A Daughter's Betrayal

Aunt Olga and Bandi

She is safe here among family. Safe to live out her final years with the respect and care she deserves. She will be treasured here -- not used as an ATM. Although she longs for the life and home she left behind in New Mexico, they are the fleeting memories of a gentle soul that has been ravaged by Dementia. Physically? She is gifted with strength and good health at an advanced age. Mentally? Her mind has been ravaged by a terrible disease that will eventually undo a lifetime of glittering accomplishment.

A warning? If you should stumble across this post? It has absolutely nothing to do with vegetable gardening. While there is a Sacramento connection, any connection with the title of the blog ends there. Though vegetable gardening remains my true love, there are things, sights and experiences that have so stained my soul, that I feel compelled to write about them. The pictures and story that are to follow are not pretty. But it's a story that must be told and photos that must be shown.

Meth Abuse is Scary

Unlike most men and women, I spent my 50th birthday on God's Green Earth tiptoeing through the home of a methamphetamine (meth) abuser. I will never forget the sight nor the God awful smell that greeted the wife that is Venus and I, when we stepped into her Aunt Olga's house for the very first time. Though we had been warned to expect the worst, nothing could prepare us for the wretched odors and refuse that greeted us as we stepped through the front door. The fumes were so overpowering that they would drive us out less than 30 minutes later. Environmental testing would have to be performed before we could step back inside.

We had steeled ourselves for this trip to Albuquerque, New Mexico. We knew it was coming. We just weren't sure when. We knew it the moment that Venus received that fateful phone call last summer. Olga's guardian wanted no part of the drama that was unfolding. He was in ill health himself. Venus was the next family member in line. Would she be willing to take on the job of watching over Olga's finances?

Olga's mental health had been in decline since she moved from Sacramento in 2003. We begged her not to go. "What's in Albuquerque," we asked? "Your family is here, Olga," we argued. But Olga wouldn't listen. The woman had spent a lifetime doing what she wanted to do in life, working for the United States Foreign Services branch and traveling to outposts around the world. After assignments at embassies in Turkey, France, Columbia and other interesting places around the globe, when the urge to travel struck, Olga hopped on a plane and went. Though Olga had since retired from a lifetime of working around the globe, she never did lose the love of travel.

Methamphetamine Abuse Rage

And so Olga left.

As the years passed, we knew that Olga's mental situation continued to deteriorate. There would be repeated phone calls from her from time to time, a clear sign that she was quickly losing her short term memory. We thought it odd to receive a second call from her ten seconds after the first phone call had ended, where she proceeded to relate the exact same story she had related with the earlier phone call. When the third, fourth and fifth phone calls followed just moments later, we knew. Olga was forgetting the simplest of things.

But life is life. Venus was dealing with her own issues right here at home. First, her mother would pass from cancer. Secondly, her father went through a painful battle with rheumatoid arthritis before he lost his battle with lung cancer some years later. Life is just that: life. Olga had a daughter and grandchildren with her in New Mexico. She had adopted Christina from an orphanage in Costa Rica, saved a little girl from a lifetime of grinding third-world poverty and rewarded her with the pampered life of living abroad and an education at the finest of private schools.

Meth Abusers Remove Knobs for Some Strange Reason

It was Christina's turn to care for her mother now. Though we doubted her ability to do just that, there was little we could do from California, other than receive the occasional phone call from Olga (followed by another three to four in quick succession).

It wasn't until Venus received that fateful phone call last year, did we first get the inkling that something had gone terribly wrong. Why would Aunt Olga need a caretaker, a financial guardian of sorts, if her daughter Christina was there to take care of her? Why were Olga's finances in such a mess? House payments hadn't been made in months. Insurance payments were spotty. Cable television service had been shut off and on. A bank was threatening to foreclose on the home. This wasn't Olga. She was the most responsible person on the planet. She worked in interesting places, earned a pension and invested extraordinarily well into companies and land.

What was going on?

By this time, Christina was living with her mother. Her marriage to an abusive husband had finally hit rock bottom (we never could understand why Christina kept going back to him after the numerous beatings he inflicted). Christina's children, Olga's grandchildren, were also living in Olga's home. Our niece, Emily, had been a flower girl in our wedding. That sweet four year old was now approaching age 14. Joseph, the youngest, was nearing age 10.

