Raising plants and giving my own house character has been a pastime of mine for nearly 40 years. Some of you may know that I used to write a weekly column on gardening for the Prattville Progress and The Montgomery Independent, and then later on for the Master Gardener Newsletter. I’ve always loved plants, but in recent years have slowed down and cut back the time I put into them. A few years ago, for instance, I had over 200 potted plants—ones that had to be put in my greenhouse or Florida room every winter. The task of moving all those plants twice a year became too much for me. Of course, when I say “twice a year,” I’m being optimistic. My usual routine every spring was (still is) to begin taking my plants outside early—long before the last frost—and then bringing them back to the greenhouse. Not just one time, either. Some years I moved as many as 25 of those plants five times before the frost quit coming in. The ones I moved were the biggest, too--my lemon, the plumerias, etc., growing fast and needing larger pots every year. Impatience and unreasonable optimism have always been two of my failures. Recently, another failure has been my diligence in writing these columns—a failure I intend to rectify with this article on “Bug Eaters.”

         (Above is a picture of one of my hanging baskets filled with "bug eaters." On the left side is a clump of Venus fly traps, in the middle a group of very fat, well-fed pitcher plants, and on the right a skinny type of pitcher plant--one I found and tried this year for the first time.)

        (Above is a closeup of my Venus fly trap. At first I was worried that it might be too close to the pitcher plants, but as every Alabamian knows, there is no shortage of bugs here.) 

            I believe it was because of my grandchildren that I first began raising insect-eating plants with any seriousness. If you’ve read my 500 Opinions blog, you know that when I eat my meals, I usually eat one item at a time. It was the same way with me when it came to growing different types of plants. For the first fifteen years of my delayed adulthood . . . (In other words, the fifteen years after I turned thirty, up to the age of forty-five. I was a late bloomer. I was also an English major, so I have to use lots of flowery similes and metaphors in my writing) . . . As I was saying, for the first fifteen years of my delayed adulthood, the only plants I grew were vegetables. I saw no need to grow a plant unless it was edible, and I became quite good at raising tomatoes, peppers, greens, squash, eggplants, potatoes, okra, onions, etc. I tried broccoli, Brussels sprouts, corn, watermelons, and radishes, but never became good at raising them. Perhaps that’s why I love to eat vegetables—I had a lot of time and energy invested in them—too much to toss them in the garbage every night.

So, at about the age of 40, I came across a dying cactus. The poor thing had been left inside a vacant house I was remodeling, with no sun to speak of, and no water for months. I took the cactus home, gave it some water, and put it outside, in semi-shade. She lived. I was amazed. I was also sold on cacti. Any plants that tough, who were that interested in staying alive, were the plants for me. It meant they needed little care. I was sold. I began my cactus collection. I still have my first cactus, by the way. She’s now huge—a seven-foot monster, but I can’t let her go.

But about five years later, I felt a primal urge—I wanted more. I decided it was time for me to branch out (My goodness. There are a ton of symbolical words related to growing things, aren’t there?). I decided to try a class of plants other than the vegetables and cacti. The cacti were easy, but if you’ve ever raised vegetables, you know that they are not self-raising. Vegetables take constant work—checking for bugs, pulling invading weeds, checking the soil acidity, fertilizing, watering, and on and on. Anyone who plants and grows a vegetable plot more than ten-feet square, also knows how much work goes into raising your own food, and doesn’t mind paying decent money to a farmer at the local Farmers’ Market every summer. I don’t mind a bit. I realize they use pesticides, and I did not—I fought my bugs with fingers, a nearby coop full of chickens, crop rotation and companion-planting, and every little trick I could learn about keeping back the tide of insects (and soon you’ll understand my love of insect-eaters). Farmers also use tractors and herbicides to knock down weeds, while it was just me and my trusty hoe versus my own weeds. I learned from my father-in-law how a hoe needed to be filed down and protected with oil every week, to keep it sharp and hold the rust at bay. So, yes, I know how much work goes into raising vegetables, and when I purchase a large basket of gleaming, ripe tomatoes, I never utter a word of discontent. That farmer is doing me a favor, selling his or her vegetables to me at a small discount, not only avoiding the middleman, but getting them to me with just-picked ripeness, at the top of the plant’s flavor and health benefits. When summer comes and the Farmers’ Markets begin selling local produce, I spend 40-50 dollars a week on fruit and vegetables, alone—for just me and my wife. I buy berries, peaches, onions, potatoes, okra, peas, beans, tomatoes, peppers—you name it—I’ll buy and eat it. I have a deal with one farmer to purchase a box of “second” tomatoes every week, the ones not quite pretty or ripe enough—or too ripe—to sell in a basket to picky tomato buyers. I take the box—about twenty pounds of tomatoes—home and as soon as I walk in the door, I start boiling them down for tomato juice, which my wife and I, after a huge glass of almost scalding, fresh-as-it-can-be juice,  drink every morning until the next batch comes in.

