Archive for the 'Colorado women' Category

Clear Water Farm

My friend Suzy asked me to take some pictures so she could make a poster for Farmer’s Market. 

asuzy17.jpg

There was a hard frost just last week–the farm is at 8200 feet– and these lettuces are covered every cold night. 

asuzy11.jpg

The lettuces are in the new garden, surrounding the house.  And there are lots of old gardens.

asuzy12.jpg

Here’s another garden of perhaps a dozen total.  It’s a miracle anyone survives planting season.

asuzy16.jpg

This is the irrigation ditch, with a garden to the right.

asuzy14.jpg

This is the solar greenhouse, with a small garden in front of it,

asuzy13.jpg

and this is the workshop.  Those barrels are so stuffed with pansies because she harvests them for salad mix. 

Having so many gardens makes it harder for the pests to zero in on a crop.  Which is lucky, because she has gophers.  Bob has extreme prejudice against gophers, who can settle in and undermine gardens.  He poisons them. 

He asked, what do you do about the gophers?

She said: I tell them, Go away, Gophers.  I say, Shoo.

Miss Roberta’s garden

One of the best things about living in your own house at 95 (Miss Roberta had a birthday in May) is having a 65 year old flower garden.

agarden.jpg

She is very particular about her garden.  I call it an everything garden, because it has flowers blooming in every season. 

agarden2.jpg

This season it’s lupines, daisies and iris.  She’s an old-fashioned gardener, so instead of mulch and weeding, she uses bare ground and Round-Up.   With all that Round-Up, the insect populations are askew and she’ll sometimes lose the whole bed to insect infestations.  Which requires massive applications of insecticides. 

I don’t say a thing about her chemical dependencies.  Sometimes she wonders to me why the populations of pollinators are so sparse, but I don’t explain to her that Round-Up kills the native bumblebees in their underground burrows.  She can’t hear well enough to catch it, and at 95 her gardening habits are set.  

And it is a beautiful stand of lupines. 

A Worm Farm

Peg raises worms, and she has for fifteen years.  Red wiggler worms.  You could call her a vermiculturist, because she grows them and sells them in little Chinese food take-out cartons.  She makes about $250 a year from worms, which makes her one of the few alchemists you’re likely to meet.  She turns garbage into gold.

aworm1.jpg

 There’s nothing particularly complicated about her system. 

aworm2.jpg

The square enclosed by wire is this year’s active pile, and the open square is last year’s pile, composted and full of worms.  The worm pile is enclosed to keep her dogs out, and inside the wire enclosure she layers coffee grounds from the local latte shop and old lettuce leaves from the grocery dumpster (but any kitchen compost will do).  She adds a scoop of worms and covers the new pile with leaves or old manure.  As the season progresses she adds more pockets of organic matter when she’s in the mood, covering each additional contribution with a layer of leaves or manure.  And she lets nature do the rest of the work. 

aworm3.jpg

There is still snow in Peg’s yard, but she already has broken open last year’s pile and the worms are looking good.

aworm4.jpg

I mean, they’re looking good if you like a lot of worms.  These red wigglers are not native to North America, but they are not invasive.  If you put them into your garden, they’ll die.

Lots of sources say that there aren’t any native worms in North America, but it’s not true: in the south and the west there were plenty of worms to start with, but there weren’t any native earthworms in the northeast after the last glacier receded.  And the non-native worms have changed the northeastern forests. 

According to 2003 research, when earthworms move into a new area, they feed on the organic material on the forest floor and bring it down into their burrows. They feed primarily on the top layer of leaf litter, as well as on the duff – the spongy layer of decomposing vegetation beneath the leaf litter. …Earthworms do an excellent job of recycling nutrients, but “when they eat away the duff layer, all the plant seeds that germinate there, like trillium and mayflowers and wood anemone, may disappear or may not have any place to germinate. Other creatures that live in the duff and forest litter like salamanders and ground-nesting birds may be affected as well. Within a decade or two, the worms can essentially change the soil profile into something like the black mineral-rich soils that are found in many European forests.”

Non-native nightcrawlers are making the duff disappear.

aworm5.jpg

These little red wigglers don’t survive in the forests, but I don’t think they’re very attractive. 

