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Kudos to the Canadian supermarket known as Superstore (Loblaw’s), which has announced that they will now accept plastic pots, flats and even plant tags for recycling. They’ll make them into new pots and flats for use and sale the following year. This closed-loop solution could divert approximately three million garden pots from Canada’s landfills this year alone. Learn more here.
Ladybugs: keep refrigerated.
I have these euphorbias (E. amygdaloides) in my front garden bed that get crippled by aphids every spring. Despite their aphid problem, they’re quite lovely, which is why I’ve kept them this long. (I’m not sure what variety of euphorbia they are; they are the developer’s last remaining contribution of my garden.) For the last two springs, I’ve used a homemade pest spray to deal with them. This year, I don’t have time to be vigilant with the spray bottle, so I decided to buy some ladybugs.
I’ve always wanted to try using ladybugs to control aphids. I’d heard mixed reports on their effectiveness (the main complaint being that they just flew away once released). Of course, I had to try it myself.
Considering that a single ladybug can eat 5,000 aphids in her lifetime, the bag of 250 I purchased from my local nursery was probably overkill for my small garden.
I
was curious: would they all just fly away, making a break for it as
soon as I opened the bag?
Keeping them refrigerated until use (it keeps them semi-dormant), I
released them after sundown (you can also do it before sunrise; they
navigate using the sun.) Following the instructions on the bag, I covered the euphorbia bed with an old sheet (it helps keep the ladybugs around long enough to figure out that there’s food to be had) and set the open bag in the garden underneath. Seconds later, they were on the move. Let me tell you: ladybugs are cute, but when they’re everywhere, it’s just creepy.
So, did it work? Well, the next morning, I couldn’t find a single aphid. I also couldn’t find most of the ladybugs: apparently they’d done the job and moved on, which was okay by me. Not all of them took off, however.
Apparently some of them found my garden to be quite – er, inspirational.
Would I do it again? Probably not. At $15 a bag, they’re effective, but relatively expensive. And I think I’m going to rip out those euphorbias after all. As Eric of Gardening in Converse commented on a recent post, “aphids won’t be a problem in healthy plants.
They may be present, but will only kill a plant that was asking for it…They have a definite place in this world as a weeder of bad
genes.” My euphorbias? Asking for it!
Schefflera with a nasty case of scale.
My houseplants are the neglected siblings of my outdoor plants; they get a raw deal when it comes to care and attention. As a result, they’re pretty pathetic specimens. This year, I’ve resolved to be ruthless with them: either they shape up or ship out.
Of course, it’s me who has to do the shaping up.
My umbrella plant (schefflera) has a nasty scale infestation (see above), my rubber plant (Ficus elastica) is covered in water spots, and all need a good dusting.
My rubber plant got me thinking about that aerosol leaf shine spray so favoured by malls and dentist’s offices. Out of curiosity, I googled something like “organic leaf shine” and found myself reading about the things people wipe on their plants: milk, the insides of banana skins, lemon juice, and even mayonnaise. Wow. I had no idea.
The other thing that kept coming up was neem oil. Gardeners were raving about the stuff. Seems its naturally-occurring insecticidal, anti-fungal properties help to control and prevent houseplant pests like scale, all while repelling dust and adding a natural shine. Cool, I thought. I’m sold.
Then I discovered a product called BotaniWipe. BotaniWipes are biodegradable leaf wipes infused with organic neem oil and lavender that do triple duty as a leaf polish, a nutritive, and a mild insecticide fungicide.
The same plant after treatment with BotaniWipes.
BotaniWipes really did wonders for my long-suffering houseplants. I’m sure they would have looked better even just with a quick wipe with a wet cloth, but I figure, if you’re going to do that, you may as well take care of the nasties (disease, pests) and give them a boost at the same time. They come in a convenient “baby wipe” format but are completely biodegradable (even flushable), and they left my plants looking pretty damn fine.
I was impressed with the results, but curious about this neem stuff. Could it really do all the stuff it’s purported to do? So I asked Andrew O’Brien, founder of BotaniWipes, to tell me more. Turns out Andrew has a lot of experience using neem. As the manager of a small organic flower farm in California, he used neem oil to control disease and improve plant health.
“Neem oil is pretty amazing,” says Andrew. According to him, neem has properties that are beneficial in treating and preventing pest infestations, molds and
mildews in plants. As well, amino acids in neem oil act as a nutritive and natural antibiotic. Combined with the anti-fungal,
anti-bacterial, anti-insecticidal properties of lavender oil, these oils, “in appropriate mild
amounts, really promote plant health,” says Andrew. And unlike conventional leaf sprays, the oils in BotaniWipes won’t clog the plant’s stomata (pores).
I was curious: how does someone come up with an idea like BotaniWipes? “When my son was
born I looked up at a dirty, distressed houseplant while wiping his
bottom,” Andrew relates. Ah. There’s hope then: maybe a brilliant business idea will come to me one of these days too!
Hardy Succulents in two words: Eye candy.
I love the look of succulents: their drama, their modernism. And maybe, just maybe, I covet them because I can’t really grow many of them all that successfully here, even though I’m in practically-balmy Zone 8. So I was really excited to receive a copy of Hardy Succulents: Tough Plants for Every Climate by Gwen Moore Kelaidis, with photography by Saxon Holt.
When I opened the cover, I was confronted by a gorgeous photo of an agave. And then a cactus. Confused, I flipped back to the cover, to make sure I had a book called Hardy Succulents. “Surely agave and cactus don’t count as hardy,” I thought. “I mean, they certainly wouldn’t survive the winter here.” Or would they?
