I stamped my first drawings as a Professional Engineer today. It’s a little mind-blowing how many people have — by virtue of being a mentoring colleague, a member of the board of professional engineers, or the managers who have most recently hired me — deemed me worthy of having this responsibility. I still don’t really believe it. But what a thrill to finally flex my professional muscle.
It’s been awhile since I’ve had an actual challenge at work. Thanks to various circumstances, I’ve been figuratively pushed into the ocean and, well, there’s really no option other than to swim.
It’s been frustrating. I sometimes feel like giving up. But, why? You don’t learn by quitting. You don’t grow by taking the easy path. I can’t toil in mediocrity forever. I may not absolutely love every since assignment I have, but there’s no better place to hone the skills that matter and sharpen the tools of the trade than where I’m at now.
So I push onward, figure out what needs doing, and do it.
And then do it better the next time.
Ever since 2008, I’ve had a houseplant or two in my dwelling. By 2015, that number had grown to twelve, mainly hardy hanging philodendrons, spiky dracaena, and resilient aglaonema. It’s not often that I lose one of them; these plants are pretty hard to kill. A few have come and gone, usually lasting a few years without trouble. Based on that unwarranted confidence, I fancied myself as having a bit of a green thumb.
Earlier this year, I was inspired by a couple things — firstly, that lovely patchwork flower garden on top of the multi-colored greenhouse bunker in The Witness, still my favorite puzzle set of the game; secondly, the flowers around Walnut Creek, where my current workplace is located; and thirdly, the very title of this post, which I’ll get to — to create and plant my very own flower garden in my backyard.
In San Francisco, it’s a blessing to even have a backyard, and my house had its renovated last year. Since even before then, I’ve cared for the grounds insofar as I’ve been the one to voluntarily pull all of the weeds out of the beds surrounding the patios. This past summer, and tired of looking at nothing but concrete and wood chips out my windows, I decided to add some color.
Naturally, watering hardy indoor plants regularly is a little bit different than growing flowers in a bed of mystery soil. I didn’t know anything about it, really; I kinda just winged it. Couldn’t be that hard, right?
I went ahead and dug up the dirt in two rectangular spaces with my trowel and garden fork. We have a shovel too… not sure why I didn’t just use it. A couple inches of worked dirt should be enough to plant in, I thought. It only took a few hours in the afternoon summer sun to get it ready for planting.
The next morning I would head down to one of my new favorite spots in the city, Sloat Garden Center — right next to the ocean by the zoo — and snag a couple dozen 4″ perennials of varying colors as well as fertilizer and soil. The soil in my yard is somewhat sandy, thanks to the dunes that used to cover my neighborhood, so I ordered soil specifically to enrich it. Luckily, I happened into the store on the very weekend where they were having their annual flower sale. I didn’t know about it beforehand, honest.
I very scientifically measured appropriate intervals for planting my perennials, dug little holes, and put them in, eventually covering the whole planting area with soil and mixing in the fertilizer. After a light water, I was done for the day. I have to say, it looked pretty nice!
I gave them a shower ever other day or so, as needed. My lovely little flowers. They grow up so fast:
In this fledgling garden was a great variety of color, shape, and size. A cluster of magenta, red, white and orange geraniums flanked by deep blue and purple verbena and yellow, red, and pink calibrachoa. Others included white lantana, apricot sprite agastache, and a few grassy pink things — I don’t know the names of the latter because they’ve since been replaced.
During the later summer, I went home for Labor Day weekend. It was, unfortunately, the hottest week of the summer in California — temperatures in the city exceeded 85 degrees for days on end, which is a rarity. In my absence and without water for four days of extreme temperatures, I lost a great deal of growth on my garden, with some flowers wilting enough to require amputation, while a couple just outright died.
To make matters worse, there was an invader in my garden. I didn’t full understand the scope of my troubles until I saw it with my own eyes.
A gopher! This little underground terror had been burrowing his way around my garden for weeks, casually nomming down my more appetizing plants — the verbena and calibrachoa — as well as stunting the growth of the rest of the garden with its tunnels and root damage. I had been puzzled as to why my left-side bed was under-performing the right; here was a sure indication.
Now, I should have known better. There are gopher scars in the vacant planting bed at the rear edge of my yard, as well as all across the neighborhood. I can’t help but notice them now whenever I’m out and they’re everywhere. Indeed, the folks at the garden center confirmed they’re somewhat of an epidemic in the city, especially out on the sandy western side.
So with that in mind, I purchased and liberally deployed rodent repellent in the garden. The above pictured bed was subsequently completely unaffected by the little menace following this endeavor. The verbena he was most recently eating has fully recovered, as have the calibrachoa which were chewed up only on the fringes, with the cores left intact. But, he scurried his way underneath the patio and began to severely terrorize my other bed. The repellent had failed, despite continued use, and every week, another one of my tasty flowers was crippled. I knew exactly where he was coming from, yet I had nothing at my disposal to solve the problem.
Finally, last week I’d had enough. After losing two flowers completely and having *four* more crippled in just days, I decided to take a full measure. No, I didn’t kill it. That’s, ironically, only a half measure. I plotted out and engineered a solution: I was going to enclose the beds of my garden in steel mesh to ensure that they were completely impassible to burrowing animals.
I bought corrosion-resistant galvanized steel meshing, planters for emergency evacuation, and wooden stakes to attach the mesh to. I spent nearly a whole week working on it, starting by digging out my most vulnerable flowers a few at a time each evening after work.
Of course, that only seemed to embolden the little guy by giving him a direct path through now-thinned soil to get at other at-risk flowers. I lost one completely, and am rehabilitating two others that were severely wounded. What a terror!
When the weekend finally arrived, I stripped the garden down six full inches of dirt, roughly four inches below the base of the patio on all sides. It was harder work than I was expecting. By day’s end, I had two giant piles of dirt, but a snugly secured steel mesh in each bed, fastened in place with staples and friction.
That’s four cubic feet of dirt, plus whatever air filled in the gaps of the newly unpacked earth. The mesh is jammed in there as best as I could get. The only gaps are hopefully not large enough for vermin, but I can’t be sure. The good news is any potential access points are easy to mend without needing to dig up the whole garden again.
The next day I woke up sore, but managed to fill in all of the dirt, along with new enriching soil, layers of repellent, and fertilizer before the morning was through. I replanted all of the flowers in the new beds, re-arranging them in a more appropriate configuration given their individual growth patterns and colors.
In a few weeks hopefully the dirt will settle and I can finish the landscaping off nicely. By then, I also hope the damaged flowers will have somewhat recovered. For now, my reborn garden looks a little unfinished.
Five months into this project, I feel like I’ve learned a ton about how to build a garden and care for it. San Francisco’s climate is welcoming, so I have yet to experience the challenges of other areas, but at least it’s a start. When I inevitably move out of this house (hopefully not for awhile), I’ll have practical knowledge to build on for my next garden adventure. It’s been unexpectedly expensive to do this, but it pays off in the vibrance and life it gives my yard. I appreciate my view far more than I did before.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t follow up on the title of this post. “Avant Gardener” is a song by Courtney Barnett, one of my latest favorite artists. I have to admit the lyrics of this song are also partly responsible for my dive into yard work; the way she puts it, it sounds wonderful, at least at first. Coincidentally, I went to see her in concert in Oakland just last week during the majority of my garden troubles, and as I suspected it would, the show closed with this very song. Incredible.