Plea for Help from 15-Year Old Meth Abuser

It wasn't until Venus got a first look at her aunt's accounts did she realize the true breadth of the problem. Olga had been forgetting simple things like making house payments, insurance payments and payments on bills for quite some time. Her house was also falling apart around her. Although well-meaning friends would make appointments with service people for repairs, Olga would forget them five minutes later and repairs would never be made.

And where was Christina in all of this? She was living with her mother. She wasn't working. She wasn't providing any sort of financial help to her mother -- if anything -- her mother offered her an escape from an abusive relationship. So why couldn't Christina make these payments? Why couldn't Olga's 41-year old daughter keep up with the bills? Keep those appointments with service personnel?

So many questions. So little in the way of answers. They would eventually reveal themselves, but the answers were slow in coming. In the meantime, the abuse of Olga, which we had been unaware of, intensified.

Family did this to Family

To start making payments on various bills as Olga's financial guardian, Venus would first have to gain control of Olga's bank accounts. One simply doesn't wave a wand and gain control over someone else's bank accounts. It takes written orders from a physician and a court order for such things to happen. Venus would need a physician to certify that Olga was no longer capable of handling day-to-day affairs and should not be trusted with financial decisions. A Superior Court judge would then have to agree.

While we still couldn't quite understand why Christina wasn't helping in the slightest, Olga was fortunate enough to still have friends from her days in the U.S. Foreign Service. Quite a number of them had also retired to Albuquerque. A few of them were still close to Olga. Venus would set up the doctor's appointments and her friends would help Olga get to where she needed to be.

As Venus began to gain control over Olga's accounts, the first signs of elder abuse emerged. The whispers of abuse from many of Olga's trusted friends also grew louder. Nobody likes a rat. But to sit idly by and allow the unabated abuse of another while doing nothing about it is just as wrong.

Bathroom of a Meth Abuser

Money was missing. Vast sums of money was missing. Entire accounts that held tens of thousands of dollars had been completely drained. Where had the money gone? Olga had forgotten the existence of these accounts so very long ago that it was useless to ask her that question, but what about Olga's daughter? What did Christina know?

I can't remember at which point that Venus learned that Christina had somehow obtained an ATM card to her mother's accounts. But by following the financial trail that the card left behind, it wasn't hard to find out what happened to most of Olga's life savings. Christina made no attempt to hide it. She had siphoned off tens of thousands of dollars in a matter of months. When Venus took action to cut off the card, that's when the real drama started.

And you thought it was filled with enough drama already? This could be a book called: DRAMA.

Nice Artwork: NOT

"HOW DARE YOU TAKE MY MONEY," the first indignant email message exclaimed. "MY MOTHER PROMISED ME THIS MONEY WHEN SHE DIED," another indignant email message exclaimed. "THIS IS MY MONEY," said yet another.

It was useless to explain simple financial things to Christina. Things such as, one, it wasn't her money, it was her mother's, simply flew over her head. Gently reminding her that her mother hadn't died yet also failed to register. Reminding her again, that she needed to work and make her own money, also missed the mark. She just wouldn't get it, or refused to get it. The free-wheeling and free-spending days of draining her mother's accounts had come to an abrupt end.

Venus had to operate very carefully in this matter. She was under a court order from a Superior Court judge in Albuquerque, NM that any money from her aunt's accounts had to be used for the care of her aunt and nothing else. Bean counters were watching her every move. Venus would need to retain the services of not only an attorney to advise her in these matters, she would also need the assistance of a home-care guardian.

Meth Abuse isn't Pretty

Home life with Olga was falling apart quickly. Christina was now forced to justify every expense, something a meth abuser often has to lie about. Meth abusers are very adept liars. They're good at it. Meth abusers will sell their soul, your soul and the souls of their children before they give up the addiction to that white powder. A teacher who has witnessed the children of meth abusers recently told us: "I would tell you that the children of meth abusers look like they've been raised by wolves, but that would be a disservice to wolves."

The full horror of what had taken place over a matter of years was starting to unfold before our eyes. It wouldn't become completely clear until arrest reports arrived in our mailbox. They were arrest reports from Albuquerque, NM at the home of Venus' aunt. They detailed noise complaints, arrests for drug sales, arrests for drug abuse, citations for failed drug tests. The flower girl at our wedding, that sweet four year old girl, was now 15 and going on 50. She had just flunked her entire first year of high school. Worse yet, she'd failed a drug test.

