Estate Sale Procurement

New or used? Most of the time I apply the philosophy that new isn't always better, it's just more expensive. Let me say, right from the start, I don't apply that philosophy to power equipment. When I'm laying out big bucks, as I did last year for my commercial grade mower, I want to be the only owner and I want a warranty backing up my purchase. I do, however, apply that philosophy to a myriad of other items I buy for my gardens.

As a personal preference, I rarely stop at garage sales unless I know the person holding the sale is a gardener. If I want to dig round in an unorganized jumble of cast-off paraphernalia, I can do so in my own basement. Likewise, I'm not a big fan of auctions. The waiting around for my item to come up on the block and then losing it to a higher bidder is not only a waste of my time but is also downright annoying. For those reasons, I'm a conniseur of the estate sale venue only.

So let's get right to it. There are four distinct areas of a property to search during an estate sale: 1) the garage, 2) the shed and/or barn if the property has one, 3) the back yard, and 4) don't forget to take a look around the furnace or the hot water heater where many a good gardening tool hides in a layer of dusty cobwebs.

Back in the day when my gardening appetite was turning from hobby into obsession, I happened upon a lovely old wheelbarrow and purchased it for five dollars. At the time I assumed it was thirty, maybe forty years old because of its rugged steel frame construction and hardwood handles. I've pushed it around for close to a decade now and the only repair it's needed was a tire replacement. The old one dry rotted.

Then there's my two favorite hand-held tools, my turning fork and my furrow hoe, (at least that's what I call the latter because the metal implement at the end of its long wooden handle is shaped like a golf putter and cuts a neat furrow in a garden row), both found at estate sales. Much to my dismay, but after many years of loyal service, my turning fork broke. I'm actually thinking of replacing it with a brand new implement. I've got my eye on the Radius Garden NRG Pro Border Fork because of its ergonomic design and its rugged all-steel construction. It's the only one on the market that I think could keep the dogged pace of my old turning fork.

If tools aren't enough of a reason to brake for estate sales, what about putting the car in park for outdoor furniture? Early in the summer, I bought a five piece patio set for $47.50---that's four swivel rockers and a table. I had been considering two new resin wicker rockers and a matching table to the tune of $500. I feel I got a better deal.

Putting money aside, how cute is this set??? Love those quirky little clam-shaped chairs. The round rings at the bottom for balance of both chairs and table, compliment the circular structure of the gazebo. All summer long, we enjoyed this quiet retreat for just pennies on the dollar. Nice.

Because cottage gardening is an ecclectic mixing of many elements, annuals, perennials, shrubs, and even small trees in one garden bed, there needs to be an occasional anchor to give the look stability. Estate sales are a great place to find those objects that draw and demand our attention. My slat-back rocking chair was well weathered when I acquired it. Many people had passed right by it without as much as a cursory glance on their way through the front door. As I stopped to appraise its intrinsic value, I heard a woman behind me exclaim, "Oh, yuck!" Immediately the hair on the back of my neck began to bristle and I felt compelled to defend it. Ten well spent dollars later, my maligned friend's dignity was restored as it rode away from the sale in the back of our truck. The worn gray wood will never again hold paint but it has no problem at all holding an overflowing basket of brilliant blooms every spring. Sweet!

There are so many other great estate sale finds that I could go on and on. I won't. Here's the short list: wire baskets, old tin buckets, cast iron pot dollies, wooden flower boxes, concrete statuary, and last but not least, those obtuse but wonderful old metal storage cabinets that are great for keeping garden supplies safe and dry.

New or used? The choice for me is evident without further reasoning.

Preserve the Morning

The thermometer outside my office window is registering 30 degrees this morning. For the first half hour of wakefulness, I grumbled about the 40 degree decline in temperature. (Yesterday, we were near 70.) I was prepared to be cranky about it all day but then two things altered my predisposition.

I had just come from the kitchen with (1) a cup of my favorite caffeine concoction, tea brewed with a slice of apple, a cinnamon stick, two cloves, and a half a star anise, and as I sat down at my desk and looked out the east window, I noticed the (2) sunrise.

It's a bucolic scene from where I sit, grassy slopes of land dotted by trees and fence posts, a small barn behind a neighboring house and further back, a fixed line of timber representing the horizon. Just above this jagged black row, the sky glowed peach in color. I believe it was a pivotal moment of focus. I could rue the tactical of imagined physical discomfort or appreciate the visual of a fine fall morning. And, there was the added bonus of not having received the hard freeze last night that had been predicted.

