The No-Hose System

(Overheard in a conversation between God and St. Francis):

God: Francis, you know all about gardens and nature; what in the
world is going on down there in the U.S.? What happened to the
dandelions, violets, thistles and the stuff I started eons ago?

I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow
in any type of soil, withstand drought, and multiply with
abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts
butterflies, honeybees, and flocks of songbirds. I expected to
see a vast garden of color by now. All I see are patches of
green.

St. Francis: It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. They are
called the Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers
"weeds" and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them
with grass.

God: Grass? But it is so boring, it's not colorful. It doesn't
attract butterflies, bees or birds, only grubs and sod worms.
It's temperamental with temperatures. Do these Suburbanites
really want grass growing there?

St. Francis: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it has grown a
little, they cut it....sometimes two times a week.

God: They cut it? Do they bale it like hay?

St. Francis: Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put
it in bags.

God: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

St. Francis: No sir, just the opposite. They pay to throw it
away.

God: Now let me get this straight...they fertilize it to make it
grow and when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it
away?

St. Francis: Yes, sir.

God: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we
cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows
the growth and saves them a lot of work.

St. Francis: You aren't going to believe this Lord, but when the
grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more
money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get
rid of it.

God: What nonsense! At least they kept some of the trees.
That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself.
The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade
in the summer. In the autumn they fall to the ground and form a
natural blanket to keep the moisture in the soil and protect the
trees and bushes. Plus, as they rot, the leaves become compost
to enhance the soil. It's a natural circle of life.

St. Francis: You'd better sit down, Lord. As soon as the leaves
fall, the Suburbanites rake them into great piles and pay to
have them hauled away.

God: No way! What do they do to protect the shrubs and tree
roots in the winter to keep the soil moist and loose?

St Francis: After throwing the leaves away, they go out and buy
something called mulch. They haul it home and spread it around
in place of the leaves.

God: And where do they get this mulch?

St. Francis: They cut down the trees and grind them up to make
mulch.

God: Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore.
Saint Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have
you scheduled for us tonight?

St. Catherine: "Dumb and Dumber," Lord. It's a really stupid
movie about...

God: Never mind -I think I just heard the whole story from Saint
Francis

Brilliant!

Poor water...

It's getting such a bad rap today because we don't need as much as some thought (or that Deer Park and Poland Springs suggested).

And now we don't need to water our plants as much?

How much change can one guy have in a year?

A New York City yuppie moved to the country and bought a piece of land. He went to the local feed and livestock store and talked to the proprietor about how he was going to take up chicken farming. He then asked to buy 100 chicks.
"That's a lot of chicks," commented the proprietor. "I mean business," the city slicker replied.
A week later the yuppie was back again. "I need another 100 chicks," he said. "Boy, you are serious about this chicken farming," the man told him.
"Yeah," the yuppie replied. "If I can iron out a few problems." "Problems?" asked the proprietor. "Yeah," replied the yuppie, "I think I planted that last batch too close together."

here's a better one:

A farmer purchased an old, run-down, abandoned farm with plans to turn it into a thriving enterprise. The fields
were grown over with weeds, the farmhouse was falling apart, and the fences were broken down. During his first
day of work, the town preacher stops by to bless the man's work, saying, "May you and God work together to make
this the farm of your dreams!" A few months later, the preacher stops by again to call on the farmer. Lo and behold,
it's a completely different place. The farm house is completely rebuilt and in excellent condition, there is plenty
of cattle and other livestock happily munching on feed in well-fenced pens, and the fields are filled with crops planted
in neat rows. "Amazing!" the preacher says. "Look what God and you have accomplished together!"
"Yes, reverend," says the farmer, "but remember what the farm was like when God was working it alone!"

I water my grass a few times a summer and when it gets really hot for a spell, I'll water my other plants.

A couple of my tomato plants are dying and I think it's because they are getting too much sun.

If I let nature take it's course my property would be nothing but catnip and thorn apple. We planted catnip a few years back and it's all over the yard now. The bees love it! The thorn apple came with the property and it is an amazing plant. Virtually no weeds can compete with it. It forces everything else out.