By this time? The home-care guardian that Venus had retained for Olga's care had taken steps to remove Olga from her home and into an assisted care facility. Christina couldn't even care for her mother. While she had gone out night after night, procuring drugs for herself and her daughter, Olga wandered off. The old lady walked a mile to the nearest grocery store, where she proceeded to trip, fall and break her elbow. The helpful store attendants who came to her aide were stupified. They found a woman who could not remember her name nor where she lived.

That was the final straw. Olga would be moved into an assisted living facility where she could get the care that she needed, and, at the same time, offered her the protection she needed from an abusive daughter who had stolen most of her life savings for one methamphetamine fueled party after another.

The final step would be removing Christina and her children from her mother's home. Olga could never be allowed to go back home, and could never again be allowed in the presence of her abusive and addicted daughter without court supervision. Christina did not go easily, but go she did. Eviction laws in New Mexico aren't quite as complex as eviction laws in California, children or no children.

It was only after Christina had been forced to leave the home, did Venus and I make the flight out. We would spend nearly ten days living out of a suitcase. Much of the time was wasted because we feared methamphetamine contamination inside the home. You can't just "fix up" and sell a home that has been contaminated by meth abuse. The chemicals are toxic and sink into walls and surfaces. No amount of regular cleaning or painting will remove them. Environmental cleansing is often prescribed and is now the law in New Mexico. It isn't cheap either.

As for Olga? We received court permission to move Olga from a residential facility in Albuquerque to a special facility here in California. Here she can be safely hidden from her abusive daughter. She can be challenged mentally with a series of activities and events that serve her much better than just sitting around in front of some TV, forgetting every mundane moment after another.

I've often joked to Venus, that if this is the reward for living a long and healthy life? I'm going to keep right on drinking. But let this be a warning. Abuse happens. It happens in all families. From the wealthiest of families to the poorest, we share a common tale of woe. This is a warning.

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POSTSCRIPT: Olga's daughter, Christina, and her daughter (our niece) live in a run down apartment complex and continue to place blame on every family member for their woes. Like most drug abusers, they approach family members from time to time with a plea for money. There is not much we can do for them. They must help themselves first before the family can step in an help, and yes, that includes the 15-year old going on 50. As for the son, he was recently removed from his mother's care and has been placed with his father. As for law enforcement? Police and prosecutors in Albuquerque and Bernalillo County have bigger fish to fry. Though there are laws on the books against elder abuse, they are rarely enforced. And, as bad as our case was, those who deal with this tragedy on a day to day basis say it's not the worst case they've seen before. I shudder to think how it could have been any worse.

MY Venus Shows Off THE Venus

MY Venus with THE Venus

So? Guess which is which? Oh great, she's going to KILL me for that line. I kind of like this picture. I really do. I snapped it just the other day. Yes, that raving beauty to the right is MY Venus -- the Wife That Is (and will always be) MY Venus.

I think Facebook friend Dave Jessee, upon seeing this picture, gave it justice when he proceeded to comment the following: "Very nice!.....and the grapes aren't too bad either!"

He doesn't know it yet, but Dave Jessee earned all important "points" for that response. And when it comes to the Wife that is Venus, you can never have too many "points."

Venus Table Grapes

I write this post because MY Venus is holding up something rather important and amazing. I've been waiting for this moment for the better part of four years. No, the moment is not sex. Though, she did make me wait entirely too long for that. Never mind. Wait? What was I writing about again?

Oh yes, table grapes. Forgive me. My mind wandered. It's still wandering...

What MY Venus is holding top right -- and also pictured upper left -- is the Venus Table Grape. After four years of waiting, the Venus vine is finally producing the very first crop of juicy table grapes. This is a rather seminal moment. If you've ever grown seedless table grapes in California, the first rule of thumb is table grapes do not ripen in June.

Venus Table Grapes on the Vine

Most don't ripen in July. By August you have plenty of local table grapes. But JUNE? Yes, June, apparently. We have the evidence. The evidence is tasty. And there's more than one or two tasty table grape clusters hanging on the Venus vine. It's not a whopper 40 lb. harvest mind you, but that's fine. There's always next year.

There is some interesting history here. It's is the Wife who is Venus who bargained for the Venus Table Grape. It's why this rare vine can be found growing in the Bird Back 40. There aren't many of them here. This variety simply isn't grown much here. Why? Good question. Wish I had the answer. It might be the fact that there are so many delicious California selections already grown here, why do we need this one?

