To everything there is a season, 

and a time to every purpose under heaven:

 a time to be born, and a time to die;

 a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.

   Ecclesiastes 3:1-2

Hello and howdy good friends and neighbors. If you stumbled upon this blog looking for moonshine instead of moon signs, my apologies—no snorts here, but we do have some hillbilly banjo music and other woodsy things to offer, fell free to stay.

Where was I? Oh yeah, sitting on my butt in my chair by the window dreaming of gardening, heirloom seeds and other nonsense. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m just plain old weird and old fashion (the kids have come to the same—and they’re okay with that. God bless ‘em). People used to say that my dad was born 100 years too late. That is sooo true and friends, I’m just a stone’s throw away from being just like him.

Being a cowboy, dad used to do things by the moon. He would cut the calves by the moon, wean the calves by the moon and try to persuade my mother to plant by the moon.  Sphnicker sphnicker. Guys, if you have ever tried to persuade a woman to do anything without it being her idea, it’s futile. Most of the time dad wasn’t around for planting anyway…oh darn… and mom planted what she wanted, when she wanted.  This would cause my dad to cuss under his breath (or above it) when things didn’t grow right—in his eyes anyway. In the end, we ate well on what we grew.

So does it matter? Prolly not. I’m just weird and want to plant by moon signs. So I researched the Foxfire books (really cool books that recorded interviews of pioneers on how they did things—anything from log cabin building to gardening to snake handling) and by golly those folks may not have had any teeth, but they planted by the signs and phases. Teeth are optional anyway, right?

Let’s see what the Granny Cabe says “Take taters; plant them on the dark of the moon or the old of the moon—that’s the last quarter.  …don’t plant the flowers…And if you kill a hog on the growing of the moon, the meat’s all puffy…” Thank you, Granny.

And the “experts” further explain…

New moon (dark) plant above ground crops that produce seeds outside the fruit.

Waxing–first two quarters (increased light) annuals that produce above ground, but seeds form inside the fruit–tomatoes etc….

Waning–last two quarters (decreased light) plant root crops like beets, carrots, onions, potatoes blah blah—transplant perennials because of happy root growth.

Full moon=big fat round and light—time to rest or dig in the dirt and then rest.

This dude explains it well… http://www.gardeningbythemoon.com/phases.html and sells calendars. Will I buy one? No, I’m cheap, but if you feel froggy and rich hop in and get one. Or go here and get something similar for free http://www.almanac.com/.

One other thing… Do I believe in astrology, the study of the stars? Yes. Worship of the starts, tarot cards, horoscopes, fortune telling and other pure hogwash…NO. I believe Genesis 1:14 when it says: Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years.

Simply,

Sis

Every time I turn on the television I hear how the sky is falling and how I should be buying gold and heirloom seeds. Well, I agree with part of that–the part about the seeds.

According to Dave Ramsey, gold is a lousy investment because of its lousy track record. He believes if you are in debt you should sell your gold and take the money and pay toward your debt, sounds fair.

Glenn Beck agrees with Dave—kinda. He has said gold is a lousy investment and he and other wealth holders are buying gold as insurance. In short, he is trying to protect his wealth and hedge against inflation, sounds fair.

Whatever—you make up your own mind about gold. I think there’s gold in them there seeds—heirloom seeds and that is where I’m investing a small sum of my money.

Heirloom seeds are the seeds our grandparents used in their gardens. They are non-hybrid open-pollinated seeds. The kind of seeds you can keep every year, saving money and ensuring a food source for years to come.

Hybrid seeds you can’t keep every year. Hybrid seeds are a cross of other breeds and their seeds are totally worthless.

So what? So, Chicken Little, if the sky did fall and if the US economy did collapse ask yourself this: What do you want in your cellar? Seeds that can reproduce themselves or seeds that can’t. This is a no brainer for me.

