Sweet Citrus: How to Avoid a Sour Experience.

Today, I will be hiding out in the greenhouse. Don't tell anyone. I'll be there, with my trusty guard cat, Oreo, pretending to work, potting up my green babies. In actuality, I'm just avoiding the inevitable.

The Master Gardener police will be arriving any moment to revoke my membership.

I deserve it.

Because the truth is...

I am a plant murderer.

It wasn't intentional, I promise. There was no premeditation, no plan to off an ugly specimen to make way for a new, lovely purchase. If I'm guilty of anything, I loved my plants to death.

My remorse is overwhelming.

Last spring, I succumbed to temptation. (Isn't that how these sad stories always begin?) The desire to test my gardening mettle proved too great, and I obsessed with growing citrus for my family.

Citrus. In our zone 7b garden. Foolish, you say—and you're correct. But I had a plan.

In my mind, lovely containers of dwarf lemon, orange, and clementine trees, heavy with fruit and smelling of bliss, could easily move from garden to greenhouse when the weather proved too chilly. I would nurture them, baby them, and then feed my family heavenly doses of healthy vitamin C, grown with a mother's love.

All went well...for awhile. The six citrus trees thrived in the South Carolina heat with barely a pest in sight. When my friend Libby mentioned she was eating homegrown oranges in Charleston, I barely registered jealousy—knowing that soon we, too, would feast on deliciousness. As the fall days turned shorter and cooler, I moved the containers into the greenhouse to avoid frost.

And there they sat, patiently waiting for spring.

I visited them, inspecting for pests, checking their health, but letting them rest, too.

Then, this happened:

Stunning, divine blooms began appearing on one of the orange trees. Another began sporting tiny buds. I became obsessed with sniffing their scent, watching as miraculously blooms began opening and filling the greenhouse with fragrance.

Until this point, the greenhouse remained unheated. But seedling season began, and as soon as the tiny green babies began showing their heads, I turned the propane on full-throttle to a toasty 75 degrees.

Suddenly, one morning as I watered the seedlings, I heard strange noises. Fearing a furry critter resided in the greenhouse, I turned around and watched in horror as leaves dropped, one by one, into huge piles beneath each citrus tree's container.

My first reaction, of course, was to cover up the crime. Had I forgotten to water? Quick, let's give them a good drenching. Was it time to fertilize? Not sure, but let's add some organic Dr. Earth citrus tree nutrients. And then let's water a little more.

In my panic, I committed more crimes against these poor, defenseless trees...until they looked like this:

Gone were the beautiful blooms, filled with potential. The tiny buds dropped, unopened, into the mounds of leaves. Only thorny remnants remained to mock me.

I mourned my actions and researched what went wrong—then I had a blinding glimpse of the obvious and headed to the grower's website. (Please note: these trees arrived in beautiful condition from Four Winds Growers. They supplied detailed instructions on how to plant dwarf citrus trees in containers, and the trees thrived until they...didn't. I highly recommend them.)

Here's what I learned:

As any decent gardener knows, extreme shifts in temperature will adversely affect the plant. Ironically, less than two weeks ago, I lectured a class full of organic gardeners about the need to harden-off seedlings. Why did I think my citrus trees could handle the cold of an unheated greenhouse one day, and then bask happily in permanent 75 degrees? Of course they were going to revolt.

For further proof, here's a quote from the website:

“...dislikes abrupt temperature shifts.”

Oh, really? Sheesh. What was I thinking?

So, yes, I claim complete responsibility for my poor leafless, bloom-less sticks. 

However, the charges against me might change to reckless endangerment rather than murder. Apparently, the lovely people at Four Winds Growers anticipate distraught gardeners who've potentially murdered their plants. They kindly tell us that a naked citrus tree doesn't necessarily spell its demise. By lightly pruning it back, new growth might be encouraged to appear.

There is hope.

As part of my penance, I thought I'd share some of the tips provided by Four Winds Growers to help you avoid my painful path. Growing citrus should be a pleasure, not a crime.