Lip-Smacking Venus Table Grapes Ready for Consumption

The Venus Table Grape harkens from the University of Arkansas, where it was developed and marketed as a seedless vine in 1977. How it got from Arkansas to California is a question that I cannot answer. But what I can tell you is this: When I first approached MY Venus to ask permission to plant table grapes in the Bird Back 40 some five or six years ago, she was initially skeptical. "Why grapes," she asked?

"Because I like them," I questioned in a somewhat timidly voice in response. "What varieties do you want," she continued. I handed her a list from Bay Laurel Nursery. And that is why MY Venus spotted THE Venus Table Grape. "As long as you plant the table grape named after me," she proclaimed, "I'm fine with it."

And that, my friends, is how THE Venus found a home in the Back 40 belonging to MY Venus.

Venus Cluster on the Vine

But it doesn't end there. Not even close. This was just the beginning.

The bare root season that preceded the spring season four years ago was a rather wet and miserable season indeed. It was cold. It was clammy. Short and sweet? It sucked. It wasn't anything like last year's bare root season, which offered mostly warm temperatures and sunny skies. Although bare root season is often the best time to plant things like fruit trees and vines, the bare root season that we got four years ago was an exception.

About half of the selections that I ordered from Bay Laurel Nursery died. From vines to trees -- fifty percent is not a good number. One of the first vines to die that year? You guessed it: the Venus Table Grape.

MY Venus was anything but pleased. She has the green thumb in the family. She thought mine had turned black -- as in black with death. I would have to wait another year before a replacement plant arrived from Bay Laurel so I could give it the "old college try" again. By this time the spot I'd set aside for THE Venus and other table grapes had already been taken up with replacement selections. I had to find another spot for it.

Venus Cluster

And so, across the yard it went. That small corner would suffice -- or so I thought. THE Venus didn't do much that first year. It grew about six inches. That ain't much in the world of table grapes. In fact, that's downright pathetic. Some first year vines will send out a stalk that can grow 10-12 feet! Six inches in comparison is fairly depressing.

The second year -- when I could expect the first fruits of my labor -- offered the same results. Oh -- it was a little better. This time THE Venus table grape vine produced TWO new vines. Each one grew about two feet in length and then stopped. Hey! That's better than the first year. But still not as nice as the other vines that were really starting to produce a boatload of table grapes.

What went wrong? I'm not sure. Perhaps the vine just didn't acclimate well to California? Perhaps it wasn't getting enough fertilizer, or perhaps I was under-fertilizing it? Was it the water? Too much? Too little? The weather? Too hot? Not muggy enough? I couldn't understand why eight other vines were growing like champions, while THE Venus, planted just mere feet away, wasn't doing as well.

Venus Vine Growth in 2013: BOOM!

Perhaps all it needed was time. This year? THE Venus sprang to life while the other table grape vines were still getting a winter's slumber. Suddenly, before I knew it, it had grown to the point where it was too late to install any sort of arbor for it. More importantly, it was fruiting for the very first time. And I didn't dare risk the chance of knocking first year fruit loose for arbor installation duties. That would have to wait. In the meantime? THE Venus vine that had grown a total of two and a half feet in the previous two years quickly grew over a six foot high fence and into the neighbor's yard.

MY Venus was pleased. She was even more pleased to taste the very first fruits of our labor. A garden is a labor of love after all. How does THE Venus taste? I'll admit, the brix content is nothing to write home about. It's not the sweetest grape in the world. However, it's got an intense taste just the same. As one writer puts it: "The Venus Table Grape is a cross between the European Vitis vinifera and the North American Vitis labrusca. It has the foxy flavor of a Concord, with some of the lusciousness of a Black Monukka."

I guess that means it's darn good. And wouldn't you know it? MY Venus would have to agree.

Have a Berry Nice Day!

Ripening Arapaho Blackberries-Bird Back 40

It's berry season in the Bird Back 40. It's about time. It's also early this year thanks to some unseasonably HOT weather in the Sacramento river bottom. Our spring this year should be awarded the film title of Gone in Sixty Seconds. The hot spring jump-started many fresh fruits and vegetables that either did very well (asparagus) or flopped completely (artichokes).

One crop to react positively to an early spring rush of hot weather? The blackberries pictured above. They are large. They are luscious. They represent one of the best "impulse" purchases that Bill Bird has ever made. This is the Arapaho Thornless Blackberry vine. Unlike many other thornless vines that need support in the form of a trellis or fence, the Arapaho resembles a small tree with a thick central cane system that keeps the plant upright.

