Lava Beds and Protection Against Invading Hordes

If you follow us on Twitter or Instagram, you might know that we have a fair amount of deer moving around the property. They graze in our side yard and the copse of snarled pine between ours and the neighboring acreage, they bound over the leaning wire fence that marks our western boundary, down the slope of our eastern claim, and they sleep under our front porch, in the bushes beside the blacktop, beneath the ivy of our walkway, and sometimes even in the driveway up against our cars.

Buckskin tire warmers are an optional feature, but worth it.

As such, there are certain precautions we've had to factor into our life here on the hill, including stomping on the porch before descending the steps, clapping when approaching the front of the house from the backyard, and most definitely fencing in our garden, which meant finishing the garden both practically and aesthetically. Hence the overly-dramatic and slightly-exaggerated post title.

In the last few weeks as the temperature has been climbing, most of our garden - note "most," not all, we'll get to that - has started to thrive, and the allure of all that fresh vegetation has proven too tempting for our woodland friends, who have been spotted nibbling on potato plants and zucchini leaves, and even approaching our intrepid cherry trees, to which Perry responded by rushing out of the house in his sock feet hooting and waving his arms. The deer seemed unimpressed and in no way alarmed, but moseyed on regardless.

So before the plants got any more enticing we pushed our garden plan into overdrive. We'd always known fencing would be needed, but as a permanent solution is pricey, we were hoping to put it off until next season. When that proved naive, we had to improvise. But the first thing we had to do was build the bottom level of the three remaining beds for which we'd allotted space. We don't intend to use them until later in the season or even next year, but we needed them in place before we could move onto phase two, the lava bed.

Our rows are two feet wide all throughout the garden, perfect for pushing a wheelbarrow through or setting down a storage bin while harvesting. Maintaining the green space therein, however, is a pain in the ass. The push mower doesn't get the edges against the cinder blocks, and the cinder blocks being cinder blocks shred any weed-eating line that comes in contact with them while trimming. Our solution was to line the walkways with weed blocker and then cover it all with red lava rocks easily procured from any hardware or home improvement store. After building a wooden frame around the garden - all 80 feet of it - we set about covering the 240 square feet remaining inside. It took a while and a couple pay periods to procure all the supplies, but in the end it came out pretty much how we planned.

All that was left was the fencing itself, which was where the real improvisation took place. In the long run, we're hoping for a wood/wire grid fence around the garden that we can build other fenced spaces against, one for chickens, one for bees, and one for a goat or two. For now, though, we settled for seven-foot garden stakes and simple mesh deer fencing, which we attached to the stakes with zipties. It isn't the strongest or most foolproof fencing around, especially in the high winds we get here in the Columbia Gorge, but so far so good. We even watched from the back porch the other night as a lone doe walked the perimeter but found herself thwarted from stealing the delicious veggies inside. Mission accomplished.

Speaking of the delicious veggies, a lot has happened since our last garden update, both positive and negative. The potatoes are still growing like gangbusters, and in fact the larger of the plants have shown signs of starting to flower, which means we'll probably end up harvesting them a week or so early, owing to the premature and very sunny summer we're having here in Washington. The zucchini continues to grow, as do the carrots and green beans, and even a couple of ginger shoots have pierced the topsoil, but it's the corn that takes this update's spotlight. All the kernels but one have sprouted and are starting their stretch for the sky. The leaves are green and hearty and hopefully the stalks will yield several sweet and yummy ears at the end of the season. And the trio of grape vines - once all but given up for dead - and the pair of nascent cherry trees - cruelly sheared day after day by shrieking winds - have all begun showing signs of vigor, leaves sprouting left and right defiantly, determined to bear fruit. If only everything we were attempting to grow could share their tenacious spirit.

Because alas and alack, there are a few crops not doing so well. In our herb box, only the cilantro has shown itself, and in the same box where the green beans are doing so well, the green leaf lettuce is also failing to thrive, and the jalapenos are just big spicy failures at this point, as we've seen neither stalk nor leaf of them. The lettuce is especially a shame, as that's the product of our garden we use the most, almost daily. The Mesclun that went in alongside the lettuce is growing, though not as it should. We're wondering if perhaps the seeds we sewed were duds, or if they were scavenged by birds. We replanted this weekend, so if it's the seeds, we'll see soon enough. Greenfingers crossed.







