Timber Press Talks

We've Moved!

2009-09-22T15:30:00.000-07:00

We're still writing, but we've moved to a new space. To keep reading, click here.

Thanks!

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing associate

Black Plants bloom day!

2009-09-16T14:18:00.000-07:00

I'm a relative newcomer to the world of garden blogging, and I sometimes come across blog topics that are a whole new world of gardening that I never thought of. The concept of "bloom day" was just such a topic. "What's this 'bloom day'?" I thought to myself. "It looks like pictures of people's flowers. Surely it can't be that simple? There must be some larger purpose."

After much curious browsing of the internet, I think I've discovered three things.
1) There is no larger purpose that I can see - and really, it doesn't matter.
2) Flowers are pretty.
3) Bloom Day appears to occur between the 14th and the 16th of every month. Ideally the 15th, but you know - some people get excited, and some people get late.

So, in honor of Bloom Day, finding useful information on the internet, and the release of our new book on black plants, I am posting some images of black flowers. I believe that technically, these flowers should be growing in my own garden, so I've picked ones that I would like to have in my garden, given half a chance. I am also posting a day late - but I'm hoping that no-one will refuse to look at flowers just because they are posted on the 16th instead of the 15th.

Aeonium zwartkop - Not technically a flower (I'm breaking all the Bloom Day rules in my first post)but look how incredible it looks. If this were in my garden, I would wear striped Dr. Seuss socks every single day in honor of my aeonium.

Helleborus Winter Jewels Black Diamond - I think the green and black combination would make for a really interesting shady spot.

Viola Sorbet - So velvety. Like sorbet. Blackberry sorbet.

Alcea nigra - I love the drops of water on the petals.

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

Raleigh, Here We Come

2009-09-15T12:23:00.000-07:00

In the grand scheme of things, four business trips a year doesn’t seem like much. But for me, four trips feels like a lot. I’ve been to Seattle for the Northwest Flower Show. I’ve been to New York twice--once for Book Expo America, and again last month for pitching New York media. Next week, I’m headed to the most anticipated event in the garden media world--the annual Garden Writers Symposium, this year held in Raleigh (September 23-26).

If you’ve never been to the Symposium, you’re probably wondering what it’s all about. Typically, the show has a two day exhibit, lots of seminars, fabulous garden tours, and an awards banquet. This year is no different, but there are a couple of differences for me in my third year of attendance. First, Timber is sharing a booth with our sister company Storey Publishing for the first time. Normally we have a double booth, but this year we decided to economize. It’s going to be lots of fun--kind of like trying to see how many people can fit into the same shirt all together. We’ll certainly be cozy!

The second difference is that I’m going to be on one of the seminar panels. This is a huge leap for me as I haven’t addressed a crowd larger than ten since my high school graduation speech. And here I’ll be, with three of my peers, talking about what it’s like to publicize a book at Timber. Sound straightforward? Well, technically yes, but I’m still wondering exactly what I’m going to say. It may just come down to the wire on this one.

Garden Writers is a great opportunity to get together with old friends, meet new ones, swap stories, and just have a grand old time. If you’re going to be at the Symposium, please stop by the Timber Press/Storey Publishing booth, #509. We’ll have lots of books, materials, and business cards to give away!

Olivia Dunn, publicity

Eight-byte Epiphytes

2009-09-11T10:00:00.000-07:00

As the Timber Press Web and IT Manager, I'm probably one of the nerdier people in the office.

Well, I should probably qualify that, given that from my desk I can see coworkers who are probably thinking right now about graphic novels and/or Star Wars (don't worry, office-mates, I will keep your identities safe from the Internet ... for now). To say nothing of the discussions I've had with members of the editorial department on the finer points of grammar.

Fine, I'm one of many nerdy people in this office. But I'm the only one I know of to have taken an interest in a particular old book I found one day while perusing the extensive backlist in our library. That book is Computer Graphics in Biology, and this is the story of my adventure with that book.

No, wait, don't stop reading yet! I appreciate that it takes a certain kind of nerd to be interested in a computer book published in 1986, and I further appreciate that you might not be that kind of nerd. After all, there's probably a reason we didn't go on to publish a whole lot more books on the intersection of computer graphics and biology -- say, AutoCAD and The Arborist: a Guide to Plotting the Perfect Pruning, or perhaps Variegated Virtual Reality: Why All Gardens in the Future Will Require a Different Kind of Glove.

Technically, Timber Press didn't publish Computer Graphics in Biology, either. That credit goes to our erstwhile imprint, Dioscorides Press. It was part of a series titled Advances in Plant Sciences, though subsequent volumes (including Adventitious Root Formation in Cuttings and Isozymes in Plant Biology) were decidedly more for nerds of a greener stripe.

I'd like to tell you more about the book, but frankly, it's a bit of a slog to get through, unless you happen to like plants (check), computers (check), and possess a technological masochism that precludes you from enjoying the advances made in computing since 1986 (sorry, but here I must draw the line).

I did, however, make it far enough through the preface to find a reference to "the recent upsurge in graphical man-machine interfaces, notably the WIMP (window, icon, mouse, pointer) system seen on the Apple Mackintosh [sic] and Commodore Amiga computers". Oddly, though such things are in fact quite popular today, I can't say the same for the "WIMP" acronym. Not sure why that didn't catch on.

Anyhow, both computer graphics and Timber Press have moved on, and I'm happy to report that there's not a lot of discussion of Fortran in the office these days. But don't let that stop you from submitting your proposal for Eight-byte epiphytes -- I can promise that, if no one else will, I'll at least give it a once-over. But, sorry, we can't accept submissions on 5.25" disks anymore.

Green bean takeover

2009-09-10T09:45:00.000-07:00

Only a few short weeks ago I was complaining that my scarlet runner beans were not providing me with the green beany-ness that I was expecting. They had lovely red flowers, and the hummingbirds seemed to like them, but where were the beans? Nowhere. How was I going to practice making pickled green beans if I had no beans to pickle?

My green bean plant rose to the occasion. First, it assumed an intimidating Godzilla-like shape and loomed over my carrots.

(I am trying not to be alarmed that it is headed for the general direction of my house.)

Then, overnight, it produced a huge abundance of green, green beans.

I made a lovely green bean, corn, and ricotta salad with the first batch, and am dreaming of rows of pretty pickles.

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

Book Burning and Book Beaching

2009-09-08T08:33:00.000-07:00

There are few things in life to which I am willing to attach the phrase, “It will change your life!” Hence the reason that I will never make a living selling cars. Or shoes. Or face cream. But ... I cannot say the same about books. They are life-changing.

A book can change the course of the future. A book can cause a society to see things differently, get riled up, burn things. For example, here is a small list of books that have been banned by certain societies:

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll was banned in China for the portrayal of animals acting as humans, Animal Farm by George Orwell was banned for political reasons.

As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner was banned in Kentucky for language and for being anti-Christian.

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger was banned in the US and Australia.

The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck was banned in many parts of the US, especially California, because it made the residents of the region look bad.

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov was banned for obscenity in France, the UK, Argentina, New Zealand, and South Africa.

Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler was banned because of anti-Nazi laws and for being extremist.

Because books are so wonderful, important, and controversial, I feel 100% great telling everyone about the Sylvia Beach Hotel. I had the immense pleasure of staying there with my sister a few weekends ago, and it was perfect.

Located on a lovely ridge overlooking Nye Beach, Oregon, the Sylvia Beach Hotel is made for people who want to relax on a soft couch on Friday night, drinking mulled wine in lovely silence with a favorite book. There are no TVs or radios or phones or internet access. Instead, there is an enormous library/lounge filled with blankets and pillows and couches and journals for guests to write in. Each room is decorated in honor of a famous author: Mark Twain, Ernest Hemingway, Virginia Woolf, J.R.R. Tolkien, Dr. Seuss, and many more.

My sister and I stayed in the Oscar Wilde room. Black and white photos of the author lined the walls, there was a tiny Victorian writing desk in the corner, and the wallpaper was hideously ugly - on purpose. When we checked in, the lady at the front desk told us the wallpaper was a replica of what Oscar Wilde had in his own bedroom. On his deathbed, he is reported to have said, “Either the wallpaper goes, or I do.”

So, if you are looking for an excuse to runaway to the Oregon Coast for no other reason than to curl up with a favorite tome in the good company of other quietly anti-social bookworms, look no further. The Sylvia Beach Hotel is the perfect place to do so. It just might change your life.

Jessica Porter, publicity intern

Biodynamic Gardening

2009-09-03T09:47:00.000-07:00

Should Timber Publish a Book on Biodynamic Gardening?

This was the question of our publications board today, and I don’t think I’ve ever sat in a more contentious meeting!

For the uninitiated, biodynamic gardening can be considered the progenitor of all organic gardening. Begun right at the height of the industrial revolution by theologian Rudolf Steiner, biodynamics were clearly ahead of their time. (Steiner also founded the Waldorf Schools that are sprinkled around in high-income neighborhoods.) His essential belief was that any farm should be self-sufficient--no sending away to Monsanto for GMO seeds, no fertilizers other than compost you make yourself. In an era before we knew about carbon-free offsets and lowering environmental inputs, Rudolf Steiner had it all figured out. And he would have voted for Al Gore, too.

But here’s the problem--Steiner’s reasons for doing all the things that biodynamickers do were primarily spiritual, not scientific. There is a lot of stuff about moon phases and superstitious burying of sheeps’ bladders--and biodynamic types are not innovators. They follow the practices that have been laid down because they’re “right,” not necessarily because they yield 3.5% more tonnage per crop. They can’t really explain why they do what they do other than it really does work (and there IS some research out there to back that up). Biodynamic practices are regulated by a very traditional certifying authority in Switzerland that is more concerned with slowing change in biodynamic practices than with making improvements. In the end, you become a biodynamic gardener because of a spiritual relationship with the land. You take it on faith.

You can probably tell that I’m pretty sympathetic to biodynamic gardeners. I believe we owe more to the land--to all the millions of organisms in one teaspoon of soil--than just some rational analysis of which growing techniques give OUR SPECIES the most benefit. Are we stewards of the land or plunderers?

Saying all this, I don’t think Timber Press will be publishing a book on biodynamics. We have a fundamentally scientific outlook on plants, gardening, horticulture, and nature--we see our job as providing the information that is proven to be accurate, not spiritually more comforting. I must admit, however, that I say this with more than a dose of sadness. There are a lot of farmers in my family history (none of them even remotely organic, God forbid), and I know that the land meant more to them than they could put into words. It was a spiritual thing, although they’d be embarrassed to talk about it. The miracle of a dry little pebble being put into the ground and turning into a six foot high stalk of corn is still the most amazing trick on earth. Biodynamic gardeners have a language that allows for the wonder of such things, and my hat is off to them.

Neal Maillet, publisher

A Bad Garden Pun

2009-09-02T09:58:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, I came into the house with a handful of radishes and tripped and fell, dropping a radish in the process. After nursing my dignity, I looked for the radish. No luck, so I said that it would probably turn up.

