Search ITGO
They’re Back!
Support Our Wonderful Sponsors
Colleen’s Organic Gardening Blog at About.com
Friends of ITGO
My Favorite Garden Blogs
- A Study in Contrasts
- Chiot’s Run
- Cold Climate Gardening
- Gardening Gone Wild
- Growing With Plants
- Ilona’s Garden Journal
- In My Kitchen Garden
- Kitchen Gardeners International
- Mr. Brown Thumb
- My Northern Garden
- My Skinny Garden
- Our Little Acre
- Pollinators-Welcome
- The Cheap Vegetable Gardener
- The Compost Bin
- The Gardener’s Pantry
- The Plant Hunter
- The Transplantable Rose
- Veggie Gardening Tips
- Zanthan Gardens
From the Archives
Archive for September, 2008
Reader Question: Planting Last Year’s Tulip Bulbs
Peggy from Eastpointe asks:
“I found a bag of tulip bulbs in my basement that I bought last fall, but forgot to plant. Are they still okay to plant, or should I just throw them away?”
My first instinct with any question like this is “try it and see!” Planting the bulbs certainly won’t harm anything, and you might get lucky and get a few blooms out of them.
If you’re looking for a more concrete, scientific answer about the probability of your old tulip bulbs giving you a nice show next spring, we need to look at the growth cycle of spring bulbs. You plant them in the fall, and they start growing roots. They sit there throughout the winter, and start sending up shoots once spring temperatures tempt them to wake from their winter slumber. They grow, bloom, and eventually, the foliage dies back. The bulb has used its foliage to store energy for the winter, and to allow it to send up new shoots the following spring. The cycle begins again from here.
It may be entirely possible that all you get this first spring will be foliage, and you may not see any blooms until next year. The bulbs may spend this year replenishing the energy they need to bloom. Then again, you may get lucky and see tulips this spring.
Check to make sure that your bulbs are still in good condition before you plant them, though. Are they heavy for their size? Are they firm? If the answer is yes, then go ahead and plant. If the bulb feels very light and is mushy, throw it out.
Thanks for the great question, and good luck!
No comments
Stinky in a Good Way: Garlic Chives
One of the plants we inherited from our home’s previous owner was Allium tuberosum, also known as Garlic Chives or Chinese Chives. There is a long row of them at the rear of our property, and there were also a couple of small clumps growing at the back of the house at the base of our Jackmanii clematis (another inheritance from the previous owner.)
I wasn’t sure about the garlic chives when we first moved in. I’m not exactly enamored with their strong, garlicky-onion scent, and for most of the season, they just kind of sit there, their flat green foliage eventually reaching between one and two feet tall. Then, in late August, scapes develop, and by September, they are just full of snow-white blossoms. They are a reliable fall bloomer, and provide some color in areas of our yard that I generally haven’t gotten around to prettying up yet.
Things to Love About Garlic Chives
What really sold me on these stinky little plants, though, was seeing how they attracted pollinators by the hundreds—literally. Our first 
autumn here, we put up a garden shed at the back of the garden, right near the existing row of garlic chives. As we built the shed, I watched as bees absolutely swarmed them. They flitted happily from flower to flower. It almost seemed at times as if we had every bee in the neighborhood visiting our garlic chives.
The second thing that sold me on garlic chives is something that I look for in every plant I consider putting in my garden: the ability to march on and do what it needs to do with very little help from me. They don’t seem to care whether we have a dry summer or not. Diseases and pests are a complete non-issue, and they grow equally well in full sun and part shade. You can divide them easily if you want to by simply digging up the tiny bulbs and planting them in small clumps. I’ve done this at just about every point in the season, and they’ve always performed wonderfully. However, if you’re not into dividing plants, you don’t have to divide these either. I’ve left the row near the back fence alone, and it is growing very well.
Oh, yeah. They’re edible too. Garlic chives are tasty snipped over eggs, baked potatoes, salads and stir-fries.
Growing
Garlic Chives are hardy in zones 3 through 8. They can be started easily from seed (and are reliable self-sowers) or purchased as plants. If you have a friend or neighbor who grows garlic chives, ask for a small division—you’ll have your own healthy clump in no time.