I’m having so much fun telling you how I came to grow insect-eating plants, I’ve veered off course. I think this article has blossomed into a two-parter. I’ll add a few more sentences, then continue next week.

(The hanging basket on the left is another group of my "insect eaters," both fly traps and pitcher plants. On the right is a basket of Stapelia, a succulent I now use to aid the bug eaters. The blossoms you see on the Stapelia haven't opened yet, but when they do, they are magnificent--and very strange. I'll tell you more next time.) 

After I made up my mind to try and grow plants other than vegetables and cacti—I had been taking care of a nice 20 by 40 vegetable garden for two years, and had about ten cacti at the time—I decided I wanted my next class of plants to be more work than cacti, but less work than vegetables. For that reason, I chose perennials. At this time I knew absolutely nothing about perennials—I didn’t even know the names of any. All I knew was that they were supposed to return every year, over and over again. This sounded like less work to me, so I got some books on growing perennials and jumped in with both feet. And now, all these years later, I realize that I couldn’t have made a better choice. Most of my perennials didn’t last forever, but some are still with me—my red-hot pokers; the baptisias; the coreopsis; my Echinacea—coneflowers; the gaillardias; three hibiscuses (Years ago, the cold weather here kept killing them. I’ve had these three 15-17 years. That’s when the weather here changed to longer, hotter summers, and milder winters.); irises; and Virginia spiderwort. I had good luck with hollyhocks, but they’re actually biennials. They were wonderful flowers, but I didn’t have the patience to wait two years for blooms. Do I need to slow down? Should I kick back, relax, and get into hollyhocks again? I do remember one thing about hollyhocks. No matter where I planted them, or how I marked the spot, when the little plants poked up the second year, I never had any idea what they were. I would study and study them for several weeks, and then my brain would finally function as it’s supposed to do. I’d run to get my plant diary, search through it, and find out, that, sure enough—I had put them there on purpose—they were my biennial hollyhocks—ugly as sin their first year, the crowning glory of the garden in their second. Weird plants. But then, so am I.

I may be forgetting some of my perennials, but the ones I mentioned stick in my mind. I did find out, of course, that growing perennials was not less work than growing vegetables. Their constant, year-after-year blooms have been worth the work, though. And I promise—that in two weeks I’ll finish this article and tell you about my trials and errors growing insect-eating plants. Until then—go grow a thing or two. Not only will your home look prettier and have more character, you’ll be happier in the long run. And . . . as usual . . . I need to take my own advice.

Earl

B.J.'s Back!

When the great Recession of 2008 hit us, we had to give up one of the greatest resources we had--BJ Teal. BJ was our designer, architect, and good-will salesperson, all rolled into one. BJ was so good, so well-known, she didn't even apply for a new job as our work came to a standstill. The city of Tupelo, Mississippi, needed a City Planner, and out of the blue they called BJ. The rest is history. I'm sure that BJ brought more common sense and great ideas to Tupelo than even their own Elvis Presley ever did. In fact, the rumor is . . . BJ not only ran into Elvis--she talked with him! When people say that "Elvis has left the building," they're talking about the time BJ told the singer that his studio building wasn't up to code, and he'd better fix it or get out of town. Yep. Elvis left. He hasn't been seen since!

Now, can you picture our favorite decorator as she faced the great Elvis?

Yes--I'm sure she dressed up for the meeting with Elvis, magic wand and all. BJ loves to dress up.

And then, there's me. Here I am standing next to BJ, wearing my uniform of shorts and un-tucked shirt. I'm surprised BJ allowed someone to take her picture next to me. Even with her shirt un-tucked, BJ looks more dressed up than I do.

And here's BJ with her husband, Bill. Bill, as you can see, dresses up, too. He wears a hat. Yep. You can tell Bill's from around here, because when he dresses to the hilt, he's got a hat on his head. Maybe I should wear a hat. Hmm.

If it seems as if BJ's looking right at you, she is. "Look 'em in the eyes" is her motto. 

This is the last of BJ's photos when she was working with us in 2008. Next . . .

I swear, she hasn't changed a bit in five years. Within less than a week after moving all their furniture down here from Tupelo, BJ was out running around with me, looking at jobs. Here, she's standing in the middle of a pink bathroom. It'll be interesting to see this same bathroom when BJ's finished with it.

Now BJ's working on the bedroom. Yep--the job started out as only a three-bathroom job, but BJ's turning it into a whole-house remodel. Once she gets inside, she just won't stop.

