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Chip Fulp and Diane Schramm are great Friends of The Dirt, whose amazing garden I’d seen only in photos—till last weekend.

When I visited, Diane was out Christmas shopping. But this is definitely a couple’s effort. Chip and Diane live in a mobile home park near Bearss and Nebraska avenues in North Tampa, and they have only 27 by 42 feet of growing space. They’ve almost always got something ready to harvest—broccoli, cauliflower, peas, tomatoes, peppers, corn—which requires meticulous planning, both space-wise and timing-wise.

“Diane maps out the beds to the inch,” Chip says. “If I put something off by just a little bit, ‘Hell hath no fury ... ’ ”

Here’s the Back o’ the Shack.

In the middle, where you see red flowers and an angel sculpture, is their beloved garden cat Pam’s resting place. It’s a heart-shaped bed; Chip forms his garden beds with cardboard covered with weed fabric.

He uses old boxes to create T-shaped frames, with the top of the T buried a few inches in the ground. He covers them with weed fabric. They help make for more gardening space, he says, and because they’re malleable, he can create any shape he wants. They also hold up pretty well. Some he’s had for going on two years.

You can get a better idea of his frames by looking closely at the following photos.

The first bed I saw was full of HUGE brussels sprouts. They’re so big, they busted right through Chip and Diane’s cable TV line (which is why you see the little orange flag marking the route for the new line.)

Baby brussels! (I used to hate Brussel’s sprouts. My husband makes them delicious by steaming with bacon and butter. I think I’d like cat poop with bacon and butter.)

For each veggie bed, Chip digs down about a foot deep. He throws in compost from his barrels and tops it with chicken manure from feed stores like Shell’s.

“I love puttin’ chicken poop on top,” he says. “It cooks off the weeds and gets things percolating.”

But be warned—don’t ever put it directly on plants. It’ll burn them.

He tops the whole mess with newspaper, which helps keep down weeds. (And the newspaper—only The Tampa Tribune, I’m sure—composts, too.) Do this all a couple weeks before planting.

Next thing you know, you might have cauliflower!

You see the little baby cauliflower in there? Too cute!

Chip and Diane (well, Diane) plans the planting so well, they plant rows within rows. These strawberry plants were put in between rows of corn, which were already tall when strawberry planting time came around. That meant Chip had to crawl between the corn rows to plant the strawberries. Very hard on the knees!

But the payoff?

A few more tips for aspiring organic veggie gardeners: Chip is a huge believer in Superthrive as a fertilizer—“It brings back the dead”—cheap dish soap (NOT degreaser soap) with every watering, and cheap mouthwash mixed with water for preventing and killing mold and fungus. He fertilizes monthly with Superthrive and fish emulsion.

(Sorry, if you want Superthrive, ask Chip where he gets it. Not seeing that in my notes!)

Chip gave me tons of good information and I have lots more pix, so you’ll be seeing more from the Shoehorn Garden here and in The Trib. In the meantime, I’m sending lots of good thoughts out to Chip and Diane. They’re both THE nicest, and dealing with the loss of a loved one just before Christmas and an upcoming surgery—just after Chip’s having surgery!

Thank God they’ve got a garden. It helps. As do our good thoughts.

 

 

 

 

 

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I promised myself last winter that I wouldn’t go through this ever again: running around in the dark; covering plants when it’s cold and windy; moving dozens of pots indoors or, at least, into the lanai; and losing sleep over which of my pretties would make it through a frost or freeze.

“The ‘right plant-right place’ mantra doesn’t just apply to sun and soil,” I told myself then. “It also means you should give up on growing vulnerable tropicals in frost- and freeze-prone Tampa.”

Uh, yeah. That was then, this is reality. And I can’t do it. I love tropical plants too much.

So a week ago — yes, already — I was back at it. Worrying, whining and waiting.

It didn’t get as cold as they said it would. Still … how do you know? So I packed all the potted plants I could get onto the table on the lanai and under a sheet for protection. And I covered the houseplants (yes, that’s what they are everywhere else) on the front porch and hoped for the best.

Then I spent some time Monday reading — again — about the dos and don’ts of preparing plants for cold.