How to Grow Dwarf Citrus in a Container

• Order trees from a reputable source. Dwarf varieties are grafted onto rootstock that maintain the tree's smaller size, which makes them perfect for containers. And containers mean that you can grow citrus, even if your zone says not—just bring the plant inside...slowly.
• Use a container that's twice the size of the root ball, and make certain it has good drainage.
• Fill the container with a slightly acidic, loam-based potting soil that allows good water flow. You don't want to use heavy garden soil, which can compact and cause root rot.
• Site the plant so that it receives 8-12 hours of sun.
• Maintain a temperature between 55-85, with 65 degrees as ideal. If you make a change, acclimate your tree slowly to the new temperature. (In other words, do not place it suddenly in front of propane heater.)
• Provide regular watering, but keep the plant drier in winter to avoid root rot. Citrus trees like moist air, which can be accomplished by using a humidifier or misting.
• Fertilize every three weeks in spring and summer with a high nitrogen organic fertilizer for citrus trees. In fall and winter, fertilize every six weeks.
• Move plants indoors before frost, slowly acclimating them to indoor conditions. Likewise, carefully acclimate the plants to the outdoors in spring, first positioning the plant in partial shade, later moving to full sun to avoid shocking the plant and scorching leaves.
• Watch for signs of pests or disease. Yellow foliage can indicate lack of fertilizer or over-watering, and some leaf drop is normal in hot summer months. However, monitor for severe problems to ensure the plant's health.

By following instructions and not murdering your plants, you can expect fruit and flowers on 2-3 year old dwarf trees. Harvest time varies, depending on the variety. Most lemons and limes require 6-9 months from bloom to edible fruit, while oranges take up to a year for harvest.

Now, you're ready to grow your own citrus. I hope the Master Gardener police will let me off with a warning, as I've shared my shame as part of my rehabilitation. I'm off to prune the trees, hoping to push that new growth.

One day, we will grow our own citrus.

Until then, thank goodness for The Orange Shop at LocalHarvest.

Hanging my head in shame...

Julie

What I Did on My Summer Vacation.

Hello? Remember me? It's been awhile. Three months, in fact, since I sat, trying to organize thoughts that might become a theme, that might—in turn—become a post.

My apologies.

My thoughts still don't feel terribly cohesive, possibly because my brain is so cluttered. As is our house.

You see, we've had projects.

 

Many, many projects.

Many inside projects.

Our poor gardens look—quite frankly—like an ad for Master Gardener life-support: “Do your gardens look like this? Let us help!” Seriously, I wouldn't hire me. I'm ashamed for my business.

We did have some pretty lovely tomatoes hiding in the ugliness. 

While the gardens turned into unruly jungles, our house, however, underwent a four-month-long transition from bachelor pad bought in 1997 to a family-friendly home. In the 12 years since we've been married, we've stripped wallpaper, painted, finished the basement, built Tyler a man-cave, installed a pool, and generally tried to make do. But there have always been fundamental problems with the bones of the house.

Finally, we decided to fix those problems.

So, for my friends that have listened to my whines and tripped over boxes of hardwood flooring while visiting, or for my far-away gardening friends who wonder if late blight got the best of my sanity...I thought I'd share some before and after photos of how we spent our summer vacation. I promise to return to our regularly scheduled chats about gardens and such next time...

Renovations, Round One

Projects: Add a downstairs bathroom, gut both existing upstairs bathrooms, and build a new laundry room downstairs. 

Why? The new downstairs bathroom is primarily for Tyler's use, but it's also convenient to the swimming pool. We no longer have to drip throughout the house for emergency potty breaks when swimming!

Our master bath was dinky—and ugly. We stole space from the kids' bath by moving a wall, and we removed the existing hall linen closet to expand the kids' bath.

We moved the existing laundry room downstairs to open up room for the kitchen expansion.

Before:

Honestly, our bathrooms were so ugly that I don't think I ever took photos of them. So, here's the tear-out phase for the existing bathrooms:

Tearing out the wall between the master bath and kids' bath to make space...

View from the storage room to the new laundry room and bathroom-to-be...on the left.

First finished:

New Downstairs Bath. Nothing fancy, just a place for Ty to take his 30 minutes showers without us banging on the door for him to GET OUT. 