Arapaho Blackberry Ready for Consumption

I literally tripped over this starter plant in my mad quest for additional seed potatoes last spring at Lowe's Big Box Home Improvement store in West Sacramento. I had recently made a decision to move existing vines from one spot in the yard to another, which would create space for one brand new vine. I had never known vines to be self-supporting, and since I literally tripped over them while searching for seed potatoes, I considered it a sign from God.

Thus the Arapaho was purchased and planted in the Bird Back 40. My faith has been rewarded with berries the size of walnuts and a creamy sweet delightful taste that would be a winner in any pie made from scratch. My only regret is that the Arapaho, now in its second year of production, isn't producing quite enough for pies just yet. But as I gaze at that Jack-in-the-Beanstalk tree-trunk sized growth bent on growing over the fence line, I have a pretty good idea that pie construction will be on the agenda for 2014.

Next Year's Fruiting Cane: The Arapaho

But the Arapaho isn't the only thornless blackberry springing to life in the Bird Back 40. In fact, I know of one or two Sacramento area fresh berry growers that would even make the case that the Arapaho isn't the best vine in the Bird Back 40. Nope! That honor would be bestowed to the vine growing to the immediate right of the Arapaho: the Black Satin.

Unlike the Arapaho, the Black Satin was not an impulse purchase. I was approached by two other gardeners several years ago who were putting together a major purchase at a well known California nursery and asked if I wanted in. Want in? Duh. I didn't "want in." I dived in with three feet. Four or five years ago the Black Satin Blackberry vine was the current rage of the gardening day. It was the "must have" berry for the backyard.

And, so, well, I had to have it.

Black Satin Blackberries-Bird Back 40

As it turns out? I had some problems with it. The first plant actually up and died on me. In fact, it never got beyond "bare root" stage. When June rolled around and that brown cane started turning even browner, I knew that something had gone wrong. And I would have to wait another full year, till the next bare root season, to get a replacement. And then, to add insult to injury, I dug the plant up last year and moved it to another location. Talk about a crime! I could be tried and convicted! The charge your honor? Black Satin Blackberry Abuse!

As for the friend who also ordered the Black Satin? She's a little better gardener than I am. Her plant lived. Plus she didn't abuse it like I did. Today that Black Satin plant resembles a large Christmas Tree, and, yes, it's loaded with hundreds of FAT berries. She recently posted a picture of her plant on her Facebook page and I reacted by promptly drooling on my computer keyboard. What's that? You'd like her name and address eh? Yeah, I'm sure you do...

Loaded Black Satin Bush-Sacramento

I guess the point I'm trying to make here -- and doing a bad job at it -- is that spring and summer blackberries are the absolute bomb. The days of plants with thorns the size and sharpness of switchblades are long gone. Horticulture has rewarded us with all sorts of berry options, minus the thorns. Got a small and ignored spot in the yard? Plant berries.

You'll be glad you did. Because there's nothing quite like a slice of warm Black Satin and Arapaho Blackberry pie on a cold winter's day. That's what growing your own is all about.

Don't Bother Me! I'm Gardening!

Test Bed: Bird Back 40

I dread the month of May. I really do. I shouldn't. This is my "can't miss" gardening month. I should love it to death. But, instead I dread what the change in seasons brings. Now I know how full-time farmers must feel. I must fight for my time in the great outdoors that is the Bird Back 40.

May is the month when the offers for my gardening time come rolling in. The big brother emails: "Let's spend the entire Saturday hiking up a trail and go fishing!" The sister-in-law says: "Don't forget -- It's First Communion Services this Saturday." This doesn't include the offers to attend various all day parties, weddings, birthdays and other "must attend" events.

This also doesn't include the renters who haven't paid rent for two months and then suddenly decide to move. And, of course, they leave the place in a fine mess.

Bird Tomato Garden in May-Off to a Good Start!

Don't these people garden? Don't they understand that May is the month when gardens are installed? Miss a month and you don't get it back. You can't plant green onion or carrot seeds in mid-June, people. It's too hot. Germination rates are low. Trust me on this, I've tried.

Things get so busy during the month of May that I don't even get the time to blog about it. Check the list people! It's been two weeks! That's an eternity for bloggers. Yeah, there's lots to write about! But when am I going to find the time? 

Cucumbers planted? CHECK!

