The Cruel Tease

What's that song? Accentuate The Positive? Sung so brilliantly by Bing N' Bette in a 1977 television special?

I suppose I could talk about the show the roses are putting on in the backyard. The two giant artichokes we will harvest for dinner tonight? Maybe the monster garlic that is growing even more monstrous with every spring rainstorm or deep watering session on the weekends.

Nope. My "tale" this weekend is one of woe. It's one of those cruel jokes pulled by Mother Nature when I was least expecting it. There's no escaping this one. One of the fruit harvests that I most look forward to every spring and summer is no more -- stolen away -- by a dreaded disease called Brown Rot.

I just spent the better part of this afternoon pulling off every single diseased cherry from this Lapin Cherry tree located to your immediate right.

It wasn't easy -- but it had to be done. There will be no cherries from the Lapin this year -- which is the cruelest of hoaxes and "cherry jobs" that Mother Nature can deliver.

This was the ultimate tease. This tree produced its first crop during it's second year -- last spring. Yes -- it was a small crop. But it was a tasty one at that. The birds got a share. So did the bugs. But Venus and I got a nice taste of what was to come in Year 3. The Lapin -- also called a "self-fruitful Bing" -- is one sweet cherry.

So -- during the winter -- I dreamed of Lapin cherries. Not just one or two. But Lapin cherries by the bucket. Venus and I even planted a Royal Ranier Cherry tree nearby -- because we knew that one cherry tree just wasn't going to be enough.

Venus wanted enough cherries for cherry pies. I wanted to re-live the days of my Modesto youth -- where I could sit in a cherry tree and eat my fill. We took steps to baby the tree during the winter. I trimmed it for the first time. Venus mulched around the base of the tree. By the time spring rolled around -- we had those visions of cherries dancing in our heads.

Sadly -- something went terribly wrong.

Oh sure -- the first thing that took place this spring? The tree burst into a glory of white cherry blossoms. It is the moment I had been waiting for. Hundreds of blossoms covered every branch -- even the trunk of the tree got involved. Venus' two-year old Royal Ranier also got into the act with a few blossoms of its own.

But nothing was putting on a show quite like the Lapin. Venus and I began to make plans. I would need a mesh cover for the tree to fight off the birds. Venus -- meanwhile -- started researching cherry pie recipes.

But -- as time went by -- concern began to slip into that big cranium of mine. I wasn't sure what was wrong -- but something didn't seem right. Some of those white blossoms turned a light shade of brown before they could even fully open up.

This wasn't right -- was it? To be honest kids -- I really didn't know. I've never grown cherry trees before. This is a new experience for me. Perhaps this is normal? Perhaps not every blossom turns into a cherry? Perhaps it's fate that some die off before they can open?

As time went by -- my concern mounted. That light brown color turned darker. It covered entire sections of the tree. Worse yet -- some of that brown was beginning to move into the cherry blossoms that had already opened and developed a cherry husk.

I also noticed -- right about the same time -- that the leaves on Venus' cherry tree were developing at a much faster rate than the leaves on the Lapin. I reasoned -- at the time -- that this must be normal development since the Royal Ranier produces ripe cherries almost a full month before the Lapin. So -- it made sense that the leafsets would develop a little quicker.

Instead of taking action -- I waited. Two weeks later -- I knew that something was wrong. The young, still not quite developed leaves on the Lapin were turning brown. Some of the leafsets at the top of the tree had died back completely. That's when I knew something wasn't quite right in Dodge.

Where to turn? Facebook of course! The Social Media Pages are full of horticulturalists and nursery shop owners who could probably immediately diagnose the problem -- and better yet -- suggest a quick cure. So -- I snapped some photos -- the same photos that you see here -- posted them up on Facebook and asked for help.

It didn't take long. Redwood Barn Nursery Owner Don Shor diagnosed the problem less than eight hours later: Brown Rot. Farmer Fred Hoffman concurred. So did Sacramento Gardening's Angela Pratt. Brown Rot had taken hold of my Lapin Cherry tree -- and was delivering quite the knockout punch.

That's when I turned to the web for a little photo research. I started Googling phrases like "brown rot" and "Lapin Cherry brown rot" and some interesting and alarming photos popped up. Sure enough -- the infected brown rot branches that I found online were an exact match for what was taking place at home.

