reevaluating resin lawn furniture

I'm pondering, nay, knee-deep in the realm of lawn tacky. We once had a nice, homemade picnic table and some reasonable lawn furniture, but with all the moving and years of living in apartments, they have long since gone to the garage sale in the sky. When I had a tiny patio in my grad student housing project ghetto castle, I bought a folding café table and a few plastic chairs. The table was strong for its size, and it FOLDED, which meant I could move it easily. We've taken it camping and used it inside and outside, just hosing it down when it gets dirty.

I've never really thought about the way lawn furniture looks and feels until now, and it's decidedly unhip, at least on the budget end of things. We had a fake-looking cast iron patio set at our last rental. It was ugly, heavy, and as comfortable as sitting on, well, bumpy cast iron. We added expensive cushions, but we couldn't leave them out in the rain, or else they would have been soaked all the time. Plus, the fake basket weaving on top made it precarious to balance drinks, and it got HOT so we'd have to be careful with our computers. Now, that's just stupid. A table shouldn't have these limitations. We also, therefore, eliminated powder-coated steel and aluminum.

When we eliminated metal, we thought about a tempered glass or -- gasp -- clear plastic topped table. It's easier to use your laptop on one of these smooth surfaces, but I've yet to meet one that says "modern design." Could these things be uglier? The fabric on the chairs that go along with these things looks like it stays wet when it rains, and worse, wears badly, and often looks like you spent too much on junk.

Wicker? Not if you want lasting lawn furniture. The new resin wicker is better for durability, but wicker? Have I ever wanted wicker anything (with the exception of my childhood wicker elephant table)? Good god, no. It's way too Victorian-looking for me, or something that just screams out a cliché like "gracious Southern hospitality.*

I'll take my mint julep straight up, thanks.

Wood seemed the sensible choice. Of course we wanted teak. Everyone wants teak. Teak is pricey. We also looked into durable eucalyptus. I like the smell -- it reminds me of California. It also costs much less than teak. Then I got lost in the bewildering forest of hardwood lawn furniture, a place where trees have strange names and the good ol' USA trees are not good enough.

Then I started thinking. Do I really like teak? I kinda hate the faded grey color they become. Plus, I'd still worry about keeping it out in the rain, and it rains here, like, 350 days of the year. It would be too heavy to lug out in the yard on the other 15 days. And it would be a pain to move. And what if we spilled something on it? Could I use it for potting plants and drying herbs and all the other abuses I put my café table through? Plus, who knows what grows on/in wood around here. Even our windowsills grow moss. Does teak get termites? Seriously, my ignorance has no bounds.

My eyes wandered like little clouds over to my tacky green resin furniture. It was clean, light, easy to fold and move, and it could be soaked to the bone and bounce back with a quick wipe. The green color hides stains. Worst case scenario, you can bleach it on the driveway. And it was a cheap as a 35-dollar whore.

Green resin furniture. Is that the kind of person I am? Yikes, I think it may be. Someone take away my hipster card. Oh wait, they never gave me a hipster card. Wait a minute...

what a bloomin' mess

Termites. In my garden. Burrowing under my tulips. Building nests amongst the daffodils. Enjoying a picnic in the grass.

Inspired by our walk, I decided to attack the front yard yesterday. It is an unqualified mess, a bloomin' mess, since the lilacs and flowering quince and tulips and daffodils and grape hyacinth and camellias are out. The grass is a huge problem. I don't like lawns in general, and especially not ours, with its weedy, rough grass that spreads via root runners. It takes over flowerbeds, ground cover, everything. It took me several hours to do the small bed of tulips in the corner of our lot, where the sidewalk ends. The previous owners edged the beds with untreated scrap wood, which is now rotten and being eaten by nasty termites.

Everything in me screamed "rip out everything and Roundup the whole yard!" but I controlled myself. I made a promise to myself that I would wait a year to do a major overhaul of the landscaping, because I don't know what's there and what the sun is like yet. But those damn termites REALLY made me want to kill. So I did. Squashing and termite-killing insect powder all over the stack of wood and in the bed. So far, there hasn't been any sign of termites in/under our house (I dunno about the shed, though) and I want to keep it that way. Where did they come from? Can they migrate 30 feet across/under/through the lawn? Oregon, being wet and mild, has a termite problem, and I really don't want to make it a personal problem.