When you garden as extensively as the wife that is Venus and I do, it takes more than a "day or two" to install a full summer garden. Most people don't understand this. To them, it's plant and forget. And then they wonder why the tomato plants aren't producing in August. If you desire a productive and healthy summer vegetable garden, you've got to put in the time. And that can mean hours of prep before the first tomato plant is even planted.

The latest project came just this weekend with the preparation and planting of the Bird Test Bed located in a side yard. Thanks to our recent spate of hot weather with little in the way of rainfall, the hardened clay yielded to the Mantis Rototiller as easy as hardened concrete. Guess what happens when a spinning Mantis hits concrete? If you're guessing it jumps -- good guess. But, if you're serious about this business, you've got to bear down and provide a little more muscle. Otherwise, no corn crop for those outdoor summer dinners!

Six kinds of Basil? Really? Pesto Party!

A summer dinner without corn on the cob is a crime.

The test bed located above right, by the way, may look bare now. But, trust me with this people, it's been loaded with seed. I put in the corn. Venus put in the pumpkins, squash and some spare tomato plant leftovers and a few flowers to beautify the spot as well. This is AFTER I'd spent the better part of a Sunday morning churning up the dirt, adding compost and other items that summer vegetables crave, and churning it up once more again. Then it's time to make rows -- and finally -- install drip irrigation.

Then and only then -- is it time to plant.

Flowering Potato Plants in May-Bird Back 40

Think there's any time for all-day fishing trips with a chore like this? Taking a five hour break for First Communion Services? Cleaning out a rental? Attending this event or that event? I sometimes wonder how full-time farmers drown out the noise and concentrate on the job that has to be done. Then again -- full-time growers get to dig in the dirt all week. They're lucky. I'm lucky if I get a day.

Despite the non-gardening demands on my weekend time -- things are going fairly well. While I'd like to say the job is done -- that would be a bit of a lie. There's that spring garden bed to tear out, especially since spring came and went in the space of 30-seconds this year. You know summer is serious when it doesn't give lettuce plants a chance to bolt. When those tender-crisp leaves turn brown, whither and die in the course of 48 hours? Summer's here and it's here to stay.

Eggplant-Bush Beans and Carrots! Oh My!

Not to worry, right? Because I can finish off the gardening project next weekend, right? Nope! I won't be gardening. Why not? Don't ask!

But, so far, Memorial Day Weekend is wide open!

Locked and Loaded!

Venus and Sara: Gardening Girls Gone Wild

Hello! Welcome to yet another adventure in "Extreme Gardening." This week in the Bird Back 40? It's Garden Girls Gone Wild and guess who the lucky man behind the camera was? If you're guessing a one Bill Bird, you just might be correct. And, despite hands that trembled with excitement, I'm here to tell you a satisfying tale in both pictures and words.

Those two young ladies pictured above right played a starring role in Garden Girls Gone Wild. You may have noticed that one on the left is none other than the lovely gardening wife that is Venus. But that girl to the right may not be as familiar. Her name is Sara. And she is a charter member of GWG -- "Gardeners Without Gardens."

Heirloom Tomato Starter Plants

I would meet Sara some years back when she magically appeared from nowhere with an offer of free heirloom tomato starter plants for an annual tomato plant handout that I once hosted at the State Capitol. It was Sara who gave us the brilliant idea for our seed starting rack. And it's Sara who gave us the inspiration for what took place in the Bird Back 40 last weekend.

Yes -- we jumped the gun a tad. Tomato plant out in the Sacramento area normally takes place with the start of May. But the weather isn't cooperating. It's been downright gorgeous for most of the month of April, other than a few blustery days. But there's been no rain to speak of -- certainly no frost -- and we've been blessed with mostly warm temperatures and abundant California sunshine.

Can you blame us for getting a head start?

Return of the Mantis Rototiller

After giving the Mantis rototiller a good workout in three different raised gardening beds, I put Venus and Sara to work. And, make no doubt about it: This was WORK. It was hot, sweaty, grungy, get down in the dirt and DIG DEEP type of work. Quite simply? This is unlike any summer garden planting process we've gone through before.

It's not like we've never planted heirloom tomato starter plants before. We have. If you've read this blog a time or two, you've probably figured out that Venus and I have planted our fair share. But when it comes to the world of extreme vegetable gardening, there's always something new to try. A new approach beckoned. "Be one with the Earth, William," both Sara and Venus whispered.

They Work-I Watch

As it turns out -- I let the two gorgeous gardeners be "one with the Earth." I just snapped the photos and earned a rather brutal sunburn in the process. That's the luck of the Irish for you. Irish people don't tan. They turn a bright shade of redneck red. They peel. And then they burn themselves silly again. Insane Irish.