There are a lot of fly-by-night companies popping up everywhere selling heirloom seeds and seed vaults. Be very careful who you buy from. Google the name of the company for reviews before you buy.  I would hate to see you end up with fool’s gold, from someone trying to make their first million. And don’t forget to get a garden plan together before you order.

Happy Gardening!

Sis

HELLo dear ones. Notice where the emphasis is on that first word would ya? That is from whence I’m writing, garden hell. An alternate title for this post could be… Bipolar gardening (but then my ding-dang-dong-damn-it evil twin, SINthia, would have to write it–God forbid). She hasn’t been around since she tried shooting that Badger and ended up with a skunk–God bless her. She didn’t even report for our anniversary. Which in all honesty, Ben would have liked. He still laughs about the homemade G string.

Anyway. Where was I? Gardening. Bipolar gardening. When I started this blog I really wanted to share what little knowledge I had about simple living and gardens and such. Now, over a year later I’m thinking the more I garden the less I know. Take for example the garden plan I wrote about here. Great idea, really! I arrived at a plan this year by taking last year’s plan minus those painful broccoli and cauliflower plants plus a few more carrots, peppers and tomatoes. But, like that G string…It looked good on paper, but in reality it was a little crowded. I guess sometimes you gotta get yer hands dirty to figure things out. As I stood back a surveyed my problem, I asked myself what was I thinking?

To which SINthia answered, “Weeds don’t grow well in the shade. Just plant the darn things so we can sun tan.”

That’s a valid answer in my worlds. So I planted every last thing I had to plant from tatters to maters, just as stinking close together as I dared. When I got into my jams I noticed it was supposed to get down to 37 degrees that night. Crap on a stick are you kidding me?

SINthia just laughed her evil snicker and said, “Better shut off the water…Sure would hate to see icicles hanging off your tomato cages.”

After trekking outside in my undies, and tracking mud back into the house and into bed, I thought to myself, “I thought gardening was supposed to be fun.”

“Isn’t it you that says gardening is cheaper than therapy? Now you need therapy. So much for that theory. ”

“Shut-up, SINthia.”

“Hey I’ve got a theory for ya… what if we took out an ad in the paper for communal naked organic gardening. It would be fun and educational. That would give you something interesting to write about for a change, instead of how to make dirt or how to grow great tomatoes.”

Folks, if this bipolar-diatribe continues throughout the growing season, it will be one of the longest growing seasons in Kansas history. I may have to have one of those mercy killings and bury her remains in the garden, only the black birds and the crows will know about it. Besides, she’s so full it, she’ll make great fertilizer. Now that sounds like a plan.

Simply,

Sis

SINthia

PS ~ Don’t tell Sis, but I planted my name in lettuce where the flowers are supposed to be. I’ll be long gone by the time she figures this out. Snicker Snicker. I’m telling you forget all gardening rules and just have fun. Later.

So last year I posted Gardening 101: Get a plan (click here to read). This year after coming back from spring break or AWOL as I call it, and looking at last year’s garden plan, I’ve decided this year I’m going rouge, cutting the apron strings, being a rebel and going against everything my mom and daddy taught me about gardening.

Dad (who was full of philosophy–gardening or otherwise) says: always plant your rows east to west, the same direction the sun travels, to assure the most sun. Sis says: what if  my garden gets a ton of sun the way it is and I want to plan two rows north and south and the rest east to west? That way some of the garden will have a little more shade in the morning. Will the earth stop? Nah, I don’t think so.

Dad says: plant your taters and onions on Good Friday. Well darned if I don’t  live in Kansas (zone five) now, instead of Nebraska (zone four), and everyone plants their taters and onions on Saint Paddy’s day here. What’s more? I missed it. I was in Arizona soaking up the sun and learning to golf. So what’s a girl to do? Split the difference!

Dad says plan your rows straight. Sis says: do I get a dad-gum prize if they are straight? Haven’t yet. I think I’ll go for cr0oked this year. You can get more in them that way.