 

 

A key feature in all baths is the very cool, environmentally-friendly, dual flush Toto toilets. 

 

When we started the remodeling project, Peter and I wanted everything to be green. Verdant. Minimal environmental impact. Save the rain forests, and all that.

Then financial reality set in.

And contractor reality slapped us in the face. The first contractor we interviewed didn't know the difference between a dual-flush toilet and an outhouse. (Sadly, I think some of the subs never learned how to use it, either. Eww.)

The most fun of bathroom remodeling? The frequent, urgent trips with the kids to Publix. Publix has really lovely, clean bathrooms. Did you know? I adore Publix, especially their attention to detail in their bathrooms.

The second biggest pleasure of bathroom remodeling is to share the one, newly installed, only operational bathroom among five family members and—at one point—nine construction guys.

Boy, that was a pleasure. I'll just let your imagination run wild with that thought.

(On an embarrassing side note: I walked in on our main contractor. To my defense, we didn't have doorknobs installed yet, I saw the bathroom light on and thought one of the kids forgot to turn it off...and HELLO. I felt the need to hide for the rest of the day.)

Second room finished (kind of):

Laundry room. 

 

Our previous laundry room was tiny. Cluttered. Unheated. I froze in the winter and sweated in the summer. I also used it as a hiding place for all the junk that needed to disappear quickly if we were having company. It was ridiculously convenient to the kitchen, so anything out of place was tossed into the laundry room.

I love doing laundry now. Well, truthfully—I just hate it a lot less.

Everyone's favorite feature is the laundry shoot from the kids' bathroom. They have much fun throwing things down the chute and yelling to me when I'm hanging out with the washer and dryer.

I'm just waiting for Mikey to use the laundry shoot as an escape route.

Next: Kids' Bathroom

 

I feel a little bad about stealing space from the kids' bathroom. But only a little. 

 

After all, they are small people. They use less space. And they'll stay small forever, because I say so. 

However, they did score a rockin' great tub. 

 

Our previous tubs were tiny. I never took a bath, because if I'm going to invest the time and energy to soak—I want to feel relaxed and stress-free afterward. Our tub made me feel like a Beluga whale in a kiddie pool. So, we scrapped the master bath tub in favor of a shower-only space and planned a really good, soaking tub for the kids' bath. A bath that would bring pleasure. A bath that would give Mom much needed Calgon-moments.

Ahhh.

I still haven't indulged. I haven't had time. But I can dream...

Master Bath:

What can I say? Our new bathroom makes me happy. It's soul soothing. 

 

Peter and I each have our own sinks, so we no longer fuss at each other over toothpaste globs or stubble. Yes, it was a major, wall-moving, head-scratching, where should we put the toilet ordeal. Yes, I sacrificed space from my closet. But it forced me to pare down my wardrobe. Truly, I don't see size 4s in my future anytime soon.

Or ever.

Sigh. I'll be happy to see single digits again.

 

One of the amazing highlights of the master bath project: walking in the bedroom to find five contractors picnicking on our bedroom floor. A friend asked why I didn't pop open some wine and join them.

I wish I had been brave enough to take a photo of the picnic. 

With the bathrooms pretty much finished, we moved onto Phase Two:

The kitchen. 

For added fun, we installed new flooring throughout the entire first floor of the house. Have you ever installed all new flooring? If you're considering it, take my advice.

Move. It's easier.

Renovation, Round Two:

Here's the before...

 

A strange, view blocking design. Nowhere to eat in...or to move. Dark. Dank. Sad.

 

Kitchen Demolition. 

Fun with hammers. 

 

Never have I been so thrilled to see our kids destroying things. Chris, our contractor, provided a hammer and let them vandalize the former laundry room wall. I'm sure OSHA wouldn't approve of his plan, but the kids sure had a good time.

Perhaps I should have rethought the flip-flops, though. Not the best demolition garb.

In one day, all of the kitchen ugliness was ripped out and thrown into the dumpster.

 

I think I cried tears of happiness--especially over the crusty old cooktop. (The blue wall shows the former laundry room area.)