DH and I were up at the Verona Diner last night and we saw the most amazing trees next to the parking lot in the back. I did a Google search and they're called catalpa trees. They have heart-shaped leaves and bear this fruit that looks like a huge string bean! They also get flowers, purple & white, but they bloom earlier in the year. Way cool!

I have a wild milk thistle growing in the front yard that produces many flowers and attracts goldfinches and butterflies. It?s about three feet high and covered with spikes. About four years one appeared and it has reseeded since then. Very cool looking plant.

Look at Mrs. Martta using "DH"!

You go girl!!

LOLZ! :-)

is that DH, as in Baseball?

does Pat consult or design gardens?

"Dumb Hump."

We had catalpa trees all over Missouri. The fruit was known as "lady cigars." I guess they're more rare here in the Garden State.

Personally, I would never wear hose in the summer. Too hot.

Perennials are on sale everywhere. Good for the patient, as we'll have to wait until next year to see them in all of their blooming glory. I'm willing to wait.

What about fishnets and high heels?

(Ba-dum-bum.)

Baseball? What does DH mean in baseball?

The Designated Hitter.

A very bad idea that evil folks who love the American League, seem to think makes for better baseball.

(In it, the pitcher, not usually known for his hitting, does not hit when his turn at bat comes. The Designated Hitter hits for him. The "DH" does not go into the field and just sits around eating sunflower seeds until his next turn at bat.)

Real baseball, the kind played in the National League, has the pitcher taking his turn at bat. Usually to bunt a runner over, or just to embarrass himself and provide the fan with a moment to say: "I can hit better than him".

Interesting. I guess the philosophy behind the DH is that they don't want to tire the pitcher out?

That's certainly one of them, along with hurting the fragile pitcher.....

It also allows for guys who can hit, but can't field to continue playing.

It is evil.

Mrs. Martta, I have always wondered what those trees were, and now I know!

There were a few here and there in the town I grew up in, and we kids used to pick them up and swordfight with them. When I saw one here in Montclair recently, it brought back memories!

LOL. My husband says they make great backscratchers. Apparently, they're big in the south although there the blossoms tend to be a deeper hue of purple.

Does anyone know if its best to plant a fig tree now or leave it in the pot?
I bought a very small fig tree this weekend. They told me to plant it right away in the sun and to cover it in the winter. However, after researching online it appears that many people in NJ keep the fig trees in pots and bring them indoors for the winter. Should I plant it outside or repot it to a bigger pot? Help. I'm hoping for figs next summer. Thank you.

Remember the old saw, "Feed a cold, plant a fig." Or is it "Starve a fever, pick a peck of pickled peppers"? Oh, I can't remember.

I bought a fig tree last summer at Corrado's and decided to try growing it in a pot. I had read that having the roots constricted somehow encourages the formation of fruit. I wintered it over in the garage, and right now it's covered with little figlets. I'm a little worried about squirrels, though, and wondering if it needs to be "netted". Have also read that "root pruning" every few years is a good idea (unpot, wash off soil, cut out thick old roots to make room for new little ones). There is a "fig forum" on gardenweb.com where you can learn about these things.

"Have also read that "root pruning" every few years is a good idea (unpot, wash off soil, cut out thick old roots to make room for new little ones)."

I think there's some validity to this. I know nothing about figs but this is true for potted orchids. Every so often, I cut away the old, dried out air roots. When I do this, within weeks, I get more blooms.

When I was in grade and high school, old Italian grandpas often had fig trees in their family backyards. But they were big, full-sized things, not in pots. And in the winter the branches were usually wrapped up in tarpaper or linoleum selvage, which the local floorcoverings store would give them for free.

They also regularly "fed" the roots, I remember that was important to these guys. One swore by water he'd put in gallon olive oil cans to soak up whatever was left on the can's inside walls, and another actually used melted fresh lemon ice because of its astringency.

There were always crops from these trees, too, come summer.

Too much trouble. I'd rather live in southern California, where you can just grow the danged things. But I may visit the fig forum, just for the comraderie.

I too would rather you lived in southern Cal, walleroo. But as Liz goes, so, I suppose, still do thee.