"Why don't we just remodel the entire inside of the house," BJ is saying. "We can fix up the outside, too. And, of course, we must work on the landscaping."

As the customer shows BJ another bathroom, BJ is telling her that "this will be a wonderful bathroom to remodel. I have hundreds of ideas we can use in here." Yep. I'm sure she does. 

And, finally, BJ wanders into the last bedroom, still making me take measurements, adding closets here and closets there, and crown molding almost  everywhere. Whew! 

BJ--we're glad you're back!

She's back!

Yes! B.J. Teal is back among us! The best little designer in Alabama has come home. Watch this site for pictures of this amazing woman--she's already hard at work, designing three--not one, not two, but three--bathrooms. See her in action--here--tomorrow! Earl.

Building a Deck, Step by Step.

    Hey there, friends, neighbors, and customers-both-future-and-past--we're building a new deck (11-2013) and I thought it might be fun to watch it unfold, a little at a time, as we build it. The deck was in a place that required something special, I thought, so watch and see if you agree with the design I came up with. Some of you know that I must be watched carefully, as my designs can be a little wild sometimes.
    The deck was to go between the house and a pool, and had a wide area length-wise, but only 10 feet between the house and the pool deck. It was to take the place of steps, so people could move from the porch to the ground-level pool, as well as serve as a place for the customer to show off his grilling skills. Because we were cramped in (the 10-foot limitation), I felt the deck needed to be large enough for a few chairs, so guests could relax and look down on the pool without actually being at the pool. We also were restricted by the fact that the customer required rain water flow to pass between the pool and the house, so our deck needed to be open underneath. My plan was to build a deck without a railing, and with steps all the way around it. We'll see--by the end of the project--if I was successful in my design.
    The best thing about this deck is that it took the place of steps that didn't have a landing, which can be dangerous. You can see the steps in the first few photos, and see how awkward it must have been to stand on the steps, open the screened door, and pass onto the porch--or vice versa.

     (Day 1) In the photo above you can see the steps and a temporary string used to give the customer an idea of what the deck will look like, size-wise.

     Wesley charges right in there and yanks the steps out. Notice how he's standing all alone, waiting for help. Chris and David seem to be nowhere around when Wes needs them.

                     He's still waiting. Where the deuce did those two go?

                                         At last! Help arrives.

                                           The steps are taken away.

    You can't see what happened next, because I left the job. The men ran a string, dug holes, and set 4x4s in concrete, then let them set up overnight. You can see them below as they stick up above the framing.

     It's Day 2, and here you can see the mid-point of the framing. We've built a landing, seven feet out from the house, sixteen feet long. There is a 2x10 band and 2x8 joists, 16-inches on center. The customer wanted the first step from the porch to be 6 1/2" down, so--hopefully--Wes, Dave, and Chris remembered that fact. Wes is holding a stair stringer--the beginning of the steps. Keep your eyes on the corner of the existing porch, on the right of the photo, near the shovel leaning against the house. The customer was worried about guests accidentally stepping off the corner of the porch and falling to the ground. Keep your eyes open and you'll see our solution.

    Building a deck requires a lot of work on all fours. Wesley will have dirt-stained jeans by the end of the day.

Here's a shot of David (on the left) and Chris (on the right). David started working with us three weeks ago. He's not a new man, however. David and I worked together 25 years ago. He actually helped me build the upstairs portion of my house, after Linda and I were married. The house had a huge, open attic, and we built a stairway, and then converted the attic into two bedrooms, a bathroom, a small office, and a game room, with three dormers to let in light. So you can see that David has a lot of experience. He'd been a carpenter for several years before we converted my attic. Man--that 25 years flashed by rather fast. It seems like yesterday. I blame Linda. She's been so sweet to me that every day zooms by like a burst of sunlight.

    Here's a photo of David cutting off the 4x4s, since we don't need them for railings. If we were going to have railings, we'd use the four-bys set in concrete to give them support. Notice that David is wearing safety glasses. Safety First!

    Here's a shot of Wes checking out the step stringer. He's making sure that the steps will be level, as well as seeing how much surface area he'll need to add under the 2x10 band to nail the stringer to. You can see a piece of Trex on top of the deck. Wes is using it as a gauge, to make sure the steps are the same height once we apply the decking. Wes is also wearing safety glasses. Safety First!
    Please take a good look at this deck. It's about as strong as a deck can be built. The 2x8 joists span seven feet, on sixteen-inch centers. The Building Code says that 2x8s on sixteen-inch centers can span 12-14 feet for floor joists (office space to sleeping rooms). We could have used 2x6s, but I wanted this deck to be "Better than Code." This baby is rock-solid. "It ain't going nowhere," as we literate carpenters like to say. Heck. It ain't. So, "Safety First!" and "Better than Code!" Our mottoes.
    That's all we have for this time. It began raining soon after, and we had to pack it in for the day. I keep telling Wes that we have rain suits and rubber boots for such occasions, but he seems not to hear me.

