GroHappy

Eating on the wild side

As rains and warming temperatures bring new growth to wanted plants, our unwanted plants “weeds” seem to always outpace those more desirable cultivars. But one must remember that a weed is just a plant that you don’t want in a particular place. So with that in mind I thought about changing a few heads at my recent horticultural therapy class at Ann’s Place about the “weeds” that might be all too common to their yards and gardens. And even quite yummy.

With all the talk of eating veg raised nearby I thought the most local way that you could eat would be from your own back yard. Time to forage. This was an easy class to prep for as my yard is replete with weeds as I use no herbicides or fertilizers on my lawn or ground-cover areas. So when I went out for a quick search for eatable plants. They were easy to find. I found burdock, chives, clover, dandelion, garlic mustard, mints, plantain, Queen Anne's lace, sheep sorrel, sweet woodruff, violets, wild garlic, wild onion and wild thyme.

At this time of year the dominant weeds are garlic mustard and dandelion, though red and white clovers are beginning to make a good push through the Earth to cover the bald spots on my lawn. And I have to admit that I picked some sweet woodruff a week ago, dried it and then mixed it with strawberries to make May wine to serve to my students.

As I laid out my different samples I was a bit shocked on the diversity of plants I had. It was a mix of sweet and tangy greens and different herbs that could dress up any salad we made or freshen up a dish with a unfamiliar flavor. After taking my clients out for a walk, they came back ready to dig in somewhat amazed at what you could do with the different plants.

“This first one, burdock, is a delicacy in Asia. The tap root is cooked. But the small leaves can be used in a salad while the larger ones sautéed,” I said. “Historically this has been used as a diuretic as well as a remedy for skin problems.”

I offered clients a taste and the group was very divided with half deciding to take a chance while the other half demurring politely. Perhaps I should not have told them first that poison hemlock (used to kill Socrates) looks just like Queen Anne’s lace though it is easy to tell them apart (QAL has hairy stems, hemlock does not; the root of QAL smells like a carrot; the disturbed leaves of hemlock smell as would a rodent.) But I did need to warn them about foraging in the wild as there are a variety of very poisonous plants out in the yard, as well described in Amy Steward’s excellent book Wicked Plants.

“If you are not very, very sure of what you are ingesting, don’t take a chance. Also don’t harvest food from areas that have been sprayed; on the other hand if the areas had been sprayed, the weeds would likely be dead.”

That said, all were very interested in at least the smells of the different plants: no harm in smelling. I was able to clip a mint from our property that my mother-in-law had smuggled in from Guatemala many years ago. It has a very strong minty scent with a bright purple stalk. “It is really best used for chicken soup,” said my wife Juana who attended the session along with my granddaughter Charlotte. Each client took a sample to start at home.

“Sorrell is a great addition to salads if you want a bit of a kick,” I said. “Another name for it is lemon leaf because of the flavor and it is a favorite with kids.” And then almost on cue Charlotte reached over to stuff one in her mouth. She chomped on it with a big smile.

After I finished with the plants I got out the May wine, a traditional German drink to celebrate May Day as well as the coming of Spring. As I opened the carafe I let each client smell the mixing of the herbs, fruits and wine. “This is amazing,” said one. All were smiling in anticipation of that first sip.

“Now be careful when you drink this as it does have a reputation as an aphrodisiac,” I said. They all smiled at me and took their first sip. No one was displeased.

Celebrating the sun

To say that it has been unusual winter in the Northeast is an understatement and the first day of Spring was no different with temperatures in the mid 70s in Fairfield County and every chlorophyll-filled entity thinking it was May. In celebration of the season, we went for a nature walk at Ann’s Place and built sundials from trees and branches that were downed last year during our hurricane and Snotober.

The grounds were accommodating in beginning to show off their potential. A few of the 4,000 daffodils planted in the back started to unveil themselves though most were just awakening. The muscari was emerging along the path, its bunches of tiny grape-like purple blooms poking their spears though the soil appearing among the greening fescue grass.

As we walked the grounds everyone was amazed by how all the buds were swollen and ready to burst. “Here are a couple of things you want to avoid,” I pointed out. I then cut a sprout of Japanese barberry from a plant that had lodged itself in the rocks showing the class the tail tell orange innards as well as the spiky stems. “If you have this in your yard, you want to get rid of it. It may be pretty but it will take over,” I said and then pointed to the wetland area beyond the fence. It was filled with barberry, which was letting little else survive. Some skunk cabbages were making an attempt to show and flower, but they were hard to see under the blanket of greening barberry.