Here’s what I found:

One expert says throw sheets over everything. Others say don’t do it at all unless you can do it right — and that means you can’t let the material touch the plant. At all. Who, I must ask, has the time or wherewithal to pitch a tent over every vulnerable bit of greenery in the garden? Not I. And yet, some advisers even go so far as to suggest putting a light bulb in there for warmth. (For the record, I will not be going with them.)

Then there’s the question about watering. Some say water in the morning before a freeze, because the soil will absorb more solar radiation and will reradiate heat during the night. Others say do as the commercial growers do, and run your sprinklers all night to protect landscape plants. Most experts advise against either plan, particularly the latter. The chances are slim that your sprinklers have the same flow as a professional irrigation system. A layer of ice is not what protects the plant; unless it continuously freezes, causing the subsequent release of heat, the water likely will hurt more than it helps. And, you know, there’s that whole water shortage thing.

Something I hadn’t picked up on, despite all my years as a Florida gardener, is that the cold damage will be much worse if the temperature suddenly plummets. Many plants really can build up a tolerance for cold if given half a chance. So maybe this recent little scare wasn’t so bad.

It is smart, though, to move your potted plants indoors, or into a more protected spot. If the pots are too heavy, consider grouping them together and build up some mulch around them to help keep them warm. I have two very strong men at home to help me drag everything in, but if you don’t, keep your heaviest pots next to a fence or shed or by the house for added protection. If there’s no way you’re going to move them, consider carefully laying taller plants on their sides (before the wind does it for you).

Then carefully lie on your side, inside — under a blanket and perhaps with a glass of something to keep you warm — and hope for the best.

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Gifts are NOT my favorite part of the holidays. Really.

But gifts are fun, and garden gifts are a lot of fun. (My son has shared his discovery that shopping for spray hose nozzles for me can be almost as much fun as beer pong. The boy is growing up.)

FOD Susan Gillespie sent a photo this week under the category of “Red in the garden,” but I think it fits better under “Favorite garden gifts.”

“I made this wreath for my mother a few years back,” she wrote. “She loved Betty Boop so I thought it would be cute on her door. She will be gone almost 3 years now so I dug this out and hung it on our door this year. That way Mom is with us in spirit.”

I love the sentiment, and the wreath!

Staying with made gifts for a moment, I was proud of the plant markers I came up with for the pots of herbs my daughter’s boyfriend wants. I looked around for markers when I bought the pots—I’m not sure he’ll know which herb is which—but didn’t see any I really liked.

Later that day, while pulling the vacuum cleaner out of the closet where it lives with 20 years of board games, I noticed a Scrabble tile on the floor. Lightbulb!!

This is pretty easy if ever you want to copy. I attached the tiles to the wooden game trays with hot glue, then my husband drilled long screws into the bottom to use as stakes.

Kim and I exchanged gifts last night. Every year, we vow not to give each other garden gifts, and every year, we just can’t resist. And I’m very glad of that. I love Kim’s garden gifts!

This one her son actually spotted at Pier 1 Imports and bought as a gift for another relative. (Kim’s hoping he got one for her, too.) Just in case, she was going to buy this for herself, but opted to be extra sweet and get it for me. I love the last little bird on the right.

And lastly, here’s mine for Kim. I found it while I was in Vermont in October. Every time I go to Vermont, it seems I’m hauling home her Christmas gift. Like her, I really debated whether to get this for me (my veggie garden could use it) or take the nobler route.

If you get, or give, a fun garden gift, send it to me at .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address). I love seeing the cool stuff people make and find almost as much as I love peeping in on their gardens. 

 

 

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FOD Janice Vogt loves to decorate her house and garden for the holidays. Any holiday. Brazilian Independence Day. Kiss A Pig Day. I’m talking every holiday. So no surprise she goes gangbusters at Christmas.

She lives in a charming old section of Seminole Heights, and her old-fashioned, retro touches make you feel like you’re stepping back into the 1950s or ‘60s.

Like the rest of us, at first she didn’t think she had a lot of natural Christmas red flora in the garden. But when she started to look around, she discovered she has plenty. This is Fasciata primera, a bromeliad she picked up at a Tampa Garden Club plant sale.