And my husband laughed. My radish would turnip. Heh.

Chani West-Folyle, marketing associate

Late summer joys/Late summer travails

2009-08-31T14:26:00.000-07:00

Joy: Fresh beets. I tried to save them to make beet pickles with, but I was too hungry. They made an awesome beet/orange salad.

Travail:
I've neglected the weeds for ages. There is a walkway under there. Really. I have to pull the California poppies out. They are truly past their prime.

Joy:
Volunteer honeydew!

Travail:
Oy. The compost needs stirring in a bad way. It's growing weeds, which I am told is the sign of Compost That Is Not Hot Enough. I call it "nurturing compost."

Joy:
Plums! Yums!

Travail:
The wasps are doing keg stands on the bushels of overripe fruit dropped onto our parking pad. And they are trashing the place. Look at that hammock stand they dragged in...

Gardening is everywhere!

2009-08-27T10:50:00.000-07:00

Occasionally we get magazines at our house that we never signed up for. We're not sure why they keep coming, as we have offered them no encouragement. But there they are.

There is one unasked for magazine that I find it to be of, um, "questionable" merit. It is full of product advertisements and interviews with women who are wearing less than what I would wear, were I to be interviewed by a magazine. (Note to self--ask about clothing requirements if ever contacted for a magazine interview.)

Since my husband never cracks the cover, despite much ribbing from me, it falls to me to do the research in the name of media awareness. (It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it.) And in the most recent version of this magazine, I was totally shocked to find an "article" on gardening.

Gardening! Fortunately for the reputation of the magazine, the article talks about how houseplants can make you look more appealing to women. It rates the plants on Looks, Care, and "Lady Props". Included are tropicals, topiaries (topiaries??), succulents, and orchids.

Orchids were the highest scorers in the "Lady Props" category, perhaps unsurprisingly. However, the authors of the article advised that one should "expect to toss it when the flowers fall off."

May I recommend to the authors of this article our forthcoming book, Bloom-Again Orchids: 50 Easy-Care Orchids that Flower Again and Again and Again? Having an orchid is fine, but having an orchid that has bloomed every year for the past five years? That's some serious Lady Props.

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

FarWest Show recap

2009-08-26T08:46:00.000-07:00

Timber Press attended the FarWest show in Portland, August 20-22. It's amazing how convention centers are transformed during nursery trade shows. The floors are covered with carpeting, and there are plants everywhere. The florescent lighting helps you remember that you are indoors, but beyond that, there are trees and grasses and flowers, oh my!

We spent most of our time at our booth, ringing up purchases and testing our knowledge of our books.

(In real life, our sign did not reflect that much glare. Yet another example of life not imitating art.)

During a slow period Saturday afternoon, Kathryn and I went into the show to check it out. We found a random wind turbine, and Kathryn stood next to it for scale.

Then benches were decorated with facts. I was given an odd look for taking a picture of a bench. I persevered.

There was a central display with new introductions.

Black Eyed Susans

Petunia, "Pretty Much Picasso"

Several of our authors were at the show - Ray Evison, Sean Hogan, and Mike Dirr all made appearances at our booth. Ray also modeled (with a big smile!) his new clematis varieties.

There were lovely displays of trees and grasses from Woodburn Nursery, A&R Spada Farms, and Bizon Nursery.

Plug Connection had a gorgeous living wall display. I think it says "tessera", which means "an individual tile in a mosaic." That seems appropriate, given that the whole things was made up of small succulent plugs. It was gorgeous. I want one at home. I would just sit around and look at it all day long.

Burpee was there with a big edibles display. After the show, when we were all breaking down our booths, they gave away pots and pots and pots of basil.

The car smelled like basil all the way home.

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

Double Trouble Chocolate Truffle

2009-08-25T10:19:00.000-07:00

Last night I made the Double Trouble Chocolate Truffle recipe from The Complete Chile Pepper Book.

It started easy--I had all the ingredients on hand.

The instructions were pretty easy to follow. First I put the milk and dark chocolate in a small pot.

Then I placed the pot inside of a larger pot full of boiling water. I mixed in the sugar, chile pepper, cinnamon, and condensed milk until it was smooth.

The recipe then said: “Let cool until it’s shapeable.” Hmm. I had never had to let chocolate cool before, so I didn’t understand that it took quite a while. Three hours in fact! So, make sure you start making these a lot earlier than 8 pm.

After they cooled, I shaped them into small balls (and ovals, and some other random shapes unintentionally) and rolled them through chopped pecans.

And they looked like this.

And, we looked like this eating them.

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing associate
Recipe from The Complete Chile Pepper Book

The Hidden Perils of Peppers?

2009-08-21T11:02:00.000-07:00

I was reading through The Complete Chile Pepper Book and came across this useful warning:

Capsaicin, the alkaloid responsible for the heat in chiles, is wonderful for making bland foods interesting, but it is far less welcome in large doses on the skin, or in any amount in your eyes. We urge everyone to who processes chiles in any form to wear gloves when handling them. This is especially important when handling the hotter varieties, because chile burns can be extremely painful and even cause contact dermatitis, redness, and blistering of the skin.

It made me think of the funny segment Jeff Gillman had on The Martha Stewart Show earlier this year. You can watch Martha's laughter-inducing warning here.

Here's another bit from The Complete Chile Pepper Book about what to do if you burn your mouth with a pepper:

When you burn your mouth and tongue, eat a thick dairy product like cream, sour cream, yogurt, or ice cream and swirl it around in your mouth before swallowing. A protein in the dairy product, casein, effectively strips the capsaicin molecules from the capsaicin receptors in your mouth and on your tongue.

After taking in all the above warnings, I think I can safely tackle making this recipe from the book without hurting myself.

Double Trouble Chocolate Truffles

New Mexican red chile is the heat source in this tremendous treat. With the combination of baking chocolate and white chocolate, it’s exceptionally wonderful to munch on. Try substituting 2 teaspoons of cayenne powder for the New Mexican chile to heat the truffles up even more!

Ingredients:
8 ounces baking chocolate
4 ounces white chocolate chips
2 tablespoons sugar (or more to taste)
1 tablespoon ground New Mexican red chile (or more, to taste)
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 14-ounce can light sweetened condensed milk
Finely chopped piñon nuts, or substitute pecans

Directions:
Use a double boiler, or fill a 3-quart saucepan three-quarters full of water, and heat until the water is almost boiling.

Place both kinds of chocolate in a smaller saucepan and melt over the hot water, stirring until smooth.

Add the sugar, chile, cinnamon, and milk, mixing until very smooth. Remove the mixture from the heat and let cool until it is shapeable.

Shape the chocolate mixture into 1-inch thick balls, then roll them in the nuts. Chill the candy in the refrigerator in an airtight tin.

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing associate
information and recipe from The Complete Chile Pepper Book, available in October

Pacific Golden Chanterelle

2009-08-20T09:01:00.001-07:00

The Pacific Golden Chanterelle, or Cantharellus formosus if you’d prefer, is one of the most commonly foraged mushrooms. They are easy to find in the moister parts of Pacific Northwest and in season from early summer until late fall. If you are planning a weekend foraging trip, find a few to make this recipe.

Mushroom Cream Sauce

1 teaspoon olive oil
3 tablespoons butter
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 shallot, diced
2 pounds chanterelles (or morels in early spring), roughly chopped
1 cup cream
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Crushed red pepper flakes

1. Heat a nonreactive pan over medium heat. Add olive oil and butter. When butter is melted, add garlic and shallots and cook until soft.
2. Add mushroom and sprinkle with salt. Stir and sauté until mushrooms are well cooked.
3. Add enough cream to cover mushrooms halfway (add more if necessary). Stir and cook until sauce is thickened.
4. Add salt and peppers to taste. Pour sauce over pasta, rice, polenta or potatoes, or just enjoy it with bread.

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing associate
Images from Mushrooms of the Pacific Northwest
Recipe from Northwest Vegetarian Cooking, available May 2010

Universal Plant Achievement of All Time!

2009-08-17T11:01:00.000-07:00

I have to confess I’m obsessed with Horms™ #4 SUPERthrive 50-in-one. If you’ve ever seen a bottle or ad for this amazing product you’ve never forgotten it. We all see plenty of ads in a given day--“Number 1” “Recommended by four out of five dentists”, etc.--but SUPERthrive beats them all. The ads scream the most amazing claims:

“World’s # 1 Top Plant Supply”
“World Champion”
“Best Stuff or Product in the World.”

I absolutely love these outrageous claims, and I tried the product in the first place because they’ve made such an impression. What is SUPERthrive? It’s a mix of 50 vitamins and hormones you add to your watering can, purportedly decreasing plant stress and increasing survivability of transplants. Any self-respecting academic horticulturist will tell you there is no proof that plants can even metabolize vitamins. My skeptical friend and Timber author Sean Hogan scoffs that SUPERthrive only seems to work because you have to start watering your plants to use it. Nonetheless, most people I know who have tried it swear by it--even as they giggle nervously about the ads. So, do I sound like a hick if I admit I go right for the SUPERthrive bottle when one of my plants looks yellowed or stressed out? I can honestly say I’ve never lost a plant when I’ve used it. You heard me right. I’ve never once used SUPERthrive on a sick plant and didn’t see it recover. Maybe the SUPERthrive ads are the only ones that are really telling the truth. It’s something to think about.

Neal Maillet, publisher

Other People's Gardens

2009-08-14T10:57:00.000-07:00

Before I graduated from college, I had a bountiful list formulating in my head of all the things I wanted to do with my life. Things like, travel the world and write an award-winning memoir! Become the next J. K. Rowling! Get an MFA in creative writing! Oddly enough, Live at Home in My Parents Basement was never added to my list of aspirations.

But here I am doing exactly that. My diploma is a year and a half behind me, my school loans are doing a frantic dance in front of my eyes, and yet my junior-high school ivy wallpaper is still singing me to sleep at night. It is not exactly delightful.

On the other hand, there are some perks that come with living at home, one of them being the fact that my mother is a fantastic gardener. She plants delicious vegetables, grows roses and so many other flowers that I couldn’t begin to name them, keeps the grass green, and makes our house look far more amazing than any other house on the street.

Sometimes neighbors stop by our driveway just to say, “Thank you for the beautiful work you do.”

But my favorite part of our garden is the swing. Tucked away under the filbert tree, the swing hangs in a shady, cobweb-ridden, hidden corner of the backyard. Hummingbirds vibrate their way in and out in a few short seconds, squirrels talk to each other from up above and drop discarded nut shells at my feet. A neighbor’s cat lies a few feet away in the shade of the blueberry bushes, watching me.

I do not garden. I’ll admit it. My one attempt at growing wildflowers in a pot failed miserably. But I love, love, love other people’s gardens. I could sit in them all day. And I do.

There is a healing power contained in the swing in my mother’s garden. It comes from the things I can see and hear from that spot; the quiet spiders resting in their patched webs, the way the sun shines on the white roses growing in a perfect circle of brick, even the haphazard growth of the raspberry bushes drooping with berries. The fact that no one can see me back there, staring off into space or writing in a notebook, being healed.

