For the past eight months, I’ve been writing a weekly gardening column over at ReadyMade.

Today, that column is moving here. There’s a name change in the works, but it’ll still be the same fun, honest, informative, and creative gardening column. There will be lots of tips, opportunities to learn from my trials and errors, plenty of fabulous photos, and of course GIVEAWAYS! I hope you’ll stick with me on this journey. Keep your eyes peeled: I’ll be giving away a copy of MAKING IT: RADICAL HOME EC for a POST-CONSUMER WORLD to celebrate the move in the next few days!

Ever since I started telling people about my plan to put a kitchen garden in our front yard, I’ve been fielding a lot of questions. Usually the conversation goes a little bit like this:

Concerned relative, friend, or neighbor: What are you going to plant in those boxes?

Me: Vegetables.

CRFoN: Right here, out in front?

Me: Yes.

CRFoN: Why not in back?

Me: Because we need an enclosed space for the dog(s).

CRFoN: You’re not worried about your vegetable garden being exposed?

Me: Not really, no.

CRFoN: But…don’t you think people will steal your vegetables?

Me: Um…

The idea that our garden might be raided by vegetaburglers* had honestly never crossed my mind, but seeing as how the concern has widely troubled this diverse group, I figured I might as well give it some thought. So, I found a quiet spot, got comfortable, closed my eyes, and tried to look into the future. Would thieving neighbors surreptitiously enter my garden after dark like felt-footed fairies to filch carrots and kale? Would random passersby be so overcome by their passion for local produce that they’d lose all self-control and pilfer our peppers? It was an entertaining thought (entertaining enough to be the basis for a Broadway musical, perhaps), but I found it doubtful.

My conclusion: Because I’ll be growing vegetables and not iPhones, I’m not too worried about it—but hey, if it happens, it’ll make for an interesting post.

Vegetaburgling concerns alleviated for the moment, I set about making the garden both a functional and nice-looking space. Because the raised beds comprise a good portion of our landscaping in front, we wanted them to potentially enhance our curb-appeal, so I considered a few different options:

1. Ordering cedar, redwood, or willow kits online and assembling the beds ourselves (a strong contender)

2. Building the beds ourselves (so much for curb appeal!)

3. Hiring a carpenter to build them for us

My friend and neighbor Stephanie (horticulture student and small business-owner extraordinaire—she’s been a huge help, and you’ll be hearing more about her, later) drew up a design that included seven raised beds. I assumed it would be prohibitively expensive to have a local carpenter build the beds to order, but figured there was no harm in pricing it out. I’m glad I did—the carpenter’s bid came in below the cost of ordering seven kits online. We got exactly what we wanted and ended up saving money and time.

To distinguish the kitchen garden from the rest of the landscaping, and for good drainage and footing between the beds, Stephanie and I decided to lay a simple border of brick (remember all that brick?), and fill it with a layer of sand and a layer of gravel. I chose a gravel called Palm Springs Gold as much for its pretty shades of pale yellow, rose, and grayish blue as for its low cost. Palm Springs Gold is a manmade, crushed rock (rather than a smooth, natural river rock) that’s ideal for the space between the beds because the jagged pieces bind together well, resulting in a more stable surface for walking.

Once we had the 33 bags of gravel on site, we got started spreading it around the beds. Sounds easy, right? Rip open the bags, empty ‘em out, and scatter the stones like it’s no big thing.

Word to the wise: I nearly put myself out of commission. You know when you start a project, and then simply can’t bring yourself to quit until it’s done? I started on the gravel with Stephanie’s help; when she had to take off, I obsessively continued lifting, moving, and emptying the remaining 75lb bags of gravel by myself. Twenty-five of them, to be exact.

It was very rewarding to get it all done…and I paid the price with a ferocious back ache for the better part of the week that followed. I went through eight pounds of Epsom salts and was still hurting. But man, that gravel looks good.

Next challenge: Filling the slope between the kitchen garden and the sidewalk with a neighborly border of drought tolerant and native plants. Because, you know, I’m not worried about vegetaburglers.