“Here is something else you want to avoid,” as I pointed to an attractive green floret. I attempted to pull it off but snapped off the stem. “This is not what you want to do when you try to get rid of garlic mustard. Pretty soon we will have to start weeding in earnest.”

As we walked around the garden, the sun started poking through the clouds. It was a good time to bring the group back to the front where I had set up an example of what we would be building that afternoon: a sundial.

“This is what all of you will be making today, a sundial. My wife, who is vastly more talented than me, made this one and it is accurate to our longitude and latitude.”

As some of my clients looked at me strangely (a familiar look) I explained. “It is guaranteed that nearly any sundial you purchase will be wrong as it need to be timed, so to speak, to the latitude and longitude where the sundial will reside. For people in the New York City area . . .” I then went on to describe the mathematics of sundials and how they work.  While the class was interested and attentive in how sundials worked it was clear they wanted to start building their own sundials.

Unlike other exercises we have had, building a sundial is much less free form as there are two important things you must consider. The first is transferring hour lines to the correct position on the dial face. The other is to position the gnomon, which casts the shadow on the dial, in the center of the dial so it lays directly above the line for high noon.

In keeping with the horticultural therapy theme, I cut the dials from a locust and black birch trees that fell on my property during the year. The gnomons were cut from Japanese red maple, sugar maple, black birch, and oak. I cut the disks as uniform as I could and then used my table saw to cut each gnomon so that it would lay on the dial at an angle of 41 degrees, which is the latitude of the NYC area. Given these materials, a series of instructions and templates, the group set off to work.

The usual casual chatter was deferred for quiet determination as each client focused on drawing their lines on the slab of their choice accurately. “Remember nothing is wrong until you commit a permanent marker to the wood and even then we can probably sand most anything off.”

Unlike other sessions, this one was filled with purpose and concentration. One of the clients became frustrated early as she was having a hard time working through the transfers of the sundial hour lines to her dial. “Nothing is wrong with what you are doing,” I assured her. “Just determine which direction you want your sundial to point toward and put down the template like this.” I demonstrated how to transfer the information and she became much calmer. A slight smile emerged.

“The fun part of this is how you personalize the sundial and what type of designs you want to consider. Those should be done free hand without transfer paper.”

As the session went on, everyone became more at ease with the task at hand and started to create different and unique designs (which I could not record as the battery on my camera died.) The chatter started slowly and then people were talking and sharing ideas as has been typical. When they were finished, each had a sundial that would tell time in their back yard. All were very happy with their accomplishment.

“I never would have thought about doing something like this,” said one. “But it turned out better than I ever could have imagined.”

When the clients finished their pieces, I sprayed them a few times with a quick drying lacquer to hold up against the elements. “You should consider putting a coat or two of spar varnish on these if you want them to last outside,” I suggested.

I then told them how to set their sundials at night, gave them a instruction sheet to help them remember and then sent them on their way. As I was cleaning up I noticed that the sun was still visible in the sky and my wife’s sundial had been left out still telling time.

Pounding life into flowers

Smash. Thump. Thwack.

“I can’t believe how beautiful this looks!”

“This doesn’t look like yours.”

“It’s better to do it on the floor.”

Perhaps I should back up a bit.

The last horticultural therapy session that I held at Ann’s Place focused on flower pounding. Whereas a 60’s love child who grooved around Flower Power focused around expressing their hidden emotions via hallucinogenics, flower pounding is about expressing the color and pattern of the flower of choice.  Most of the people who came to my session did not know what to expect and mused about the strange request on the sign-up sheet—“Bring a rubber mallet if you have one.”

The first client came armed with her mallet proud that she was able to purchase it for $2 at a local thrift shop. “It was a great bargain,” she crowed while swinging it in hand like Thor. As others started to file in they too were puzzled about what we would do but interested as nearly a dozen pansies and three large cineraria were stationed around the table.

“It’s great that so many of you have brought mallets,” I said. “It will make the project so much easier. What we will be doing today is creating art out of flowers through smashing them with a hammer.”

As many looked at me with a skeptical glare, I passed around some samples of prior “art” to show them the patterns that they could expect to get from the flowers. Some were shocked at the result and as the rest examined the pictures I described how to pound flowers.