But even worse than that -- was a photo of a cherry tree that was exhibiting signs of Brown Rot in late summer. The fully developed leaves were turning a dark shade of brown and falling to the ground. It suddenly hit me that my Lapin Cherry had exhibited the exact same signs last fall. Although it should have raised red flags then -- I took the leaf die off and drop as the "sign of fall." The tree -- I reasoned -- would be back.

If only I had known.

The spores that cause Brown Rot overwintered and grew during the wet and cold rainy months. By the time spring hit? Every single branch was covered with disease. And I had no idea until it reared its ugly head with some early blossom die-off. By then? It was already too late. The entire tree was infected.

It didn't take long for the disease to progress. The green cherries that you see in the photos taken two weeks ago have since turned a shade of red and brown. Not a single cherry made it. And I just finished up today with picking the entire 2010 crop and dumping all of it -- every last cherry -- into the green waste bin.

The pie cherries? Gone. The eating cherries? Eaten by disease. The only cherries that Bill Bird will eat this year will come from the Farmer's Market.

Fortunately -- Brown Rot can be controlled. Unlike many diseases that force you to dig up a tree and start over -- regular applications of copper sulfate fungicides should be enough to knock out Brown Rot -- no matter how far it's progression. Other -- stronger -- fungicides are also available for home use. Those will be drafted into this battle at some point as well.

As for Venus' tree -- which is planted just 15 feet away -- so far so good. The tree isn't exhibiting any signs of disease yet. The few cherries on the tree will eventually ripen -- and hopefully Venus will get to one or two of them before our fine feathered friends start feasting away on them.

But if the leaves on this tree suddenly turn brown and begin to fall in late summer or early fall? Well -- at least I'll know what steps to take next.

Gifts From Greg

I'd like to introduce you today to an interesting member of the gardening-hunting blogging community. His name is Greg Damitz. He's the brains behind the blog that is Roseville Vegetable Gardening -- and as you might be able to guess from the photo -- he's rather fond of duckies.

I first discovered Greg's blog about a year and a half ago -- right about the time he discovered my blog and we started to trade notes back and forth about heirloom tomatoes -- onions -- garlic and other produce straight from the backyard garden.

Greg's blog intrigued me for a number of reasons. First -- he lives in Old Roseville -- in a neighborhood that some people would love to move into. The neighborhoods near the Roseville Fairgrounds and railyard are so unlike the newer cookie cutter subdivisions that are located just blocks away.

Greg lives in a neighborhood that was built sixty to seventy years ago. No house looks alike. The streets are wide. The houses are small. The yards are expansive. They were built for a generation that grew up without computers and other indoor gadgets. They were built for families who spent the bulk of their time outdoors -- in the sunshine.

These are homes that feature alleys behind every home. Mature fruit and citrus trees abound in nearly every front and backyard. It's a picture of stark beauty that is hard to describe -- but it's similar to the neighborhoods that I called home as a child in Modesto. Although -- I'll admit -- those Modesto homes offered slightly larger lots.

Why? Who wanted to live in Modesto in the 1950's? Who wants to live in Modesto now? Developers had to do something to lure people to town. Homes with extra large lots were the selling point. Sacramento and Roseville meanwhile -- although small towns at the time -- offered direct access to San Francisco to the west or Reno to the east. In Modesto -- at that time -- it took quite a bit of driving down old, dusty, county roads before you hit any main highway that would take you anywhere worth going.

But I digress. My chance visit with Greg took place during a quest where I was trying to "take care of two birds with one stone." A co-worker from Grass Valley had picked up a package of "All Red" seed potatoes from Peaceful Valley Farm Supply and had traveled to nearby Lincoln for a high school baseball game featuring her record-setting son who is making college scouts drool (this kid is going to make life miserable for the Dodgers while starting for your San Francisco Giants people -- trust me on this).

Greg's home was just a short drive away from the game in question -- AND it just happened to lead me in the same direction of home. You see -- Greg had some things I wanted.

One of those items is located in this photo to your right -- and it's a project that I'd been attempting to tackle for quite some time -- but had yet to "get around to it." To most folks? This is nothing more than a couple of pieces of wood with some large holes drilled into it. But for experienced beekeepers? This is a home for Mason and Carpenter bees -- which are some of the best pollinators on the planet. Those tubes taped to the side of that home? Those are Mason Bee tubes -- purchased just yesterday at Sacramento Beekeeping Supply.

Soon -- those Mason Bees will emerge from those tubes -- and hopefully crawl right into one of those pre-drilled holes. And -- since I know that we already have Carpenter Bees in the neighborhood -- I'm hopefull they'll find the new home just as appealing.