*Vegetaburgler n
somebody who enters a garden to steal vegetables

Originally published at ReadyMade.com

Last year, my man and I bought our first home, a 1930s Spanish Revival bungalow that needed as much TLC as it had charm (and boy, was it ever charming). We spent the better part of 2010 renovating, and now, finally (praise be!), we are moving on to the yard.

Yard space was a huge requirement when we were house hunting—I’d trade inside space for outside space any old day—and I knew I wanted to achieve two things: Puppy Paradise in the back, and Garden of Eden (or at least, you know, a kitchen garden) in the front. Of course, this was going to take some doing. Especially since I’ve never so much as owned a potted basil plant, and don’t know the first thing about gardening.

Upon closing escrow, the backyard was home to more than ten trees (and no, it’s not a big yard), all planted in the worst possible places. There were Eucalyptus growing into power lines, Ficus tearing up a wall, and a grove of Junipers in a corner. As a card-carrying tree-hugger, it pained me to see them go, but there was no way to let them thrive where they’d been planted. We kept a Eugenia and one much-abused Chinese Elm, but I’ll tell you about that later.

Where there weren’t trees, there was concrete and brick. A lot of brick. A whole darn courtyard of brick, set in sand, under four inches of dirt. Oh—I also found two action figures in a shallow grave: A red Davy Crocket and a yellow Native American, probably left there in a time when less appropriate terms for the latter were considered A-OK.

What, you thought I was kidding?

In front, we were faced with four more Ficus (planted right up against the foundation, thank you very much) and 25 antique rose bushes, not to mention a large expanse of water-guzzling grass.

Ditching the Ficus and the lawn for drought tolerant, native plants and a vegetable garden was a no-brainer. We’re smack in the middle of Los Angeles, where water remains a limited and precious resource. The city even offers rebates to homeowners who swap out their turf grass for a low-water alternative. (This was, by the way, my first big FAIL: I ripped out the lawn before asking about the program, and they don’t offer retroactive rebates.)

I was happy to see the lawn and the Ficus go, but I admit I felt a little sentimental about the roses. I knew I didn’t want them, but I also didn’t want to see them trashed. Word on the street was that they were the pride and joy of Virginia, the woman who lived in the house before us. Neighbors describe her as having been “a real pistol.” She lived in the house for forty years (and died in it, too). The roses were still deliciously fragrant, and after months of neglect, with no water and no pruning, they continued to bloom in an array of gorgeous colors. I let neighbors know that they were welcome to dig them out at will, but had no takers. Then I had a bright idea: Freecycle.

After we moved, I freecycled all of our moving boxes. Maybe, just maybe, I thought, someone would want our rosebushes, too. Much to my surprise and delight, the rosebushes were spoken for within thirty minutes of posting. Two days later they were gingerly dug out, driven across town, and re-homed.

As for removing the brick, well—let’s just say that this landscaping novice learned the hard way to use gloves. Ouch.

Now our front and back yards are cleared of poorly planted trees (we chopped the Juniper for firewood) and thirsty plants. The concrete has been busted up and repurposed for paths, and the brick has been stacked (I’m looking for places to re-use it, and have already found a few).

Seven empty raised vegetable beds make their home where our front lawn once grew, and from here on out, I’ll be learning the art of growing as I go. Care to get your fingernails dirty with me?

Originally published at ReadyMade.com

A print and online publication about positive news and “the people and ideas that are changing our world for the better,” Ode was founded in the Netherlands in 1995 and originally published in Dutch, but since 2004 it’s been available in English.  The print version appears ten times a year, and the blog is frequently updated.

More about Ode:

Over the past 12 years, Ode has helped make the ‘alternative’ media space more mainstream. The magazine profiled people like clown-doctor Patch Adams, guru Deepak Chopra and Dr. Andrew Weil long before more conventional publications made them household names.

During this time, Ode also built a community of readers who are passionate about the magazine and the issues for which it stands: positive social, environmental and economic change. Because these readers have a lot to say for themselves - and to each other- Ode created a new website that allows them to communicate, socialize and contribute to Ode. Odemagazine.com’s mix of print and online journalism with user-generated content and social networking makes it unique on the Web.

