Staying warm

After I planted the vegetable starts, I found these four windows at The Rebuilding Center for a whopping $8 total, and created my own window warmers.

A Video Overview of the Yard

No Front Lawn

On Saturday, I removed the final remnants of grass in our front lawn. In doing this, I added one more bed and mixed-in compost with the three three-foot-wide beds. I had already mixed in compost to the two big beds (which are four or five-feet wide).

The sloped portion of the front yard still has grass; I'm waiting to remove the grass until I figure-out how I want to terrace it.

Putting things in the ground

My starts of Chadwick's Cherry Tomatoes, Roma Tomatoes, Butternut Squash, and Moss Currled Parsley are doing mostly well. I've also purchased Argula and Meslun lettuce, kale, shallot, oregano, broccoli, and cauliflower starts.

The backyard has grass

Here's a view of my backyard. I moved the grass from the front yard to the backyard. As you can tell, much of the backyard lacked grass - and much of it still does. I probably have about 100 square feet of additional grass to move, so hopefully the backyard will look even better soon.

Grave of dirt: future pea patch

Along the south side of the house, I turned over the sod and laid two 4' x 4' boards across the area in an effort to kill the grass. Although we don't have a yard on the south side, we do have a small sliver of land, just perfect for planting some beans and soaking-up the heat off the house.

Monday evening I dugout the sod, dug out an additional 20" in depth, and then loosened the soil beneath. For a moment, it looked like a shallow grave. I then put the dead sod back in the hole first, followed by the cleaner soil.

As night fell, I planted 12 pole beans into the newly softened soil. I had grown the pole beans indoors; most were about 6" in height with two fully grown leaves.

Front nearing completion

On Sunday, I managed to finish off the second 5'x10' and 2'x10' raised beds. Took a little over 5 hours to do this properly.

Mounds of dirt form

On February 14, I dug out part of the front lawn's south slope, which will eventually become an herb and flower garden. However, I look the wood to properly terrace this section, so until I get those materials, I'm going to hold tight. Besides, most annual herbs shouldn't be planted until April, and perennials in July.

On February 20, I dug out half of the flat portion of the front yard and created the first 5' x 10' raised bed (I haven't actually measured the size). By digging the paths a little deeper, I was able to build up the bed quite nicely.

When I went home to Prosser, Washington, for my niece Allison's baptism (I'm now a godfather - look out!), I snagged some sawdust for the pathways. The pictures show just 10 gallons of sawdust laid down; I've got 30 more gallons. The sawdust will play a critical role of keeping the pathways from being too muddy.

You will notice that the soil utterly lacks any humus or organic matter. This will have to be remedied for carrots, tomatoes, onions, and many other vegetables to grow well.

Our House, as posted on Craigslist

The Seed Germinates

If the sugarplum lollies in my mind were reality, grassy boulevards would line our neighborhood streets, every house would be a townhouse, every roof would be a solar roof, every front yard would be an Eden of produce, and backyards would, well, they wouldn't exist.

Has anyone found my fantasy land? Didn't think so. Not even in the Socialist Republic of Portland.

Late last summer I moved into a home with two friends. So long as I pay rent, our landlord has provided us with wide latitude for me to realize my utopia on a micro-scale. And our lot is pretty much a blank slate.

First, a description of our parcel. Our house faces east with a small, grassy front yard, raised from street level and the house to the south by about 3.5 feet. The southern slope is grass, the front edge is terraced with many great flowers and herbs in the planters. Along the front porch are four roses. Nothing against rose flowers, but I dislike rose bushes. Our driveway forms the northern edge of our front yard. Three evenly spaced cherry trees separate the sidewalk and the street.

Off the back door, we have a large wood deck that takes up much of the southern portion of the backyard. Besides the deck, a cherry tree that is probably 50 to 70 years old dominates the entire backyard with shade, as if it's mistaken its genetics for that of an old elm tree. An 8-foot tall wood fence blocks off out the vacant lot behind us. Between the fence and the old cherry tree is a wonderful hammock that I'm looking forward to using this coming summer.

Although our backyard was perhaps grassy at some point, it is decidedly not now. The overwhelming shade and water requirements of the old cherry tree probably had something to do with that. However, the northern side yard is pretty big and sufficiently grassed. There is no southern side yard.

Okay, so you have a pretty good picture of my yard. Nothing fancy, lots of potential.

Immediately upon moving into the house in September, I was possessed with the urge to turn my dream of cultivating my own garden. Like the urge for a seed to germinate in 75 degree soil with a little water, the urge to cultivate was a natural urge for me.

First, it's about place and stewardship the land. I grew up on a cherry & apple orchard in Eastern Washington where I helped with planting, watering, pruning, and harvesting, where I raised sheep, where I mowed a half-acre lawn every week, and where I weeded flower and vegetable gardens. While living in the Greenwood neighborhood of Seattle a couple years ago, my household tended a garden we affectionately named "Alice." (We liked names for inanimate things. Our house was "The Pink Palace.") As a result, I've found being rooted in the land and getting your fingernails dirty fulfills the soul and makes one a productive member of society.

Second, the academic and ethical questions and answers were piling up, and piling up in popular culture. Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Marion Nestle's Food Politics, Paul Roberts' The End of Food, and Michael Pollan's The Botany of Desire, The Omnivore's Dilemma, and In Defense of Food all had come out recently, and I had read them all in the past year or two. The evidence for local, sustainably-grown food was overwhelming. The closer the consumer is to production, the better.

Third, I finally had space and, in time, time.

Last fall I took several small steps. First, I planted one cherry tree to balance off the other two cherry trees between the sidewalk and street. Second, I potted a miniature blueberry and put it on our back deck. Third, I bought two indispensable books for gardeners in the Willamette Valley and Puget Sound: Steve Solomon's Growing Vegetables West of the Cascades and Seattle Tilth's The Maritime Northwest Garden Guide. And then I read them.

And until three weeks ago, that's all I did.