And effectively, that ends our garden building for the year. Over the fall we'll finish building the top levels of the last three beds, maybe throw in a winter crop or two, cold-frame a bed for this and that, perhaps, then come early spring we'll finalize our fencing, but for now, we wait and see what a little sun, a little water, and a lot of patience can do.

From Our Bookshelf: ANIMAL, VEGETABLE, MIRACLE by Barbara Kingsolver

The cornerstone of any education - which is absolutely what we're out to get up here on our hill in Lyle - is reading. As we planned our escape from the city and city ways, there was a collection of books that helped give us direction, as there will be even more in the future to help us navigate our endeavors. So from time to time, we thought we'd share some of these books with you - some inspirational, some practical - because the best thing about getting an education is sharing what you've learned.

There were lots of books we could have started with, but the one that most comes to mind is the nonfiction work Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by award-winning novelist Barbara Kingsolver (The Poisonwood Bible). Subtitled A Year of Food Life, the book traces the first year Kingsolver and her family - a husband and two daughters - abandon the industrial food complex and settle on a farm in rural Virginia with one objective and one objective only in mind: eat for an entire year nothing but locally-sourced food, including whatever they could grow or otherwise harvest. In addition to being a humorous, anecdotal narrative about what happens when you put a bunch of highly-educated city slickers on a working farm, Kingsolver's book also provides many practical lessons on farming, raising chickens, preparing and preserving the things you grow, and even serves as an easily-read treatise on the importance of self-sustainability, the trouble with our food system as it stands, and the dangers we face as individuals and a civilization if the latter isn't tempered by the former. Not at all preachy, AVM is instead a polite argument by example for a return to a more agrarian method of food production. There are certainly more scientific books you can read on the subject, Michael Pollen's The Omnivore's Dilemma one of the best among them, but the appeal of Kingsolver's work is the conversational and as-mentioned anecdotal feel she develops. She's not lecturing us, she's letting us in on the secrets of her family's sustainability, presenting them in a way that makes them easily adaptable to our own lives, no matter what degree of locavore we're striving to be.

Sometimes you have ideas without words, vague sentiments that float formless within you until something or someone comes along and gives them those words and yanks them from the vague, plants them in the actual, in the process showing you how to bring your ideas to life. For us, Ms. Kingsolver's book was one of those impetuses. If you like reading us, chances are you'll love reading her.

Home Decoration: Back Porch Picnic Table

The view from our back porch is pretty freaking spectacular. Facing north, the panorama encompasses rolling Washington countryside as far as the eye can see - and no more than seven or eight homes in all that space - as well as a striking view of Mt. Adams, approximately 50 miles ever-so-slightly northwest. You can see the hills imitating the ocean when the wind ripples the tall grass, you can see rain approaching from miles away accompanied by clouds that move across the terrain like a shadow-colored tablecloth spreading, you can see the fog creeping out of the river valley like something alive. Deer and cattle graze in the distance. Osprey, Turkey Vultures, Hawks, and the occasional Bald Eagle soar overhead. Ten-thousand trees spot the landscape, twenty-, who knows? Like I said, pretty freaking spectacular.

And if there's anything a spectacular view needs, it's a spectacular place from which to view it. The builders of our log home - it was erected in 1989 by the family that lived in it for 25 years right up to the day they sold it to us - accomplished this with aplomb. Our back porch runs approximately 22 feet long and 8 feet deep and sits on four posts off the main level, and is covered by the top level's overhang. It's always shaded and open on two sides - north and east - to allow a cross-breeze. It is, quite simply, one of the best spots, if not the best spot, in the whole house, and we hang out there every opportunity we get. Three or four nights a week at least we'll grill supper out there, some evenings we'll just have a libation or two in the cheap-o plastic Adirondack chairs we got til something better comes along, and it's a great spot to relax and read. Even Harrison, the older of our two indoor cats, howls like a sick banshee if he doesn't get his daily excursion. So to further maximize our enjoyment of the back porch we thought we'd get a picnic table so we could eat out there when the weather permits.