In print and online, Ode’s aim is to bring a new reality into view, to explore opportunities for positive change in our daily lives and our daily minds.

American Red Cross - Greater Los Angeles Area: 866-548-8226

Fire Stations that are accepting food and water donations:

Shelters:

Red Cross Evacuation Shelter
Verdugo Hills High School
10625 Plainview Ave
Tujunga, CA 91042

Marie Kerr Park
2723 Rancho Vista Blvd
Palmdale, CA 93551
(661) 267-5551

Golden Valley High School
27051 Robert C Lee Parkway
Santa Clarita CA 91350

La Cañada High School.
4463 Oak Grove Dr,
La Canada Flintridge, CA 91011-3797

Also:

VCA Animal Hospitals are offering free boarding for the pets of people affected by the fires.

More about making sure evacuees pets aren’t left behind, a la Katrina.

My bachelorette party went a little something like this: Brunch at Madeleine Bistro (having eclipsed the age where I can still hold my liquor, I opted for beignets instead of booze), an afternoon volunteering at Animal Acres, and a picnic lunch afterward.  It was perfect for me and enjoyed by all.

Not sure where to start? VolunteerMatch is a good place to begin…

Lately I’ve been lucky: When my new OB/GYN, the caring and talented Dr. Stacey Rosenbaum, learned that I was a vegan, she offered no criticism.  Instead, she had the foresight to suggest that I take an extra folic acid supplement, just in case I become pregnant.  Dr. Rosenbaum gets an A+.  Now I need to find a General Practicioner on the same wavelength.

Googling thus far, I’ve only found one Los Angeles-based doctor who identifies herself as a vegan.  Her name is Dr. Heather Shenkman, she’s an Interventional Cardiologist, and this is her blog.  I had high hopes that her office would be able to refer me to a GP who would, at the least, be informed about and accepting of veg*nism, but my phone call led to a dead end.  Dr. Shenkman said that she was the only veg-friendly LA doc she knew of.

I have to believe that there are other Los Angeles physicians who are knowledgeable about living healthy as a veg*an.  I’m going to compile a list here, and I hope you’ll help me.  If you are, or know of, a vegetarian or vegan-friendly Los Angeles-based medical doctor (all kinds welcome) please email me and I’ll add your contact info to the list.

Vegetarian & Vegan Friendly Medical Doctors in Los Angeles:
Rita R. Kumar, M.D. - Internal Medicine, Clinical Genetics
Anna Milstein, M.D. - Cardiology, Internal Medicine
Stacey P. Rosenbaum, M.D. - OB/GYN
Heather Shenkman, M.D. - Cardiology

PLAYING IN THE DIRT: The back yard of Sophie Clanton, which won awards for Xeriscaping. (Photo: John Davenport/ZUMA)

When I tell Cassy Aoyagi, the friendly and knowledgeable co-owner of C&K Landscape Design, that I want to talk to her about xeriscaping, she laughs.

“The term xeriscaping is so ’70s,” she says. “I think there are really weird associations with it — people see gravel and cactus.”

In case you missed the coining of the term “xeriscape” in 1978, it can very simply be defined as dry landscaping: Gardening in dry regions without much in the way of supplemental irrigation. Seems easy enough — just plant a bunch of cacti, throw in some rocks, and call it a day — but there’s a tad more to it. The term xeriscaping is more and more often interchanged with the phrase “native gardening.” It’s a growing movement that strives to reintroduce plants that are native to dry regions such as Southern California, where they’ve long been squeezed out by thirsty and needy exotics.

Aoyagi and her team are a full-service, Southern California-based landscape design, construction and maintenance company. Specializing in sustainability, they endeavor to make every project as environmentally friendly as possible, which means using lots of natives along with recycled, repurposed materials.

Despite what she calls “terrible stereotypes” associated with natives, Aoyagi has noticed a marked increase in requests for native gardens in the last year. That’s partly thanks to a growing interest in the environment, and partly because native gardening means less water and less maintenance. And although those “terrible stereotypes” about native plants exist — “When people bring up natives, they envision woody, weedy stuff that’s half-dead by the end of summer,” Aoyagi explains — the reality is that xeriscapers aren’t limited by a lack of options.