The sidewalk end bed being done, I focused my efforts on the lilac bed. As you can see from the pictures of the front yard, the landscaping is ugly and a complete afterthought. There are just a couple beds edging the sidewalk, and they're all filled with inappropriate plants. I particularly hate the lilac bed, since it has one too many lilacs in it, and they are scraggly and don't get enough sun, being blocked by the birch tree at one angle and the maple tree at another angle . The bed is made up of a flowering quince, which is a pretty hedge-like thicket (from which I previously removed several wild plum volunteers that were holding up the floppy quince branches -- doh!) when grown properly, and two mature lilacs next to each other, a white one and a purple one. They look lopsided and stupid, because the quince is on one end, and the lilac in the middle is only blooming and leaf-ing on the very top, plus they block our porch from the street view. I suppose the latter is ok, since I have two big, unblinking eyes in the picture windows in the living room and dining room, but it also reduces the curb appeal and makes the focus of the yard a overgrown, lopsided hedge. So I cut back the flowering quince to bush size, about 5 feet high, and started making plans to remove the center lilac. I have no idea what I'm going to do with it. I love lilacs, though, and will figure out something.


The next step is to do something with the roses that are inappropriately planted on the corner of the yard behind the quince. They've got to go. Sigh. I probably have more experience with roses than anything else, so it distresses me to see them in a shady location in a stupidly placed ugly bed. Bah.

have an eggscellent easter

Apparently, the old-timers used dandelions to dye their eggs. After my sister told me that her husband's grandfather's favorite eggs were the dandelion yellow ones, I went out and did a U-pick on my garden in the rain. It solved two problems: getting rid of the seed heads from those lawn-gobbling dinner plate-sized weeds, and it gave me purty pale yellow Easter eggs. I boiled about two cups of the flower tops for about 15 minutes, then added the cooked eggs and let them soak for about 6 hours. The picture doesn't really show the color well, but they are a pale yellowy green with slight mottling from contact with the dandelion heads. The granola sites say that if you boil the root of the dandelion plant, you'll get magenta dye, by the way. Maybe next year.

eats, shoots and leaves

Look what's growing in my garden! I guess the compost really does work.

We've had a few beautiful days, so I've been doing more with the restoration of my yard. The semi-raised beds are ready to go, and I've moved my over-wintered herbs into them, and planted my over-wintered chives and Walla Walla onion sets in another bed. I bought some brussells sprouts (Oliver), which I've never grown, and three varieties of raspberry (Amity, Newburgh and Meeker). I also bought a Montmorency cherry on a whim and a 40% off sale, one tree I've always wanted to have. Let's see if I can keep it alive.

It turns out we have a bunch of softball-to-volleyball-sized river rocks that were once used for landscaping and now hidden under weeds in various places. I've been using these to mark off beds as I plan the front landscaping and finish up the bare minimum back landscaping.

My project for tomorrow is to weed the grapes and the front flower beds. Mr. Reluctant is in the process of cleaning out the gutters (again) and re-doing the moss control on the roof. I've been digging and hauling and yanking. We have horrendous root-running grass that gets into everything.

fortification fridays - naturally dyed easter eggs

You're probably saying, "I did my Easter eggs WEEKS ago!" If that happened in my family, all the eggs would be gobbled up by Easter.

For those of us who don't have kids, the appeal of the Paas egg-dying kits is not particularly strong. The garish colors and little decals just don't really scream FUN! like they used to.

Naturally dyed eggs, though, are pretty and not toxic-looking. There are many websites that provide instructions and natural dye recipes. I found mine in The New York Times a few years ago, and reproduce my adaptions here. The pictures on this post are not mine, but come from several sources (see bottom of post for attributions and links). I recommend visiting the sites for more information if you like a particular egg color or pattern.

Naturally Dyed Easter Eggs

Serves: Anyone who likes hard-boiled eggs
Kitchen Needs: A stove or hotplate, and an old pot

Place a dozen eggs in a large pot, cover with water and 2 tablespoons white vinegar. Bring eggs to a boil, then add coloring agent listed below. You may also cook the eggs in the dye. Leave in dye over night for deep colors. Another suggestion is to dip eggs in vinegar immediately prior to putting in dye. This supposedly makes the colors "take" more readily.



