Pomological Prophilaxis

Bag It or Maggot.

It's never an easy talk. Sitting down with young apple trees to discuss the hazards of reproductive maturity is going to be awkward no matter how clinical or casual your tone. Actually demonstrating the steps one must take in order to protect your fruit from the ravages of nature has all the appeal of a nude root canal. The matter is afforded some urgency, however, when your very own trees, which you planted, pruned, and protected since they were young whips, lose their entire crop of fruit to the dreaded apple maggot.

That was last year. But never again, said this orchard papa.

Now it's a strict “Bag It or Maggot” policy for the apples of Fencebroke. I'm sorry if it looks silly; I'm sorry if the other trees make fun of you. Don't listen to that jerk Nectarine—it's just angry because there's no simple cure for its leaf curl. And the Plum, well, sure it bloomed all pretty, but it was definitely premature—there weren't even any pollinators around! All its fruit fell off! So hey, guys, apples, come on, you don't have it so bad. Yes, it takes a long time to bag every single fruit—like, a really long time, in fact, this is kind of ridiculous—but surely it will be worth it to see your own healthy, shiny, ripe fruit picked by someone who isn't recoiling in disgust at the worm-riddled mess you used to be.

Right? Please, tell me it's worth it. 

Figtoids

Are you ashamed of your fignorance? Are you sick being called “figheaded” by persecutors real or imagined? Oh, the fignominy! Well, fignoramus, do you fig-ure (okay, that one doesn't count) it's time to do something about it? Good, because if you're ready to fignite your curiosity I've got some unfigginbelievable facts for you about the fruit that John Lennon once famously and figticiously called “figgin weird, man”.

Fig "fruits" are actually embryonic unicorns. 

This particular fig, now coming to fruition in Fencebroke West, is “Olympian”, a recent introduction from Olympia, Washington; though it may as well come from Olympus Mons for all the similarity it bears to anything of-this-world—Olympus Mons? It's a volcano. On Mars … it's only the—you know what, forget it, I'm not talking extra-terrestrial vulcanology in a garden blog. Even I've got boundaries.

Anyway, here are a few of my favorite … things to tell people about figs. We'll call them figtoids*.

1.) Over two dozen peer-reviewed studies have independently concluded that figs are the weirdest fruit in the world, surpassing the next weirdest—and lesser known—Portuguese howling cheeseberries by statistically significant margins.

2.) Figs were used to fatten geese for early experiments in proto-foie-gras.

3.) In a hush-hush and poorly-advised attempt to reclaim the fruit credibility their company name so clearly implies, Apple's iFig project was vexed from the start by slated fig engineers' inability to figure out what the heck they were looking at, much less what they were supposed to be doing with it.

4.) Fig leaves have long been the preferred medium by which religious shame is posthumously introduced to nekked old art.

5.) Figs may be green, purple, brown, or orange. Orange figs are better known by their more common name: oranges.

6.) Figs are pollinated by specialized wasps. These climb inside the “fruit”—which is actually just a bizarre, truncated, indented stem where the flowers are formed—then roll around, lay eggs, and die, incidentally pollinating all the while. Modern self-pollinating cultivars bypass this awesome and grotesque example of co-evolution run amok.

7.) When mashed into a paste and spread over the torso, figs make an effective torso-covering fig paste.

8.) Figs have been cultivated by humans since the Neolithic and may represent the earliest form of agriculture.

9.) Figs have been cultivated by Fencebroke Promontory Gardens since I looked out the window a couple weeks ago and saw figs growing on that weird-looking tree.

10.) Hearkening to Figtoid #4, it has been demonstrated that the mature size of a fig tree can be correlated to the moral purity of the gardener at time of planting. So-called “dwarf” figs are, therefore, a damning indictment on the horticulture industry as a whole.

Well, that about wraps up this edition of Figtoids. Feel free to recklessly disseminate the (mis)information presented herein with confidence, bluster, and aplomb. Now get out of here before I think of another terrible fig pun.

*Figtoids should in no way be taken as fact. Any resemblance to the word “factoid” is purely coincidental and hilarious. Figtoids may or may not be true, although a surprising number of them are. I forget which ones are which.