According to Louise Lacey, whose website Growing Native offers a wealth of information on working with native California plant communities, there are more than 5,000 species native to the Golden State — and that’s not counting subspecies.

Lacey fell into native gardening years ago when living in a shady place on a shoestring budget. With a 60-mile commute, she didn’t have the time or money to care for a needy garden. She fell in love with the plants at a local native plant botanic garden, and quickly realized that they would solve all of her gardening problems.

“I wouldn’t have to water; I wouldn’t have to do anything,” she explains. “They didn’t need me.”

It’s an amazing concept for those accustomed to gardening with exotics, whose care requires water, fertilizer, pesticides and lots of time, but Lacey stresses that even natives do need some attention in the first few years.

Aoyagi echoes that sentiment.

“The biggest misconception about natives is that they don’t require any maintenance,” she warns. “Don’t do any planting, including natives, if you’re not willing to maintain it, because you’ll be disappointed.”

Once they’re established, though, they know how to take care of themselves. Lacey insists that three years after getting started, her native garden only required eight hours of care — per year.

What was born of necessity quickly turned into a life’s passion. Through trial and error, Lacey learned the basics of native gardening, which she now offers online. She’s also quick to speak about the healing aspects of native gardening — both for the earth, and for the gardener.

“It’s really a spiritual experience,” she says, going on to describe how growing native plants creates natural habitats for native fauna such as bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds.

Lili Singer, special projects coordinator for the Theodore Payne Foundation in Sun Valley, Calif., designed her own native garden specifically to attract hummingbirds. A horticulturist, garden consultant and garden writer whose work has appeared in the Los Angeles Times, Singer grew up in the San Fernando valley, where she hosted a garden show on KCRW for more than a decade, and worked as the publisher and editor of The Southern California Gardener and The Gardener’s Companion, both specifically focused on gardening in Southern California. Throughout her career in radio and print, she has always included native plants and endorsed the Theodore Payne Foundation, a nonprofit nursery dedicated to promoting the understanding, use and preservation of California’s native flora.

“The foundation has 22 acres, most of it undeveloped, in the middle of residential,” Singer explains. “It’s kind of like this little oasis. We have demonstration gardens, a big retail nursery, an art gallery and an education center with programs all year.”

One of the things Singer was hired to do was get the Theodore Payne Foundation into farmers markets, and she says the Hollywood Farmers’ Market has made Sunday her favorite day of the week.

“We had a native coyote mint plant in there one week, and it had a flower on it. Coyote mint is a butterfly attractor, and there we were, in the middle of this urban farmers market with 7,000 people walking by and all of these booths, and butterflies came in and found the plant.”

The anecdote is a testimony to Singer’s belief that putting natives into home gardens may be the way to save certain species.

“Most insects will not eat non-native plants,” she explains. “Butterflies will not lay their eggs on non-native plants. If we don’t have those little caterpillars, we don’t have birds eating them, and we don’t have the birds. It’s a picture of the food chain, and the fact that we’ve destroyed most of our wild lands means that we can’t depend on that being the sanctuary for the wild animals anymore.”

It’s a bad state of affairs, but the good news is that Aoyagi, Lacey and Singer are all optimistic about the positive impact of native gardening, not to mention the growing interest in it. The moral of the story: Whether you’re planting your own small garden or hiring a landscape design company, try going native.

Resources

Interested gardeners across the United States can contact their state’s Native Plant Societies, where they’ll find helpful information and local native nurseries.

California-based gardeners can check out Louise Lacey’s small book, The Basics, available on her website, and those in Southern California can visit the Theodore Payne Foundation in Sun Valley. Take one of its courses, such as California Native Plant Garden Design with board member Cassy Aoyagi. Want to know more about the relationship between native flora and fauna, and how you can make them both a part of your life? Lili Singer suggests reading Bringing Nature Home: How Native Plants Sustain Wildlife in Our Gardens, by Douglas W. Tallamy.

[Cross posted from Mother Nature Network]