Dad says planting flowers in the garden takes up valuable vegetable space. I say, my fat jeans are tight enough, maybe I’ll go for a few flowers. Besides they make me happy and feel good.

So if you are looking for real gardening tips, stand-by or read last years…they still apply. If you just want to try your hand at gardening without any worries or cares, just buy some seeds, read the directions on the back of the package and put them in the ground while enjoying the sunshine.

Isn’t that what we are really looking for…sunshine and lollipops?

The fresh veggies and canned salsa is just a big fat bonus to me.

What do you get out of gardening?

Simply,

Sis

You want to know another frugal secret? I collect tired once frozen, dried up marigolds (and zinnias.) It’s what I do in the fall.

This year, our eldest, W wasn’t as confused as to why his weird mother does this. Having helped him with his science test on the life cycle of a flower, I knew he understood that the last thing a dead flower will do is lose it’s seeds, causing a whole new generation to grow next year. Even armed with that wonderful truth, he didn’t want to help me gather them. But the up side to that is, he didn’t think quite as weird.

“Let me guess. You’re saving money,” as he threw he knife that he got at the gun show into his target.

Okay, so it’s not that much money. But it’s what I do. I have enough flower seeds to plant acres, I’m sure. I love being able to share perennials and hand-me-down seeds when people comment on my flowers. My house and yard reflects me, no doubt.

Do you save seeds? Or am I just weird? Don’t answer that!

Simply,

Sis

A few weeks ago we had our first killing frost, marking the end of tomato season. This saddened me. But, after a game of tomato baseball all my cares were erased.  Now, on every surface of my freshly painted counter tops in my kitchen sits a tomato. Some green, some red and a whole bunch in between (but none naked).  My kitchen still smells like summer. It’s glorious.

Glorious that is, until Ben says, “What are you planning to do with these tomatoes?”

To which I replied, “Nothing.”

*A sharp look*

“I was planning on watching them turn from green to red. Wanna stand watch with me?”

*Banjo music*

“That’s what I thought.” Spnicker spnicker. I’ll just sit here alone with my thoughts. Lord knows what crazy thoughts I have…

My cellar is almost full of pickled peppers and beets, oven canned tomatoes, homemade salsa, and potatoes with butts and freakish looking carrots. The freezer is boastng apricots and antelope. Proving the benefits of getting your hands dirty and making hay when the sun shines. It feels good.

All that’s left to do is build a fire, plan my garden for next year and watch these tomatoes turn into red juicy goodness and finally a BLT.

Enough about me. Did you scavenge and save your green tomatoes or other goodies?  If so, how do you store them? Or were you so happy that it finally froze you threw a party?

Simply,

Sis

Look at this loot that I found at Lowes.

I got all of this (12 plants) for just over eleven bucks! Those huge mums were a dollar a piece. I divided them into twos and threes, so each mum plant cost thirty-three to fifty cents each. That’s cheaper than garage sale prices and didn’t even have to dicker. I thought it funny that Lowes is packed tight in the spring with buyers galore, but the place was all but empty when I was there.

One guy was puzzled at this and said, “Fall used to be the time of year people bought their stuff and planted it. I wonder what happened.”

I think it’s the disease of instant gratification. If you can wait until fall for your loot, the savings are huge. Along with huge savings your plants will be happier, especially shrubs. Shrubs spend all summer storing energy for the winter. If you plant them in the fall they can just kick back, instead of having to adjust to their new setting and store food when you plant them in the spring and summer. Of course some gardening mishaps are hard to avoid.

The only thing better than a big perennial clearance sale is a neighbor who is dividing and wants to share and trade. I’ve got one of them too. Life is pretty good here in my wheat field.

What are your money saving garden tips?