And here’s Tiffany, another bromeliad from that garden club sale.

Who knew roses bloom this time of year? Here’s a perfect Florida snowball, Pascali hybrid tea rose. (Janice swears by Mills Magic Rose Mix Fertilizer for her roses and all her plants.)

Janice is the master of the garden art vignette, and I love this one.

Take a good look at the tiny terra cotta manger scene in the middle of the potting table. What a perfect detail. Where did it come from, Janice?

And how’ bout this retro snowman statue? Janice says she found this gem at TJ Maxx a couple years ago.

And another snowman we need to get to know better! I’m guessing she or her husband (the very handy and cheerful Grumpy) painted this on an old, up North-style storm door. How appropo. The door came from Janice’s favorite antiques store, Baker & Co. General Store on North Howard Avenue. (I’ve been there—love it, too.)

Anyone who does this much dressing up cannot resist attacking the cat. Thank goodness Pooh is used to Ms. Pumpkin’s eccentricities. Our parting shot, the jolly Pooh:

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I cannot overstate my love for gardeners!

I shared a few pix a few days ago from my garden with the subtle argument that we don’t really need to run out and buy poinsettias—we probably already have lots of Christmas color. I asked for others to share their own natural Christmas color and, you guys are so great!, you did! I have lots of great pix of both natural Christmassy plantings, along with garden holiday decor and other extra efforts.

They’re all beautiful and inspirational. Let the ideas pollinate!

If you’ve got holiday merriment going on in your garden, send me pictures at .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address). I’ll keep posting them till I run out.

This one from Kay HAS to win the Funnybone prize. I laughed out loud when I saw it.

“Here’s a picture of the red I have going on in the garden. Cherokee Purples on the left, Beefstake on the right, grape tomatoes in the back,” she wrote.

All strategically placed in front of neatly wrapped presents. Love it, Kay!

I’m laughing at this next one, too. If you read The Dirt in the Trib tomorrow, you’ll see why.

We have to write our Sunday Dirt a few days before it publishes in the paper. In the one that runs tomorrow, I mention—unbeknownst to Janna Begole—her winter petunias. (I didn’t realize they’re really her husband, Rick’s).  I know how she loves them, though, and sure enough, she sent a photo,

I also mention Janna’s Brazilian red hots in tomorrow’s paper, and sure enough, she sent a picture of her ho-ho-ho foliage.

But she sent some surprises, too. Pagoda and white hibiscus make for a naturally festive pairing.

Susan and Janna also sent some photos of plants that aren’t Christmas but ARE doing strange things. I’m saving them for the Bizarro post.

 

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Susan Gillespie is rockin’ some beautiful reds in Riverview—with nary a poinsettia in sight.

Check out the Christmas colors:

She loves her candy-cane striped “cutesy” petunias. And so do I.

Nothing could be redder than this eye-popping geranium—except maybe Santa’s nose after his post-delivery toddies. Tucked in next to it is a begonia.

I love the pairing of the dragonwing begonia with the winged angel statue.  What a perfect holiday vignette! (Hmmm, or resting place for a dear departed cat.)

A drift of red and orange lantana—what a truly Florida-esque alternative!

Red passion vine gives Susan a star-covered fence (keep your ornaments, Wal-Mart!).

Lady slipper salvia—I never heard of it! Could this be the slippers that were hung by the chimney with care?

As Susan writes: “The ever dependable pentas.” .... A mix of crimson pentas and whites would have a nice holiday feel, but then, you’d still be doing Christmas in the garden come June.

Finally, to show that I really don’t have anything against traditional holiday flora, here’s Susan’s Christmas cactus, which looks like it’ll be covered with color in time for New Year’s.

 

 

 

 

 

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Don’t get me wrong, I have had my poinsettia phases. Repeat seasons of the traditional bright red bracts. Flirtations with novelty mauves and bi-colors. But I’m in a maverick phase now and the sight of rows and rows of red poinsettias at garden centers makes me ... yawn.