I might not belong forever in my parent’s basement or my childhood bedroom, but I belong in that swing. I belong in someone’s garden. Hopefully it will be my own someday. When my loans are paid……

Jessica Porter, publicity intern

DIY Landscape

2009-08-13T09:10:00.000-07:00

When my roommates moved into their house about three years ago, their backyard had a depressing, abandoned lot feel to it:

Over the last few years they have already made a ton of improvements, but this summer they decided the time had come for the major DIY landscape. Plants are a little bit like crack to them, so they knew if they got started that this was going to be a full-on binge! They picked a weekend when there was a big plant sale, borrowed a truck from a friend, rented a tiller for the day, and went to town.

I can't really take credit for helping much with this project (besides moral support)...

But they didn't need me!

Since the area right in front of the back door had turned into a major mud pit (and with two big dogs, that gets really old during our eight months of precipitation), they decided to put down a hardscape groundcover of gravel over about a third of the backyard space. And since there was a natural slope to the yard, they used a big island to separate the two levels. They rolled out the insanely carpet-like sod in the upper level of the yard, and they started planting--trees, succulents, ornamental grasses, and lots and lots of pretty flowers!

Even though there is a lot more going on in the "after" pictures, the different levels and zones of the yard actually work to make it feel larger. I am beyond impressed with the results of their handiwork to make our own personal backyard oasis.

A few weeks later, they balanced out the ornamental overload with a veggie bed built from recycled materials from the Rebuilding Center.

Shortly thereafter, Drew really personified Vegetable Love with a fresh harvest from the garden.

Mollie Firestone, editorial assistant

Longwood Gardens

2009-08-11T13:21:00.000-07:00

It does my heart good to know that I can spend the day at a place like Longwood Gardens, talk about the detailed history of two species of waterlilies (well, “Victorias” more properly, of the genus Victoria) and get paid for it. I was visiting Tomasz Anisko, author of When Perennials Bloom and Longwood’s curator. Tomasz was kind enough to show me behind the scenes and tell me about plans for an upcoming book on Victoria, a genus of two plants that was all the rage--and the source of controversy and scandal--in the 19th century after it was discovered on the Amazon and named after the British queen. (French plant explorers who felt they found the plants first were none too happy with the British name--perhaps it should be the genus Napoleon?) If you’re like me, you’re vaguely aware of Victorias because you’ve seen a cheesy photo of a baby or mermaid cavorting with one of the huge leaves. Great dukes and estate owners in the US and UK competed with each other to grow the plants after introduction--you needed a savvy garden staff (they’re tropical plants after all) and a huge pool of water in which to grow them. A very enterprising publisher in Massachusetts published an oversized book in 1854 with massive plates of the plants—this book is now the holy grail of garden book collectors, with prices up to $70,000. I don’t think Timber will be reprinting it!

I’ve only seen Victorias in person a few times in my life, and I have to say that Longwood’s display is the best anywhere--they even dye the water black to show off the leaves and flowers to full effect. Longwood is also the progenitor of the best interspecific hybrid between the two species, and Tomasz’s upcoming book means to celebrate this fact and all other things Victoria. Thanks to Longwood gardens for the photos—you can read more about their Victorias at the Longwood blog.

So, can anyone guess what fish, fowl, or beast the spines on the leaves and flowers are meant to protect against? The first commenter to get it right will get a free copy of Perry Slocum’s Waterlilies and Lotuses by Timber—I’ll identify the right answer in the comments and ask the winner to send me an e-mail with a mailing address.

Neal Maillet, publisher

Pavers, Ants, and Newborns

2009-08-10T11:09:00.000-07:00

I recently bought a house, the former owners of which apparently considered rectangular concrete pavers the height of gardening style. When I moved in, there were pavers lining the equally rectangular mulched area surrounding the Japanese maple. They were lining the curb strip that the owners had filled with rocks (nothing pairs with rocks like cement, I always say). And, bafflingly, the pavers were spaced evenly along the front edge of our yard, separating several feet of weed-infested grass from...several more feet of weed-infested grass.

So it all needs some work. And while I have many grandiose dreams of what I'm going to do with the yard (none of which, oddly, involve the meatball shrubs currently lining the front walk), I'm spending most of my time right now raising my newborn son, the reason we moved into this new house.

But I have found time to do the bare minimum of yard work, which has so far involved gaining an intimate knowledge of the root systems of the many types of "dandelions" (or at least the March-August varieties; who knows what other surprises the Family Asteraceae has in store for me come Fall). And getting rid of those blasted pavers.

In the process of digging up one of these ugly hunks of concrete, I discovered that the local ants had decided that the area right underneath it was an excellent place to build their egg room. At least, that is, until I removed the paver, exposing their many eggs to the sunlight. But I was quick enough with my camera to grab this video of the ants scurrying hurriedly (as only ants can) to move their eggs to the lower levels of their subterranean kingdom.

Todd Stadler, webmaster

Late Blight of Tomatoes

2009-08-07T11:46:00.000-07:00

Home gardeners and commercial tomato producers in the Eastern and Southern US face a potential tomato crop failure this summer. The problem is called late blight and is caused by a fungus.

What are the symptoms?

There are several different fungal diseases of tomatoes, including early blight and septoria leaf spot. But no other fungus has the specific combination of symptoms on leaves, stems, and fruit that identifies late blight. If your tomato plants have all three of the following symptoms you can be sure you are dealing with late blight.

First, determine how big the spots are. Late blight spots are large. They grow rapidly, enlarging to engulf the leaf or stem in just a few days. As long as the leaf tissue is moist, the spots will be very dark, purplish-black. When the tissue dries out the spots become dark brown. The spots generally do not develop yellow haloes. If you see dark brown or purplish-black spots on the leaves that are about the size of a quarter and that get significantly larger (seemingly overnight) you should suspect late blight. Other fungal diseases cause leaf spots that are smaller in size, do not grow as fast as late blight, and are lighter in color.

Second, look for cottony-white mold on the spots, especially on the underside of leaves. In dry weather you may not see this white mold on the plant, so put an infected leaf inside a plastic bag with a piece of moistened paper towel, then seal the bag. Cottony white spores will develop within 12 hours on the tissue inside the plastic bag.

Third, look for greasy-looking, brown, firm patches on the tomato fruit. These can appear on unripe, green tomatoes as well as ripe, red ones. They are often on the stem end of the fruit but can be anywhere.

What does late blight do?

Like many other fungi, late blight fungus (Phytophthora infestans) produces millions of airborne spores that drift on the breeze. When they settle on a susceptible host plant (leaf, stem, or fruit), the spores germinate and the fungus begins to grow down into the plant’s tissues. The fungus digests the cells of the host plant as it grows, first turning them black and then brown as the cells die. The initial spots are small, but they grow larger, quickly engulfing the entire leaf. The leaf wilts and dies, hanging on to the sick plant. Soon, the entire plant dies and the fruit is ruined.

Each of the spots on leaves and stems produce millions of microscopic spores that look like cottony white fuzz. Each tiny spore is a potential new infection that can devour healthy tissue. These spores are carried to healthy plants by wind, wind-driven rain, irrigation water, tools, and people. If the weather is cool and moist, the disease spreads rapidly through many plants in the nightshade family (Solanaceae: tomatoes, potatoes, peppers, and eggplants, for example).

What is the solution?

Prevention is the only effective way to protect your plants from late blight. This disease spreads quickly, so vigilance is called for. Check your tomato plants (and their relatives) frequently for symptoms. If your plants are not sick, and late blight is in your area, protect your plants with a spray that is certified for use on organic food crops. Remember that you intend to eat the fruit of these plants. Preventive treatments include Neem oil, copper, or sulfur. Read the labels to learn how to use each product. Choose the product that best suits your circumstances.

These products create conditions on the surface of leaves, stems, and fruit that prevent late blight spores from germinating and infecting your plants. As such, they protect healthy plants. They cannot cure sick plants. Unfortunately, there is no magic bullet; not even modern synthetic fungicides can cure a plant with late blight.

If your plants are only slightly infected--with only a few lesions (spots) on leaves or stems--you must protect the remaining healthy tissue. To do so, spray Neem oil, copper, or sulfur, allow the plants’ foliage to dry, then sanitize. To sanitize means to remove infected tissue from the plants, the ground, and your entire garden. Put all the infected material into a plastic bag, seal it, and discard it in the trash. Do not compost it. You will have to be vigilant and search for new infections every day. You will also need to apply the spray again, especially if rain washes the material off your plants.

If your plants are already seriously ill with late blight you should pull up the infected plants, roots and all. Put them in a plastic bag and seal the bag tightly. Put the bag in the sun for a couple of days. The sunlight and the heat will help kill the spores. Then discard the plants, with the bag, in a landfill. Do not compost the sick plants. Get rid of them. The fungus can live in your compost pile and will be a source of new infections.

Late blight fungus can live in the soil and may even overwinter. Next year put unrelated plants where your tomatoes and their relatives are this year. Plant corn, cabbage, or squash in that location and move your tomatoes to a completely new spot. You may have a disappointing tomato crop this year, but look forward to a bumper crop next year.

David Deardorff and Kathryn Wadsworth, authors of What's Wrong with My Plant (And How Do I Fix It?), available in November

Right Plant, Wrong Place

2009-08-06T13:53:00.000-07:00

I recently attended a Get Gardening! event with Ray Rogers, author of Pots in the Garden and Coleus. He spoke about many things: Color, line, form, space, and texture. But one thing that stood out to me was something he said in his introduction. He prefaced his talk by saying that many gardeners don’t take into consideration the needs of the plants when they work in the garden--they walk into a garden center or nursery, pick a plant they like, take it home, and just plunk it into the earth without thinking about water usage, light requirements, space needs, etc.

This struck me particularly hard when I got home and looked at my own garden. I had planned it for months before actually building the box this spring, and I had sketched the “look” of it on paper deciding that the 3’ x 3’ space (9, 1’ x 1’ gridded spaces) would be designed as such:

Tomato Herbs Tomato
Eggplant Peppers Cucumber
Tomato Herbs Tomato

This seemed all well and good to me, until I realized--after the fact, of course--that I hadn’t taken into consideration that the tomato plants in the outside front positions might in fact grow too tall and shade my peppers out of the sun.

At first it wasn’t that big of a deal--everything was small--but after about a month or so, I realized that while everything in my garden was lush and green, the pepper plants hadn’t quite matured the way everything else had. Sure, they looked healthy, but that was about it. They were tiny compared to my giant tomatoes.

Next year will be different. I will consider the varying heights and light requirements of my veggies, and the peppers will definitely be front and center. For now, I’ll just enjoy my glorious tomatoes, and chalk this up to a learning experience!