“Everyone gets two pieces of paper to use to create their impressions. It is pretty simple. First you place the flower face down on your paper keeping in mind you want to spread the petals   Next you cover it with a paper towel and then pound away a few times.”

I put my pansy down on the watercolor paper, cut off the back stem so that it would smooch down well, covered it and pounded away. Nuts.

When I pulled away the paper towel, I discovered that the image was muddy and incomplete. Not at all like other pansy prints I had created. What could be wrong?

As I sheepishly revealed my image to the class, I thought that the problem may be with the table. It was a wobbly plastic affair that flexed and moved as I walloped the flower. I tried another on the corner of the table, which had better support.

Success!

I told the class to try to find a more solid part of the table to hit but a few students decided to literally hit the floor to get better results. And they did.

Some clients were tentative at first but everyone soon got into the spirit and were populating their paper with different shapes and blooms. Soon everyone was flailing away swinging their hammers with abandon like John Henry.

“Can we pound the leaves?,” asked one client.

“The viola leaves don’t transfer well but I don’t know about the cineraria leaves,” I replied.

That motivated a one client to remove a leaf and give it a good smack. The result was stunning.

Even the efforts that were incomplete had a beauty to them with the opportunity to augment nature by using Sharpies and colored pencils.

One client’s first attempts produced an image that was not pleasing to her. “This doesn’t look right,” she said. "Don’t worry about the first image, it’s the composite of all your attempts that will define your art. Try another flower on top and create an image of a bouquet.”

Another client was becoming in the words of a friend, “the teacher’s pet.” She started on the floor and composed a beautiful mosaic of flowers making some appear to pop out of the page. Her poundings were magnificent.

Soon everyone had a portrait that they were proud of. I even got Wilda to come down and smack a single flower transferring the image perfectly onto the paper. She added a Sharpie stem to her pounding, looking quite pleased with herself. She was not alone. Though we only had two different types of flowers and just a couple of colors, everyone created unique images that they were pleased with. When I told everyone to take a pansy plant home with them it was an extra bonus that few had expected. A few were looking forward to taking flowers from home and continuing their pounding. I just hope that they will leave a few flowers for the nose, the eyes and the bees.

When 1 is better than 13

One of the more gratifying aspects of volunteer work is the response you receive from your clients. I was especially looking forward to a recent horticultural session at Ann’s Place as we had nearly filled up the class with 13 pre-registrants. This class focused on creating sachets and mulling spice packets. So I got to the facility early to ensure everything was in place. Chairs for everyone plus a few possible drop ins, everything laid out on the table for sachet making, pens to decorate the sachets, a coffee urn cleaned out to make mulled cider, an ironing board and iron to seal the tea bags that would be used for the mulling spices, etc.

With 20 minutes to spare everything was ready for the crowd.

And with 10 minutes to spare everything was ready for the crowd.

And with no minutes to spare my first client shows up. And that was it.

After we made some small talk, she looked rather embarrassed saying, “I was really looking forward to this. Perhaps I should call my husband.” I told her no that we would have a session between the two of us. She didn’t want to put me to any trouble, but I said that since we were both here we should just go on. She turned up a little smile and we started.

While my last session focused on Tussie-Mussies and the language of flowers, this one dealt with more of the smells and tastes that can be derived through the mixing of herbs and flowers. “What is your favorite smell?” I asked.

She replied, “Lavender. It reminds me when I was young,” I added that my mother’s favorite was lilac because her mother had lilac bushes in her yard as a child. She smiled and agreed that it was a wonderful smell. I told her that one of my favorite smells was that of pickles (which are predominated with dill, bay leaves and vinegar as the dominant  flavorings) as it reminded me of when I used to eat lunch outside with my father during the summer.

“So one of the things we need to consider when making a sachet is how and where it will be used. For example, if you wanted to create a sachet that would be used in the kitchen or bathroom, it would probably have very different scents than one for a drawer where you kept your fine scarfs.” My client looked at me and said she had never thought of it that way and started taking notes.

“One of the things you need to consider is how to combine different scents.” I had collected 12 different botanicals and 7 different oils that could be used in a sachet. “But you have to be careful how you combine them, because certain things sit better together.”