A quick trip to Home Depot in The Dalles and we were the proud possessors of a good-sized picnic table kit that didn't set us back too much and seemed easy enough to put together. A screwdriver and the included hardware were all that were required for assembly, and aside from an injury to Perry's back incurred when loading the kit into the car at Home Depot (an injury that kept him on the couch with a heating pad for two solid days, which he didn't mind as his copy of The Familiar had just come in the mail, and the Mariners played afternoon games), it was a relatively painless process. A few of the logs were a little rough, but with some sanding - which happened a week later once Perry could stand under his own power again - and some expertise weatherproof staining by Cory (one coat, let dry, then sand, then throw on a second coat) it was all done, no more than two or three combined person-hours. Pretty lax commitment for the outcome, if you ask us. A couple decorative Citronella candles in Ball jars, a doily thing Cory had, and the table was set. We celebrated by grilling up a few brats, cracking a cold Rainier and pouring a glass of white from Lyle's own Syncline Wine Cellars.

A good outdoor space is like another room of the house; a great outdoor space is like the best room of the house. And it doesn't take a lot of furniture or frills to get that great space, sometimes a single, simple piece can do the trick. Just remember to lift with your knees.

Garden Update: It's Alive!

It's been two weeks since Planting Day 2015 here on our hill in Lyle, Washington, and in our garden the seeds have taken root and sprouted our first leaves of the season. Every box is showing signs of life, some stronger than others, but all in all it seems we're off to a solid start.

The corn is on the rise, standing a couple inches above the topsoil already. We planted the corn in the box at the northwest corner of the garden. Because of the direction our yard faces - ever-so-slightly northeast - and the slope of our hill, this was the best spot to sew it to ensure it wouldn't spend too much of the day casting shadows over the other crops in its box. There were eight kernels planted, and all eight have sprouted. Provided they survive the summer and the wind up here, and if last year's crop in Portland is any indicator, we can expect 2 or 3 good ears per stalk, roughly a couple dozen all told.

One of those crops we're careful not to overshadow with the corn is the zucchini planted right next to it. We only planted a few seeds this year - last year things got, well, let's just say "out of hand" - and all three are above earth and thriving. Cory loves zucchini, and I, Perry, love Cory so tolerate zucchini. She makes it easy on me by sauteing it in olive oil and butter and dusting it with grated Parmesan. Cheese solves everything. 






In the southeast-most bed where the lettuce-Mesclun mix dominates, it's the green beans that have jumped out to an early lead, with all 12 plants sprouted. We'll thin them down in another couple weeks, trellis them soon after that. The lettuce and Mesclun are showing signs of life, and the jalapenos that sit in the other available quadrant are slow starters but it's still early. The heat hits Lyle at the end of this week - three 90+ days are projected - so we expect that to kick the reticent peppers into overdrive.

Heck, things are growing so good out there, even the three grape vines we planted at the beginning of the season and had all but given up for dead have sprung to life and are each displaying leaves. We're going to give these guys the season to see how they do, but our suspicion is the clay quality of our native soil here on the hill might not be the best for them. Next year's micro-vineyard might have to be in a long and slender raised bed.

But the real star of the garden thus far is without a doubt our potato box. Now granted, the potatoes went in the dirt about a week before the rest of the garden, but despite that they're still leaps and bounds ahead of the other crops. Each of the nine plants is already standing between 3 and 6 inches high, and the idea of all those ripe little white, yellow, and purple potatoes waiting in the dirt has us salivating. Conventional wisdom says potatoes need about 10 weeks before they're ready to harvest, depending on the date of your last frost. Ours was mid-April, so the potatoes went in the first of May, meaning our spuds should be ready around mid-July. Another method some folks use to determine when to harvest is to wait until you see flowers, because it means the plant has shifted its priorities from developing the tuber to developing seeds. We're going with whichever happens first, because that's the shortest path between us and taters.

The cherry trees shorn bald by the wind are still pretty much leafless, but there are fresh chutes all over them, so the roots are at least finding purchase and giving it a go. In another couple of weeks, once the 3 remaining garden boxes are built and the gravel has gone down and the fence has gone up, we'll plant another pair of trees - peach perhaps this time - and see how they fair. Until then we're in a waiting game, waiting and watering and weeding, and hoping the wind doesn't blow it all away.

So that's our garden as of Memorial Day. But that's not all we got up to over the holiday weekend. Check back over the next few days for posts about our most recent Saturday Morning Hike, and the picnic table that nearly broke Perry's back.

Good gardening!