Last week's post related a special story of a Homer five gallon bucket that was packed with fish parts. It had fish heads. It contained fish tails. One could find fish skins, fish entrails, fish poop and all parts of a fish that people just won't pay money for. We'd let our tightly covered can of smelly fish parts sit and cook in warm sunshine for a full day before we finally popped that lid off.

Smelly Fish Parts!

What an aroma! We drove neighborhood dogs and cats wild with envy. My neighbors thought -- and still think -- we'd gone half mad. And they just might be right.

Although I always amend our raised gardening beds with proper and equal amounts of nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium every spring, Venus and I had never taken that extra step of adding additional amendments to each hole that we dug when it came to plant our heirloom tomato garden. The standing order of business had been the following: till up the garden with the Mantis, add amendments, then proceed to use the Mantis again to till everything together. The beds were then raked smooth and planting would then commence.

Venus Prepares to Plant: Bird Back 40

Venus and I would each dig a hole anywhere from eight to 12 inches deep -- place our treasured Brandywine or Lemon Boy at the bottom of the hole -- cover with dirt and move onto the next hole. It's the same step we repeated day after day, year after year. We didn't vary much. It always worked, so why mess with a good thing?

Why mess with a good thing? Because better things can be had. Sara came armed with some pretty good ideas. She's not the first person to employ this technique. She certainly won't be the last. But this was a departure from what we've done in the past.

I knew this was going to be a different gardening experience when Sara approached me with a request for a shovel. I handed her our standard gardening trowel. She proceeded to launch said trowel into orbit with a retort of something along the lines of: "Not this wimpy thing, I mean a SHOVEL!"

One Cup Liquid Fish Parts

She wasn't kidding.

Sara wasn't content or happy with digging a hole of eight to 12-inches. Sara demanded a hole two feet deep and two feet wide. Since most of my raised beds don't stand taller than 14-inches, I informed her she was going to hit some nasty hard clay at the bottom of her quest. No matter. She cut right through it. Sara and shovels are no mystery to one another.

When I indicated earlier this was real grunt, sweaty type of work, I wasn't kidding. Digging a two foot deep and two foot wide hole isn't hard. But try digging 26 of them. In hot sunshine. One after the other. See what I'm getting at? This was no vacation. By the time Sara and Venus were finished cutting through the clay soil line, my once nice and level gardening beds had been transformed into a series of sharp, mountainous peaks.

Fish Parts Added

Why dig a hole two feet wide and two feet deep? Recall that story about a Homer 5 gallon bucket full of fish parts? Those parts, plus other amendments were destined for the bottom of these holes. These had to be placed deep, lest neighborhood critters steal in during the dead of night to dig them up for a "snack."

If you once believed that those 18-ounce Red Solo Cups were reserved for one purpose and one purpose only (PAR-TAY!), guess again. The gardening girls needed something to transfer smelly and by now quite liquidish fish parts from bucket to gardening hole -- and the red solo cups were it. And so it went. The girls, who wore plastic gloves for some protection, dove into that bucket again and again and again. Ever tried swimming in liquidish fish parts? Oh, the fun we have here in the Bird Back 40!

Aspirin Amendments

Each hole demanded a cup of fish heads and fish parts. Each hole received a cup of fish heads and fish guts. Venus and Sara then topped off each hole with two aspirin, a quarter-cup of fine bone meal and a bit of amended dirt to make everything nice and level. What's the aspirin for you ask? That's a good question. You may ask. I make no promises of answering.

However, if you take a gander at this article from Science Daily -- the aspirin supposedly adds to a plant's immunity, thereby reducing the need for pesticides to control bad bugs and bad fungal diseases. Heirloom plants are unlike their cousins, the hybrids, in that they are highly susceptible to many bugs and fungal diseases. I still think it's a bit odd to place two aspirin next to the root ball of an heirloom tomato starter plant, but I'm willing to try anything once I suppose. As for the bone meal? It's high in phosphorus, which tomato plants need to survive and thrive.

If you're asking why we didn't throw the kitchen sink into the bottom of those cavernous holes, you may ask.

The final step: Planting

With holes dug, fish parts, aspirin and bone meal distributed, it was now time to get down to the task of why we gathered in the Bird Back 40 on this particular day: It was time to plant our leggy heirloom tomato plant starters. Those leaf sets that I had lovingly cared for during the seed-starting growth process last winter were clipped and tossed aside. Into each hole went a very long and skinny starter plant, with a few leaves remaining at the top.