“There are four category of scents: sweet, sour, vegetable, and animal.” I then described each one and told her that she needed to choose what she wanted to be her fundamental scent and then surround it with related scents.

“Well I think I will pick nutmeg,” she said after sniffing many of the different spices and herbs available. To unlock more of the nutmeg's scent, she started to grind it with a pestle. “Oh my,” she said after a few grinds released the essence of the nutmeg. She then looked over other scents. She took a bit of cinnamon, some chamomile and another spice or two.

As she mixed them she was amazed at the complexity and complementary nature of the smells as they combined in her bowl. And with each turn of the spoon and new scent came a different story and memory of her past. As the scents were being liberated, old and pleasant memories were being unlocked. But now we needed to come to a decision of what type of essential oil to add to the mix. “How about peppermint?,” I suggested. “It is very complementary to what you have put together and it will bind well with the oak moss we need to use as a fixative. We will  place it in a separate bowl so you can smell it as well as your mixture together.”

She agreed. After mixing the oak moss and pepermint, she held her emulsion along with her mix up to her nose. “This is incredible. It’s nothing like I thought it would be. Thank you.” I smiled telling her that I didn’t want to give canned recipes to clients but rather let them explore and discover how smells could be blended.

As we finished making the kitchen sachet we then moved on to mulling spices, which are different parts of cinnamon, clove, allspice, orange rind and lemon rind. We sipped some mulled cider I had made up and I asked her to reflect on the flavors she sensed and to consider which ones she enjoyed more than others.I showed her the mix and then I gave her four tea bags to be filled with spices and suggested that she experiment with different proportions to decide what type of mix she would ultimately enjoy more than others.

More stories and memories emerged while she blended the different spices. We were chatting about her experiences as well as mine. Before you knew it, it was time to clean up and she was looking forward to experience her mixings later in the week. As I was picking up I realized that I didn’t miss the dozen potential clients who didn’t show up.  And in fact more than a little part of me was happy they did not.

Tussie-mussie mashup

After a series of natural mishaps, I have finally been able to start the horticultural therapy program at Ann’s Place. While 2011 was the year of building out the landscaping, this year I hope to build out programs as well as a number of therapeutic gardens. Creating tussie-mussies would be my first project.  Tussie-mussies were popular among women in Victorian England in the 19th century and represented the high point of flowers as an expression of language. There were countless pocket volumes of books that became essential companions of young women attempting to decipher the meaning of a bouquet. Red rose means passionate love, a daisy, innocence and rosemary, remembrance. During the heyday of tussie-mussies young women would consult a variety of different “floral dictionaries” to discern the true meaning of a received bouquet from a suitor or friend.

While flowers are often considered to be expressions of beauty and loveliness, they can also have not-so-nice meanings. For example, the combination of foxglove, nettle, lettuce, and a yellow carnation would basically say “ I have distain (yellow carnation) for you, you cruel (nettle), cold-hearted (lettuce), insincere (foxglove) person. If you add the herb valerian (shown on the left) to the mix you add the insult ‘drunk and slutty.’ This is probably a flower you never want to include in any bouquet (unless you want to break up with someone.)

But none of these plants were part of the bunch I put together for the half dozen or so of clients I had to work with. All save one were women. While many had a good background with flowers, few knew of the tussie-mussie story, which goes back to Aztec and Middle-Age cultures.

You can make a tussie-mussie with just a few flowers but given the fact that I didn’t know what people would want to say I had to collect a wide variety of flora, some of which I clipped from my yard and surrounding gardens.  They were:

Arborvitae—Unchanging friendship
Baby’s breath—Pure heart, festivity
Carnation —Admiration
Carnation, Deep red—Alas, for my poor heart
Carnation, Pink –Woman’s love, beauty, pride
Cedar—Strength
Daffodil—Respect, chivalry, gracefulness
Daisy—Innocence, simplicity
Fern—Fascination, sincerity
Forsythia—Good nature
Holly—Good will, domestic happiness
Ivy—Fidelity
Lily, tiger—Wealth, pride
Moss—Maternal love
Periwinkle—Pleasures of memory
Primrose—Early youth
Rose—Love
Rose, Red—I love you
Rose, Yellow—Friendship
Rosemary—Remembrance
Sage—Virtue, wisdom, skill
Spruce—Farewell, hope in adversity, immortality
Thyme—Activity

As I showed my clients how to put together different bouquets I told them to be watchful in the future of what types of bouquets they purchase from stores as it is easy to make mistakes. I had pictures of four different flower arrangements, each of which looked very nice, each of which had very different meanings. “This one, for instance, is for a hangover as the main flower is hens-and-chicks, which means,’welcome-home-husband-regardless-of-how-drunk-you-are”  One woman mused how perhaps she could send that to her ex.