I had expected to see slimy, black piles of frozen foliage dangling from flower pots and instead, my Martha Washington geranium is still upright and blooming. Bravo as well to the purple supertunia and the yellow angel trumpet, tender annuals enduring the chill without giving up. As amazed as I am at the resiliency of these flowers, I'm equally impressed by two of my neighbors, guys 70 years plus. The sharp, north wind is no deterrent as they go about, one idly strolling across his property while the other is tooling around in his golf cart. I guess over the years, they've developed a thick Midwestern hide that makes them impervious to the cold.

And me?

Since my change of heart at sunrise, I'd be right out there with them if it weren't for the brussel sprouts Dave and I harvested yesterday.

I've got eight gallon bags of jade cross brussel sprouts to put up. Priorities, right?

Preserving tip: The preferred method of preserving brussel sprouts is to blanche (immerse in boiling water) for 3-5 minutes and then immediately plunge them into ice water to stop the cooking action. Then the sprouts must be drained well before putting them into a freezer bag for storage. Personally, all that water dunking is a bit of a pain in my opinion. A couple years ago, I had an abundance of cabbage. I successfully preserved it by steaming. Using a large pot equipped with a steamer basket, bring water to boil and steam sprouts for two minutes. This is efficient enough to stop the enzyme action. Then the sprouts can go directly into a freezer bag, eliminating all that bathing and draining. Set bag aside until its cool to the touch and then pop it into the freezer. Easy!

Inconsistent Favoritism

My husband accuses me of being quite fickle when it comes to the naming of my favorite flower. In the early spring, I'm enthralled with my azaleas. A few weeks later, my adoration shifts to the peonies planted along the south wall of our garage. Then, of course, there's the iris, the clematis, the rose, all of which he's heard me exclaim in terms of preferential exclusion. (I'm only slightly offended when he laughs out loud at my inability to make a decision.)

In my own defense, I'm steadfast in my devotion to flower color. I'm crazy for pink in all its hues and variations. Recently, I read an article on this subject and learned the color pink is favored by most gardeners. To narrow the scope further, the hue of pink I desire most in a flower is the bubblegum pink of the Pink Double Delight Echinacea. Awesome! In summation, pink flowers rock my world.

And then the Jacobean lily blooms . . .


Okay, red is definitely not my favorite flower color. It doesn't even reign in as a close second (I prefer purple in terms of color succession) but, there's something very alluring about the vibrancy of the Jacobean lily, sprekelia formosissima. How to describe it?

Movie-star, lipstick red?

Sexy little red dress red?

Sports car red?

One way or another, the color is visually seductive. When it blooms in early July, all the other flowers in the garden suddenly pale in comparison.

A member of the amaryllis family, the Jacobean lily is a native of Mexico and Guatemala, z13-15, according to my bible: The American Horticultural Society A-Z encyclopedia of Garden Plants. So, when I was able to cultivate this bulb in z5, I deemed it short of miraculous. However, upon further research, I learned that many gardeners have had success cultivating it in z8-10. Nevertheless, I'm still z5, right? Turns out there's nothing all that unique about my gardening prowess. There's a guy in Nebraska, z4, who propagates this species in his garden on a yearly basis. He does admit to digging the bulbs before a killing frost and storing them in his basement.

Not to toot my own horn, but I never lift my bulbs from the ground or disturb them in any way because sprekelia, in its own right, has a capricious nature and might refuse to bloom the following season. So how does such a fickle flower survive in my garden in z5? Purely by fluke.

I was in WalMart a few years back and spring bulbs in their garden department were on 75% off clearance. The photograph of the sprekelia on the package caught my eye although the package itself was devoid of propagation information. At four bulbs for a dollar, I threw zone discretion to the wind and bought them. I rushed home and immediately consulted my bible (AHS A-Z) and much to my chagrin, discovered my newly purchased bulbs preferred undisturbed ground in a warm winter climate.

So be it. At that time, nothing much was growing under the dryer vent on the south side of my house so I dug a hole and unceremoniously tossed them in. A few flowerless sprigs of strap-like foliage unfurled from the ground that season.

Truthfully, by the next spring, I'd forgotten about those bulbs until I noticed their green fronds pushing up through the cypress mulch. By planting them in such an arid spot, I had accidentally assimilated their natural climate. The Jacobean lily has been growing and blooming there ever since.

So is the Jacobean lily my favorite flower? When its in full bloom in July, it is.