    Next--the stringers. You'll see the work slow down a little, because we have to get the stringers exactly right, or the entire project will look like you-know-what.

 Day 3. The Trex has been set on top of the joists, and now the work really slows down. The men have to check the following items: how will the deck boards meet the riser, the sample board you see David holding in his right hand? How much gap do we give each of the deck boards (Trex recommends between 1/4" and 3/8"); will the riser be outside or under the deck boards (I prefer the riser to be flush with the deck, hiding the edge of the boards); will the stringer (this is the zig-zag looking piece of 2 x 12 that will support the steps) be level? When will Earl leave so we can we go to lunch? Can you tell which of these questions is the most important? I can.

 The guys are still checking all the various ways the steps and deck boards can go together. I prefer it when the men say everything out loud, to tell me how they want to do the job, in front of me, and I'll then explain what I like, and they tell me if they agree or disagree. This way we get almost every problem worked out before it occurs. And I'm not always right, either. But when they disagree with me, they have to show me why. It isn't a contest to see who can be right most of the time. It's a way to solve problems. In our line of work, there are numerous ways to do anything, and each situation demands its own solutions. To me, remodeling doesn't mean making things prettier, or adding to a house--remodeling means solving a problem. And that's one reason I've always loved to remodel--I enjoy solving problems. You might ask, "What are the problems here? It's just a deck, Earl." I'll have to disagree. There are always problems. When we get to the end of the project, I'll tell you some of them, and you can ask yourself if they were real, and whether or not we solved them.

                               David's still looking it over.

 David and Chris start screwing down the deck boards. In just a little while we'll find out if they planned as well as they were supposed to.

 David is admiring the work. Chris, being the youngest, gets to do the fun part, bending over all afternoon. Zip! Zip! Driving screws is fun. I miss it. My bending-over-all-day-working days are gone.

 Can you look down the decking and see how nice and even the gaps are between the boards? If they aren't almost perfect, the owner, regardless how nice he is most of the time, will be sure and let us know about it. Chris and Dave keep their eyes on the deck. David and Chris have tacked a 2 x 6 to the outside to use as a gauge for the deck boards, to be sure the first one runs perfectly straight. Good idea.

 The first row of stringers that will carry the stair treads and risers, is attached to the deck. Wesley has nailed them to a pressure-treated 2x4 to keep them straight and in line. Another good idea--and it wasn't mine, either. These guys are using their heads. Maybe I scared them when I mentioned the owner's huge gun collection.

 Here's a shot of Wesley putting the stringers together as David and Chris work on the deck boards.

                        Wesley's still wearing his safety glasses. Safety First!

Day 4.

 Earl has to go get some more Trex. Trex is long (16 feet). Trex is not fun to tote.

 Earl had to stop off at the house to check for telephone messages after carrying the Trex from Lowe's to his house. Earl needs to get a life.

 When Earl came back outside, the Trex was still sticking out the rear end of his SUV. It's a good thing this is a work SUV, not a family-toting one.

When Earl arrives on the job, progress has been made. This is the slowest part of the job. Can you see how the stringers (the L-shaped boards that will carry the steps) are perfectly straight? Wesley, Dave, and Chris will fight you if you try and tell them the steps don't run straight.

 The guys are now laying out the treads, making sure they not only fit, but fit with a 1/4" to 3/8" gap between them, as the Trex Manual demands.

 Wesley takes a break and Chris tells him to get back to work or hit the highway.

                               Wesley does what Chris demands.

 Working together, the deck takes shape. Tomorrow, it will be finished. It's difficult, sometimes, to believe the time involved in building a deck, but as you have seen, there are many steps (what a pun!) involved.

Chris picks up a broom. Is he going after Wesley for taking a break earlier? Naw. He's cleaning the deck. If you let sawdust collect on the boards and walk on them, they tend to dig into, and scar, the face of the wood. Cleanliness First! Can you see the new screen door Wesley installed? Nice, huh? Actually, the customer picked it out. But without Wesley to install it, there would be an old door (Go back to Day 3) or a big hole there. Thank you, Wesley! And Chris! And David!
 

Day 5. The end is near!

 Well, here it is, folks. The finished deck--isn't she a beauty? I don't think I need to write another word--the pictures tell the story. Great job, guys!

                                                           The end.