Pink: add 1 lb. chopped beets, simmer for 30 min.
Blue: add 1/2 head of red cabbage or 2 cups frozen and mushed blueberries, simmer for 30 min.
Yellow: add 3 T. tumeric, simmer 15-30 min.
Green: Simmer as for yellow, then soak in cabbage solution for 30 minutes. Spinach leaves (or collards??) are another option.
Lavender: Simmer in beet solution, then cool in cabbage.
Mahogany: Simmer in yellow onion skins, let sit overnight.
Dual tones: Dye egg a pale color, let cool and dry, then dip in another color.
Texture: Dust with sea salt when wet. Wrap onion skins around eggs for mottled effect. Polish eggs when dry with a bit of vegetable oil for shine.


Images are courtesy of the following sites, all of which feature great recipes and techniques for naturally dying eggs: eggs from the American Egg Board, lighter colors from eco-friendly Mother Earth, a fiber artist's eggs in a bed of dyed wool, a Watsonville, CA, farmer's beautiful eggs, and a craftsperson who gets questions every year about her gorgeous eggs.

the bricks and mortar of passover

I should have mentioned in my "fortification fridays" food post on Friday that Passover is all about being enslaved to building. I think we all understand that. The story goes that the Israelites were forced to labor for the Egyptians on their buildings by making bricks of mud and straw, and mortar of apples, walnuts, and honey. OK, who knows what the mortar was really made of, but one of the symbolic foods of Passover is charoset, a mix of the above-listed sweet things ground into a lumpy paste, that signifies the mortar used by the Israelites.

I've really been burdened by the thought of returning to my renovation labor lately. I've had some deadlines and a seriously severe disinterest in doing anything inside my house. I want a cloud of locusts or boils to come and the sea to part so I can run away from my bricks and mortar. But enslaved we are, and toil we must, with only the hope that it will one day be over and our houses will be a perfect as the garden of Paradise. Next year...

The image is my Passover seder plate. I only get to look at it once a year, so I'm making the most of it. Each of the little bowls holds a different symbolic food: charoset, parsley, romaine lettuce, an egg, horseradish, and a shank bone. The orange? It's a recent revisionist custom to add an orange to the seder plate to symbolize the people who have been excluded from certain Judaic practices and communities (such as gays/lesbians or female rabbis). To those I add the non-reluctant remodelers, the DIYers who enjoy the toil of renovation and restoration, and never complain about grit in their teeth and bricks falling on their toes. To you I raise a glass of achingly sweet kosher wine!

soiled again

I am giddy with dirt. My wonderful neighbor came over yesterday and tilled the entire back of my yard for a garden (dayenu!*). He took down the nasty chicken wire fence (dayenu!) and dug out three posts (dayenu!). The entire space is 35 x 15. That's alotta garden. I'm amazed by how rich the soil is. There doesn't seem to be a huge drainage problem (it's about two feet above the rest of the yard), and there aren't many rocks (dai-dai-enu, dayenu, dayenu!). I'll put down some more dolomite lime, but I think the situation will be just fine for growing, as long as the elm doesn't shade it too much.


This is a shot of the Trevor Chang Memorial Shed and the tilled patch. And last is a "before" shot of the back area, just before we moved in, after a summer without watering the lawn. I know, it doesn't look much different. Dirt doesn't photograph well. But to me it's a world of difference.

*"Dayenu" is a Passover song about the Exodus, thanking God for all the things he did for the Israelites. "Dayenu" means "it would have been enough!" and the word is repeated after every verse. One site says that it's like the Hebrew version of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." Not exactly, but I like the comparison. What I love about the song/concept is that it can apply to all kinds of situations. Like gardening. And war. And political injustice. And religion. And cleaning your house.

A translation of some of the traditional lyrics of "Daiyenu"
A Jewish atheist's "Daiyenu"
A Gay/Lesbian "Daiyenu"
A domestic "Daiyenu"

Happy Passover, everyone, and may you have enough, and then some.