And, after two months of eating out, TA DA! Here's the new kitchen:

Our goal was to open up the kitchen so that we can cook together as a family. We added natural light—windows, skylight—and many additional recessed lights and work lights. 

We planned a breakfast nook—something cozy, where we could sit and talk, do homework, drink wine, eat quick dinners. 

 

We added storage into the benches for those weird, odd-shaped cooking tools we all need but rarely use: fondue pots, racalet grills, turkey platters, woks. 

Just as we were celebrating the completion of the bench, we discovered that the bench was too high for our legs to fit under the new kitchen table. Peter's legs dangled. Our cabinet contractor's response? “That's standard height.” Standard height my ass. Even non-contractor me could find the standard height for benches online.

The bench was torn out and re-installed. Ah, I bet she curses the day that Al Gore invented the Internet...

We wanted a useable, functional, fun gathering place. Everyone lingers in the kitchen—even in our old, nasty kitchen. We wanted a social, streamlined, practical, centralized kitchen.

It was a bumpy process. Seriously. Drawings not to scale. Cabinet installation that looked like someone drank too much wine before hanging doors. Electricians without a clue about installing appliances. One of the highlights was watching Peter—with his Swiss-German accent—explain in English to a non-English speaking plumber how to correctly install the dishwasher. I think Peter assumed that by increasing his volume, a language barrier breakthrough would occur, allowing the fellow to understand the difference between “front” and “back.” I had to leave the room, because I was laughing until I snorted. Truly. It bordered on hysterical laughter of the insane.

(By the way—our dishwasher still doesn't work. But I digress.)

After two months without a kitchen, what's a few more days without an operational dishwasher, right? It's coming today...supposedly with it's own installer.

I hope he speaks English.

During our adventures in remodeling, Peter and I learned a lot. We knew that Brazilian hardwood wasn't an option for us. I mean, it's gorgeous, but I have a Greenpeace membership. Gotta protect the rain forests. I was determined that we were going to install environmentally friendly, sustainable bamboo flooring throughout the house—until we looked at several issues. 

First, natural bamboo, which we loved, wouldn't hold up well with our pups. Natural bamboo, while harder than many woods, is pretty soft on the Janka scale. The heavy-duty “strand” bamboo is a manufactured product that includes quite some resins, which dulls its “green-ness.” Then, add in the issue of its origin—Asia--and the carbon footprint incurred by its travel had us questioning how green bamboo flooring is. We were told that it wouldn't meet LEED requirements in our area...not that we're looking to become LEED certified, but it made us think.

So instead, we opted for local hickory. 

 

Is it the perfect solution? Not sure. Here's what I know: it's darn hard and resists scratching. It didn't travel far. I say a little prayer that it's not harvested from some mountaintop mining operation. (If only this wood could talk.)

I also know that we love it.

After scraping paint off new appliances, reminding flooring installers that perhaps they might want to finish nailing some pieces in place and fill in nail holes with a matching color, and negotiating a replacement door for our refrigerator, which now sports a nice large dent after an encounter with a granite counter top, I am in kitchen love.

Love.

I can't wait to pull out my Alice Waters cook books and create scrumptious, fresh from the ugly garden meals.

But first I had to paint the bedroom, foyer, office, and hallway. I truly hope I never need to support my family by painting, because we will starve. 

Now, I need to find where I stashed the cook books...

Seriously. If you are considering renovation...

just move.

It's much, much easier.

So, my friends, that's what we did on our summer vacation. How about you? To put you in the back-to-school spirit, please share your “What I did on my summer vacation” theme! I need to live vicariously through your summer fun!

Off to unpack the boxes...

Have a lovely weekend! And for those of you in Irene's path—stay safe.

XOXO ~

Julie

Spring Treats.

It's official. It's spring—tra la! 

The tulips are popping! The cherry trees are bursting! The peas are poking their little first leaves out of the soil!

I'm using too many exclamation marks!

I'm sorry, my northern friends—I know it's still chilly up in your part of the world. But, it's spring, and I know your hands are getting itchy...

...to play in the dirt. Ahhhh....

Now, we all know the rules...

