Zoned Out

No way! I'm not buying it! Talk to the Hand, USDA man!

This is my somewhat personal reaction to the new Hardiness Zone maps unveiled by the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA). The Sacramento Bee's Debbie Arrington writes about them in today's Home and Garden section. The new maps can be accessed here.

So what's the big deal about a new Hardiness Zone map? Well -- I'll tell you what the big deal is!

The fine scientists who released this map have decided to switch Sacramento's Hardiness Zone designation from 9A to 9B. This isn't a subtle change. What the USDA is now telling you is that it's safe to run out and buy an avocado tree and plant it in your backyard.

USDA Hardiness Zone Map

Not so fast there buckaroo.

The new USDA Hardiness Zone Map is divided into 13 different zones. These zones are based on the average winter temperature, and are further separated by "A" and "B" regions. Zone 9A, for example, is somewhat colder than Zone 9B. The same would hold true with Zone 10A and Zone 10B.

Up until a few short and blissful weeks ago, Sacramento was stuck in Zone 9A. What does this mean? It means certain trees and plants just won't tolerate the snap freezes that can haunt a gardener during the months of December and January. One good jolt of Mr. Freeze can turned your prized avocado tree into a pile of blackened twigs. I should know. I'm "expert" at killing avocado trees.

Venus next to the Pinkerton Avocado (now gone)

The supposedly "cold weather" varieties of Bacon, Pinkerton, Zutano, Mexicola and Mexicola Grande have all had a date with Mr. Freeze in my North Natomas Back 40. And all five have reacted by biting the proverbial dust. It didn't matter where they were planted. Raised beds for good drainage? Yesiree! Christmas lights at night to keep them warm? Yes, once again.

Mr. Freeze laughed at every precaution. After four years of nothing but frost-kissed black-twig failure, I officially announced to the wife that loves all thing avocados (this would be Venus) that no matter how hard I tried, I could not fit that square peg into a round hole. I got tired of watching avocado trees die -- let alone watching that growth spurt on the Meyer Lemon turn black and die back.

Why Meyer Lemons can't experience growth spurts in the spring amazes me to no end. But -- NOPE -- they always flush with new growth during the fall months out in our Back 40 territory. And you can bet the farm that those new purple shoots will blacken and die back once they've been kissed by Mr. Freeze.

New Northern California Map (BAH!)

If these developments aren't bad enough -- imagine how you would feel if some dumb USDA scientists suddenly changed your zone designation from 9A to 9B? How does that make me feel? It makes me feel like shipping some dead avocado tree limbs and twigs to those clueless USDA scientists -- telling them exactly where they can stick their new zone designation.

The voice of reason in this discussion is none other than Master Gardener Fred Hoffman, aka, Farmer Fred of NewsTalk 1530 KFBK and Talk 650 KSTE fame. He tells the Sacramento Bee that, "I'm a little leery about extending 9b so far." This makes me feel somewhat better. Lord knows, I've cried on his shoulder enough about my avocado tree failures.

Bacon Avocado Tree (DEAD!)

Fred is also a strong believer in microclimates, which is why, he says "you can find bananas (growing) in Lodi." This I tend to believe since South Natomas grower Nels Christensen, who lives less than five miles from me as the crow flies, has two mature and productive avocado trees in his backyard. Nels is always kind enough to bring four or five over during harvest season. It's a supply that lasts exactly 90 seconds.

I did mention the wife likes avocados, right?

So, my invitation to these smart USDA scientists is this: Give me your best shot. If you can make an avocado tree -- any avocado tree -- last an entire winter in the Bird Back 40, I'll eat the words printed on this blog.

Until then -- I'm firmly planted in Zone 9A.

The Lil' Punkin' That Could

Yes -- this is a blog posting about pumpkins. Yes -- I realize that Halloween has come and gone. No I am not insane. Although the wife might argue on that point a tad.

Speaking of my lovely bride -- there she is in all of her gorgeous beauty next to her brand spankin' new Zutano Avocado tree. The Zutano -- which we planted and securely staked over the weekend -- replaces the Bacon Avocado tree which I managed to slowly kill over the course of 18 months.