So, if you’re looking for an easy, care-free fall bloomer (and one that attracts beneficials to boot…) consider garlic chives. The smell may not be sweet, but the benefits to your local wildlife (and your palate) surely are.
No comments
Wordy Wednesday–Great Advice About Writing
Taking a cue from the very popular Wordless Wednesday meme, (which I’m just not good at….can’t imagine why….
) I figured I’d start a little something here that I’ll call Wordy Wednesdays. Of course, like everything in the ITGO universe, I can’t promise it will be every Wednesday. But I figured I’d introduce a feature like this because more people are starting to ask me about freelance writing, writing in general, and how to get started.
I’ve gone through my own personal history of writing before: started my first very bad novel at fifteen, fell inlove with poetry in high school, wrote some poems, got a few published in small press publications. Then I wanted to go back to novels, so I wrote two (very bad) novels that will never see the light of day. My stint in garden writing started almost accidentally. I was already a die-hard gardener when I wrote a fun little essay, just for the hell of it, about seed starting, and how addictive it can be. I liked it, probably more than anything else I had written to that point, so I sent it to Birds & Blooms magazine, and they published it. When I saw my byline in an actual garden magazine, it was heaven. I’ve been hooked on writing about gardening ever since. In addition to writing about gardening, I do copy editing and writing work for various corporate websites, as well as the occasional press release and catalog description. I was fortunate this year to land a job as About.com’s Organic Gardening writer. A few short months after landing that gig, I signed a contract to co-author a book about gardening. “Edible Gardens for the Midwest,” published by Lone Pine International, will be out in Spring of 2009. More on that whole process another time, though!
It hasn’t been easy, and I’ve decided to give it up several times. But I can’t not write. It’s in my blood, it’s who I am. It’s not always a fun job, and I sometimes miss the days when I could get paid even if I sat at a computer playing Solitaire for hours on end. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
For our first Wordy Wednesday, I want to point you to a blog post that my husband came across and sent to me a while back. (He said I’d appreciate the more potty-mouthed aspects of the post….) It is from science fiction author John Scalzi’s blog. I’m going to quote my favorite parts here, but you should really read the whole thing. It’s a bit long, but I’d recommend it to anyone who is starting out as a writer.
From Scalzi’s “Unasked-For Advice to New Writers About Money”
On what the writer’s life is really like:
“People who arent full-time writers tend to have a hazy, romanticized view of the full-time writing life, in which writers wake up, clock four-to-six hours of writing truth, and then knock off for the rest of the day to be drunk and brilliant with all the rest of their writer friends. They tend to gloss over the little things like all the time you spend worrying about where the next writing gig is coming from, or all the e-mails and phone calls to publishers reminding them that, hey, theyve owed you a check for nine months now, or (due to the previous) deciding which bill you can allow to go to a second or third notice, or the constant pressure to produce something you can sell, because youve heard of this crazy idea called eating, and you think you might like to give it a whirl. The full-time writing life isnt about writing full-time; its about a full-time quest to get paid for your writing, both in selling the work, and then (alas) in collecting what you are owed. Its not romantic; its a pain in the ass.”
On deciding that your words are worth something (AKA—”Three cents a word my ass!”):
“There is nothing wrong with writing as a sideline and not worrying overly much about payment. But, if writing is something you want to do full-time, it needs to be something you can do full-time; that means finding ways to make it pay and be worth the time and energy you put in it. Part of that is understanding the entire universe of writing opportunities available to you, not just the ones that appeal to you (a Writers Market is a good place to start). Part of it is understanding that getting that writing gig that is dead boring but pays off the electric bill is in its way as valuable as selling that short story, or humor piece, or music review, all of which will pay crap but which you enjoy.
Be willing and ready to write anything but make sure that youre making the attempt to make more than three cents a word off it. Because I will tell you this: If you only value your work to that amount, thats the amount youre going to find yourself getting paid. Over and over again.”