I think my big sun-burned flapjacks, Kalanchoe thyrsiflora , by the mailbox screams Christmas.

And, having attempted to plant my potted poinsettias in the ground for year-round enjoyment, I can tell you flapjacks are a WHOLE lot easier. My poinsettias always last several months then boom, deader than the Ghost of Christmas Past.

Likewise, for easy-to-grow, Echeveria Perle von Nurnberg, another succulent that glows red (like Rudolph’s nose) the more sun it gets.

These begonias were getting leggy and sad looking after the trauma of several months in hanging baskets. They’ve really taken to their new lives as ground-dwelling holiday color. I call it re-gifting.

My favorite, though, is jatropha, with its mitten-shaped leaves and indefatigable cheeriness. I cut small branches and pair them with mammy croton cuttings for Florida-style holiday arrangements in the house.

Jatropha flowers year-round, and can be trained as a small tree or a shrub. This one looked like a total goner after the freezes last winter and I actually dug it up and tossed it.

Look who’s back!

If you’ve got holiday plants—traditional or not—to share, send photos to .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address). Be sure to add a little info about what they like and don’t like so we can all learn a thing or two.

Janice-Pumpkin, I do believe you promised me Christmas garden photos about two weeks ago!

 

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Note from Penny: This was The Dirt column that ran in The Tribune today. I’ve added a couple updates here, especially regarding the new-to-me gazanias.

There must be some chromosome, some fleck of DNA, that compels gardeners to plant and plant until every patch of dirt is given over to fruits and flowers, or fruit- and flower-related necessities, like garden swings.
I’ve come to believe this because the more gardeners I meet, the more I recognize we’re alike. The planting personality is not satisfied with a balcony, a backyard or even the back 40. The planting personality seeks to pollinate people, too.

We give our non-gardening friends herbs and orchids as birthday gifts, and toss out unveiled hints like, “A few purple lantana right there in your yard would look so good!”

What other hobbyist does that? Scrapbookers wouldn’t show up for dinner with a die-cutting machine. Model train enthusiasts don’t eyeball their friends’ living spaces and say, “All this place needs is 50 feet of HO track.”

At least I don’t think they do.

But gardeners? We’re hortevangelists. We haven’t done our job till we’ve won a few converts.

Back in September, a non-gardening neighbor, Alina Simonds, asked what the big, blousy flowering shrubs taking over the side of my house were. “I love them!” she mailed.

Golden opportunity! I’d been dropping her plant hints for years.
I quickly dug up some of my pagoda volunteers, and the two of us and her husband, Michael, spent quality neighbor time planting them. (Contrary to some of the information in the link here, my pagodas are growing in pretty much sand. Once established, I rarely water except occasionally during an extended hot drought. They’re on the south side of my house, where they get a little break from the full blaze of sun.)

Alina’s are doing great, as she proudly showed me the other day, and she’s added a crown of thorns and several gazanias to her neophyte landscape.

This photo is from Loveland Plant Center in Colorado—Alina’s weren’t in bloom last I looked.

She got her volunteer “gerzinnias” from her mother-in-law’s yard in South Florida where they pop up all over the place in cheerful little mounds. I had the devil of a time finding “gerzinnias” on the internet. And then I stumbled onto a photo and mention of them at Hoe and Shovel, our blogging Lutz friend. Woo-hoo! I was thrilled! Not gerzinnias, but gazanias!

(After reading up on them, I wanted some, too. Alina brought me seeds from her little newbies yesterday. She was SO happy to be able to share. And I’ve already got 10 little seedling pots started.)

The Springs down the street took a little more work. I hired Chase, 13, and Richie, 5, to water when I went on vacation during hot, dry October. I’d been trying to talk their mom, Maureen, into going to plant fairs with me all summer, but she was not having it. (It was awfully hot last summer.)

Watering turned into a family affair, with the boys, their mom, and dad, Chris, all walking over together at dusk to keep my plants alive. By the time we came home, they had their own gorgeous garden started — complete with salvaged yard art and a veggie bed. They were inspired, Chris said. (Did I love that? Yes I did!)

(Note the little “Seeds gone wild” sign. Love it!)