Why am I putting up a picture of my lovely wife next to a Zutano Avocado tree during a post about all things pumpkins? Did you not read that part about insanity in the first paragraph? Actually -- it's because Cindy Shea -- aka "The Vintage Vignette" -- requested one.

Blog Rule #1: Don't let The Vintage Vignette down.

OK -- let the silliness end. Time to get onto more serious things -- like planning our Thanksgiving dessert menu. If you're guessing that Pumpkin Pie might be on that menu -- then you've read the wife's mind. But not just ANY pie mind you -- but a pumpkin pie featuring this pumpkin from the backyard.

This was my first year for growing pumpkins. An old high school friend who lives in Southern California assured me that if I had to room to grow watermelon and cantaloupe vines -- I most certainly had room for pumpkins.

Whaddya know? Dan Breen was right on the money.

Actually -- to be brutally honest -- our pumpkin growing efforts were mostly a bust this summer. The first one actually ripened up just in time for Halloween: in early July. We left it on the vine for far too long -- but somehow it managed to survive the hot summer and almost daily attacks from the Vole City that populated my "test garden bed" in the Back 40.

I will admit -- the Voles got to a lot of my pumpkins AND watermelons AND cantaloupes this summer. But I got the final revenge -- as the Voles grew so fat that they became easy pickings for our Hunter-Killer cat named "Precious." She was more than happy to drag fattened, rat-sized creatures into the house -- still alive mind you -- so she could proudly proclaim: "VOLE! IT'S WHAT'S FOR DINNER!!!"

The wife was -- uh -- less than impressed.

But back to the subject in question. The Voles managed to leave just two pumpkins alone long enough to survive. And those pumpkins -- in turn -- were harvested -- seeded and carved for Halloween! But as we were combing through our most sincere of pumpkin patches -- we stumbled across this.... this.... thing.

It was a pumpkin, yes. But it was still green! Can you carve a green pumpkin? Are there laws against that? Since we already had two carved pumpkins for the kids at Halloween -- it was Venus that made the decision. She issued a stay of execution. A temporary stay I might add.

Her thinking -- which was right on the money -- was that this green pumpkin just might ripen in time for our Thanksgiving Dinner Spectacular -- starring every annoying member of each family possible -- plus a few misfits from our Club Raven hangout downtown.

Sure enough -- as the days stretched into November -- our green pumpkin turned a bright shade of orange on the bottom. It was a color that slowly spread to the top. It's a process that continues to this very moment. The pictures in this posting are about a week old and still show a considerable amount of green color. That's fading fast.

As much as I would like -- I cannot tell you which variety of this pumpkin is. I know it's not a Dills Atlantic Giant -- so we can rule that out. That leaves two other varieties of seed that Venus purchased earlier this summer from Lockhart Seeds in Stockton. This might be a member of the "Hallow Queen" Family -- or it could also belong to the "Howden" Clan.

Since the bees were busy as bees this summer cross-pollinating the pumpkin seeds that were planted tightly together -- this could also be a cross. I suspect -- from the pictures I've seen -- that this is probably a Howden. But who really knows? Who cares?

So -- how does one make a pumpkin pie from scratch using a gourd that Vole City desperately tried to dine on through the fall and summer months? I do have some ideas -- which are probably wrong of course. Venus loves to point that out.

But -- if you're in the mood for homemade pumpkin pie next week -- and you're in the neighborhood -- please remember to stop on by. Unless -- however -- you're a Vole. If that's the case -- you've already had your fill.

Death of an Avocado (Salesman)

OK -- this isn't going to work. So -- I'm going to put a stop to this right now. I was trying to be a little silly -- you see -- with the pun based on the Pulitzer Prize winning play "Death of a Salesman," when I realized this just wasn't going to work.

Besides -- my Avocado tree isn't named "Willy." It's a "Bacon." How do you reconcile "Willy" with "Bacon?"

Short answer: You can't.

