Monday, May 09, 2005, 03:58
The Yellow Menace
I started my spring weeding project today. For the next month, every day when I walk around the hayfield, I will pull out any Yellow Rocket that I happen to see.
When I was a kid, my dad called Yellow Rocket another name: "wild mustard." The plants are a member of the mustard family, and I have read that in Europe, the plant is cultivated as a salad green.
The unfortunate thing about Yellow Rocket is that it spreads like crazy, and if you don't keep it out of your field, the next thing you know, instead of alfalfa or timothy or clover there will only be Yellow Rocket.
Since I figure that fair is fair, if the Yellow Rocket wants to grow in my hayfield, then I should try it as a salad green. I'm happy to report that it is delicious in a salad. It has a tangy, spicy flavor that adds a nice touch to the lettuce.
I have been pulling Yellow Rocket out of the hayfield for almost 10 years now, and my campaign has been working. Sure, a few plants spring up here and there, but at least the hayfield isn't full of Yellow Rocket, as it would be if I didn't pull the plants before they go to seed.
Below you will find a column that I wrote for the newspaper a few years ago about Yellow Rocket.
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The Yellow Menace
All right. So why didn’t somebody TELL me about this business of weeding hayfields?
When my brother suggested that we seed in our five acres so we would have hay for our two horses, I thought it sounded like a fine idea. No more carefully counting bales and painstakingly measuring out flakes, worrying whether we’d have enough hay to last the winter. No more calling around the countryside to find hay to buy. No more hauling hay for who-knows-how-many-miles…
I watched with great interest as my brother and nephew tilled and planted the field. I thought about Dad, too, and how much he would have loved the idea of a brand new hayfield.
As the oats grew, I watched over the field much like a mother cat watches over her kittens. When the oats matured, I checked to be sure that tiny sprigs of alfalfa and clover were growing among the oat stalks.
The following spring, I watched as the field turned green, and then the alfalfa and clover and timothy began to grow.
One of my favorite pastimes became taking the dogs for a walk around the perimeter of the hayfield so I could gauge the growth process.
One evening, my husband accompanied me on my walk around the field. As we strolled along, I glanced down.
"Eeeeek!" I said.
“What’s wrong?” my husband asked, stopping and turning toward me.
I pointed.
“What’s the matter? What do you see?” my husband inquired, puzzled.
“LOOK!” I managed to choke out.
There, among the green shoots of alfalfa and clover, lurked a tiny sprig of Yellow Rocket.
I reached down and pulled it out by the roots.
“Tsk. Tsk,” I said. “There shall be no Yellow Rocket growing in our hayfield.”
Little did I know —
Subsequent walks around the hayfield revealed more and more shoots of Yellow Rocket.
Soon I began taking a bucket with me on my walks. I started dumping my bucket of Yellow Rocket into a tub set in the barn. In a couple of weeks, the tub was full.
One day my neighbor came over to get some daylilies and irises to plant. (I have beds of each that need to be thinned.) We went into the barn for a shovel.
“Why,” she asked, “do you have a tub of Yellow Rocket in your barn?”
“I’m weeding the hayfield,” I explained with as much dignity as I could muster.
“Oh,” she said, laughing. “I guess that means you’d rather have a field of alfalfa for your horses rather than a field full of Yellow Rocket.”
When I was a kid, my only acquaintance with Yellow Rocket was hearing Dad talk about it. We never had any growing in our hayfields. Once I remember driving somewhere with Dad and seeing a whole crew of people out in an alfalfa field that seemed more yellow than green. They were making an organized sweep, pulling Yellow Rocket as they went.
No, I never once thought about Yellow Rocket sprouting in my own hayfield. Search and destroy missions have become a fact of life for me. I have a sneaking suspicion, though, that every time I pull out one plant, three more come up in its place. That’s what it seems like, anyway. Not to worry, though. Now that I know my field has been invaded, I will continue to pull Yellow Rocket whenever I see it.
If someone had told me a couple of years ago when I was teaching English in a private boys’ school that I would soon be spending a fair proportion of my time weeding a hay field — well, let’s just say I wouldn’t have believed it.
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LeAnn R. Ralph
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Saturday, May 07, 2005, 21:51
Gardening Experiments
I have started three gardening experiments, but I won't know how successful they have been for maybe another 10 years.
My mother always said "patience is a virtue" -- so I guess I am going to have work on cultivating my patience, aren't I.
The first experiment started a few weeks ago when I cut open an apple and saw a squiggly thing inside.
"What is that?" I said to my Shetland Sheepdog, Pixie.
No matter what I am doing in the kitchen, Pixie is right by my feet, just in case I should happen to drop something on the floor.
Upon closer inspection, I realized that the squiggly thing inside the apple was a sprout. A sprout! I cut open several more apples and found several more sprouts. So, I gathered up the seeds and planted them in a coffee can and set the can out on the porch.
Just this morning, I noticed two green shoots coming up in the coffee can.
For the record, I have tried planting apple seeds before, but nothing happened. So, the two sprouts are definitely an improvement over the previous experiments.
My second experiment involved planting dried plums from an antique plum tree. A short way up the dirt road north of our house is an old homestead. There are no buildings left anymore except for a weather-beaten granary which has started leaning to one side. No one has lived there for maybe 60 years, but the plum tree still survives. It is not a wild plum tree, but rather, seems to be more like a prune plum. The plums from that tree are the most delicious plums I have ever tasted.
A few years back, hunters began renting the old homestead as a place to go deer hunting and turkey hunting. Apparently they thought the plum tree was in their way because they cut it back. The plum tree did not like being cut back because now it is dying. And that's why I really want to get some plum trees started from the dried plums.
My plum tree experiment is a little more of a sure thing because a few years ago, I planted some of the dried plums by the barn and now I've got four trees growing in a clump. I want to start more of the plum trees, though, so this morning I planted additional dried plums in a tub. If the plums sprout, I will bring the tub into our walk-out basement over winter, and then next spring, or perhaps the spring after, I will plant the plum trees in our yard.
My third experiment involves planting black walnuts. Beyond the old homestead where the plum tree is growing there are several black walnut trees. Last fall, Randy and I picked up some of the "walnut balls" and brought them home. Black walnuts produce a ball that's about the size of tennis ball, and if you crack it open, in the center, you'll find the walnut. According to a book I have about native trees of Wisconsin, black walnuts are very easy to propagate. I planted the black walnuts in a can, and just like the plums, if they start growing, I will bring them in the house over winter and will plant them in the yard next spring.
If I'm lucky, all three of my experiments will work out. If I'm not very lucky -- well, I guess I can always start over again, can't I.
LeAnn R. Ralph
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