Rain Barrel

Day 249: Rain Barrel
Do rain barrels really help reduce storm water runoff? Based on how instantaneously mine fill up, my guess is, no. It's certainly common wisdom that rain barrels represent green storm water management practices, but how much rain can mine be keeping out of the system if they fill up after ten minutes of heavy rainfall? And if it's a wet season like this last year - when reducing runoff might be especially useful - I won't be emptying it out before the  next rain because I don't have much need to water the garden.

As with so many other things, it seems I'm wrong. Preliminary EPA research indicates that rain barrels do help reduce runoff, by as much as 20%, in areas where at least 50% of the neighbors have them. They have the added advantage of giving my garden high acid water instead of high alkaline water, which my plants like because many of them are exotic ornamentals (yes, I admit it!), not bred for our high alkaline soil. This is like a Robert Parker rating of 98, only the price doesn't shoot up.

Using rain water in the garden also reduces the waste of clean potable water. Many rain barrels are simple repurposing of shipping containers that would otherwise become part of the waste stream. In short, there's really no downside to it.

However, this rain barrel is not doing anybody any good. See the gaping seam on the side? I bought from Whole Foods for $60 and liked it so much more than the $50 kit I bought from TJ at the botanical gardens. It's a nicer color. I should have known that anything TJ built would be a thousand times sturdier than an old olive container. TJ's rain barrels are made from soda syrup containers and don't have seams; that is the key difference.

Lesson learned: do not choose garden tools based on color.

Citronella Candle

Day 242: Citronella Candle

Thank you for breaking, citronella candle. You've been stinking up our camping gear for too many years. Every year, I bring you out of storage and set you on the table on the back deck. I never light you, because your smoke stuffs up my nose and makes my eyes water. The bats living in our eaves do a better job discouraging mosquitos than your smoke does anyway.

I've developed an on-line records management system for the Arb & Gardens that has had me reviewing and assessing hundreds of documents over the past few years. My favorite? A letter to the director from 1964 complimenting him on the beauty of the Arboretum, but asking whether something could be done to eliminate the mosquitos.

Joe Mooney, trusted insect expert (among his other talents), told me that the most effective way to discourage mosquitos is with a breeze. Mosquitos, he says, are not strong fliers. You can even purchase a little battery-powered fan to bring with you on a hike, although reviews on the effectiveness of this are mixed.

Consumer Reports gives exactly the kind of advice that often makes expensive research projects seem most ridiculous: stay inside. They have additional common-sensical suggestions that are not quite as obvious (but still pretty damned obvious): covering up and eliminating mosquito breeding areas from your yard.

Moving back to California is also an option.

Dead Ponytail Palm

Day 216: Dead Ponytail Palm

Evidence of failure

Is it coincidence that shortly after Connie retired, moved away and (most important) quit her position as bass player for the excellent string band Cluck Ole Hen, this ponytail palm began its decline?

Okay, maybe Cluck Ole Hen can't be accurately described as an excellent string band, but it sure is fun. And having Connie as part of the band meant that we had a professional horticulturalist coming over here every week to remind me to water the plants, most often with the dregs of our beer at the end of rehearsal.

I love plants and gardening, but, except for idiot-proof ornamental grasses, coneflower, milkweed and rudbeckia, I'm pretty much a fail. Especially in the urban farm category. I've got two apple trees, a pear tree, a peach tree, raspberries, asparagus, rhubarb, strawberries, tomato plants and chickens.

My harvest this year: an occasional raspberry, eaten directly from the bush. A few eggs earlier in the summer. One rhubarb, never harvested. One stalk of asparagus, never harvested. I saw quite a few pears and at least one tomato, small and unripe, but they disappeared before ripening. Ditto the strawberries.

The chickens haven't given me a single egg in months. It's probably time to get rid of them, too.

Urban farm, ha.