Mason and Carpenter bees -- yes they are those large black bees -- aren't the honey producers that your standard Italian honeybees are. Nope. But they are superior pollinators. And they are attracted to food crops like heirloom tomatoes that the standard honeybee ignores. If you've never witnessed a Mason or Carpenter bee drilling into a small tomato flower -- it's a show everyone should catch in their lifetimes. Better yet? When a Mason or Carpenter bee is finished with that tomato flower? A tomato invariably develops.

And these bees can hit THOUSANDS of tomato flowers in the space of a week or two. I should know. Venus and I hosted a Carpenter Bee last year that we could hear coming from 50-yards off. There was no mistaking his entry into the backyard. Our "Battleship Missouri" would normally locate us in the yard -- buzz by our heads to announce his presence -- and head straight for the raised beds that held our heirloom tomato, melon and squash crops.

Is it any wonder why we had a monster year last summer for tomato production?

I also used to visit Greg's blog often to take in photos of the mature fruit and citrus trees that abound in this neighborhood. These are MONSTER trees people. They're big enough to feed an entire block -- let alone just one home. A nearby pomegranate -- for example -- would keep you pickled in pomegranate cider for an entire year.

To put it into perspective? I'll be in my mid-to-late fifties before I even begin to approach that kind of production in my own backyard. And -- although I do have that "distinguished gray" look -- I'm not even close to sniffing fifty yet people!

Greg surprised me when I arrived. Not only did he present me with my very own Mason and Carpenter Bee hive -- he also handed me a large box of some of the juciest -- most delectable -- Meyer Lemons I'd seen in quite some time. How do I know they were juicy? Because I juiced some of them just last night. It only took ten of them to create a half-gallon of lip-smacking lemonade.

Meyer Lemons are the BOMB! In Greg's neighborhood? The trees are so large and so productive that you can pick year round -- and still not quite get every last one.

Now -- I don't know about you -- but to me? That's a slice of Heaven.

We put those lemons to *good* use last night with not just lemonade -- but we mixed that home-grown creation with fresh strawberries and freshly harvested honey from the Hello Kitty Hive. Throw in some ice and a little more than a splash of tequila -- and you have one FINE margarita on the rocks.

This is the first time Venus and I have broken into the hive to harvest the honey that our bees left behind. And they left a METRIC TON of it. Just one frame resulted in the production of 10 lbs. of pure -- golden honey. And there are still nine wax-capped frames to go.

As for Greg? His gifts will result in a return gardening gift of heirloom tomato starter plants later this spring -- and I imagine he just might enjoy a jar of honey to boot. Lord knows -- I have enough of it. And with the way that fellow blogger Garry Erck is capturing wild hive swarms in El Dorado County? Looks like I'll have some new *BUZZ* activity in that hive sooner than Venus and I expected.

Gardening Is . . .

A. Hard Work
B. A Sense of Renewal
C. Causes You to Smell Like Fresh Steer Manure
D. Frustrating
E. Why My Back is Sore
F. All of the Above

THE 2010 POTATO CROP IS IN!

For You, My Love

OK, I'll admit it.

I'm a sap.

Really -- truly -- I'm just a big baby in extra medium men's size clothing. I sometimes wonder why I am not like other men -- perhaps it was the way I was raised without a father -- I'm just not sure. I may look like a "big guy." But inside -- I'm just a softie.

I demonstrate this in so many ways -- from hanging bird feeders in the yard to entertain or tease the housecats to no end -- or think of new and imaginative ways to please the wife that is Venus.

One of the events that I look forward too every spring is the first rose of the year. Springtime roses are the best in my personal opinion. This is when buds are at a peak size and burst out in a glory of color. They also make for the best cutting roses -- if you can get to them before the spring rains spoil that short moment of beauty.

Such an event took place this past weekend. I knew we were in for a whale of a storm the coming week. Some of the rose bushes scattered about the backyard were just beginning to flower. So why not get a bud while the getting is good -- right?

I found this gorgeous white with green-tinges John F. Kennedy (JFK) rose in the deepest -- most remote -- part of the backyard. Why did I put it there? Well -- it was a transplant from the first home. It had not done all that well during its first six years -- and to be honest -- it wasn't one of my favorites. But -- since it was in a line of rose bushes that we were removing from the old home -- it had to go somewhere.

So -- I found an out of the way corner in a part of the backyard that nobody really visits -- dug a small hole and that's where the JFK went.