Food Pantry Gardening

As much as I love tending my perennial beds, I'm just as enthusiastic about my vegetable garden. In my usual haste for spring, I've plotted my garden rows on graph paper and I'm ready to start planting in February. (It's a pipe dream. We live in zone 5 where the last frost date is around April 22nd.) In order to quell the urge to drag the tiller from it's winter requiem, I settle for visiting my local greenhouse.

This past spring, on such a sojourn, I picked up a copy of The Kansas City Gardener, a locally published monthly garden guide, and was inspired by an article about donating homegrown produce to local food pantries. The article's content merely suggested planting an extra row, let's say green beans for example, and donating that row's harvest. Before I could finish the article, my green thumb started estimating the greatest amount of yield from the least number of plants. It's not that I don't have a nice sized garden, I do. However, I choose to garden in raised beds which comes with some limitations.

Money saving tip: If your green thumb overrules your conscious ability to reason---buy bulk seed. The three extra rows of green beans I planted from bulk seed cost me the same as one regularly priced seed package from a seed kiosk at the big chain stores.

Green tip: Plant a producer. I have a penchant for Roma Italian green beans because I can grow double the yield of regular green beans, they grow twice as large without becoming tough, and if properly refrigerated after picking, Romas have a longer lasting shelf life.

Before I planted the first seed, I asked for God's blessing. If I were to reap the amount of food on the scale I was imagining, I was going to need some extra help! After an extremely cold start (we were still in the 40's at night well into May) the vegetable garden began to flourish.

By season's end, even I was amazed at what one gardener could accomplish. I was able to make weekly donations for eleven consecutive weeks.

I thought it would be interesting to track the number of vegetables donated to the food pantry. Here are the totals:

4 gallons bags of carrots

10 zucchini (the squash bugs wreaked their usual havoc on my plants)

13 1/2 gallon bags of basil

15 gallon bags of Roma Italian green beans

18 green peppers

19 kohlrabi

19 cabbages

20 gallons bags of spinach

21 yellow crook neck squash

44 eggplants

86 cucumbers


and last but not least . . .


1,372 beautiful pink girl tomatoes!!!

Due to the economic crisis, food pantries and food banks are being stretched to their limits. Many have been forced to close from a severe decrease in donations and an overwhelming increase in recipients. I found, in speaking to food pantry managers, its a rarity when they receive fresh produce donations. From one gardener to another, I think we can change that.

I haven't pulled out my graph paper to start plotting my 2009 garden---yet! But, I'll readily admit I've bought most of the seed.

A Time to be Dormant

Sadly, it's that time of year here in the Midwest to dig the bulbs, tubers, and rhizomes from the garden beds. It's not the digging that saddens me as much as the cutting back of a season's worth of carefully cultivated foliage. Let's face it, for the last five months, I've coaxed, cajoled, and pampered Ipomoea Blackie and its companion red supertunia to flourish and conceal the containers in which they are planted through a stringent schedule of feeding and watering. So goes it for the luxuriant upright elephant ears, the oxalis, the pineapple lilies, etc. After a few quick snips with the clippers, all are reduced to clumps of stubbly green stalks.

Unfortunately, these tropicals and I are kindred spirits. We reside in a climate that forces us into a period of dormancy. Morose? Maybe a bit. Hopeful? Always. While I trade in my shorts, t-shirts, and flip flops for sweaters, jeans, and boots, my bulbs, tubers, and rhizomes trade their sunshine and rich soil for layers of mulch in containers that protect them from freezing. But, no matter how long this coming winters draws, inside there's still an energy quietly waiting to sprout forth into a new spring!

Money saving tip: Underneath all that lovely foliage of the ipomoea (Blackie, Marguerite, Ace of Spades-- just to name a few) is a wealth of potential new plantings for spring 2009. All summer long, those beautiful vines have been producing tubers beneath the soil. After I cut back the foliage, I carefully mine through the dirt and extract the potatoes. I never know what to expect to find and this year was no exception. One of my Marguerite vines produced a 6 lb, 2 oz tuber!!! After I've extracted all the tubers, I let them dry out for a few days in my laundry room and then I store them like any other bulb in the cool darkness of my garage. In late March, I pot the tubers and place them in a sunny window to get a head start on the planting season. It doesn't take long for the dormant tubers to wake up. As soon as there is a succession of nightly temperatures in the 50's, they are ready for outside planting.

Green tip: I particularly like to turn all the excess, non-woody foliage sheared from bulbs, tubers, and rhizomes into rich compost. I particularly like to compost elephant ear greenery. The high moisture content in the leaves and stalks is a plus in the compost bin.