Olivia Dunn, publicist

Seed starting (asterisk)

2009-08-06T08:41:00.000-07:00

This year, it seems mandatory for any lifestyle article to include tips on “how to save money.” The gardening industry is no exception, and one of the things that people tout to save money is starting your ornamental plants from seed. Most articles claim that it is “cheap and easy”. I won’t argue with “cheap”, but I’m beginning to add a big mental asterisk to “easy”. As in: “Starting things from seed is cheap and easy”*

*As long as you have exactly the right spot, sow the seeds exactly the right way, and don’t mind re-sowing three or four times. Oh, and those lovely pictures of fields of waving flowers on seed packets? Sometimes seed packets lie. (I know! There should be a law!)

This summer, I’ve been frustrated by poppy flowers. I love poppies of all kinds and in all stages of development, and only recently did it occur to me that I could buy some seeds and plant them in my garden! How exciting! It will be cheap and easy!

Two months after sowing: only a few scraggly seedlings. But, but, but! I did everything on the packet! Where are my fields of waving California poppies? Fortunately for my disappointment, I ran across a blog post by one of our authors, Tracy DiSabato-Aust.

She lists the Oriental poppy as one of her top 50 best plants, and gives some tips on how to grow them. She says to try a large quantity of seeds – ½ a pound or more - and to try direct-sowing the seeds in February or March.

This is good to know for my gardening plans for next year – now I just have to find out where to buy poppy seeds by the pound. Bagel stores?

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

Garlic

2009-08-03T09:14:00.000-07:00

Growing garlic, along with all other vegetables that develop underground (potatoes, carrots, etc.) requires a leap of faith. I can’t check to see if everything is developing properly. I’ve grown plenty of skinny radishes, and I don’t trust those underground developers – who knows what they are up to under there? They could be taking the water I give them and slacking off. So it is always a bit of a miracle to pull something fully developed out of the soil, which I did when I harvested my garlic a few weeks ago. What a relief!

I planted two types of garlic, but in a fairly typical display of overconfidence in my ability to remember things, I failed to label which was which. In fact, I failed to write down the names of my garlic at all – which means a regretful entry in my garden notes: “Grew garlic. Tasty. No idea what kind, or where I can get more.”

Currently, my garlic is curing outside the kitchen door. I attempted to braid it into an attractive braid, such as you see in cooking magazines and “rustic” photoshoots, but failed abjectly. Now I suspect that those lovely long braids of garlic in magazines are (gasp) staged. They must use fake garlic hair. Another illusion shattered. Then again, maybe I just need to wait until the garlic stems are a little dryer.

When I started my garlic growing adventures, I consulted The Complete Book of Garlic when it came to the curing stage, and learned the following:

“Pull the bulb from the ground and loosely rub the soil out of the roots. Keep the harvested garlic out of direct sunlight. Do not wash it with water. Garlic needs to dry and cure in a well-ventilated area out of the sun. With twine, tie the garlic in bundles of six to twelve and hang to dry and cure, bulb portion downward, for several weeks until the vegetative material above the bulb is completely dry. Trim off the vegetative material to approximately 1 in. (2.5 cm) above the bulb. If the vegetative material is still moist, the garlic needs more drying time. Trim the roots, leaving about 1/4 in. (0.5 cm). Brush the soil from the roots with a toothbrush and remove the outermost dirty bulb wrapper with your thumb or the edge of the toothbrush. Use netted bags, such as those typically used for onions, shallots, and garlic, to keep your harvested garlic sorted and stored so that air can circulate.”

Good to know! Unfortunately, Ted Meredith does not address the issue of “making your garlic braid look like it does in a magazine.” But he does talk about the differences in garlic flavor:

“For salad dressings that include crushed raw garlic, I like a garlic that is richly flavored, but not overly hot. Rocambole cultivars, such as ‘Spanish Roja’, ‘Russian Red’, and ‘Carpathian’ fit the bill perfectly. Purple Stripe cultivars, such as ‘Shvelisi’, ‘Samarkand’, and ‘Shatili’ are strongly and complexly flavored, but not overly sulfurous or aggressive, and work well minced and sautéed in Continental cuisines. The large-cloved and somewhat more aggressive Marbled Purple Stripe and Porcelain cultivars such as ‘Bogatyr’ and ‘Romanian Red’ are good choices for spicy Asian dishes where a greater amount of more aggressively flavored garlic works well. These are a few examples among many, and of course, everyone has their own favorites and favorite ways of cooking.”

As someone who always believed that garlic tasted like – well, garlic – it’s interesting to learn that there are different flavors out there. If only I had written down the type I have.

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

New Low-Maintenance

2009-07-30T11:28:00.000-07:00

One of the books that I am most looking forward to this year is The New Low-Maintenance Garden. I love working in my garden, but I also love cooking, movies, teasing the cats, knitting, bike rides, dancing... and on and on. So the idea of a low-maintenance garden is a "have your garden and eat it too" best case scenario to me. Plus the book is gorgeous! Here's an excerpt from Val's introduction, where she explains how she came around to the low-maintenance garden ideal.

The Simplified Garden: A New Low-Maintenance Manifesto

"Gardening, like everything else worthwhile in life except maybe love, comes down to time and resources. Our passion for plants and nature too often obscures this basic truth. But we ignore the time and resource part of the equation at our peril.
The idea for a fresh take on a simplified, low-maintenance garden came directly from my own years of intensely gardening an overplanted quarter-acre hillside. All the weeding, grooming, watering, mulching, and mowing finally wore me out. As a horticultural librarian and weekly garden columnist for the Seattle Times, I used my garden as my laboratory. For many years my enthusiasm for digging, planting, and caring for all I’d created was boundless. And then one day it wasn’t.
The spring I felt more jaded than enthused when I looked at flats of beguiling baby annuals waiting to be potted up, I realized with a sinking heart that while my passion for plants and gardens was perpetual, my inclination to spend most waking moments working outdoors was not.

And then my husband resigned as yard boy. After thirty years of marriage, he’d run out of patience helping me with something he was never much interested in. As middle-age crises go, it wasn’t too bad. He simply told me, again and again until I heard him, that he was going to spend his weekends bike riding and kayaking rather than hauling buckets of mulch up the stairs, mucking out the pond, and carting away excess biomass. Greg now claims it took four years before I heard him say he was through toiling in the garden. Out of kindness, he kept working during the time it took to sink into my consciousness that I no longer had a crew. When I finally did understand that I was on my own caring for these thousands of plants, I belatedly realized that while I loved my garden, I too craved a little downtime, more spaces in my life to read a novel, go to a movie, or browse a museum without feeling guilty about time away from endless garden chores. It was time for a new low-maintenance garden intervention.

I set a new goal, one that seemed nearly impossible at the outset of my gardening odyssey. I wanted to be able to look out my window and see more than just work waiting for me out there. I wanted to enjoy my garden, not just labor in it. Was it possible to grow the flowers that I love—I came to gardening originally because of a passion for flower arranging—plus berries, vegetables, herbs, and lettuces without again creating a garden that ceaselessly called for more care than I had time or energy to give it?"

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

Demise and Rebirth

2009-07-28T10:08:00.000-07:00

I’ve heard rumors that even the best gardeners kill plants. I’ve also heard that the truly enlightened don’t waste time on regret – move on, get another plant, put it in another place, see what happens.

I admire this. I picture experienced gardeners as being kind of like spies or tough detectives in novels or on television. Confident, ready for anything, letting bygones be bygones. (At least, that's how I like my detectives. None of this pesky humanity business for me. There's no room for doubt in a detective!)

I have not yet reached that enlightened state. I still go through lots of guilt when one of my plants dies because of me. I have a list in my head. Recently, there is my viburnum. Or my echinacea that I forgot to water one weekend, and that turned into a crispy array of tiny leaves. It looked like what herbs are supposed to look like when you hang them upside down in a cool dry place for three months.

As a sort of penance, I tend to water things that I'm convinced are dead. I think of it as buying my way into the good graces of the departed spirit of my plant. (Too much anthropomorphizing can do that to a girl.)

But sometimes I've called the death too soon, and the watering pays off. My viburnum? Sprouting new leaves.

And the echinacea? Tiny new growth as well!

My garden is a better place.

-Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

Read to Me

2009-07-24T15:29:00.000-07:00

I’m going to spill a dirty secret—not everyone at Timber Press is a gardener. Or rather, not everyone is an avid gardener. Take me for example. I have a few houseplants (mostly succulents that thrive on neglect) in my apartment, but no actual plot of land to grow anything on. I like to think that someday I’ll own a home with a yard full of vegetables and ornamental grasses. So, I guess I am an imaginary gardener.

The one thing everyone at Timber Press does have in common (as do most people who work in publishing) is a life-long love of books. Book chatter in our office is common, as is sharing books. We actually had a short-lived book club that flamed out after a few months (agreeing on what to read was a real struggle).

Neal and I had one of these fun book chats Wednesday. I just saw Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and remarked on how as a child I didn’t like fantasy. The conversation got me thinking about what kind of reader you become based on what you chose when you were younger. So I sent an email around asking for everyone’s favorite book from their childhood. The reaction was amazing—everyone quickly started buzzing about books. I can still hear people now talking about Maurice Sendak! The wide-ranging list includes:

The entire Laura Ingalls Wilder library
Pierre by Maurice Sendak
Nancy Drew’s Scarlet Slipper Mystery by Carolyn Keene
Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There by Lewis Carroll
Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
The Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell
Old Hat, New Hat by Stan and Jan Berenstain
Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry by Mildred D. Taylor
Henry Huggins by Beverley Cleary
A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
Ferdinand the Bull by Munro Leaf and Robert Lawson
Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel by Virginia Lee Burton
The Poky Little Puppy by Janette Sebring Lowrey and Gustaf Tenggren
Audubon’s Birds of America by John James Audubon
Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs by Judi and Ron Barrett
The Twits by Roald Dahl
Just Me and My Dad by Mercer Mayer
Cars, Trucks, and Things That Go by Richard Scarry
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty White

I’m glad it’s Friday, because all of this reminiscing has made me want to reread what used to be my favorite book, Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh. It's a good thing I pass Powell's Books on my walk home.

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing associate

Do You Have Something for Memory in There?

2009-07-23T15:26:00.000-07:00

When I was younger, one of my favorite books was Clan of the Cave Bear, by Jean M. Auel. It’s a looong book, tracing the life of a young Cro-Magnon girl being raised by a clan of Neanderthals over 30,000 years ago.

I was most fascinated by the herbal lore in the book. The medicine woman of the Clan was very knowledgeable about thousands of plants and their medicinal properties, and since they had no written language she knew it all by heart. Reading about her knowledge was the first time that I had really thought about plants having different properties and uses--other than building forts, of course. The thought of one plant being good for headaches AND for setting bones opened up a whole new world. (Plus, I really wanted to be the know-it-all who always knew what kind of herb to administer. Yes, I was a self-important child--why do you ask?)

Sadly, I don’t think that I’ll be able to memorize all the plants in existence, even if I eat copious quantities of Ginko biloba . I’m going to have to count on written language. Specifically, I can look at our new book, Native American Medicinal Plants.

I have tons of mint growing in my backyard. I drink it in tea as a digestive aid, and I looked it up in the book to see how else it was used. Now I know that wild mint was used by the Navajo to "counteract effects of being struck by a whirlwind," and that the Cheyenne used it to improve one's love life. Other tribes used it to lower fevers, cure toothaches, prevent influenza, treat colic, soothe coughs, and, interestingly, to make a person vomit in the case of poisoning. And here I always thought it had a calming effect on the stomach.