Imagine my surprise when it not only flowered the following spring -- but produced an overwhelming display of force that I had never seen out of this particular rose bush before. By all accounts -- it should not have done this well. I didn't amend the planter hole much -- the bush was right next to the house and a fence. It didn't get a whole lot of sun. It didn't get a whole lot of water either (just a single drip emitter).

Today? The JFK is a showpiece of the backyard. And it produced the first -- perfectly shaped rose -- of Spring 2010. The stem was perfect -- about 15-inches in length. No other roses were developing off this stem -- and the rose had just barely started to open. Perhaps two petals had unfurled at the point where I cut it and brought it inside.

The timing really could not have been better. The wife was showering. Her eyes were closed. After putting the JFK in a simple bud vase and filling it with water -- I placed it right next to a bathroom sink that the wife uses. When she finally emerged? I had already "left the building," and she was greeted with a single hybrid tea rose.

One week later and that rose has now unfurled completely and is still putting on a grand show in the dining room.

There will be other roses this season -- that much is sure. The center-piece of the backyard? The Floribunda called Scentimental? It's nearly as high as the fence now -- it's just loaded with buds -- but is still a week away from flowering. Other nearby bushes are also starting to show some color and a few buds have opened here and there.

But nothing is putting on quite the show like the old, reliable, JFK.

This is for you my dear Venus. Rest assured my dear wife -- this is just a start. I will continue to remind you of your dazzling beauty -- and my love for you -- all summer long.

Color me GREEN

ENVY is thy name. Glad to meet you.

One day after posting up some rather tempting pictures of our little tomato and pepper stater plant grow operation (which I was quite proud of mind you) -- well -- someone just had to pop that balloon.

What a mighty big PIN that was. The air in that balloon? Gone!

Listen -- I know there's some section of the Ten Commandments that says something along the lines of "Shall Not Covet Your Neighbor's Donkey" (among other things) -- but do you think the Good Lord in Heaven would apply that to -- say -- a neighbor's tomato starter plants?

He would? Dang. Major disappointment.

Well then -- I won't "covet." I'll just drool from a distance then. What do you mean by "that's the same thing as "covet?" How about admire? Is that OK?

I can't help but feeling this way after looking at some pictures of the tomato plants that Farmer Fred Hoffman has growing in that great big greenhouse of his. I mean -- we both planted seeds at right about the same time. But my tiny seedlings just do not compare to the California Coastal Redwood starters to the immediate left.

Those suckers are HUGE! Sure -- they're a tad "leggy." Who cares! Look at the stem growth on those things. Anyone who grows starter plants from direct seed would KILL for stem development like that.

Well -- perhaps "kill" is the wrong choice of words here. Drool? No -- I already used that. We'll stick with "admire" then.

So what gives? Why are Fred's starter plants that much larger? That much more lush? Well -- even though I don't have one and can't say for sure -- that nice greenhouse has to play some kind of role here. It's not the only thing -- to be sure. Fred's been at this game a little bit longer than I have -- a little bit longer than most of us.

The last time I spoke with Fred about tomato starter plants? Well -- let's see? It's been at least a month and a half. At that point in time -- many of my seeds had sprouted. Fred indicated that he was having germination problems. So -- at one point -- I was ahead in this game here.

Obviously -- something has changed between "then" and "now." Those pictures are fairly dramatic. As much as I've learned from him -- I also know that I have a long way to go. No -- I don't have a greenhouse. I don't have that advantage yet.

But it's more than "just a greenhouse." It's the expertise that comes with using a greenhouse in the correct matter -- or the right soil solution -- or the right fertilizer. The tomato starter plants in question will send you a message -- telling you what they really need.

It's up to you to "read the leaves."

It's just a guess on my part of course -- but something tells me Fred Hoffman is pretty darn proficient in this langauge.

Am I buttering him up in hopes that he'll cut loose with some starter plants? Of course! I'm not stupid! But it's more than that. In looking at the photos he provided?

I still have a lot to learn.

As we move into the prime tomato growing season that is summer -- a lot of this argument will become moot. Yes -- you can start tomatoes early. But those that are started later invariably catch up to the plants started indoors. In other words -- if you compare the two plants at the end of the summer? It will be tough to tell them apart.

That's why the lovely wife that is Venus and I will be doing a lot of direct seeding this weekend. More on the "direct seed" option in a future post.

The Kids Are Alright...