Grim Garden Hands®

Now that the birds are chirping and blossoms are bulging once again, it's time for everyone's favorite Fencebroke Promontory Spring gardening tradition. No, not sowing seeds or fawning over tulips or anything so watercolor as all that. I'm talking about—that's right, you guessed it: Revenue Diversification.

I know, right!?

Yeah, we're pretty pumped, too.

Woo! Okay, okay, but settle down, I've got more blog to blog.

In order to fill Fencebroke's coffers ahead of this Summer's eagerly-awaited but financially vertiginous addition to our family, we are exploring new sources of income. And while last weekend's end-of-driveway Free Plant Sale proved wildly popular amongst neighbors and passers-by, its net contribution towards the family general fund revealed some serious flaws in concept or accounting or both.

Allow me then, in the spirit of throwing half-baked things against the wall to see what sticks, to present a brand new product from Fencebroke Industries for immediate distribution and sale: The Grim Garden Hands® lifestyle kit. Because, I'm thinking, who wouldn't want hands like these? (I'm banking pretty heavily on this assumption, so please tell me you want hands like these.)

Looking good! And so can you.

I mean, aren't you just bored to death of your clean, pain-free, non-scarred and -cracked hands? Do you lay awake at night wondering whether your hand veins are grotesque enough? Does your bandaid budget go wasted every month? Well then, the Grim Garden Hands® lifestyle kit is the reasonably-priced solution for you.

This one-of-a-kind kit includes all the accessories you'll need to cultivate the enviably macabre hands of a horticultural professional. Here we have an assortment of bandages; some old damp work gloves for culturing various fungal skin afflictions (gloves must be removed whenever hand-injury is a real possibility—these are not, in any circumstance, to be used for actual protection); a length of black rubber garden hose to permanently stain your hands a ghoulish black; our proprietary dessicant hand-creme (now with bits of grit!); a special sub-fingernail dirt applicator; and a couple of concrete-filled pots, which you'll want to carry around by fingertip in your free time to really get those hand veins throbbing.

In addition to these awesome tools, you'll receive a copy of my eight-part instructional video which covers, in excruciating detail, the excercises, lifestyle changes, and attitudes you'll need to adopt in order to take your hand abuse to the next level. Here you'll find it's not just about gardening, but also the broader, determined recklessness with which you must deploy your hands in all aspects of life. Why, truth be told, I've suffered more grisly hand injuries while grocery shopping than when I'm hard at work (seriously, this has happened twice in the last two weeks … what gives?).

Yes, this is truly a remarkable product you won't find anywhere else. Why won't you? I refuse to speculate. But now, for a limited time only, the Grim Garden Hands lifestyle kit can be yours for free!  

… Or, like, ten bucks I guess—sorry, my accountant is making scary throat-slashing gestures at the word “free”. So we'll go with ten bucks. 

Farmer's Tan in T-Minus 5 ... 4 ... 3 ...

ll right people, welcome back. It's been a long Winter. I know it's early, but you all saw the forecast; we may not get another shot at this for two months. That's right, we have the green light for Farmer's Tan, Stage 1. Let's see some lines on those arms! Everyone to your stations, give me status.

Skin tone, do we have Winter pale?

Skin tone, pale like the moon,we are go.

Weather, show me mid-60's.

Weather, 67ºF. Toasty. We are go.

Sunshine?

Sunshine, three straight days, we are definitely go.

Shirt sleeves?

Shedding outer three layers … 3 … 2 … 1 and we now have short sleeves. We are go.

Exposure?

Eight hour shifts, outside. As always … we've been here all Winter. Rain or shine. Mostly rain. We are go.

Cut the chatter, Exposure, no one likes a whiner. Gloves?

…

Come on, people, do we have work gloves or not? Let's see some glove lines, I want this tan to look ridiculous. GLOVES—!

—Gloves! We have gloves, they were in the wrong drawer. Sorry, Gloves are go.

Don't scare me like that.

All right now, steady as she goes … good, there's no reason we can't get some neck lines going, too. Beautiful. Aaaand … stop! Okay folks, let's go home to assess.

Shirt removal in 3 … 2 … 1

<Applause, laughter, cheers, sobbing>

That's it! We did it! We have achieved Farmer's Tan, Stage 1. Good work, everybody. I knew we could do it! Looking good!