No planting tender annuals until after the last frost date for your zone.

(Repeat after me: I will not plant too early, I will not plant too early.)

As tempting as it is, you'll be wasting your time and money by planting your garden full of gorgeous tomato babies and basil this weekend—if your last frost date is May 15. Here's the ultimate resource for when you can plant tender veggies and flowers in your zone.

It's hard. I know. You want to plant. You need to plant. You look at your forlorn, bare garden, and the tease of spring makes you crave soil under your nails. Soon, soon...just be patient.

OK, I'm also impatient. That's why I'm sharing the perfect project to give you a spring gardening fix.

It's easy.

It's quick.

It's pretty.

It's EDIBLE!

And you can plant it RIGHT NOW!

It's a Berry Ball.

Hmmm. That sounds a bit like a poorly organized southern cotillion.

Strawberries herald spring. They're one of the first fruits to show off their adorable little blooms, quickly followed by deliciousness. Who can resist that sweet, sun-warmed berry, picked fresh from the field?

Wait—who needs a field when you can grow them in a container right outside your front door? (That's where our berry balls currently reside.)

And what's a more perfect snack for the kids than strawberries dangling within reach—while they ride scooters in the driveway or climb trees? What's more refreshing than savoring a strawberry snack as you toil away in the garden? It's a perfect reward for your labor.

Plus, this is a really fun project to do with your kids.

Here's what you'll need:

• 12” round hanging container with removable coconut fiber liner.
• Organic potting soil.
• Scissors.
• 10-12 small strawberry plants, ever-bearing variety. 

First, remove the liner from the hanging basket.

Using scissors, make a total of six small, evenly spaced holes around the lower and mid portion of the liner circumference. (I staggered the height of the holes a bit.) Do not make the holes too large or your plants will fall through and soil will spill.

Next, take a strawberry plant and insert the plant into the hole. 

Carefully pull the flowers and stems through the hole to avoid breakage.  

(Holy cow. Where did all of those wrinkles come from?)

You can use standard strawberry varieties, or you can try something a little special--Fraise des Bois. These are tiny, trés sweet, adorable alpine strawberries that produce fruit all summer until the first hard frost. I grow both Red Wonder and Yellow Wonder varieties--and I think the yellow berries are even sweeter than the red.

Fill in the lower holes first.

Add soil to the liner to help support the roots. The plants will be hanging somewhat upside down.

Now, fill in the next tier of holes with strawberry plants. These plants' roots will be placed horizontally in the basket. Add additional soil to cover the roots, and firm the soil to prevent plants from slipping out of place.

It's time to move to the top--you know, the place where we normally plant flowers in hanging baskets. Place one plant in the top center of the basket and evenly space four additional strawberry plant along the edge of the basket. Add additional soil to cover the roots and firm it into place. These plants will fill in the top of the container and spill over the sides as they grow.

Next, retrieve the metal basket from your son...

...who turned it into the Death Star and declared war on the rebel strawberries.

Carefully, lift the liner with the soil and plants into the basket. Gently insert the plants through the metal design of the basket to ensure they hang freely. 

Untangle the chain from the hanging basket. (This was, in my experience, the hardest part of the entire project, because I somehow managed to twist the chain. Lovely.) Make certain the chain's placement won't break any of the plants.

Hang the basket in a spot that receives six to eight hours of sun. This is, normally, a pretty sunny location...just not at 9 p.m. when I finished both baskets. (Friday nights are very exciting around here.) Water well.

Remember, containers need consistent watering. Check your container daily—and when it's hot, you may need to water twice a day. A good rule of thumb is to insert your finger one inch into the soil. If it's moist, you're all set. If it's dry, water your babies. Strawberries, especially, need adequate water. (Hmmm. I guess that's a “rule of finger” instead of a “rule of thumb,” huh? HA! Sorry.)

Now, don't you feel better? A little garden therapy always helps chase away the winter blues. Soon, your strawberries will begin growing and spreading and filling in the gaps so that your container will be one, big blooming ball...and your pretty little flowers will turn into delicious, tasty treats.

Mmmm...are they ready yet?

Enjoy!

XO ~

Julie