I’m as excited about my neighbors’ gardens as I am about my own. I like thinking I’ve helped, in a small way, to plant something much bigger than a flower.

Now I’m just waiting for their cuttings. It’s a DNA thing. And oh yea, I’ll share!

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Eric Young was justifiably thrilled to pick his very first papaya from a tree he grew from seed.

Here’s the papaya:

And here’s the tree:

And here’s a cool, never-been-posted artsy shot of the tree (our Eric is a man of many talents.):

So Eric slices into his new papaya and discovers

No seeds!!

(It also appears he couldn’t resist a little nibble before shooting this aberration.)

So what gives?

I was curious so I Googled around and found a good explanation at Raw-Food-Health.net.

It seems papayas are among a number of fruit trees that produce seedless fruits their first few years, until they grow up. In other cases, you might get seedless fruits if the fruits set without being fertilized.

I’m guessing Eric should enjoy his easy-to-clean papayas while he can.

 

 

 

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When I was a little girl in Vermont, I remember how deliriously excited we kids were to see the first snowfall every winter (or fall.) We’d run outside with our tongues stuck out to catch the snowflakes, and hands stuck out in a really dumb attempt to catch enough for a snowball.

After two or three months, snow was a BORE. We were sick of putting old bread bags over our shoes and socks before stuffing them into rubber boots, just to go out and play for a hour, after which we were too cold, wet and miserable to stay out any longer.

And after five or six months, snowballs, snow forts and snowmen were a very poor substitute for the bicycles we couldn’t ride and the kickball games we couldn’t play.

But every spring, there came the day that we got off the school bus and, as we got close to our house, saw that Grandma had lined the sidewalk with pansies. It was the prettiest, most hopeful sight in the world, and it thrilled me as much as that first snowfall.

Pansies and their little cousins, violas (in the photo at top), are the most common of annuals. But I have always loved them. And I always look forward to planting them when we cool off.

I had a bedraggled bed of blue daze just waiting to be replaced, containers to fill, and a scale-encrusted row of Purslane Pazazz that was failing to add pizazz to the front of the house. So as soon as the temps started dropping last month, I went in search of the huge displays of pansies and violas the nurseries and garden centers have this time of year.

None!

I went back weekend after weekend and found a few here and there, but not the huge selection I’d hoped to spend time dithering over.

Finally, while on staycation last week, I ordered a tray of 16 violas from Green Thumb Nursery. (Owner Pat Hey says violas hold up longer than pansies when it gets warm.) They cost $18, but desperate times require desperate measures. The dying blue daze is now silver euphorbia (also known as Diamond Frost —very hardy, and kind of looks like snow) and purple violas. It’ll look better, I hope, when the violas fill out.

At Lowe’s I finally found a better—but not the hoped-for—display of pansies. I got a tray of 12 for $11.88, but beware, when all the plants are in one tray, they tend to get battered when you pop them out. At least for my $18, I got a tray of violas in individual little pots, which are easier to plant, and the trays and pots will be great for seedlings and cuttings.

Pansies, by the way, can turn to ice in a freeze and come right back. I’ve seen it myself. That’s why, even though they’re annuals, I like them for my winter garden. One less thing to cover.

The pansies replaced Purslane in my old kitchen sink on the patio. I’ve probably crowded them together too much, but I was in need of some instant gratification.

Here’s the sink before:

And after (I kept the tall gaura, though it’s not looking so good, because something needs to block the ugly concrete wall behind) I would have gotten more gratification if the sink’s drainboards and the patio beneath weren’t so dirty, but when you add water to a kitchen sink full of dirt, it tends to get ... dirty:

I now also have orange pansies lining that front garden bed

and yellow and purple pansies in containers and colorless patches in the back garden. This container had dynamic dianthus and pooped-out purslane. Out with the purslane, in with the purple pansies.

No sooner did I get them all planted, but the rain started. Serendipity!

Funny, in Florida, pansies signal just the opposite of what they did when I was a kid in Vermont. These days they say, “Summer is over!” “Hurricane season is over!”

But, just as good, they also say, “Time to get out that bicycle.”

 

 

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