Okay, thanks for your hard work, everyone, we'll see you back here later on for FT Stage 2, Shorts and Socks. Target temperature 75ºF.

Dismissed.

A Talking-To

I think I finally got through to that plum tree. Call it tough love if you like; I may have raised my voice a bit. Let the lazy bunch of barren sticks know I was—shall we say, underwhelmed—with its performance to date. Not a single fruit, not even a lone blossom to let me know it was trying—nothing.

I expect more of my fruit trees. See that nectarine over there? I scolded the dormant plum. Fought off peach leaf curl all last year … and it still bloomed its heart out. Came through in the clutch, too, followed up with a dozen of the sweetest, juiciest nectarines we ever tasted. That's commitment. You could learn a thing or two. What's your excuse?

Maybe I was a little harsh, they're all young trees after all. But sometimes, as a gardener, when a plant disappoints you, you're forced to make that loving, calculated decision—for the good of the plant, after all—to don your stern disciplinary vest and quietly assert the conditions of its continued membership in the garden. In the plum's case, this went something like:

!(@#()*!@&# TREE!!! WHY CAN'T YOU MAKE @!*^& PLUMS!? IMA THROW YOU IN THAT @&#%^ FIRE PIT!!! AAAAAHHHH!!! HOW'D YOU LIKE TO BE COVERED IN BINDWEED!? SO HELP ME, I'LL *!@&#^ DO IT!!!

Firm, but I think fair. And spoken with love. Question my tactics all you like, but the results speak for themselves:

The Plum, plumb scared

That lazy fig tree is next. 

The Gilded Trowel

That's right, it's awards season once again, and time to discuss the nominations for FPG's annual Tool of the Year Awards. We are excited to announce that, pending confirmation and/or acknowledgment of our existence, we have slated Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and Chris Rock to host what will surely be an elegant, star-studded ceremony. Due to budgetary reticence, please do note however— should you find yourself lucky enough to receive an invitation—that we are asking guests to bring their own champagne/champagne flutes. Oh, and food. I am not cooking for everyone again. There are both McDonald's and Subway fine restaurants nearby, please avail yourselves of their reasonably-priced menus. Champagne can be procured at the Rite Aid.

Now that that's settled, on to the nominations!

The list is long, so I'll just hit some of the highlights here. (Let's face it, nobody really cares about minor technical awards like “Best Sharpening Performance” or “Best Rust-Proofing” anyway.)

First up, we have the nominees for Best New Tool. After some strong work in the Spring, many expected the Weed-Burner to be a shoo-in for this award. Judges will be forced, however, to consider Mr. Burner's over-the-top performance in last summer's regrettable Setting The Lawn on Fire, a gratuitous action piece which no one enjoyed. Simply a poor career choice, that, and a prime example of how even the most promising young tools can go awry without a competent agent at their control. Other newcomers include the Extendable Ladder, which played prominently in a tour-de-force of late season pruning. But look, instead, for Grandpa's Weeder, that dandelion-grabbing upstart which wowed Fencebroke's Queen, to steal this year's award.

In the Best Supporting Tool category, we see many familiar faces: Leatherman Wave Multi-Tool; Kneepads; Atlas Gloves; trusty old Carhartt Pants, and—the one newcomer out of the bunch—Coppertone Sport SPF 50 Sunscreen, which has always turned in stellar performances, but due to a long, hot Summer may finally have garnered the attention necessary to steal the spotlight from the incumbent and perennial winner of this category: Leatherman.

To be honored with a much-deserved Lifetime Achievement Award, the grizzled and inimitable Honda Civic Hatchback is expected to make one of its final public appearances at the ceremony. The Civic's truck-blood grit and versatility over two decades of service will long stand as inspiration to vehicles twice its size and half its age. With a check-engine light flashing, tires balding, and mushrooms growing on the floor, the car that never hesitated to fold its seats is not long for this world. The time is ripe for a curtain call.

Nominated for Most Innovative Use of a Tool we have the following:

-Hori-Hori Knife, in Cleaning the Gutters

-Hori-Hori Knife, in Scolding Crows II

-Pick-and-Mattock, in Breaking Open Daisy's Stubborn Christmas Geode

-Fireox the Beastbarrow, in Wheelbarrow Rides, a Daughter's Carriage

and, finally

-Hori-Hori Knife, in No, Officer, I Swear It's Not a Weapon

Look for Hori-Hori to run away with this one.