Cedar, which represents strength, was a favorite adornment but was easily confused with arborvitae (unchanging friendship). While they look very similar, cedar has the smell of cat urine when cut; it was easy to differentiate once with a simple snip. Some of my clients initially made their bouquets too large but were able to scale them down with a bit of help and guidance. It takes a bit of a knack to tie everything together as many people have the tendency to grab a large number of samples and try to tie the group together rather than layer in one or two at a time, attaching them with florist wire.

I created a small tussie-mussie for my wife, showing my clients that bigger is not necessarily better. I picked a red rose, daffodils, periwinkle and primrose. They thought it very beautiful and when I brought it home to Juana (with a crib sheet of meanings) she thought it equally beautiful and sweet and rewarded me with a kiss.

Therapy on hold

It’s been too long since I have last posted, which has been due to a combination of events out of my control. The first, and perhaps most relevant, is that I am between horticultural therapy programs. I am no longer working at Green Chimneys as a volunteer, as my mentor has moved on to other jobs and situations. I have missed working with the children but at the same time excited about starting up a new program in February at Ann’s Place in Danbury to help those whose lives have been touched by cancer.

So my activities have been around putting the finishing touches on different therapeutic spaces at my new facility in Danbury as well cleaning up after all the storms we have experienced.

At Ann’s Place I just finished planting 3,400 alliums and daffodils in the front of the facility. While that seems like a daunting number of bulbs it provides only the most basic of foliage and flowers when all emerge from the ground. I planted the bulbs in three different layers: Daffodils eight inches down, medium-sized alliums four inches down and tiny allium bulbs 2 inches below the surface. The hope is that they will spring up between April and August giving clients and staff a nice display as they enter our facility.

We have also installed nearly 200 ferns as well as hemlocks and American hollies around a picnic area with benches and a table. I am hoping that staff as well as clients can use this area for reflection and support. I planted many Christmas ferns around one holly as a holiday focal point. Hopefully next year it will be in full bloom.

Walkways and winter rye have finished the job for this season so I can focus on building a program this winter.

Working around the garden at home has been another story; it’s been more work than therapy. I have always tried to approach garden work with a Zen-like serenity and enjoy the moment. This year, unfortunately, that has not always been the case as combinations of illness, accidents and natural gotcha’s have delayed and added to the many garden tasks.

This last month was focused on getting ready for winter. As I burned up nearly one-quarter of my split wood supply keeping the house warm in early November, I spent quite a few days splitting more wood to just replenish my supply. Every day for a week and a half, I would go out to split oak and ash for an hour or so. Splitting wood has a rhythm that I enjoy. The picking up and splitting again and again of the same piece has a calming effect while I listen to the music of my back yard.

But I felt more stressed than relaxed as I felt that the weather could turn to the worse at any moment. Ironically, that was the furthest from the truth as this past November has been the mildest I can remember. There were quite a few days where my skinny bleached white legs exposed themselves to passers by. The lack of consistent hard frosts manifested itself through my cats picking up tick after tick during their outdoor forages. Gnats, mosquitoes and other flying vermin swarmed around my face and arms. For Thanksgiving I had more bug bites than servings of my favorite dessert.

The warm weather, however, permitted me to repair over 100 feet of fencing that had been damaged or downed by the two storms we have had this fall. It was warm enough to replace and set in concrete 10 new posts as well as reset existing posts that had not been felled. My local arborist dropped nearly 20 yards of wood chips for me to distribute and I spent the better of a week wheelbarrowing the chips to all the different beds needed to be refreshed. As I started the task, wisps of warm composting smoke rose from the top of the pile and continued until I knocked down its mass a bit.

Through all this I have been able to harvest salads nearly every other day as my cold frame and Agribon hoop house has kept the lettuces and Swiss Chard all the ready to eat. Even though the temperature hit a low of 22 degrees this week, all the different plants are doing well.