For beauty in an earthworm,  we have our native giant palouse earthworm, Driloleirus americanus,  a pinkish-white earthworm that can reach 3 feet long and is said to smell like lilies when handled.   Even though this one is a little battered, you can see it’s a beautiful creature.

giantpalouseearthworm1.jpg

Red wigglers, Eisenia foetida, are sold in Chinese take-out boxes while the giant palouse earthworm is an endangered species. 

As the alchemists of an earlier age would say,

Sic transit gloria mundi - (Thus passes the glory of the world).

Transplanting day, with 4 ducklings

The day finally came to transplant the seedlings we started last month–the proverbial 13 varieties of tomatoes.  I did a few hundred today and have plenty more to go. 

aplant1.jpg

They look sort of dazed, but are coming along fine. 

aplant2.jpg

These birdhouse gourds are my current favorites: they grow 15′ to 35′ vines that want to be trellised, with gourds that are good for birdhouses.   I thought these were quite endearing until Steve arrived with four ducklings. 

aplant3.jpg

It’s the bills that slay me. 

Garden Club has a luncheon

Once every three years, the Animas Valley Garden Club hosts the spring meeting for the area’s three garden clubs.  This was our year.  The day before, we gathered at the grange and set up the tables and chairs.  The tables, homemade with folding legs, had been made by Ruth’s grandfather. 

club1.jpg

The menu was soup, salad, and desserts, and we all cooked the night before.  (I made cheesecake and 3 salad dressings.)

That morning we decorated the tables. 

club3.jpg

Each person got a little coleus plant grown in Jennifer’s greenhouse.  Ruth and I wrapped each coleus in waxed paper, and tied raffia around it.  There’s a poem about gardening in pink paper, and a lavender agenda.  The baskets of flowers are borrowed from Kelly’s store; the tablecloths are borrowed from a grange member who has a full set of tablecloths for all the grange tables.

  club2.jpg

Miss Roberta particularly enjoyed the desserts.  She said that she wasn’t used to not doing it herself, but she certainly thought we did a fine job.  She said, I thought the club acquitted itself very well. 

Crossing the river

My friends decided to build a bridge because

bridge2.jpg

a cottonwood fell across the river right in front of their house.  It was close enough to where they wanted to cross that it seemed like a reasonable idea.

 bridge1.jpg

This is the view from upriver, looking downstream.  Of course, it wasn’t this perfect by accident.  The tree trunk was moved to the best place and is being stabilized before a handrail gets attached.  Christy and Steve moved the cottonwood trunk into place with a comealong. (This comealong sells for $12.09, so it’s definitely the cheapest way to move big weights.  

4 Ton Hand Puller / Comealong

   bridge3.jpg

This is the view from downstream, looking up.  The structure holding the near end of the trunk is artfully obscured by the red twig dogwood. 

bridge4.jpg

This end of the tree is forked, and they built a structure of notched logs to support it. 

bridge5.jpg

This is the only homemade bridge I can recall seeing.  Most every bridge we cross has state sanction… but not this.  I saw Christy scamper across it, but I’m holding out for a handrail until the water is warmer

bridge6.jpg

and the dog wanted me to mention that she has no intention of ever using the bridge.  Ever.

Treehouse curtains, Part 2

For the treehouse curtains, we started with two of the old insulated curtains from the Yosemite Hotel… the original fabric from the original hotel.  Suzy had them stashed away.   

curtain.jpg 

Our guess is that this cotton was block-printed by hand.   There was plenty of height and no width, so I turned under the top and bottom edges with a 2-inch hem

 curtain-2.jpg

and cut the insulation and lining to be exactly the width of the curtain.  Then I pinned the three layers together, ironed the edges again, and sewed the top and bottom hem.  See how I’m letting the top and bottom edges float when I pin the three layers together?

treehouse4.jpg

There isn’t enough width, so I sew tape on the two vertical sides to be able to hem them

zcurtain6.jpg

and then I iron the tape over, and sew it down.  It comes out looking fine, and is done except for the loops. 

Here are the raw silk curtains that I lined with an old blanket.  I have plenty of this fabric, so I iron in nice 3 inch hems all the way around.  This is the last curtain and there isn’t enough blanket left, so I sew two pieces of blanket together and call it good.  This is just a treehouse, after all.  

 zcurtain2.jpg

This is ready for a lining, so I cut a piece using the curtain as a pattern.

 zcurtain3.jpg

and then I tuck it under all four hems 

zcurtain4.jpg

and pin the three layers together, leaving the hems free.  Another ironing,

zcurtain1.jpg

and I sew each end and take out those pins.

zcurtain5.jpg

Then I sew the ends.   And I’m done, aside from sewing on two loops. 