Tomatoes are one of the few vegetable plants that will develop additional root systems. The stem will actually take root, provided you plant it deep enough. And two or three sets of root systems are better than one as the old saying goes.

Sara in Her Element

Why go through this process for a simple tomato plant? Because Sara and others have promised this particular method of planting will result in end-of-season stems that are as thick as small trees. Why do the stems get this thick? They are needed to support the plant because it's busy producing a whopper of a heavy tomato harvest.

That's all the argument Bill Bird needs. Please bury me in various colors of heirloom tomatoes people and leave me in heavenly peace. One part of the summer garden -- the most important part some would say -- is now in. Bring on the peppers and basil and other summertime bounty. The job of planting our summer garden continues.

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What's in that Bucket?

The Homer All Purpose Bucket

Betcha can't guess what's in that bucket. You know -- THAT bucket. That Home Depot five gallon Homer bucket located to your immediate right. I have about ten of these things all over the house because, well, they're useful for holding, you know, "stuff."

In fact, the simple "Homer" bucket just might be the greatest invention ever. I know Home Depot didn't invent it, but they've put a nice patent on it with the Homer logo. They're cheap too, which is another plus. And, they hold stuff. Thing is -- this particular Homer bucket holds something quite special. Can you guess what it might be?

Venus and "The Bucket"

Home Depot stuff? No. My brother-in-law was using this particular bucket to store cat litter, but that's long since gone. Parts for PVC cages? Nope! Gardening tools? Guess again. And, keep in mind, this bucket is covered for a reason. The stuff in this bucket is highly volatile. Neighborhood cats are drawn to this bucket by an irresistible force.

Now that's the last hint that I'm going to provide for you before Venus pulls the top off this thing. Sara Stout knows what's in this bucket. She's the one that gave us this grand idea. She's the one who urged the wife that is Venus to drive all the way into South Sacramento (South Sac) and visit that "special place."

Finding Nemo

So, what's in that bucket? Well -- I'll tell you. What? You thought I was going to keep it a secret through this entire blog post? My friends, that would be cruel. Besides, I've got too big a mouth to keep anything a secret for very long. Do you remember the old joke about the three modern forms of communication? The three modern forms of communication are: telephone, telegraph and tell Bill.

There's some truth to that equation.

My friends, the stuff in this bucket is a bit of gardening gold. It's a treasure for tomato plants. It's plunder for peppers, a bonus for basil, opulence for eggplants and pure swag for squash. It is: fish guts. It is also fish heads. There are some fish tails down in that bucket. There's fish skins, fish entrails, just about every part of the fish that isn't sold at your local fish market.

Garden Gold

And it is this five gallon Homer bucket full of fish parts that is currently stinking up a storm in the Bird Back 40. We're going to let it "age" a day or two like a fine wine. When we finally take the top off this thing today, my neighbors are in for a rather putrid surprise.

I know what you're thinking. Why on God's Green Earth are we "roasting" a five gallon bucket full of fish parts? Finally gone off the deep end have we? Time for a little white jacket with straps, perhaps? A long rest and lots of medication?

Heirloom Tomato Starter Plants

Any heirloom tomato grower worth his or her salt knows exactly what this bucket is for. Those fish parts are going into the bottom of a hole that will soon hold an heirloom tomato starter plant. Every grower has his or her little secrets for soil supplements when it comes to growing great tomatoes, but the verdict on fish parts is darn near universal: this is the good stuff.

Cynthia Sandberg from Love Apple Farms in Santa Cruz raves about the use of fish heads in her tomato garden. In her words? "The fish head slowly decomposes, feeding both nitrogen and calcium to the tomato plant." Those who celebrate the day of April 20th also use this trick. Except, they're not growing tomatoes. Sara Stout claims the use of fish heads resulted in end-of-season tomato stems as thick as small trees -- and a bounty of a harvest to boot.

Bring on the Basil!

And so, my friends, I'm not too proud nor ashamed to try a little something new in the garden. If the gardening world says "add fish parts," I add fish parts. Some even suggest we add crushed eggshells. Others prefer worm castings. Adding nightcrawlers, like you find in you average bait and tackle shop, is also recommended.

Why not? It's tomato planting season, people. Bring on Nemo and his pals. It's time to get digging in the dirt.