Simply,

Sis

Back in the day, I knew frost on the pumpkin would bring the boom. More importantly, the lowering of the boom. The boom was an old rusty spade that I would lift high above my head and smash down on the helpless frost bitten tomatoes. Their flesh and seeds would scatter across the garden and stop with a splat, when they got to my brothers. It was glorious. Glorious that is until they got a boom of their own (usually by confiscating mine.) Then it was my turn to get splatted.

We would lower the boom, use the boom to catapult naked tomatoes, and finally ditch the boom for a tomato fight with our hands. Because let’s face it, when mixed with enough youthful energy a hand shucker gives you the best crevice filling splat of all. My mom never cared if we lowered the boom, were covered in tomato bits and sauce or that we were utterly daffy in some twisted hillbilly way. This puzzled me for years until I had a couple of boys and a garden.

Who knew in this age of computers and video games lowering the boom on tomatoes would be somewhat out dated? Actually boring is what W and Barney called it. Like my mother before me, I had to think of something to entertain these war mongers while clearing the gardening and soaking up the last few bits of fall before the long days of winter set in. Tomato baseball was the answer. There is just something exhilarating about hitting a flying tomato and getting rewarded with a pink mist. I mean really, can life get any better than smashing a green tomato into the next wheat field or into your brother?

Regardless of the tomato sauce covered clothes to wash and seeds to pick from their teeth, it makes my heart sing when I see the smiles on their freashly freckled faces. It causes me to remember why we chose to live on this old farmstead and have a garden. That garden gave us bountiful produce for our bodies and a ton of free therapy for me. But my favorite gift from the garden is the final one, tomato baseball. It’s fall’s finest sport. I plan to play it every year with my kids and God willing teach it to my grand kids.

Life is good today.

Sis

You were great at helping name Bo’s gun. So humor me by giving these photos of carrots a caption, while I finish freezing these over achieving tubers and take advantage of this nice fall weather.

I’ll go first…

Sis~ Three toed Pete. (The poker game.)

Ben ~ It’s like the book… Trails in the Sand by Peter Dragon

Sis ~ Answering the age old question: Where does carrot juice come from?

Sis ~ The Molanator.

Sis ~ Elephant Man.

I know you’ll do better. Thanks for wasting some of your weekend with us!

Simply,

Sis

It’s been a pretty good gardening year, outside of a few mishaps. When the tomatoes really start coming on, that means onion harvest time here. A few weeks ago the onion tops laid over on the ground and started to dry out. I wanted them to hang out in the ground just a little longer but we got a bunch of rain that made their tops get mushy. So I made like an ant, before they rotted in the ground and picked them. Harvest is a neat time, it brings families together. The boys did most of the picking. After swinging them wildly at each other, they somehow all landed in the wheelbarrow. They did great, except for that half row of garlic…it’s MIA except for one little garlic head.

When I asked the kids about it they shrugged and said “Oh, yeah, we’ve seen them.”

“Where are the rest of them?”

*Sphnicker Sphnicker* “Couldn’t tell ya, Mom.”

Sometimes the less you know, the better. All I can say is, it must have been one heck of a battle. (It was probably nothing compared to when we play tomato baseball after the first hard freeze.) Anyway, that means, no garlic to dry and braid this year, just onions. Sniff. After the war ended, I took the load of onions to one of our four, three-sided sheds and laid the survivors on some wire mesh to dry.

What you want to remember when drying onions or garlic is, they need warm dry air circulating around them.

When the tops get good and dry…mine aren’t quite there. I braid them together like an old Mexican woman would braid garlic. (Just like in my dreams of Mexico.) If you don’t dream of Mexico, think of braiding hair, it’s really no different. Just start braiding and adding an onion, braiding and adding until your onions look like this.

Tie off the top somehow. Either by braiding the onion back into itself or with wire or string, onions don’t care how you do it. Here’s what the back looks like.

Nifty, isn’t it? They will hang out in my cellar until I use them this winter.

Look at them. Can’t you just smell the salsa?

Did you have a good onion crop this year?

Simply,

Sis