The range of uses for each plant led me to check the introduction to the book, to see if the cures “work.” Here’s what Daniel E. Moerman, the author, has to say:

The first thing people usually ask about American Indian medicinal plants is, Do they work? This, it turns out, is tricky question. The short answer is, Yes. The longer answer is more interesting. What does it mean to say that a medicine “works”? Essentially it means that the medicine has the effect that we want it to have, that it meets our expectations. This means that a drug that meets one person’s expectations may not meet another’s, and people may therefore disagree over whether the drug works. Such disagreements usually hinge on different conceptions of health or healing. This is to say that definitions of health and well-being are often cultural matters; they are rarely simple matters of fact.

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

My First Garden

2009-07-22T09:51:00.000-07:00

I am currently researching magazines as I prepare for a trip to New York to pitch Timber Press story and segment ideas to editors and television producers. The three that I have been reading this week--Every Day With Rachael Ray, Real Simple, and Metropolitan Home--have very different editorial styles and don’t have a strong focus on gardening, though they all dabble a little bit.

You can probably imagine my surprise then when reading the July/August Metropolitan Home’s “Letter from the Editor” about the joys and trials of her gardening experiences over the past few years. Having just started my first garden this year, it is a relief to know that some of the problems I’m facing aren’t just because I’m inexperienced--insects are nondiscriminatory when it comes to gardens, beginner or experienced, and I’m just happy I don’t have horses anywhere nearby that can lean over the fence and snack on my heirloom green tomatoes!

The latter half of the letter describes how she has been too busy this year to get started on her garden. By mid May she hadn’t even turned the soil over, or ordered seeds. After a recent dinner at a farm/restaurant she comes away with one conclusion: Slow down and plant your garden.

This struck me as my summer schedule starts to heat up (pardon the pun!). With weekend barbecues with friends, trips to the beach, and general summer activities, I need to remind myself that it is okay to just slow down and work in my garden--the joys of watching my tomatoes grow and eating parsley with my nephew somehow bring all the busyness of summer into focus.

Olivia Dunn, senior publicist

Threatened Tomato Crops

2009-07-21T10:19:00.000-07:00

If you grow tomatoes in the Northeast or Mid-Atlantic region, you need to read Friday's New York Times article on late blight. It's scary to think that a fungus can spread so quickly from garden center to home garden. Even scarier? A strain of the same disease is what caused the Irish potato famine.

The article includes tips on what to look for and how to remove affected plants. It also recommends using the fungicide chlorothalonil (a synthetic protectant that prevents disease by blocking its entry into the surface of the plant) to protect tomatoes not yet affected. Which brings is to the question of chemicals...

I looked up chlorothalonil in Jeff Gillman's The Truth About Organic Gardening. After an explanation of the difference between the three types of synthetic chemicals used for disease control (plant activators, systemics, and protectants), he lists what he sees as the benefits and drawbacks of using synthetic protecants. I'll let you decide what is the right choice for you and your garden.

BENEFITS: Few diseases have developed a great deal of resistance to protectants. Synthetic protectants tend to be quite effective at controlling disease if used properly and can generally be expected to work as well as or better than most of the organic fungicides, with less chance of damaging your crops. Also, less of these products usually needs to be applied.

DRAWBACKS: Protectants have a wide range of degrees of safety for both humans and the environment. Some are considered relatively safe and some aren't. Because they don't get into the plant's vascular system, they don't provide complete control over the disease.

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing associate
Information taken from The Truth About Organic Gardening

In the Tank for Grasses

2009-07-20T15:34:00.001-07:00

One of the joys of summer is that I very rarely have to mow my lawn. (I never water it, so I don’t have to worry about that either--hooray for grasses going dormant, I say.) This year I may have called a moratorium on mowing my grass a little bit early--instead of being short and dead all summer, the grass is sending up gorgeous, misty spikes of seeds. I am enchanted.

I have grasses sending seed sprays through my authentically weatherbeaten fence:

I don’t have the skills to capture the gorgeousness, but rest assured, it is a lovely effect. I expect a lifestyle magazine to call at any moment--the weathered-ness of my fence, especially, is hard to beat.

I have grasses being nice and feathery against the tree line.

I feel I could be a small yet carefree creature (perhaps a Borrower), and lie for hours looking up at the sky through an attractive screen of grass. Or if I got bored lying around, I could check out the fluffy seedheads of other plants.

After taking pictures of grasses up close, I looked around at the larger picture, and realized that my lawn is overgrown, with lots of little flowers and interesting seedheads--and I like it that way. It reminds me of a meadow--much more interesting to me than regular expanses of cut grass. When our meadows book comes out in the fall, I’ll be sure to adopt some ideas from it. Maybe I’ll even convince the neighbors to get on board.

Chani West-Foyle, marketing associate

Mushrooms

2009-07-17T10:43:00.000-07:00

I was reading through Mushrooms of the Pacific Northwest today while working on a review copy mailing. I don’t really know a lot about mushrooms—I have never been foraging and I don’t like them in my food—but I do know that it is an immensely popular activity in the Pacific Northwest. After reading through the introduction, I had a general sense of what mushrooms are, where you can find them, general guidelines for collecting, and how to avoid getting poisoned. I actually feel like I could do this (with some guidance)!

So, with safety in mind, a few tips on how not to get poisoned while out foraging for mushrooms.

1. Identify all mushrooms before picking.
2. Don’t pick mushrooms from a place that may have been contaminated with chemicals.
3. Make sure all picked mushrooms are fresh and in good condition.
4. Never eat a mushroom unless it is positively identified as edible by you or by someone whose judgment you trust.
5. Never eat raw mushrooms.
6. When trying a new species, only eat a small amount.
7. Eat wild mushrooms in moderation.
8. Use extra caution when foraging in a new location.
9. When in doubt, throw it out.

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing associate
Taken from Mushrooms of the Pacific Northwest

Adventures of a Plant Explorer

2009-07-14T12:30:00.000-07:00

Plant explorer Dan Hinkley came through Portland recently, and told stories of seed collecting and traveling the world. His most recent book, The Explorer's Garden: Shrubs and Vines from the Four Corners of the World, includes excerpts from his garden journals. I imagine that it's the best possible way to keep track of all the many plants that he has encountered during his travels, in addition to the usual stories and situations that accompany traveling. Here is an excerpt from his chapter on the Azara species.

"This morning it was proven again that there is nothing that elongates a mile more efficiently, or that more lays to ruin the enjoyment of the moment, than an empty gas tank, a cognizance that has arisen in human consciousness swiftly and that will hopefully depart in same fashion. We left our lodging in Temuco in the dark this morning at 5:30, and I had not filled the tank as planned when we had arrived in town the night before. Heading toward Conguillio for a long day’s outing, lost and fogged by caffeine withdrawal, and hobbled by our pathetic command of the language, I watched the gauge drop from really low to really screwed. It was my fault. Coasting a Chilean secondary road on a prayer of fume, we finally found gas and Nescafé in an unlikely village. I celebrated by procuring a day-old potato and beef empanada for breakfast.

Our approach to the trailhead in our vehicle was by way of a dusty single-track road woven through the devastatingly beautiful landscape of a relatively recent lava flow, just as the sun rose above the ridge to the east, which blinded further still my driving abilities. I was ebullient, three hours after our departure, to be on the trail with the ordeal behind us.

We all drove the trail independent of one another, at different speeds, which was perfectly fine with me; I did not see my mates for most of the following eight hours. I was entranced by the immensity of the Nothofagus along the lower reaches of the trail: the largest I had ever seen, with impressive Araucaria as well. A particularly full and pyramidal specimen of Austrocedrus chilensis had me looking for seed on the ground for a considerable time.

At higher elevations, the low understory became a uniform blend of two plants: one I had met before and one I had not. The former was Maytenus magellanicus, looking so uncannily similar to our native Paxistima myrsinites that I caught myself transported mentally to a hike in Olympia. Kevin, Jennifer, and I collected this further northward in 1997. The other, however, was familiar but curious. In foliage and fruit, there was no question that this was in the genus Azara; as I was approaching the alpine zone, I could only believe this was actually A. alpina that I was seeing for the first time, an assertion I confirmed minutes ago with my reference books back at our hostel." -Temuco, Chile, March 3, 2005

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

Blue, Black, Silver, and Green

2009-07-14T12:24:00.000-07:00

Timber Press has been in interested in books on dramatic plant colors since we published (in North America) Deni Bown’s Alba in 1989. (That book was inspired by the fad for white gardens in the 1980’s based on Vita Sackville-West’s famous white-flower garden. Alas, it may be some time before white gardens return to general popularity. We hope to commission a new edition if they do.) Our next was Book of Blue Flowers, which we published in 2000, making much of the fact that blue is the rarest hue in nature. This book is still in print in paperback.

Our newest “monochrome” book is Black Plants, written by Paul Bonine, a local nurseryman and student of “shock and awe” in the garden. Copies are now shipping, following on the great success of our Green Flowers in spring of this year, which was written by a delightful London photographer and designer team. Also notable is Elegant Silvers, written by Joann Gardener and photographed beautifully by Karen Bussolini. Karen did a remarkable job of traveling the world finding silver plants in their garden and native habitats. We published it in 2004.

Next spring, look for a wonderful book entitled Color Companions--I don’t want to give everything away, but our estimable Tom Fischer is the author. Keeyla Meadows's Fearless Color Gardens releases this fall--be prepared for completely wild and daring color ideas! In short, Timber digs color.

Neal Maillet, Publisher

Refresh

2009-07-10T08:36:00.000-07:00

About this time of year, there is a lull in my garden activities. It's summer! There are dozens of places and events to dash off to at any given moment! Who has time to garden, anyway?

So it was nice to spend a quiet evening watering and noticing all the small beauties that I'm missing out on as a result of all the dashing.

Poppies poking through nasturtium leaves.

Dried chive blossoms with little black seeds.

Sun shining through the last two sugar snap peas (which were eaten immediately after this picture was taken.)

A ladybug on my dill. (Thank goodness, too - this dill was infested with aphids.)

Bean shoots climbing up garlic scapes.

And the lovely red flowers of said ambitious bean.

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

Get Outside!

2009-07-08T09:37:00.000-07:00

Though most of our titles sit on the gardening shelf, we also publish books about the Pacific Northwest. How could we not? We’re surrounded by such natural beauty and history it would be a waste not to celebrate it. Most of our regional titles are based around outdoor activities: hiking, city walks, mushroom foraging, and month-by-month adventures. In a city where the weather is fantastically sunny for only four months, every extra bit of summer needs to be taken advantage of. Off early on Friday? Take a walk around the waterfront. Up early Saturday morning? Pick a new hike in Forest Park.

Unfortunately, the weather today is grey and overcast. But the weekend forecast shows lots of sun. Here’s one way to enjoy it.