For those of you who are as "Mathematically Challenged" (Dumb as Rocks) as I am -- please answer the following question:

When do three flats containing 72 tomato and pepper starter plants suddenly equal nine flats and 216 tomato and pepper starter plants?

If you answered "second planting," WRONG!

But if you guessed that the wonderful wife that is Venus and I got a little *ahem* "generous" with our seed distribution efforts in those first three flats? DING! You're ready for Alex Trebek.

What do you win if you answered the math question correctly? Let me check my supply of used cat hair -- and I'll get back to you on that. Vanna White -- I'm not.

I thought that Venus and I would be a tad late with our tomato and pepper plant starters this year (we started our seeds on the weekend after the Super Bowl) -- but our local weather has been more than highly unpredictable. It's been downright pathetic.

At this point last year? Venus and I had already received our starter plants courtesy of Farmer Fred Hoffman and half had already been planted. Why did someone as famous as Fred Hoffman "volunteer" to grow starter plants for our North Natomas farm? Does a hearty contribution to the Hoffman Foundation of Fine Scotch begin to answer that question?

But this year -- contribution or no -- the decision was made to strike out on our own. My decision? Oh -- HECK NO! I begged and pleaded on bended knee for another starter plant offering from the Hoffman estate. I even entertained the thought of enlisting the support of the Sacramento branch of Al Qaeda to change Fred's line of thinking -- but alas -- we were on our own.

See? This is what happens. The happy North Natomas gardeners start with three simple trays containing 24 cells each. Two months later? I'm seriously considering knocking out one of the bedroom walls in an attempt to gain more growing space. Heirloom tomatoes make you crazy. Not wives -- tomatoes.

But -- so far -- everything is working. In fact -- I'm more than a little surprised by the results of our plant separation efforts. We didn't do anything fancy mind you. When the time finally came to separate plants -- Venus and I literally tore them out of each cell and then re-planted into new trays. End result? Take a good look. The trays containing the transplants are actually doing BETTER than the trays that contain the original plantings.

How is this happening? Why is this happening? I'm not sure. The jury-rigged -- excuse me -- professional light system setup we're using is just extensive enough to cover three trays. The problem is -- we have nine. Those that are closest to the light source should be doing better.

But they're not. The transplants furthest from the light source have actually grown at a faster rate and look healthier than the starter plants that were not rudely ripped from their homes and transplanted into another tray.

We didn't change our methods much during the transplant process -- a job that we undertook in stages. We used the same "Black Gold" seed starter mix that we used for the first three trays. I continue to fertilize my seedlings with a weak mixture of a liquid organic fertilizer called Omega 2000

So what gives? I'm not sure. For those of you who are visiting the blog for the first time expecting expert advice -- I'm really sorry to tell you that not only are you going to be sorely disappointed -- but you've come to the wrong place. Despite what you may have read recently in your local newspaper -- about the only expertise I have is in the consumption of fine gin that comes from a plastic bottle.

What I can tell you is this: There are 216 tomato, pepper and eggplant starters that are growing in a spare bedroom. Instead of just two varieties of each heirloom tomato starter -- I suddenly find myself with four or five. Instead of one or two varieties of peppers (sweet, hot and VOLCANIC) -- there are six.

I suppose I could plant all 216 starter plants in my backyard. But -- at last check -- I still hadn't gotten around to building raised beds on the roof of our home. Therefore -- yes it's true -- Venus and I will be parting with a great many of our plants when the time comes.

This is provided -- of course -- that I don't kill them all off during the hardening process. What's that? Can that possibly happen? Does gin come in a plastic bottle???

Hey Buddy, Can You Spare a Cranberry Red?

Our fifteen minutes of fame now over -- it's time to move on to bigger and better gardening delights. This is gardening season my friends. Yeah -- I know -- it may not look like it outside -- but the month of April is pretty darn crucial in terms of getting work done. If only Mother Nature would cooperate.

Venus and I are actually behind on the gardening front. At this point last year? Venus had filled up an entire 4X8 bed with two varieties of seed potatoes. By early April? The first sprouts were poking above the soil. We were on our way to a monster potato harvest that year -- and the wife's goal of a Red, White and Blue Potato Salad for the 4th of July holiday was FULFILLED.

This year? Sorry Venus. It appears were out of luck. A range of factors -- some that were out of my control -- will probably prevent an early July harvest this year.

The biggest error -- however -- appears to be all on me. I made the wrong move in assuming that I would find a bountiful supply of seed potatoes when I visited Peaceful Valley Farm Supply in the foothill community of Grass Valley two weeks ago.