Now that I have finished all of my autumnal chores (with just days to spare to winter) I can now concentrate on the few things you can still do in the garden like harvest the remaining (and surviving greens), splitting wood as it gets used and starting to review the catalogs that start to come this time of year in preparation for the spring.

The sweet smell of students

 

A new semester recently started at Green Chimneys and with that a new group of students. Coming back after a month’s absence (a two week vacation and two hurricanes) its time to get into the fall chores and get to learn about a new group of students. This fall’s group will be bittersweet, like the season, as I will only be working with them through Thanksgiving. After that I will be taking a break until the spring and then hopefully back with the kids.

But until then there is lots to do in the garden. Today should be spent taking down the tomato plants, which have given up the ghost to leaf spot and weather conditions that vacillated between desert and flood. One of my new charges, Ben, was happy to have gotten the job and wanted to be a good worker.

“I will be a good worker for you, Mr. Keller. That way I can earn my money.”

So we started slow, cutting the stalks off the diseased plants. I showed Ben two different examples of tomatoes: one that had a healthy vine and the other with one that was diseased. At first he couldn’t articulate the differences but a bit of prodding got him on the right track.

My next student, Bill, was more observant but he told me he had never eaten a tomato before. “Bill you must have eaten tomatoes before in some form. Do you like Italian food?”

“I love spaghetti,” he replied. “Well tomatoes are often used in the sauce,” I said. I then picked up a basil leaf that we plant in between the tomato plants and rubbed the basil under his nose. “Do you know this smell?”

“I think so but I don’t know from where,” he said. “How about pizza?” I then told him to rub the basil under his nose and eat a cherry tomato at the same time. He looked at me strangely but then ate the fruit. He started to smile and agreed that it tasted like pizza and the tomatoes were really good. (I felt as if I was having a “Green Eggs and Ham,” moment with him.") I told Bill that he could eat as many of the cherry tomatoes that he wanted to. With that incentive he started to prune with greater urgency, taking a tomato every time he cut off a stalk and placed it into a garbage bag (we throw out all diseased plants rather than put them into the compost heap.)

My next student was off at a special meeting so I walked back to the garden. When I got there a pack of pre-schoolers were walking around with their teachers looking at the garden. I asked them if they would like to do something special and they all said yes.

I walked them around one of the corners of the herb garden by our large patch of wooly thyme. I then told them to take both of their hands, rub the thyme and then smell their fingers. They first couldn’t get enough of rubbing as the soft, wool-like plant tickled their fingers. Then they smelled their fingers and started to giggle.

Next to the wooly thyme is our mint patch so I broke off a stem and gave a leaf to each child and told them to smell it. “It smells like gum,” said one. “Yeah, can we eat it?” asked another.

I told them that they could and then I broke off a small branch and started to tickle each of their noses. “Tickle my nose again!” insisted a small, bespeckled girl.  I have never had such a receptive audience. I then showed them sunflowers, one that was pollinated and the other that was not, and explained how seeds were make. I cut open each flower showing them the difference between the two.

“You see each of these holes? Each used to hold a seed as was a little bed. Each seed could grow into a plant that was this tall, “ I said pointing as some of our sunflowers that were 10 feet high. The children were amazed that such a tiny seed could grow into a much larger plant. I gave each child a seed and told them to put it into the ground next spring. Each held out a tiny hand wanting a seed. I placed one in each hand and hoped that it was not the only seed that would bear fruit in the future.

Fungus among us

While July was hot and dry, June was not and set the seeds (or spores) of one of our current activities at Green Chimneys: trimming diseased branches and leaves off the tomato plants. Tomatoes are one of the favored fruits of summer as there is nothing quite so tasty as a fresh tomato that has ripened on the vine. Unfortunately, for the last three years we have had a constant battle with Septoria leaf spot and every year I have endeavored with my charges to control the problem.

A few weeks ago I told a group of young boys that we would be cutting the leaves off the tomato plants. Initially they seemed uninterested until I asked them if they liked salsa.

“Yeah! That’s one of the best things about the summer garden. Will we be getting salsa soon?” said Bob.

“Well I hope so,” I replied. “But only if all of these green tomatoes are able to turn red. And they won’t turn red unless the tomato plant that is holding them lives for at least a month more.”

I then showed them a diseased leaf. It was brown on the edges and had little dots all over.