Oaks Bottom Wildlife Refuge via the Springwater Corridor

The Springwater Corridor is a wonderful bike and pedestrian path that runs along the Willamette River from the Sellwood Bridge to OMSI, just north of the Ross Island Bridge. The wide paved trail is designed to accommodate walkers, joggers, hikers, bicycles, wheelchairs, and strollers. The path follows parts of the Springwater Railroad Line, which ran between downtown Portland and Estacada from 1903 to 1958. North of Sellwood Park, the trail winds past the 163-acre Oaks Bottom Wildlife Refuge, a wetland habitat and a great place for birding.

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing associate
Trip pulled from The Willamette River Field Guide, by Travis Williams

Finding Inspiration

2009-07-07T08:35:00.000-07:00

This “remodeling the front yard” exercise that I am embarking upon can be a bit daunting at times. Occasionally, I feel confident about my abilities to dig up my front yard and plant it with things that look OK together. (Note that my goal is modest. I aspire to “OK”, and I hope to have some patches of “Pretty Good,” but I accept that “Wow – where did my socks go after they got knocked off?” is probably far in the future.) But mostly, I worry that I’ll mess the whole thing up and it will just look like a scramble. And scrambles are lovely for breakfast on Saturday mornings, but not so great when they are in your front yard.

A couple of work-related things have helped me get excited about this front yard project and gain some confidence. First, our executive editor Tom Fischer has written a book called Perennial Companions. It’s a lovely book, with some great ideas – but the most helpful part came from going to a talk that he gave about the book. During the talk, he said things like “It’s not the end of the world if some of your plants die”, and, “Go to a nursery, walk around with a plant in your arms, and hold it up to other plants to see how it looks.” (He didn’t mention that people will think you are nuts, which leads me to believe that people do this in nurseries all the time.) He has a very relaxed approach to garden design, and it helps me to relax and not expect everything to be perfect right away. Tom admits to killing some plants, and doesn’t seem too fussed about it. It must not be so bad.

One of Tom's recommended combinations, using Achillea Walter Funke. (How could you not love a plant with a name like that?)

Second, part of my job involves flipping through the books that we publish and counting pictures and pages. During this process I have seen all kinds of great ideas. Christopher Lloyd put together a combination of fennel and Oriental poppies that looks absolutely amazing. It’s nice to see what other people have done, and adopt ideas from them. It takes some of the pressure off. And once I've tried other people's ideas (and gotten used to killing some plants), maybe I'll have the confidence to try some of my own.

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

Deer Fence

2009-07-02T14:00:00.000-07:00

Friends asked me the other day why I looked so happy. I spun around, leapt up in the air and did a double cartwheel-backflip, shouting DEER FENCE!!! These guys know me pretty well and are prone to forgive and even encourage my embarrassing public excesses, so they jubilantly sang deer fence, deer fence with me as we linked arms and skipped down the street.

Okay, I’m exaggerating.

But not much. Any gardener who’s had her sacred plot ravaged by deer knows what a ten-foot tall fence means. Peace, sanity, preservation of a way of life. Not to mention tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, okra, and green beans--all homegrown like they’re s’posed to be. Are you surprised I fenced the veggies first? A gardener’s got to eat well to do her best work, right?

I did slip a few flowers into our 16x16 space: zinnias, nasturtiums (hey, they’re edible), mammoth sunflowers, climbing hyacinth beans and moon vine. I deliberately did not start adding plants like coleus and elephant ears from my collection of deer-tasty tropicals. That way madness lay, or at least serious overcrowding, which would earn me evil looks and loud complaints from my fence-building partner. Those plants will just have to enjoy one more summer in containers. Luckily, deer leave lots of tropicals untouched, so I can still grow cannas, bananas, lantanas, ginger lilies, salvias, and funky-smelling plectranthus unprotected.

Now that we have fresh pesto and tomato sandwiches covered, my partner and I can concentrate on fencing the rest of the garden. Next time my friends see me, I may just be somersaulting over a star!

Pam Baggett, author of Tropicalismo

Hopefully My Viburnum Will Forgive Me

2009-07-01T09:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Viburnum,

I’m sorry that I pruned you almost down to the ground last weekend.

I really enjoyed having you in my backyard. You had lovely flowers and foliage, and you gave the sparrows somewhere to sit while they chattered away about whatever sparrows chatter about. You were grand. Except – you were a little too big. You loomed over my kale, making it lean waaaay over to the side in an attempt to get at the sun. So I thought I would prune you down, and have the best of both worlds – a lovely Viburnum, and a lovely patch of straight-up-and-down kale.

I may have put too much trust in the phrase “Viburnums are forgiving of pruning.”

You are now very, very short, and bereft of leaves. I feel like a murderer – or at least an overconfident and foolish gardener. I really, really hope that you come back. I am even prepared to break my “no watering the ornamentals” rule and provide you with some water over the summer, so you have some sustenance during your long convalescence. Or at least, I hope it is convalescence, and not a death rattle.

After I was done pruning, I got an excellent view of the sparrows sunning themselves on the neighbor’s garage, which was previously blocked by your foliage. The looked like little pats of butter, softening down onto the roof in the sun. But I’m sure they are plotting vengeance.

I hope you make it. I’ll deliver your first bonus serving of water tonight.

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate and Guilty Shrub Killer

Urban gardening and 4-legged pests

2009-06-29T09:25:00.000-07:00

I’ve been gardening in the city for the past 3 years now, and have formed a strong opinion on squirrels, cats, dogs, and their, ahem, “relationship” with my garden. (I have opinions on bugs and slugs too, but those are easier to trap with beer.)

Let’s start with squirrels (who seem unaffected by beer – bummer.) Our esteemed next door neighbor has a squirrel feeder, which provides them with a constant supply of peanuts – and me with a constant supply of squirrels burying peanuts in my garden. It’s like a video game – squirrel gets peanut, squirrel comes over fence to bury said peanut, garden owner must chase squirrel off before it succeeds. Extra points for hitting squirrel with a jet of water! I wish I could designate a squirrel digging area – DIG HERE, AVOID SEEDLINGS. On the other hand, my husband enjoys laughing at my outrage, so there’s that.

Then there are cats. Honestly, I think cats are worse than squirrels. I prefer what squirrels bury to what cats bury. Coming across a peanut in the dirt? No biggy. Cat by-product? Yuck! We have two lazy indoor cats, who posture amusingly on windowsills when they see the outdoor interlopers. I encourage them to act as “guard cats”, but so far, chicken wire over my garden beds has proven to be more effective. It gives me a whole new appreciation for indoor cats – I think everyone should have them. Think of the gardens!

Lastly, though this is a rare problem, there is our neighbor’s dog. He’s usually very good, and doesn’t come dashing into my garden much. But he is large. And enthusiastic. And – well – there goes the lettuce, replaced by a filthy, squeaky toy. Sigh.

I can count my blessings, though. I have yet to see deer or rabbits. And I don’t live near a bar.

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

Location, location, location

2009-06-24T15:24:00.000-07:00

One area of ornamental gardening that often stumps me is the question of placement. Yes, I know – most plants that I buy will have a handy tag telling me where to put it. But sometimes it is still baffling! Take, for instance, my three heucheras, which live under the clematis vine.

The middle one is hard to see – which is exactly my point. Its tag said it liked partial shade (check) and moderate water (check). That’s exactly what it gets here, and yet my other two heucheras are doing quite well, while the middle child struggles. It looks healthy enough – it is just small. Perhaps it is overcome by the lovely foliage to its left.

I am told that digging up and moving perennials is a lot less fraught than digging up and moving vegetables, so maybe I’ll just move it. But where? Ah, now we are back to my original problem – placement.

Incidentally, my clematis vine is gorgeous. Here it was in the spring:

I can’t take any credit for placement, though. It was there when I moved in.

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

Rain

2009-06-24T08:34:00.000-07:00

Caring for a garden (particularly a vegetable garden) really makes you care about rain and sun. It’s easy to be obsessed: In the spring, when it is raining ALL the TIME, one wishes that it would quit raining because all your seedlings are drowning or rotting in the soil. They struggle, they swim, they wear yellow galoshes. (I would totally supply my vegetables with yellow galoshes, given the chance.) If only the sun would come out, one thinks, I would be perfectly happy and have a perfect garden.

Eventually the sun obliges, and after a little while (my personal limit is a week) of hot shiny days, one starts looking at the sky and being annoyed at all that blue. Does the planet not know that the LIVES OF MY VEGETABLES are at stake?

Fickle, fickle me. No wonder the weather doesn’t pay me any attention.

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

Succulent Serendipity

2009-06-22T09:01:00.000-07:00

A number of gardens in Portland feature Semperviviums, or "Hens and Chicks". They do really well here, growing up rock walls and covering swaths of vertical landscaping. I've always really liked them, and wanted them in my own garden.

My neighbors down the street have some lovely examples.

The problem, for me, is that since there are so many of these things everywhere, I've always felt like I shouldn't bother to buy a Sempervivium - surely one will appear in my path one of these days! I admire my neighbor's plants whenever I walk by, but I've never screwed up the courage to knock on their door and ask them if they would mind if I took a "chick" home with me.

I was just mentioning this to a friend yesterday. Then, as I walked along the sidewalk towards home - there it was! A little Sempervivium, orphaned, right in my path!

I hope it makes lots and lots of babies.

Chani West-Foyle

Low-Maintenance

2009-06-19T10:42:00.000-07:00

Other than vegetables, I subscribe to the “if it needs extra water, it doesn’t deserve to live” theory, which means that a lot of the ornamental that were in my front yard when I bought my house didn’t make it through their first year with me. It’s like the Marines, I like to tell myself: “the few, the proud - the ones who can do without water for four months.” A co-worker of mine says “I don’t kill plants – I just watch them die,” and I find that distinction very comforting when I think about the fate of those dearly departed perennials. (I don’t even know their names. I’m a monster.)

In the empty spots that somehow keep popping up in my front yard, I plan to plant things that are tough ‘n hardy, purty, impervious to neglect, and will give the crab grass a run for its money. Native plants are excellent for this sort of application – many of them are adapted to where I live anyway, so won’t require much care once established. Plus, they have the added bonus of providing food for local wildlife. One of our books, 50 High-Impact, Low-Care Garden Plants is also an excellent source of plants that require minimal care – every single plant in there is of the “plant it and forget it” variety. (Or, rather, “plant it and forget it, except when you are noticing how attractive it is.”) Thirdly, there is a book that we’ll publish at the end of the year that sounds right up my alley – The New Low-Maintenance Garden, by Valerie Easton. The parts of the book that I have seen are gorgeous and chock full of all kinds of beautiful, low-maintenance gardens, any one of which I would be happy to find serendipitously plopped down in front of my house. This book will go on my Christmas list.

I love a beautiful garden, but I have trouble keeping up with 4 raised beds of vegetables, and that’s only about 120 square feet. So I am always pleased to find books that recommend plants and techniques for fuss-free garden beauty. Maybe someday I'll have a full-fledged, 40-hour-a-week garden - but I'm not aiming to have one of those anytime soon.

Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate

Lessons from The Plant Explorer

2009-06-17T09:13:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to a talk given by Dan Hinkley, plant explorer extraordinaire. He has the enviable job of traveling around the world (I know) and hunting down new plants species and cultivars (I know!) to introduce to the gardeners of North America.

He described the process that he goes through to collect the seeds, clean them, and bring them to the US to be grown and tested before being introduced to the public at large. I learned, among other things, that seeds can take up to four years to sprout! (At the three year mark, one should begin warning the seeds that if they don't shape up and sprout soon, it's the compost pile for them.) This was a "duh" moment once it was explained to me - if all the seeds sprouted at once, and there was a drought, or, say, a very hungry caterpillar, that particular species of plant might not have survived for long. Staggering the germination rate gives the seeds multiple chances to take over the world. Seeds win!

I also wondered about the reasons for choosing a particular plant to bring back for testing. After all, when one is hiking in the wilds of (insert any country - he's probably been there), there are doubtless many trees, shrubs, perennials, annuals, EVERYTHING, all vying for attention. Dan said that he is typically drawn to plants that have interesting foliage, since flowers are fleeting, and he is often traveling in the fall. Other plant explorers may go for textured bark, or flowers, or plants that only grow upside down, but he likes foliage.

And the last lesson - if you are buying a house, and it is named "Windcliff", don't assume that it is just a quaint, lovely name. Assume that it means that your house is perched on a cliff and that it will be constantly buffeted by huge gusts of wind, and plan accordingly.

Chani West-Foyle, marketing associate

Read-A-Thon

2009-06-15T13:00:00.000-07:00

I went to a public Montessori elementary school in Cincinnati where most of our learning happened while sprawling out on the floor, or on these carpeted platforms in the room or hallway. Yes, we had desks, but I hardly remember sitting at them. We stayed in the same classroom for three years, and luckily, my 4th/5th/6th grade teacher was particularly enamored of reading and writing. This served me well and encouraged me in many ways. (Though--as I found out the hard way--going to seventh grade without knowing long division is a bad idea!)

Anyways, my absolute favorite days were our classroom Read-A-Thons. This was pretty much an excuse to curl up in whatever cubby or corner we wanted, whisper a bit with friends, fulfill sugar cravings, and devour as many books as we could. It was like a big slumber party, except we read instead of slept. I remember the pure satisfaction and comfort of settling into a good book and losing track of time and place. There was a peace and elated exhaustion on the bus ride home at the end of those reading days. I loved it.

Which brings me to the point of this post. I still love it. And I feel so lucky to have wiggled my way into the editorial assistant position that I have at Timber Press. In the few short months I've been here, I've been reading, reading, reading. The topics range from low-maintenance gardens and American meadows to chile peppers and black plants; maybe the gripping drama of a Judy Blume classic is missing, but the education and thrill is still there.

If I hosted a Read-A-Thon in my office would anyone join me? All we need are snacks, pillows, sleeping bags, and some manuscripts. And maybe some more snacks.

Mollie Firestone, editorial assistant

Books and the Butcher

2009-06-11T13:45:00.000-07:00

Tody in our staff meeting our publisher compared the editorial to production side of publishing to making sausage--"Sometimes you don't want to know how it was made."

It's a funny yet valid point. To the reader, a book is a delightfull collection of bound sheets between paper or board. They don't know that at one point it was a glimmer of an idea that an editor fought for, or a pile of (sometimes handwritten) papers that an editor has to turn into a compelling read that then must be sent to production to become an actual product.

It's probably better that way. If everyone knew the process, book buying could become really exhausting.

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing associate

Why I Like Martha

2009-06-11T11:22:00.000-07:00

One of my intern duties at Timber Press is magazine perusal. The office subscribes to a number of titles that relate to gardening and book publishing and the Pacific Northwest, and it’s my job to page through them and see if any Timber books have been reviewed or are mentioned in articles. (I know, it's pretty glamorous work.)Yesterday I was working through the pile and came to Martha Stewart Living. And I felt…excited.

Not that there’s anything inherently wrong or weird in liking Martha’s mag. It’s just that I’m 26, male, and I really love eating $4 burritos. So I’m not exactly Martha’s target audience. But, I can’t stop myself from admitting that it is a really good magazine. Let's use the newest issue as a sample. There’s a story near the front detailing simple-to-make lobster recipes (lobster pot pie!) Later, a section outlines how to host a lobster bake. Then the back page is devoted to something called vanilla-raspberry sundaes with spoon-shaped cookies--so you make cookies that look like spoons, eat a sundae with the utensil you just baked, and then eat the “dishes.” Those three pieces work together to create this imagined celebration of summertime eating.

Some people might actually make the ideas a reality, but I am almost positive I never will (it all must cost way more than $4 and not a single burrito is involved). Still, it was fun to read about. I was “engaged,” as people in the marketing industry like to say.

Dan Leif, publicity intern

Weeds

2009-06-09T10:11:00.001-07:00

Garden magazines recommend that you begin getting rid of your weeds early in the season, so they won’t balloon into backyard monsters, intimidating the timid and spreading seeds far and wide. It is excellent advice. I recommend it--two thumbs up!

However, in a classic example of do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do, my weeds get away from me every year. They have a quiet way of putting on spurts of growth beyond your wildest expectations, and the weed that yesterday was modest (“I’ll just pull it tomorrow”) is now Godzilla in the backyard. And I can’t remember how Godzilla was brought down, but I imagine that it took something drastic, and I don’t know where in Portland to get flamethrowers and bomber aircraft.

Once weeds reach Godzilla size, I start to regard them less as weeds and more as volunteer ornamentals. I am interested to see how they manage, what kind of flowers they will have, how they survive in the toughest environments in my garden. I’ve encountered some lovely weeds this way--and if I don’t have anything to plant it that particular spot, why not leave the weeds be?

Some of my weeds are attractive enough that I’m thinking about how I can naturalize them in other areas of the garden. After all, they have proved that they can survive on neglect and abuse--which I find very attractive in a perennial.

Chani West-Foyle, marketing associate

Bestsellers

2009-06-08T13:32:00.000-07:00

I have to allow myself a moment to brag on behalf of Timber Press and our publishing partners at Storey, Workman, and Algonquin.

Indiebound released the 25 bestselling titles in the gardening and nature category, and we took 11 of the 25 spots!

Wicked Plants debuted at number two.

Carrots Love Tomatoes is still a bestseller after ten years!

The new paperback edition of Bringing Nature Home is going strong.

And an extra congratulations to Tom Fischer, our editor-in-chief. His first book, Perennial Companions, came in at number ten.

The complete list can be found here.

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing associate

A Bouquet of Green

2009-06-05T16:54:00.000-07:00

I’m getting married in fifteen days. Some of the planning has been tedious (who really cares that much about the color of table linens?) but it has been a mostly carefree and fun process. I really liked picking my flowers. They are all different shades of green--echeveria, ranunculus, hydrangeas, tulips, snap dragons, and garden roses. The unexpected color makes even the most common flowers look unique.

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing associate
Pictures taken from Green Flowers: Unexpected Beauty for the Garden, Container, and Vase

Create Your Own Wildlife Refuge

2009-06-05T15:47:00.000-07:00

Last night I finished watching the series Planet Earth.

Most of the series contained gorgeous footage of animals from all over the globe and in every ecosystem--jungles, seas, deserts, mountains, etc. There were serious contenders for The Absolute Cutest Baby Animal Ever (I nominate baby musk oxen), and footage of animals interacting with each other in their environments (i.e., eating and being eaten.) The whole thing was very well done; a fascinating and beautiful series.

The last disc explores the effects of global warming and the interactions between humans and animals/plants, who are all competing for the same land. These parts of a nature show are always overwhelming--the obstacles are so great, and the questions aren't easy, and the answers even less so. Often at the end of these sorts of shows, I want to burn all my worldly possessions and go live in a mud hut where I can have zero impact on the earth, but then I realize that burning everything would emit too much carbon dioxide, and maybe my mud hut would accidentally cover over the last surviving member of a particular variety of ant, and I would be back to square one. It’s so hard to realize that you can’t make it better, all at once, all by yourself. What to do?

This time, I thought about Doug Tallamy’s message in Bringing Nature Home. Plant native plants, he says, which will give native species a place to eat and reproduce. It’s such a small thing--it feels almost too small--but it is something that I can do. My plan to remodel the front yard suddenly includes a lot more native plants. I opened up my native plants encyclopedia and started looking this morning.

Doug was recently on NPR's Science Friday. To listen, click here.

Chani West-Foyle, marketing associate

South African Disa

2009-06-03T09:11:00.000-07:00

As an orchidist as well as a garden writer and photographer, whenever I cover either of the massive Royal Horticultural Society Flower Shows in England, I head straight for the orchid exhibits. Every year I go to at least one of the two biggest shows--in May, it’s always the Chelsea Flower Show in London (where I have just been), and in July it’s the world’s largest plant show, the Hampton Court Palace Flower Show. I am continually struck by how similar the orchid varieties popularly grown in Britain are to the ones we grow in the United States, particularly the hybrids. In my new orchid book, Bloom-Again Orchids, I used this universality to choose the most popular and easy-to-flower orchid types. I confess to sometimes getting a bit blasé about orchid exhibits, having seen literally thousands over the years, but last year at Hampton Court I was blown away by an exhibit that featured just one type of orchid: the glorious, often unknown, South African Disa.

The exhibit from Dave Parkinson Plants in Yorkshire, England, was truly spectacular, full of vivid orange, red, pink, and cream-colored uniquely hooded blooms. Disas actually are a big cut flower industry, but home orchid lovers don’t realize how relatively easy these gorgeous and brightly colored flowers are to grow. Parkinson is on a mission to change the difficult perception of Disas, and I heartily agree; I made sure they’re in my new book. The trick? Unlike most orchids, which rot when overwatered, these summer-blooming streamside natives should never dry out. Don’t let them get too hot and--the real key--only use rainwater for watering. I grew mine very successfully sitting the pot in an inch of water under four fluorescent tubes in my cool basement.

A source in the United States is Camp One Orchids in Oregon. Definitely try Disas, especially if you’ve gotten a tad blasé about your own orchids. They make great wedding flowers, especially since they often bloom in June.

The exhibit, by the way, earned a well-deserved and highly coveted Gold Medal.

-judywhite
Author & Photographer of the award-winning Taylor’s Guide to Orchids (Houghton Mifflin, 1996) and the upcoming Bloom-Again Orchids (Timber Press, Fall 2009
www.gardenphotos.com

Germination!

2009-06-02T11:00:00.000-07:00

Eight days after I planted the seeds in a plastic flat on my windowsill, I noticed my tomato and basil plants had popped their little green heads out of the soil. This was the first time I had ever sown a seed and seen it sprout. I clapped my hands and shouted out something about how I hadn’t failed my first test as a gardener. My friend Jeff, watching TV in the next room, yelled back that I’d have plenty of time to fail as a gardener once the plants are moved outside.