Bad assumption.

Oh -- they had -- and still have a good selection of seed potatoes alright. These two bags of "All Blue" and "Colorado Rose" potatoes are evidence of that. At some point -- Venus will be chopping these up and planting them into one of our raised beds.

But -- I was too late to find our personal favorite: Cranberry Red. This is a wonderful variety. Much like "All Blue," the Cranberry Red variety doesn't lose that light red streaky color, even after cooking. Not only was Peaceful Valley out of this particular variety -- I would soon find out that EVERY nursery I contacted either didn't stock it -- or sold the last Cranberry Red spud eons before I called.

What does this mean? It probably means that Cranberry Red won't be a part of our potato plantings this spring -- OR -- it will be planted far too late to produce in time for a "Red, White and Blue" Potato Salad creation for the 4th of July. Don't be fooled. The wife creates a mean potato salad. Add in the colorful display? Suddenly -- you're the envy of every other wife at the big bash block party.

The second key factor in all of this is the weather is just not cooperating this year like it did last season. Don't get me wrong. The weather in April of last year wasn't perfect. We got very lucky when a bed of tomato plants survived a late, warm, April rain. But it was a lot nicer -- and warmer -- in April of last year than it is this year. And next week's weather forecasts are enough to make a grown gardener cry.

But that's Mother Nature for you. I can still remember my mother singing the familiar tune of "April Showers Bring May Flowers" while I wistfully sat inside during the April weekends of my youth -- missing yet another youth baseball game opportunity (I played the position of Left Out).

And -- who knows? Maybe our April lament will turn into a mid-July surprise when we hopefully harvest a bountiful crop of Colorado Rose Red Potatoes? No -- it doesn't retain that "All Red" color (even after cooking) -- but the reviews look pretty darn tasty. The website "Maine Potato Lady" gives Colorado Red a solid thumbs up:

"With Cherry Red as one of its parents, Colorado Rose was bred for high yield and early bulking. Attractive oval red tubers with white flesh are great for those early summer salads or roasting. Resistant to hollow heart, second growth, and bruising. Medium semi-erect plant with purple flowers."

If there's one thing that I've learned about gardening -- it's this: Never be afraid to try something new. At one point in my life -- not all that long ago -- I believed that a potato was a potato and nothing more. They all tasted the same.

Then I grew my own and learned the real truth. Potatoes can be a lot like heirloom tomatoes in terms of color -- taste and texture. All you need is some seed spuds and the urge to create your own, personal, Frankenstein monster in your backyard garden.

Closing Note: Thanks to some fine hunting by Farmer Fred Hoffman -- you can still order Cranberry Red Seed Potatoes through Territorial Seed. Peaceful Valley Farm Supply should also receive a new shipment of Cranberry Red seed stock by mid-April (you may want to call ahead and check first).

Shameless, Shameless Self-Promotion!!!

Sacramento Bee Garden Writer/Blogger/Newswoman Extraordinaire Debbie Arrington paid a visit to the Bird compound in North Natomas earlier this week.

What appeared in today's Home and Garden section was totally unexpected! She was too nice! She needs to learn a thing or three from Farmer Fred Hoffman.

Debbie will be on Fred's gardening show tomorrow by the way -- on both NewsTalk 1530 KFBK and later Talk 650 KSTE.

If the conversation turns to us? It's a sign that the show is getting SLOW...

Hands Off My S-Curve -- You Ingrates!!!

Sorry -- but I'm just a WEE bit cranky at the moment. Spring has sprung -- which means summer isn't all that far off -- and that means it's time to plan out the summer flowerbeds.

What on earth does a flower garden have to do with vegetable gardening? Easy! Flowers attract beneficials like butterlies and BEES -- and Bill &Venus need BEES to pollinate those wonderful melon vines and citrus trees.

Otherwise -- no summer martini for you!

But -- I digress. Summer flowerbeds are the BOMB. The best and most vibrant colors come from a summer flower garden. One of my personal favorites is a design called the "Rainbow of Colors."

It's tough to find this exact design online -- but here's a picture of what it looked like in the front yard of our first home in North Natomas. I can't remember exactly who sent me this design -- except that it came with a packet of other flower garden designs that I received in the mail shortly after purchasing my first home in Madera, CA in 1993.

Yes -- I lived in Madera. So what? Why are you snickering?

