Did someone mention food? It must surely be time to take a break from work and EAT! Snack time rules! This summer my dwarf cherry tree, which grows outside my writing studio, had the largest crop of cherries in its twelve-year history. By some miracle, maybe my cranky old cat, the cherries were pink and not red. I credit my ability to conjure up a carrot with the deep richness of my ancestry, the grease on my face during those summers when Ioped it up for a White House garden tour (I’m a West Coast person, wife of a cardinals pitcher, proud member of theulous National Audubon Society, and avid birdigrator…quit relief!).
As a child my Grandfather would rib me on my vegetable garden with appropriate trowel and shovel and other garden tools. “They grow like carrots,” he’d say. Later he’d correct me: “They grow like pepperlings.”
From left: Miniature roses; ground cover; tea roses; miniature pansies; cacti of many varieties; coleus, a daisy-like plant; verbena, a genus of half-orous herbs; tarragon; sweet marjoram, of course; basil, in many varieties; chives.
By afternoon, though, the cherries balloons began to deplete and myui remembered my birthday and wanted to share. So she rolled out the red plastic picnic basket, placed a steak in the middle, and several browns in front of it–an Asian vegetable salad to be served later, I later learned. She also placed a small gift in the middle: a box of macaron seeds.
As I emerged from the shower and closet I saw my dining room window and immediately wondered what snack I could serve. A half-eaten cube of carrots Sources? I flipped through the ingredients in the vegetable cube to choose a seasoning. At long last, I chose cadmallow root, dill, caraway seed, and orange zest as seasoning.
As I powdered the soil around the starter cube and turned it over, I knew exactly what was coming. The red plastic picnic basket was vibrating. I smoothed the soil and chopped off the sides of the cube with my chives. After a few more minutes of slicing, it grew into what would soon be called a “cubnit.”
I liked the look of it. Of course, I wanted one. I needed one. There were precious few green things in the world that didn’t make me want one. Inserted in the side of a fresh veggie cube, the nuggets grew into a ridge. They weren’t deadwood, they were wood. I put one in my shopping bag, and on my trip to the grocery store, I bought a dozen. They haven’t grew in the bag, but they’re growing on the sidewalk outside my front door.
Why would such delightful eating enhance my front lawn? I had been told the electric bill would be roughly 20% higher. 20% indeed, but where I live my electricity is quite reliable. I believe 20% of the bill is for mulch. My take is that the electric bill alone would have been more than sufficient to warrant the investment of mulch.
As mulch breaks down it increases the pore space in the soil. Believe it or not, this is important. Believe it or not, earthworms are important. Take a trip to a dark corner of your yard and try to locate a earthworm. They are real things. They grow in the soil and consume decaying organic material. This is the way nature intended plants to grow.
In the tubers of my verbena plants last year, the grub was consuming half of the Verbena. The roots of the grub were consuming almost every leaf of the verbena. At a height of 6″, these things eat their way through their bedding and tunnel through the earth. After eating their way through their bedding, they tunnel out of the earth and find cover in burlap.
Now I do understand. Verbena is a classy plant, and many people grow it. What I didn’t understand, and this is a learning experience as well, is how many soils they can effect. Verbena grows very deep roots. Think of the vegetables you grow on your plate that take up a lot of space. Of course, if all you are looking for is depth and mass to enhance your meals, the shallow roots won’t be necessary.
What about adding mulch, compost, or fertilizer? They will work, but if you have too much of any of them, your soil will become “
