Home grown garlic

Oh yeah! That's hip!

Slug Warfare

One morning, I spied a slug trailing its way up a purple cone flower plant in my garden. I quickly located a spray bottle of neem oil mixed with dish detergent and sprayed and sprayed and sprayed the slug until my friend cried,"Enough!, I'm sure it's dead already."

I, however was not so sure.

In this Organic Life, Joan Gussow states that something somewhere dies for your food. For my food, slugs die. I'm sure that there are some other creatures in my garden that get stepped on, dug out, sliced, etc, but what I know for sure is that the slugs must go.

Though on this occasion, I grabbed the spray bottle of neem oil and dish detergent, I have used beer to get rid of the slugs. Joan Gussow has confirmed for me the righteousness in killing for the sake of my food. As I said before, the slugs must go.

And what better way to go than a beer party?

That's right- a beer party for the slugs!. This may not sound like war, but trust me it is.

Listen closely people. . . there's a war going on for the food in my garden and my sanity. And though, I'm usually not one for a zero-sum conflict where the situation requires there to be someone who wins and someone who loses, the war on slugs is without a doubt in my mind the right thing to do. I know, there are some of you who may ask if this war is just? Is it necessary to kill the slugs? My answer to YOU gentle vegan hippie isYES!

Justification for the Slug Warfare- My Sanity

My garden is an urban oasis. My garden is the Eden where I lay down my burdens and relieve the stress that could drive me to drink- literally and figuratively. Honestly, outside of locally grown food, the next benefit to gardening is peace of mind -sanity.

For about a year, I reminded myself to maintain my sanity by keeping a bottle of Olde English 800 prominently displayed on my mantel. This beer display acted as subtle reminder to myself to refuse to let anyone drive me to drink. So instead of coming home, declaring, it's Miller time and cracking open a cold one, I go out to the garden and dig in the dirt.

However, this summer I did succumb to cracking open that large gold can of Olde English 800.

On this a particularly challenging summer day, I went out to my garden to find trails of slugs eating my lettuce, greens and whatever ever else they could slide to for a little snack.

My heart raced, this kind of aggression could not stand. (reference to the Big Lebowski).

Immediately, I headed back into the house and reached for the Olde English 800 on the mantel. On this day, I'd crack this warm baby open and give it to the slugs.

Wuah ah ah ah ( evil laughter).

The war had begun.

Strategy, tactics, and remains

Any war has a strategy. My strategy involved direct and indirect tactics. For the direct tactic, I sprayed the garden with neem oil and dish detergent. For the indirect tactic, I poured the beer in bowls and set those bowls in my yard in locations away from my precious edibles. Slowly, the slugs changed their direction. Party ova' here! I exclaimed gleefully. Heh heh heh. . .

The next morning the remains of the war could be seen in the bowls. There were at least twenty 3-inch slugs, floating in each bowl of beer. Heh heh heh! The battle was a success!

Even though the battle was a success, the war is not over. As exemplified by the day, I sprayed and sprayed and sprayed a slug slinking its way up the leaves on the purple cone flower, I will not stand this kind of aggression-man.

When will there be enough neem oil sprayed? How many slugs have to die? How many times must my friend witness the death by my hand of these slimy leaf snacking culprits?

I'm not so sure. Heh heh heh. . .

Pulling the lavendar & remembering my Grandmother

When I was a kid I used to sit on the porch with my grandmother and pull weeds. In my mind I was cooking. I'd pull all the weeds and strip them of their leaves and berries. I'd put them in a pot and stir it up.  It was hot outside, much like it is now.

Grandma lived in the city and visiting her was a great joy for me.

Now, I live in the city and as I harvest the lavendar, I remember Grandma. And this is the reason I keep gardening.

And that is the reason, urban farming is hip.

Whoa! I knew it. That is so hip!

Plants Can Talk To Each Other by Clicking Their Roots | Inhabitat - Sustainable Design Innovation, Eco Architecture, Green Building - StumbleUpon

Hip Advice ?

Talking about urban farming in a car going down a country road inevitably leads to a road side stand.

So on my way back from seeing the buffalo, my friend and I stopped at the flower depot in Blissfield, Michigan.

So can you grow cucumbers now?

How much should you water?

When do you water in the morning or at night?

I don't know anything about this. You write a blog. Tell me what to do.

And you are wondering what the answers are, as if you don't already know!

Look out for beginner hip advice!

Max begging for corn

Yep. Uh huh. . .he's hip.

Max

The alpha male

Here comes Max, the alpha male.

Buffalo Ranch

Ummm, I'm more hip and urban than. . .

I am at the Buffalo Ranch in Hanover, Michigan. Though I recognized the wood furnace outside the buildings, I didn' t recognize this farming. . .and well it ain't for sissies.

These buffalo are raised for meat. They are vegetarians and not hippies. They have three stomachs. The hair on the buffalo is a little softer than wool. Buffalo live for 40 years. These ladies and gentlemen eat corn, hay, and grass.

They eat free range on 240 acres of land. It is much more sustainable than other steer. And even though they have names, they are taken in young and slaughtered. They don't have a lot of fat on them so eating them is better for you.

Now that was hip!