“This leaf is infected with a fungus that will kill the tomato plant unless we stop it. Look at some of the wilted leafs at the bottom of that tomato plant,” I said pointed downward.

They all looked and saw a bunch of desiccated brown leafs hanging off the metal cage. There were also small shriveled branches hanging off the bottom of the plant.

“Does that look healthy?” I asked. They all shook their heads no.

So I told them that we needed to cut off all the sickly looking branches as well as collect the dead leaves on the ground and instead of putting them into the compost heap, we needed to throw them out. When I asked them why did we need to do that Bill spoke up,” Because if you put them in with the compost you will just be planting them again next year.” Smart kid.

I gave each of them a set of pruners and they quickly set off to do the work. I said that our goal was to finish a single row of tomatoes and they set off quickly to do their job. Unlike other weeding exercises, this time the boys worked quickly and carefully. Perhaps the prospect of not getting salsa was motivating them to work hard; perhaps my promise of carrots and early tomatoes if they did a good job was a more immediate incentive.

In their enthusiasm a few healthy branches were cut, but as they were not bearing any fruit, I told them that it didn’t really matter that they were cut. After each plant was tended to, I wiped down each of their tools with alcohol to remove any spores that lingered on the blades. After 30 minutes of work, the row was nearly done.

“Gentlemen you have done a great job and probably saved this row so we will be able to make salsa in a month or so. Give yourselves a pat on the back,” I said. “Look at the difference.”  For the few plants that had not been trimmed, the dead, shrunken leafs were a bleak counterpart to the thinned out albeit airy bottoms of the plants that had been cut. The boys seemed pleased.

“OK now it is time to shop. Carrots first or tomatoes?” The boys had big smiles on their faces and decided to go for the tomatoes first.  

Cutting flowers, exposing memories

Part of the practice of horticultural therapy is to help clients work through or at least realize their challenges. Before you can begin to do that, particularly for emotional or social issues, you must first gain the trust of your client. In working with the children at Green Chimneys I have found that one of the easiest ways to do that is to tap the skills from my former profession as a consultant and be a good listener. And one way to do that is by striking up conversations during quiet, intimate tasks.

That happened last week as the chives had bloomed and the flowers needed to be cut to preserve the bulb. As one of my charges said the day was, “cloudless but windy but very comfortable.” So we had ideal conditions to just kneel down and snip the heads off the flowers. It didn’t matter how much of the chive flowers we cut but to make it more challenging and precise I had all the students snip them toward the top of the stem where the flower sat. This would force them to concentrate and consider the job rather than just flail away indiscriminately.

While many of the puff-ball-like flower heads were starting to go to seed, others were still fresh and attracting bees. But after I told my charges that they need not worry about the bees they ignored them and went along their business. After a short time, the onion-like smell of the stalks and flowers coated our hands so our aroma had changed for the day. It was pungent though pleasant and (to me at least) soothing.

One student Bob started speaking about his summer and the trips he would be going on with his mother and step-father. He then started to speak about his grandfather. “I don’t ever want to meet my grandfather. He’s a bad man.” He then started to talk about how his grandfather (as well as his father) was an alcoholic and would beat his father.  “My mom doesn’t drink.”

While Bob was talking about his family he spoke in a calm and matter-of-fact tone. He clipped the flowers carefully, dropping them into a tote and continued to tell me his story. “They could have stopped drinking if they wanted to. It’s all their fault. They are bad.”

“Bob, alcoholism is a disease that never leaves you, even if you stop drinking. Yes, perhaps they could stop drinking but it is not easy and a constant battle. I’m sorry that their actions hurt you.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” said Bob. “They are not part of me or my Mom’s life.” Bob didn’t seem to want to talk any more so we silently finished removing the flowers from the clump of chives we were in front. Bob did such a good job I let him harvest the first of the strawberries as a treat as well as a few gooseberries. “This was a good day,” he said as I took him back to class.

Judy, my next student, had a different reaction around the chives. She was working along side other students in a group that I was managing and became very possessive about cutting a certain number of flowers. “These are mine!,” she said. So I gave her a wide berth and let her cut the flowers. She did a good job sometimes lingering and looking at the individual blooms while delicately holding them in her hand.

I later took her aside and asked why she had become so possessive. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to have my own space and do it on my own.”

One of the my last students, Josh, was making quick work of the job. He cut the heads closely and quickly. He discovered that flowers that had mostly gone to seed were easy to pull off the stalks. “Is it ok if I pull them rather than cut them?”