This book certainly challenged my assumptions, describing truly cold-hardy succulents (with the majority being hardy to Zone 5, and even some to Zone 3) – including those covet-worthy agaves and cacti.
Problem is, it’s not just tolerance for lower temperatures that contributes to hardiness. While technically hardiness is defined as an ability to withstand the average annual minimum temperatures of the zone, cold-tolerance doesn’t paint the full picture, especially when it comes to succulents.
In her introductory notes, Kelaidis recognizes that (besides temperature) “other factors contribute to hardiness,” notably wet winters or soils, a need for winter freezing, or an aversion to very hot summers.
Wet winters, eh? Could that be the reason many of the plants in this book wouldn’t survive here in rainy Vancouver, despite being tolerant of our winter temperatures? As I read on, I began to believe so: “Succulence can be an adaptation to climates where rainfall is low, seasonal, or highly unpredictable…” Kelaidis writes. “All succulents suffer if they must sit in puddles of cold water, with their roots in water-logged soil…”
The book does offer general methods of coping with rain and other succulent-destroying weather systems. Kelaidis suggests, for example, that, “in climates with more than 35 inches of rainfall, especially where this rain comes in spring and autumn, succulents will often grow well in 6 to 12 inches of pure sand layered above normal soil.”
My one criticism of the book is that these kinds of important details about hardiness aren’t always conveniently listed in descriptions about specific species. I found I often had to flip back and forth to determine whether a plant listed would do well in my climate. And in the case of the coveted agave, I’m still confused. The section on agaves lists several gorgeous cultivars that are hardy to well below Zone 8, but doesn’t go into site preferences or moisture tolerance. Obviously, I’m assuming they don’t like wet feet, but maybe they need more heat or sun than I can provide, and this book ain’t telling.
That said, it does provide a lot of great information, inspiration and, well, hope. The photography is excellent and really doesn’t help with my case of agave envy. Above all, I learned that there are succulent options beyond basic hens-and-chicks, and you can be sure some of them will be making it into my garden this summer!
Me, the day before Lila’s birth, preparing to drill holes for shiitake mushroom plugs. (I also lifted rocks and pushed a car that was out of gas that day; I figured that at 12 days overdue, it couldn’t hurt).
I’ve been wanting to grow my own mushrooms for a long time now, even listing them as one of my Growing Challenge edibles, but never quite got around to buying the necessary supplies. So when, at Seedy Saturday a few weekends back, I saw local mushroom company Western Biologicals (no website – call 604-856-3339 or email westernb@shaw.ca) selling mushroom plug spawn and indoor mushroom patch kits, I knew it was time to live the dream.
This is a mushroom plug, a wooden dowel colonized by shiitake mushroom mycelium. Actual size is about 1″ long by 1/4″ diameter. For $15, I got 150 of these guys – enough to do six logs.
I chose to go the plug spawn route, in which you inoculate a log with mushroom spawn-laced wooden plugs. The other option I considered was the indoor patch kit method, in which you buy a bag of mushroom-spore infused growing medium. While that would provide almost instant-gratification, the patch kits don’t produce mushrooms for as long, and, well, I couldn’t really picture mushrooms growing in my living room. Plus I thought shiitake mushroom-covered logs might look kinda cool in the woodland garden.
 The first and toughest part of this whole project is finding the logs you want to use. The guy from Western Biologicals recommended fresh-cut alder with a diameter of between 4-10″ and a length of no more than 4′. I don’t know about you, but there aren’t too many fresh-cut alders hanging around my neighbourhood. Luckily, my parents live out in the sticks, and there are plenty of government-owned lots to pilfer scrub alder from.
Once we had our logs cut, the next step was to drill holes for the plugs to nestle into. Using a 5/16″ drill bit, we drilled holes 2″ deep and no more than 4″ apart, creating a spiral pattern on each log.
 Next, you just pop the dowel plugs into the holes you’ve created.
 Give them a gentle tap with a hammer if necessary. The plugs introduce the mushroom mycelium into the log and will, over six months to a year, colonize the wood. Once the logs are colonized, mushrooms will start to appear, popping up from cracks or channels in the wood.
Finally, you seal the plugs with melted cheese wax or other appropriate sealent to protect against other fungi and bugs, then stack or lean the logs in a shady area, watering during dry weather. Then you wait – for as little as six months, but more likely a year – until your little fungi friends appear. Then you make omelettes. Yum.
You can order mushroom plug spawn and other mushroom growing necessities from a number of online shops. Google “mushroom plugs” or try Fungi Perfecti if you live in the US.
Just a quick note to thank you all for your comments and emails of congratulations. I won’t be able to respond individually at this time, but I know you’ll understand! It’s difficult to find 10 minutes to even check my email these days, but I’m loving it. :)
 She kept us waiting, but when she decided to arrive, she really committed.
When we first found out we were having a kid, she was the size of a lentil. From that point on, despite tracking her developmental size as it related to various fruits and vegetables such as eggplants, jicama, cantaloupes, pineapples etc., she remained, “The Lentil”, her sex a surprise until Sunday, April 27, 2008 at 11:27pm. Weighing in at 8lbs 6oz, in the polka-dotted swaddling blanket, we introduce:
Lila Rose Bellamy Garfinkel
Asleep for the entire car ride home, she’s not really sure where she lives; just that there are two loving people caring for her every need and whim, and a cat feigning indifference but secretly plotting how to reclaim laps and prime-time attention. Everyone is doing fine, and getting a sense of what other new parents meant when they talk of lack of sleep and a more intimate association with vomit and poop. And of course, that unimaginable and overwhelming love and affection for this thing we just made.
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