For Best Ensemble Performance, the nominees are:

-Half-Moon Edger, Digging Fork, Hori-Hori Knife, and Fireox the Beastbarrow, in Removing Even More Lawn Even Though You Promised We Were Done Last Year

-Extendable Ladder, Pruning Saw, and Loppers, in Maybe It's Time To Call The Arborist

and,

-Yellow-Jacket Spray, Spray Foam, Lots of Wasp Traps, Two Big Rocks, and a Flashlight, in Failing To Thwart The Hive; A Summer Of Terror

It's anyone's guess who'll take the award, but Half-Moon et al certainly deserve the honor after having been lied to so many times before (seriously—this year, no more removing lawn, I swear).

And finally, we have the Big One, the Gilded Trowel, the Tool Of The Year.

-Hori-Hori Knife, looking to add to its already crowded trophy case.

-Felco Pruners, who, let's be honest, would probably garner a nomination just by sitting in a drawer somewhere.

-Collapsible Rake, here recognized perhaps more on the sheer volume and breadth of work over the last year than any one performance. Many in the industry think this could finally be the year we see a rake take home the big prize.

And, lastly,

-Fireox the Beastbarrow, whose strong back and puncture-proof tires have borne every last bit of sod, dirt, mulch, rocks, and woodchips dis- or relocated in the course of Fencebroke's transformation. The wheelbarrow is widely respected by peers for its unflinching resolve on the job and stolid grace when leaning against the shed between gigs.

That wraps up the nominations, be sure to check back for the exciting results! If, for some reason, you fail to receive an invitation to the ceremony, please do not be offended, it is due to one of several reasons:

a.) I don't like you

b.) I forgot to make invitations

or

c.) I got bored with this whole awards ceremony thing and moved onto something else

You never know, it might be all three!

Super Fencebroke World

In the much-anticipated video-game version of Fencebroke Promontory Gardens—a project admittedly early in the development phase—one thing is certain: seed-packets are to be the currency of the player's adventures.

There'll be no giant coins, rings, ammunition, inexplicable healing kits, grenades, or gemstones for my characters, no sir. Unless you count used shotgun shells, which some previous liege of Fencebroke was wanton enough to fire off in his suburban backyard with what must have been alarming regularity, I haven't encountered any of these useless tokens in the course of my gardening. Seed packets, on the other hand, always feel like real-life power-ups when I come across them. Their contents unleash such awesome abilities as Carrot Power, Kale Krush, Arugula Rocket, Tomato … well—tomatoes, and, in the right combination, they can unlock the gate to Lettuceland.

That's why, in Super Fencebroke World©, after any of the game's many small achievements—crops harvested, invasive weeds turned back, slugs thrown into the street, giant magic dragonflies tamed, saddled, and loosed upon the forces of pestilence—the player will be rewarded with seeds. Collect enough and you get an extra life. Find all the bush beans and you gain invincibility. The player, should they find themselves replete with seed packets, will be faced with a difficult choice—sow them to produce food for the hoe-wielding army of underlings they have amassed in preparation for a showdown with the Dark Lord Taraxicum (sorry, plant Latin joke)—or spend the seeds as currency, bartering for better tools, enchanted mulch, more powerful hats with wider brims, or any other character upgrades available. I'd choose wisely if I were you, but for now, just keep an eye out for those little seed packets.

Daisy Levels-Up

The game should be up and running soon, right after I teach myself computer animation and find some venture capitalists venturous enough to invest in cutting edge horticultural entertainment, so stay tuned for updates. And lest you think this whole thing is a pipe dream, I have already, through some fast-talking and the promise of bunny cookies, recruited a young, up-and-coming recording artist for the soundtrack. Sorry, that's record-er artist. Recorder. That's the … the instrument she plays. You know, the plastic shrieky-flute? Oh, who am I kidding, she's my daughter. But trust me, she's good. (Look—she's getting those bunny cookies one way or another, so I may as well try to coax something useful out of her.)

All right, enough procrastinating—computer animation, here we go …