It took a lot more effort to tell you about it than it did to make the curtains.  But such is life.   And finally, here’s a few of them up.

treehousecurtains.jpg

Nice!

Treehouse curtains, Part 1

Suzy and Christy built a remarkable tree house out of bits and pieces. 

treehouse1.jpg

There is a lot of agricultural work to be done, and it’s easier to get labor if you can offer a place to live.  The treehouse is nestled among the gambel oaks. 

treehouse2.jpg

Such a nice entrance, and I can’t help admiring that lovely curtain. 

treehouse3.jpg

This is the kitchen sticking out next to the back porch, with Jessie being quietly helpful.  She has been inside and figured out where she would lie down if we stayed there, and now she’s scoping out the perimeter of the property, seeing how much she’d have to manage. 

treehouse41.jpg

This is the sleeping loft above the chair and table below. 

treehouse6.jpg

These spaces are pretty tightly packed, but they feel just right for one person.

treehouse5.jpg

Here’s the kitchen nook (the sink drains into a five gallon bucket) where the whole system works as long as you just have one pot and one pan.  It’s a minimalist’s dream. 

In its own way, this treehouse is a perfect one-person living space.  But since it is uninsulated it can be very cold in the winter, and we thought thermal curtains would help. 

treehousecurtains.jpg

I’ll tell you about them tomorrow. 

Garden Club

A few years ago, my then 92-year-old neighbor asked if I would join her garden club. Since it met once a month and she was getting to an age where she needed help with transportation, I said I would. Two years later, I’m the club secretary and Miss Roberta, who has been attending Garden Club meetings for over 50 years, is still going strong.

Most of the meetings take place in the Grange, and there are three or four women in the garden club who have been Grange members their whole life.

garden-club2.jpg

The Grange is a place of rural pride, home to the 4-H Club and the Saint Patrick’s Day corned beef boiled dinner.

gardenclub3.jpg

It is part of the National Grange system of 3,600 Granges in 37 states, with an American flag out front.

gardenclub4.jpg

Roberta and her late husband Robert are both Past Masters of the Grange, with their picture on the wall.

gardenclub2.jpg

This is the Garden Club. Many of the members have been attending meetings for decades. Ruth was the hostess today, and she brought cherry pie made with her own cherries from the deep freeze.

gardenclub6.jpg

It was an exceptional pie. And Roberta looked like a flower

gardenclub7.jpg

but was pretty annoyed because she couldn’t hear at the meeting. She was the principal of two schools in her prime. Just last year she ran a bear off her property by yelling at him.  She is a small woman with a tiny jaw, but it was very firmly set at that garden club meeting. 

Suzy Maynard’s willow chairs

Suzy learned how to make willow chairs from Don King, a master chairmaker in Challis, Idaho.   The chairs look fragile and bony, but they are very comfortable and are built to last generations.  This is one of them.

willow1.jpg

Suzy’s chairs are made from local willow, mountain maple, and red twig dogwood.  Suzy says that she’s partners with the beavers upstream, who keep the willow trimmed and increase the density of the new shoots; her renter Steve helps too.  Here’s Steve harvesting willow,

willow.jpg

and here’s a pile of pieces that might become chairs.

willow3.jpg

Sometimes working out of the house means turning the house into a workspace.  This winter, Suzy took over the loft for chairmaking. 

willow4.jpg

First she makes the chair’s frame, usually from willow.  Then she covers the frame with willow twigs. 

willowtwig.jpg

When the chair is new, the twigs are beet red and moss green.  Over time, they fade to a uniform russet.

willowchair.jpg

This chair has a peeled mountain maple frame, and oak rockers.  It is specially made for a knitter, so it has a yarn pocket on the side.  To me, the chair looks like it just walked out of the forest. 

willowsideways.jpg

 The chairs are surprising comfortable. (They even have lumbar support.)

willow6.jpg

If you want to order one of Suzy’s chairs let me know and I’ll put you in touch with her; she makes these beautiful things for $500.