There's nothing better -- in my humble opinion -- than the Rainbow of Color Flower design. I've tried several -- but I keep on coming back to this one. There's just something about the color show -- and it puts on quite a show during those hot summer months of July and August.

The most famous part of the Rainbow of Color design? Again, in my humble opinion, it's got to be the all important S-CURVE. The curve is made up of one of my personal favorites in the flower garden: the Victoria Blue Salvia. The latin name for this old-time favorite is Salvia farinacea. A more common name that some gardeners might recognize is Mealy-cup sage.

There was a day -- a time -- an age -- where you could find Victoria Blue Salvia in just about any nursery. Heck -- the Big Box Stores like Home Depot carried this stuff by the flats. You could walk out with enough Victoria Blue to create your own -- personal -- 100 yard Rainbow of Color patch.

Sadly my friends -- those days are long gone. It seems that our common friend -- our mealy-cup sage -- has become the newest and latest target of the young and the dumb. That's right -- the kids are after MY S-CURVE. Not because the young and the dumb are suddenly into creating a Rainbow of Color Flower Garden.

Nope -- they're smoking it.

Say again? Did you say what I thought you said? Smoking it?

Yes -- it's true. They're not only smoking it. They're chewing on the leaves. You laugh? I would join you -- except it's TRUE.

Our little Victoria Blue is under assault. And the thing is -- the kids aren't even getting it right! They're confused! Then again -- if they're dumb enough to light up some Salvia farinacea -- they're probably too far gone to understand that they're lighting up with or chewing on the wrong weed.

Victoria Blue salvia is a member of the mint family, which is characterized by square stems and an aromatic fragrance. The salvia genus is a large group within this family that includes more than 900 species of shrubs, herbs, herbaceous perennials and annuals. Salvia comes from salveo, which means "save," referring to the medicinal value associated with this genus.

Unfortunately, it has also been confused with another species called Salvia divinorum. Also known as Diviner's Sage, Salvia divinorum and Salvia farinacea are two completely different plants altogether. However -- they do share a common trait.

Unless you have a practiced eye, you can't tell them apart.

What is Salvia divinorum? It's a is a psychoactive plant which can induce intense feelings of joy -- sadness -- fits of laughter and other altered states. It's certainly nothing new in terms of a drug. It's been around for awhile.

But it's suddenly become the "designer" drug to have among the young and dumb. You can witness these kids posting up on the subject in various chat rooms -- and most have absolutely NO CLUE of what they are doing. But most often -- they write something dumb like "I've got to have some." And suddenly -- there's a big chunk missing out of MY S-CURVE at home!

What does this mean? It means the young and dumb are targeting MY S-CURVE! Even though -- it's the wrong thing ENTIRELY! Who says kids read labels anyway? My S-Curve is to be "admired" from the street. It's not meant to be dried -- rolled -- chewed -- stuffed into a pipe or smoked. How do I know these terms? From exp -- NEVERMIND!

I know what this means. Suddenly -- Victoria Blue Salvia is going to be HARD to find this year. Once a flat or two gets put out for sale -- a bunch of kids show up and it's suddenly GONE LIKE THE WIND.

I would grow it at home -- like I do with my tomato and pepper plant starters -- but that just screams for a surprise daytime visit by some uninvited guests. No -- I'll have to do what I do every year -- which is call around various nurseries -- looking for an available six-pack or two.

And if I'm lucky enough to find that -- it means I'm standing guard doing shotgun duty for the rest of the summer.

Stupid kids...

I'm Just PICKLED Pink!

Bleah! Sorry folks -- but it's the only word I can think of after waking up this morning with the "Mother of all Hangovers" (thank you Saddam Hussein!). This one is a DOOZY.

It's safe to say that Venus and I spent most of our Good Friday being VERY BAD indeed. After trying and failing miserably to get our taxes done (our accountant decided to take the day off -- and didn't tell us) -- we embarked on our annual "Pacific Adventure!"

Oops -- slight typo there. There should be an *O* at the end of "Pacific." As in -- Pacifico. What is the "Pacifico Adventure?" Find the nearest Hole-in-the-Wall Mexican-themed restaurant -- order up some Pacifico beer -- dip a tortilla chip into salsa and eat -- sip (well, gulp actually) on the Pacifico.

We repeated this very process throughout our one hour lunch -- and didn't stop once the chips ran out. Foolish behavior? Yes indeed! But -- your Honor -- Pacifico is one FINE beer. That's my only defense.