On writing as a business:
“Every writer who writes for pay is running a small business. You have to create product, track inventory, bid on work, negotiate contracts, pay creditors, make sure you get paid and deal with taxes. Work has to be done on time and to specification. Your business reputation will help you get work or will make sure you dont get any more. This is your job. This is your business.”
As I said, read the whole thing if you’re even considering trying to write full time. He also has plenty in there about what has made my writing career possible: marrying someone who is good with money and has a steady, full-time job. The spouses of writers don’t get nearly enough recognition for everything they put up with: sporadic income, long hours, bitchiness when the words don’t flow and delusions of grandeur when they do, and being a constant cheerleader, even when there’s not a whole hell of a lot to cheer.
I hope you enjoyed our first Wordy Wednesday! We’ll do it again…some other Wednesday
No comments
Inspiration on a Lazy Saturday
I have the feeling I’m not the only one who can relate to this poem by the late, great Jane Kenyon. And I have the feeling my daughters will feel the same.
Learning in the First Grade
“The cup is red. The drop of rain
is blue. The clam is brown.”
So said the sheet of exercises–
purple mimeos, still heady
from the fluid in the rolling
silver drum. But the cup was
not red. It was white,
or had no color of its own.
Oh, but my mind was finical.
It put the teacher perpetually
in the wrong. Called on, however,
I said aloud, “The cup is red.”
“But it’s not,” I thought,
Like Galileo Galilei
muttering under his beard.
—Jane Kenyon, from 1990’s Let Evening Come
And, yes, I remember mimeographs. ‘Fess up—I know I’m not the only one
No comments
Flavors From My Childhood: Creamy Cucumber Salad
Cucumbers are everywhere this time of year, from the glorious piles of juicy cukes at the farmer’s market, to the pretty lemon cucumbers I have ripening in my garden. We’ve been eating them as soon as we can pick them, slicing them up and snacking on them as we make our way through the dog days of summer.
We bought a bunch of cukes at the farmer’s market over the weekend, because our meager supply of lemon cucumbers (must plant more next year!) hasn’t been able to keep up with our demand for them. The girls are in veggie heaven—snacking on cukes, tomatoes, and green beans as quickly as our garden can produce them. Anyway, having an extra supply of cukes gave me the chance to whip up what I can easily say was my favorite food as a kid. No, it wasn’t pizza or burgers or even mac n cheese. My favorite dish, which my mom made a few times every summer, was creamy cucumber salad.
After I moved away from home, I stopped eating creamy cuke salad. Partially, this was because I was always on a diet and creamy cuke salad is generally not figure friendly (though you can make it less fattening, and my recipe shows how to do that.) Also, I never thought of it. Too busy with college, marriage, writing…you know, that kind of thing.
Then, a few years ago, pre-children (was there ever a time? It seems weird to think of our life without the kids!) the husband and I spent a weekend in Frankenmuth, Michigan. If you’ve never been to Frankenmuth, you must go. It is “Michigan’s Little Bavaria;” quaint, friendly, and full of good, fattening food. Anyway, one of the things Frankenmuth is famous for is its fried chicken. I kid you not. People go there just to have a fried chicken dinner—it’s that good. Along with your famous fried chicken dinner, you get a variety of sides. One of these is—creamy cucumber salad. The first bite I took brought back all of my childhood adoration for this refreshing salad, and I’ve made it a few times since.
Here’s my recipe, lighter on the fat and calories, but still delicious:
Creamy Cucumber Salad
- Three large (or four medium-sized) cucumbers, peeled and sliced thinly
- One onion (red is best, Vidalias are yummy too) sliced thinly
- One cup of reduced fat Miracle Whip (the original calls for full-fat mayo, and I’ve seen some recipes with sour cream as well. My mom used mayo.)
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 c. sugar
- Vinegar, enough to slightly thin the Miracle Whip to make it “pourable”
Mix together the Miracle Whip, salt, sugar, and vinegar until the sugar and salt is dissolved. Add the cukes and onions to the dressing and stir well to coat. Refrigerate the salad for at least an hour, and enjoy.
If you have a little dill to snip into the salad, it is a fantastic addition.
And here’s where I confess: I ate a whole batch by myself over the last two days. It’s a good thing it’s the low-fat version!