Well, Jeff can take his pessimism and compost it. I’m excited about this whole planting thing. And in my rush of enthusiasm, I’ve decided to name my plants. Do people ever do this? We name our cars, our guitars, our iPods. And those things don’t even turn into food. So, anyway, my taller, kind-of-sideways-growing basil sprout shall henceforth be known as Fawlty. The (for now) shorter basil plant is Napoleon. The three tomato plants that have popped through the surface: Brandon, LaMarcus and Rudy (because those are my three favorite Portland Trailblazers and because calling a vegetable LaMarcus is hilarious). Then I have one more tomato plant that has yet to sprout. I’m calling that one Hope.

Dan Leif, intern

A lupin the size of our car

2009-05-29T13:22:00.000-07:00

Yesterday when my husband and I got to our son’s elementary school to pick him up, we found him sitting on the playground cradling a tiny plant in a big nursery tub. He was thrilled to inform us that it was a lupin given to him by Julia, the school’s AmeriCorp volunteer and keeper of the school garden. Apparently the students that helped in the garden were allowed to dig up one each to take home. He really could not wait to get it planted in our back yard for two reasons- 1) Julia told him that he should be careful where he plants it because it will grow “as big as our car” (fortunately we have a small hatchback) and 2) Remus Lupin, of course! The werewolf from Harry Potter! What could be more exciting to a 10 year old boy than the idea of growing a werewolf plant the size of a four door import? Because parents are killjoys we pointed out that there’s hardly room in our yard for something that big, but Harold shot back with the suggestion that we tear down the garden shed and plant it in that spot. It is a good suggestion since Portland’s record snowfall last winter nearly caved in the roof. It’s supposed to be nice this weekend, I think we’ll be in the yard finding a nice spot where the lupin can get some sunshine, and unobstructed views of a full moon.

Sue Korpela, Operations Manager

Everything I Know About My Viburnum, I Learned At Work

2009-05-27T13:24:00.001-07:00

I have a lovely viburnum in my backyard.

I know that it is a viburnum because we published a book about them, and it looks an awful lot like the viburnums in the book. Before the publication of the book? My viburnum was just “that big reddish, greenish, shrub thing in the backyard.” Now it has a name, and I can look intelligent when guests ask me what it is.

My viburnum is right next to my vegetable beds.

As it got taller, it started to shade out the vegetables. That would never do. I referred our book on viburnums, and was told that viburnums are “forgiving” of pruning.

Thank goodness, because I immediately employed the “hack, maim, and destroy” method, and took a monstrous chomp out of the bottom of the shrub. It looks a bit like a tree on the savannah – top heavy and totally bereft of foliage for as high up as the antelope can eat it. I’m low on antelope in Portland, but you get the idea.

After a year of looking at my poor misshapen viburnum, I think that I will take a kinder, gentler approach the next time around. This time, I think I’ll refer to our book on pruning (in which the “hack, maim, and destroy” method does not appear) for advice.

Learning about pruning on one’s lunch break? Priceless.

Chani West-Foyle, marketing associate

The Life of an Author

2009-05-20T16:02:00.000-07:00

Last night I attended an author event at Powell's Books. Scott Calhoun is the owner of Zona Gardens and the author of Designer Plant Combinations, a book from Storey Publishing. We met him before the event for dinner at the deli counter of New Seasons (the best grocery store in Portland). In between bites of our sandwiches and salads, he told us bits about his trip, his family, and his garden design business.

One of the unique aspects of publishing is the speed of the schedule and the rigor of producing new books every season, which can be both good and bad. On the plus side, the chance to work with new material all the time keeps me on my feet and doesn't really allow time for boredom. But, the schedule can make it difficult to sit down and really get to know the author behind each great idea. When I do get a chance to spend time with an author and hear stories about his dog, and his daughter, and the trials of a book tour, I get a better sense of the book they've written. It's an opportunity that I wish happened more often.

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing assoctiate

Stoner Bees

2009-05-19T15:39:00.000-07:00

I have some California poppies in my backyard, and I like to watch the bees discover them. They lounge about in the middle of the flower, rolling over and losing their balance and falling off, only to fly back on a second later. They seem to get impatient with the flowers if they haven’t opened early enough--jamming their heads and bodies into the still closed flower and forming a little orange, vibrating package of petal, sometimes with a stray leg poking out.

It’s hard not to anthropomorphize them--they look so funny as they stumble from the California poppies, to the clover, to the rosemary, and back to the poppies again, covered with pollen and flying crooked. I know that they are supposed to be busy critters, but since I can’t tell them apart, it seems like there are just a few bees who hang out on the flowers all day, getting drunk on pollen. Teenagers these days!

I always like seeing them, though. It’s like finding earthworms in your dirt--you must be doing something right. This year I planted some crimson clover, and it finally flowered and lived up to its name.

The bees haven’t hit the crimson clover vintage as much as the rosemary and California poppy vintage, but maybe they’ll ease into it. I’ll continue to host punch-drunk honeybees and wallowing bumblebees in the Backyard Flower Bar, and maybe they’ll pollinate some of my vegetables if I promise not to call their parents.

Chani West-Foyle, marketing associate

Old Files

2009-05-18T10:18:00.000-07:00

Timber’s bestselling title is Well-Tended Perennial Garden by Tracy Disabato-Aust. It’s had 28 printings in two editions and is just shy of 200,000 copies in print. Of course, we could not have predicted what was about to happen when we signed up Tracy’s book in 1993. We originally printed just 5000 copies--but even that was a pretty big print run for us at the time.

While I was preparing to present Tracy at our Fall sales conference, I spent a little time going through her book’s original folder. I had to chuckle as I read some of my original pre-contract notes:

“Can author’s PPA paper support a book?”
“Author has presented to professionals.”
“Even author found topic dull at one time?”
“No useless generalizations.”
“Need to have a broader range of maintenance? Watering?”
“Discuss containers?”
“Author quite an evangelist--she’s sold me.”

I’m delighted to report that Tracy neglected to take me up on many of my inexpert editorial suggestions--including my advice that she cut out the bit about soil amendment. Let’s get straight to the pruning, right?! If Tracy had followed my advice, I think we would still be working on the first printing of 5000 copies.

Neal Maillet, publisher

The Dangers of Urban Gardens

2009-05-15T14:58:00.000-07:00

There was an article in The New York Times on Wednesday that warned of the dangerous levels of lead found in the soil of many urban gardens. Between this and Michael Tortorello's hilarious blog about the challenges and pitfalls of starting a vegetable garden, it's beginning to seem like the Home & Garden section is beginning a revolt against the edible gardening trend!

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing associate

Self Deception

2009-05-15T14:52:00.000-07:00

One of the pieces of advice given to vegetable growers is to track the amount of sun that your property receives at different times of the day and at different points in the year. This is because vegetables require 8 full hours of sun, period, full-stop, do-not-pass-go. Woe betide the vegetable grown in a mere 6 hours of sun! Have you not SEEN what 6 hours of sun can do to a rutabaga??

Such advice can be intimidating---who has time to wait a year to track your sun patterns?? I wanna put plants in the ground NOW! So I’ve ignored the advice, mostly out of fear that that I don’t actually have 8 hours of sun. But this year I decided to do it---maybe I can reach my full gardening potential.

The temptation to cheat is overwhelming, and my capacity for self-deception is astonishing. “Sure, the sun doesn’t shine full on the front bed until 9 am, but it gets filtered light through the trees at 8 am, so I’ll count that too! And I didn’t actually see that the sun stops shining on the beds at 2 pm, so I’ll just guess and say 2:30! That’s almost seven hours, which is really close to 8 hours – plenty of time! And as for the backyard, the sun reflects off the house, making up for the extra two hours of sun that it doesn’t have!”

I expect a vegetable uprising any day now.

Chani West-Foyle, marketing associate

On Slugs

2009-05-13T16:23:00.000-07:00

In Forest Park, here in Portland, there are a number of banana slugs. They are fascinating critters, yellow with brown spots, you can see where the “banana” came from. Plus, according to Wikipedia , banana slugs can reach up to 9.8 inches in length!

I can appreciate the banana slug. Especially because they know their place---Forest Park. The small brown garden slugs that don’t know their place (far away!), and have eaten all my carrot seedlings for the third time? I can’t muster any enthusiasm for them. I can muster some beer traps, though.

Chani West-Foyle, marketing associate

What to Plant, Harvest, and Cook in May

2009-05-11T15:49:00.000-07:00

Historically, Timber Press has published books almost exclusively devoted to ornamental plants--annuals, perennials, trees, shrubs, bulbs, and more. Unfortunately, plants enjoyed for their aesthetic traits aren't the coolest kids at the table now that everyone is growing a vegetable garden.

So, for those of you that have been growing vegetables for years and already have a productive garden, now is about the time you should be able to harvest your peas. Once you do, enjoy eating them in this delicious recipe.

Risotto with Fresh Peas
*Serves four

1 medium-sized onion
1 garlic clove
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 ¾ cups Arborio rice
juice of ½ lemon
4 cups chicken stock
¼ cup Parmesan cheese
1 teaspoon butter
salt and pepper to taste

Finely dice the onion and garlic. In a large saucepan, add the olive oil and sweat the onion and garlic over a medium heat until soft. Add the rice and stir until coated with oil. Add the lemon juice and stir until liquid has evaporated. Add one ladle of chicken stock and lower the heat. As you stir, add the stock ladle by ladle as it is absorbed by the rice. After about twelve minutes, add the peas and continue cooking rice. The rice will take about 18 minutes to cook. Before serving, add the Parmesan and butter. Season to taste.

Kathryn Juergens, sales and marketing associate
Recipe pulled from The Family Kitchen Garden, available now

Moss Carpet

2009-05-11T11:22:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, I spent some time halfheartedly pulling up dandelions in my front yard. I am quite fond of dandelions--I love that they smell like honey, I love that you can eat them, I love how cheerful they look all over my front lawn. I buy the statement “they loosen impacted soil.” And (I should really look both ways before admitting this), I love blowing dandelion seeds all over the place. (It’s a thrill when you pick one that you can denude of seeds all in one breath.) But my very kind neighbors on each side of me have immaculate green lawns, and I hate to think of them looking at my yellow-studded lawn and having chest palpitations. Dandelions are nothing if not democratic in choosing where to grow. So in the interest of neighborly harmony, I try to keep the dandelions from getting too out of control.

This year, my front lawn will be subject to my first foray into ornamental gardening. I’ve always been an enthusiastic vegetable gardener, but only recently have I had the urge to put in some ornamentals. (Mostly to avoid mowing, I must admit.) As I weeded, I thought about my current lack of plans, and how I should really get going on that, and also about how wonderful the moss growing in my front yard is. It is so soft and plush and green. I realize that it means that I have horrible drainage and soil quality (impacted soil! Bring on the dandelions!), but it was impossible to care. It felt like I was wearing knee pads--if it hadn’t been raining (plus very public), it would have been the perfect soft spot for an outdoor nap. Perhaps I should try to keep a mossy area in my front yard after all--good thing I work in an office that has a whole book on moss gardening!

Chani West-Foyle, marketing associate