GroHappy

Building a program—Part 2: Finishing the back

Putting up a deer fence was both an end and starting point. It was the end of the carnage by the deer. If the snow didn’t save them from deer last winter, any remaining plants got chewed up in the spring or died during the rainless July this summer. But now we can start anew. Out of the 70 or so plants we put in last year, 45 were gone and needed to be replaced. Then another 40 needed to be put in around the building and walls now that work was finished.

So many of the plants we had installed last year had been reduced to dead twigs. Because hay instead of straw had been put down to control erosion, we had a big crop of rye grass and associated weeds, which was not the fescue we needed to plant for the back yard.

A backhoe was brought in to remove the sod and grade the area so that water would run away from the building and into a trench leading to the wetlands. Two knee walls were constructed earlier to ensure that the run off would not drain into a patio area.

Mark, the operator, had a wonderfully light touch as he delicately scraped the old sod away and replaced it with new topsoil. He was able to just pull away the right amount of soil with a huge steel arm as a child would run her fingers through the sand. Within a few hours, the area was ready for seeding.

While Mark was working on getting the back ready for a lawn, I with a bunch of landscapers started to plant all the different trees and bushes: American Cranberry, Inkberry, Winterberry, Swamp Azalea, Mountain Laurel, High and Low Bush blueberry, Elderberry, Gray and Red-Osier Dogwood and Spirea were just the beginning. Planting was bittersweet as for almost every plant I positioned another needed to be yanked and discarded. I now understand why professional landscapers around here choose such large specimens: more survival chances against man and beast. In a few cases, I needed to direct the laborers not to step on Witch Hazel saplings, indicating that they were not sticks but rather living plants.

Soon the lawn was ready for seeding. I have had 100 pounds of fescue seed in my basement for 5 months waiting for this moment. Ironically this was the last possible day (October 12) that I could plant: the next week or so looked warm so that the seeds would have the needed sun and temperatures for germination. Rain looked imminent so we worked quickly smoothing out the soil, broadcasting the seed and then spreading shredded straw over the area to hold the seed and erosion. We had just enough seed and straw to finish the job.

As we started to put away the tools it began to rain. Not heavy, but a steady soft rain that would moisten the soil and give the grass, transplanted trees and bushes a good start. I thanked all the people who helped me, loaded my shovels, pick ax and rakes into the car happy that we had finally finished the back area before the bad weather hits. 

Autumnal plums

This season is bittersweet as the harvest and display of flowers is great while their remaining time with us is short. Tomato plants full of reddening fruit are but a few weeks from being pulled. The sunflowers brightening my driveway are having their last smiles. A few rose bushes have started their second flowering and the buds on my Montauk daises have started to bloom.

When I visit my mother on Long Island at this time of year, I often take her to the  beach as the weather is in the Goldilocks zone (not too cold, not too hot, just right.) Sitting with her on a bench talking and staring out at Long Island Sound reminds me of the trips we would take many decades ago with my brothers and sisters when we walked the beach looking for horseshoe crab molts and shells.

After a lifetime of collecting such detritus, I have moved on to scavenge other things. And at this time of year it is beach plums. In mid to late September beach-plum season is in full swing on Long Island so I try to time my visits to my mother to take full advantage of the bounty. Last year the harvest was poor, no doubt due to the cool rainy weather. I was afraid that this year’s heat and lack of rain would serve up more of the same but I was pleasantly surprised that there was a good amount of fruit on the bushes. When I viewed them in mid August, bundles of tiny fruit hung from the branches promising a future sweet harvest.

When I visited the beach last week with my mother the bushes were distressed as it had rained less than an inch since I last saw them. Many bushes were sporting raisin-like bunches of plums on branches devoid of leaves. Mostly pit, these little blue orbs acted as sad decorations portending the beginning of fall and perhaps the death of the plant.

I was, however, able to find a few bushes that for some reason were flush with green leaves and fat blue plums. I greedily harvested a bowl of them for my wife and I to consume over the next week.

Beach plums are a bit of an acquired taste as they are the size of a gooseberry, taste like a plum mixed with a blueberry and have a large pit very similar to that of a cherry. One year we made beach plum jam, which was delicious but time consuming because of the pitting process. So this year they have become our fruit when we feel like a light snack. As you expel pit after pit from your mouth, you often wonder if it is worth the effort as the pit sometimes appears bigger than the fruit you are able to suck off. The berries have a short life as they ripen quickly once picked. Some fruits are still a bit too sour as my color blindness doesn’t let me discern a ripe from an unripe plum. Others are past their prime as a bite into them will give you a squirt of sour or in some cases fermented juice. The fermented ones are the most interesting as you get little jolts of alcohol that reminded me of some home-made wine my father used to get from a friend.