Saturday Morning Hike: Labyrinth/Li'l Maui Loop Base

Some weeks are tougher than others, and some weekends are busier than others, but no matter how much we have going on or whatever's in the background of our lives, Cory and I like to take time together, even if it's only half an hour, to get out and hike one of the area's many, many, many trails. Seriously, there are an impressive 100+ trail heads in the Columbia Gorge - according to the wonderfully-useful and forgivably-punned guide Curious Gorge - leaving us in no short supply of dusty trails to escape down. Saturday mornings are usually our best shot, and so far we've been out on a different trail every weekend the weather has allowed, which has been most. That said, I don't want to give the wrong impression of we Hortons as surefooted mountain goats; we're as used to hiking as we are to waking up to turkey calls, so it's not like we're scaling rock faces or even spending hours at a time on the trail. Mostly we're taking spirited strolls, pushing ourselves a little more each weekend, working towards the bigger, more skilled excursions.

This weekend, with only a little time to spare, we went out to a trail that's been on our list from the beginning, as we drive by it most everyday. Officially it's known as the Labyrinth/Li'l Maui Loop. There are two access points to the trail, both off Washington State Highway 14 east of Bingen, and we went with the first one we came across driving west out of Lyle, right around mile marker 70 beside the rich cobalt waters of Rowland Lake, a popular fishing spot freshly stocked for the season with rainbow trout big as your arm, or so folks say.

Rowland Lake as seen from the trail head

The first stretch of the trail - from either access point - is an abandoned paved road, its asphalt cracked by patches of weeds and its shoulders lined with piles of fallen rock, clutches of bright orange wildflowers, and more dill than you can shake a bushel of cucumbers at. On one side there's a sheer wall of craggy stone twenty, thirty feet high, while on the other side there's the narrow gray stripe of highway and the much wider, much more vibrant Columbia River, and Oregon beyond.

The road climbs unimpeded for a few hundred yards then narrows to a slender path through larger collections of discarded rock - or "ripe rattlesnake grounds" as I refer to them in a voice trying but failing to mask a fearful vibrato, to which Cory typically rolls her eyes and pushes me onward - that winds a short way and deposits you beside a small if unexpected waterfall maybe fifteen, twenty feet high. The water it deposited in the small pool below was crystal clear and inviting, even on a moderately warm day, and the mist it sprayed caught the light just so, painting the air with a trembling rainbow. It was freaking beautiful, and worth the flouncy description I gave it, plus some.

From there the road crosses another patch of open terrain before running through a cut in the rocks directly beyond which is the trail head that splits into either branch of the Labyrinth/ Li'l Maui Loop. The Labyrinth, which is the split to the right, runs a more wooded if direct course to the top of the vista, while the Li'l Maui branch on the left is more of a switchback through grassy fields and slopes of wildflowers. All told the loop goes for five miles, more than we had time for on this outing, but gauging the climb as we continued down the road, definite plans for a longer excursion were forged.








All in all, it was a brief but pulse-spurring hike, not too hot and not too breezy, and most important, it provided us with the change of perspective that's central to any reinvigoration. Sometimes it's the smallest things that make the biggest difference, I guess. Til next time.

Windshorn

We get a fair amount of wind here in the Columbia River Gorge. It's part of the reason we're one of the premiere windsurfing, kite surfing, hang gliding et cetera spots in the country. Here in Lyle we have Doug's Beach, which every summer is taken over by extreme athletes cruising the plentiful and robust gusts.

Up at our property where the elevation tops 2,000 feet, we regularly get sustained gusts above 20 MPH, which can make for some howling and house-rattling conditions. Consequences are inevitable: tossed trash cans, relocated lawn gnomes, felled limbs on occasion, and loss of leaf.

Not three days after we put them in the ground, our two new cherry trees are all but bald thanks to high winds over the last couple of nights. There was even the start of a fruit or two, but alas now all are gone and our poor cherry trees are back at square one.

There's not much we can do to protect the trees from the wind - at least that we can think of - so can only hope for fairer conditions as spring tempers into summer. Until then, we roll with the punches and focus on the leaves we have left. That's gotta be a metaphor for something.

Country-ish on Social Media

There's more than one way to keep up with all the transpirings on our hill in Lyle. Follow us on Instagram and Twitter for additional photos and tidbits, insights and outtakes, and whatever else we deem fit to post, which could really be anything. Case in point:

Plenty more where these guys came from. See you on social media.