I replied yes but he had to make sure that the flower was past. I demonstrated to him the difficulty in trying to pull off a live flower verses the relative ease in removing a seed pod. He nodded and then said, “These smell like stink bugs.”  I didn’t know the type of bug he was referring to so I asked him to describe one to me. He then started to look bothered and said that he didn’t want to. I asked why.

“They live in the country where I was born. It’s not a nice place. I don’t want to remember anything about it.”

“Would you like to talk about this?”

“No because if I do I won’t be able to stop and I want to forget about ever coming from there.”

Josh was now agitated. I needed to change the topic. “Josh, how would you like some strawberries?” His face immediately brightened. “Is there any asparagus left?”

“Yes I think so and there may be some gooseberries for you also.”

His face brightened with a big smile so we picked up our pruners, knee pads and tote of chive flowers and walked toward the shed to put them away. “Do you think I could have two strawberries, Mr. Keller?”

“Sure, Josh,” I replied. “If you can find two ripe ones.” He ran off toward the strawberry patch in front of me, forgetting the chives and thinking about the strawberries that he hoped to find.

Leaves of three, let them be

The morning was crisp and cold but with cloudless skies promising a much warmer day. The back gardens at Ann’s Place were as I left them last fall with a blanket of straw covering everything I planted last November but with one big difference: daffodils. The 3,400 daffodils I planted last year have come in full bloom and grace the little hillside on the southern portion of the property. They stand trumpeting the beginning of Spring and the emergence of all we did last year. A few weeks ago I planted 400 stragglers around the stairs and statue base that were installed after the initial planting; they too have started to poke their heads above the straw.

There was little time to appreciate this sight as I needed to remove all the straw from the beds we had created last year and start to prepare the ground to be seeded. The straw decayed little over the winter and each strand held on to each others forming chunky sheets. Underneath was the stirrings of new growth and old nemeses. Barberry babies were raising their heads, looking to take a first feeding of light. Like a ruthless mercenary, I pulled them out of their warm beds and discarded them with little thought.

Pale green grasses were starting to grow. Other weeds were starting to present themselves. I spotted what looked like poison ivy with its tale-tell three leaves. I removed it with little thought.

Many of the plants did well during the winter. The chokeberries, dogwoods, spiraeas and viburnums had been pruned a bit by the deer. The blueberries had not even been touched. The inkberries, unfortunately, had been heavily sampled and the mountain laurels that I (perhaps naively) planted have been eaten down to the bark showing little life. I may have to replace them. But overall everything is starting to bud out nicely and telegraph its rebirth to the surroundings.

As I kept removing the straw, I noticed more of the three-leaf plants. It was strange as I didn’t remember any poison ivy when we cleared the area last fall. And also the stem was red, not green as it should be. So I decided to grant mercy on the plant and wait to see how it developed. I’m glad I did because I started to discover hidden treasures.

The little three-leaf plants were scattered around but I soon started finding small rose bushes. Then a few ferns that I had not planted. Then a patch of wild strawberries. Then a jack in the pulpit: it was not poison ivy. Jack in the pulpit is easy to confuse with poison ivy as both have a similar three-leaf structure; the difference is when an erect spike forms (a spadix or Jack) that holds many tiny flowers and the sheath-like spathe (pulpit) appears that opens to form a hood. Though it is not endangered, I haven’t seen one for years in my walks in the woods even though they are rarely eaten by deer as they are poisonous.

You could never see any of these things under the barberry that covered the back portion of the property. I was pleasantly surprised to find that native plants were still around, just hidden from view by the barberry that we had removed. They had already gone dormant when I there in the fall.  I quickly became attuned to the potential for plants under the straw, which was now wrapping paper for the gifts of Spring.

After all the straw was removed, I was encouraged to see that besides what had been planted in the fall was complemented by flowers, bushes and ferns that had already been here. The soil was now bare and needed a bit of roughing up to better take the seed I will soon sow to restore other species that had long disappeared from the site. Milkweed, Joe-pye weed, New England Aster, big bluestem, goldenrod, Indian grass are but a few of the new plants that would perhaps reestablish themselves in this area. After broadcasting the seed I then spread a thin layer of shredded straw. This weekend it is supposed to rain and the cycle of growth will start again at Ann’s Place.