The only thing the two items have in common is that playwright Arthur Miller kills off character Willy Loman at the end of the play. And I have managed to kill a Bacon Avocado tree. My story doesn't have nearly the drama. But it does have a rather sad ending.

This blog posting is to let other gardeners know that Bill Bird isn't perfect. His wife -- however -- is. She made me write that. Seriously.

No -- in all honesty -- all I ever do is blog about my gardening successes. I haven't told you about my NUMEROUS and EPIC gardening failures (except maybe that time when I hacked into the wrong PVC pipe...) -- and trust me -- I've had my fair share of FLOPS.

The Bacon Avocado tree -- sadly -- falls into the category of FLOP. I haven't dug it up yet. But it's a goner -- much to Venus' chagrin. She's the one that's just wild about Avocados. She can't get enough of them.

I will be honest. The wife does make a killer guacamole. And this is from a gardener who really isn't wild about guaca-anything. However -- my lovely wife was inspired by a recent trip to Rosarito Beach in Baja, California. That is where she discovered a guacamole caused her eyeballs to literally roll back into her skull.

She had to have the recipe -- and after getting a few tips from a restaurant owner in nearby Primo Tapia -- she managed to reproduce a pretty good facsimile of what we had dined on south of the border. The next step? A tree. Venus wanted her own Avocado tree -- so she could pick tree-ripened avocados for her special guacamole creation during the Super Bowl and other family gatherings.

To be honest? I didn't know much about growing Avocados. In fact, I don't think I'd ever even noticed an Avocado tree. Did they grow this far north? I had no clue. But thanks to some rather great friends at the California Rare Fruit Growers (CRFG) Association -- I not only discovered that Avocados grew well here -- but what varieties did the best.

Yes -- Virginia -- there is more than just the standard Haas Avocado that you find in your local grocery store. There are more varieties than you can shake an avocado pit at. There are Mexican varieties and there are Guatemalan varieties. There are avocados for warm weather climates and there are varieties for cold weather climates.

So -- after some research and some good advice from those "in the know," I felt rather confident when I purchased my Bacon Avocado tree at Home Depot a year ago last summer. I didn't pay much attention to the knot that developed at the base of tree a few months later. I even ignored the light black streaks that developed on some of the lower branches last fall.

The first indication that something really wasn't right was when the tree failed to grow a single inch this summer. Oh -- it grew a new crop of leaves sure enough. It leafed out just fine. It just didn't grow much -- if at all. But as light black streaks on the bottom branches of the tree grew darker and slowly moved up toward the top -- I knew something was wrong.

Then -- the other day -- I noticed this. This is the very top of the Bacon Avocado tree. Notice the lack of leaves? Notice the black color of the tip top of the tree? That ain't normal folks. There should be some leaf cover there. That tip should be green in color. It's not. It's not going to turn green either. The top of the tree is dying. In another week or four it will be dead -- and that black death will slowly envelop the rest of the tree if I allow it to stay in ground.

Don't worry -- it won't stay in the ground. It has an impending date with the Green Waste Can.

If the slowly blackening tip of the tree isn't enough proof of impending Bacon Avocado DEATH -- then this branch just below the tip should serve as the kicker. This is a month or two of the ahead of the top of the tree -- which means it's DEAD. Yup. And like a dead twig -- it snaps in two with relative ease.

So -- what went wrong? What is this BLACK DEATH infecting the wife's Bacon Avocado tree? As for the answer to the first question -- I don't know. I honestly cannot tell you what went wrong. I can tell you that the tree got the best soil. It received the best fertilzer. It never once sat in standing water. It received regular irrigation of fresh, clean Sacramento and American River water.

What then, is this Black Death? The answers arrived in the form of a helpful information page from UC Davis. Venus' poor Bacon Avocado tree is infected with not just one nasty disease but two! The names of both are just as nasty as the pictures -- Dothiorella Canker and Phytophthora Canker and Crown Rot.

Yeah -- the Bacon is cooked. It's a goner. It's not going to get any better.

I'm off to Green Acres nursery now to roam around in the dark for a Zutano. Wish me luck!