Therefore -- I thought it highly appropriate to bring you today's posting: PICKLES! Why not? I'm pickled, right? I is -- therefore -- I am. Or something like that.

Actually -- I've been intending to write about this subject for quite some time now -- ever since we sampled the 2009 crop that has been brining away in some one-quart canning jars in the pantry of our kitchen. Although I did serve these pickles at our annual Super Bowl party -- I never did get around to sampling them. By the time I reached the dish -- they were gone!

I should have known then.

There are those days -- and men know this all to well -- where you've just got to have a pickle. I'm not sure how and where the mood strikes -- but it does -- and you'd better have some pickles on hand otherwise you're going to be severely disappointed.

Sure enough -- that urge came just the other day -- and I'm pleased to report that the Bird family was well-prepared for the "L'assaut du Cornichon!" (Attack of the Pickle). About 25-to-30 jars of our special and well marinated Dill Pickle creation were on hand -- so you can guess what happened next.

Lovely! It's just about the best word that I can think of when describing the first test of what Venus and I carefully and meticulously canned last summer in our North Natomas kitchen. The basic Dill Pickle recipe comes courtesy of All Recipes. But Venus and I have expanded upon this in recent years with various herbs and spices.

It also helps that all of the spices in question came straight from the backyard -- right down to the dill flowers and the Inchelium Red garlic. About the only thing that didn't come from the backyard garden is the pickling salt. Don't worry though -- we're getting there.

Some of the canned jars also included whole Thai Red Peppers -- which is more than enough to give the pickles a little bit of a spicy jolt! Once you open a jar of these pickles -- said jar doesn't last long. You can't stop at "just one."

Score an assist to Sacramento-area gardener/blogger Carri Stokes for this pefect pickle creation. She came through with some rather interesting cucumber seeds last spring after I'd failed to pick up a starter plant or plant an Armenian cucumber vine from seed. Although Armenian cucumbers aren't listed as pickling cukes -- they should be. Why? They're tough. That crunchy taste doesn't bend to six months in a canning jar filled with vinegar, water, salts and spices. Every pickle that comes out of that jar CRUNCHES like a pickle should.

But -- as it turns out -- the seeds that Carri provided were something special. What came out of those seeds looked like an Armenian cucumber vine -- but the cucumbers were some of the strangest creations I've ever seen come out of a cucumber patch. Armenian cucumbers are normally light green in color and ribbed. As you can plainly tell from this photo -- what we got was something that was sized like your average Armenian cucumber -- but it was a dark green with less ribbing.

What gives? It turns out that Carri had planted her Armenian cucumber next to another variety called a Suyo Long -- a Chinese variety that produces long -- slender cukes that are dark green and quite bumpy. I knew these cukes weren't Suyo Longs. They weren't the standard Armenian either. What were they then? It appears the two plants cross-pollinated at some point -- and that cross-pollination continued with the next generation. I had a cross.

I must admit -- I was a tad worried last summer. But not anymore. The cross produced the best of both varieties -- and resulted in the best darn pickle I have ever tasted in my life -- bar none. These are truly incredible -- and will be in high demand later this summer during the last week of Legislative Session at the State Capitol in Sacramento.

This is also known as Legislative Hell Week or "The Crush" in some circles. It's a time when lobbyists of all shapes and sizes prowl the hallways in hopes of getting a bill passed -- or even defeated in some cases. The particular Senate Office that I serve in is also the office for the Vice-Chair of the Senate Rules Committee. And it's a long-held Capitol tradition that this office is opened to lobbyists during the final week -- so they can have a place to sit down and relax for a minute -- while helping themselves to coffee, soft-drinks and assorted snacks that are provided.

Last year -- as sort of a lark -- I brought in a jar of our home-canned pickles to provide an alternative to the pre-packaged snacks of pretzels or peanuts. They sat there for a few hours -- bypassed by many -- until a transplanted Upstate New Yorker turned California lobbyist found them. After that? The pickles vanished in the space of minutes. The next day? I brought in another jar. Same result: Gone in Sixty Seconds.

I would soon come to find out that the pickles reminded this particular lobbyist of a corner deli back home. But he also assured me that mine were much better -- and his attention to those jars (here, try this!) created somewhat of a feeding frenzy. I made a promise to the many new fans of our home-canning efforts that day. If I was still in the same office next year? The pickles would return.

I supose I also owe Carri a jar or two. Perhaps she'll part with some Limoncello? Fat Chance!