A garden writer’s friend

… As I write all of these garden articles about the pleasantries of the pastime, my buddy lies on his office bed that I made for him a couple of years ago. It’s right here, under the big green desk that I keep mostly computer data DVDs in. The bed is made of a large black plastic storage container with a folded blanket on top.

He lets me know that he's there with a swish of his big furry gray and white tail. Swish … Swish … Every five to ten minutes … Swish … Swish … I wonder if he is trying to get my attention or if he is just making sure that I, his buddy, am still close by. I say to him, “I’m here with you, buddy.”

No matter what time of the day or night that I am here at these desks, in front of these computers, my friend is here beside me, helping me stay focused on writing.

When he first came to live with me, he was only about four weeks old. A customer of mine gave him to me. She said he was born in a barn and her husband wouldn’t let him stay inside. He was so tiny then. He barely filled up the palm of my hand. He liked to be close and warm back then. He’d get under the covers at night and I would lose him and panic! I was always afraid I’d crush him in the night. My other friend, Spot didn’t know what to think about the situation. He just learned to accept the change and the new addition to the family. That was in January, 1999.

I named my new little buddy “Puff” after the elementary school reader character. It seemed only apropos that he should be named Puff, especially since there was already a Spot in the house. (Spot the Cat)

When he became a teenager later that same year, I noticed that every afternoon I came in from the greenhouse to find the food container emptied onto the floor. This became a daily ritual, mind you. The container was a free-feeding type plastic box that held four pounds of dry food and would replenish the attached bowl as it became emptied. Finally, I figured out what was going on there. He was growing exponentially and eating his fair share to get that way! Spot ate from the same bowl, so there was some noticeable competition there. He was apparently afraid that the food would stop feeding itself into the dish and he would go hungry. He was simply trying to calculate just how much food was in the container and how long it would last between two cats.

Puff grew into a thirty-three pound lap baby. Spot was no wimp either. Spot; a twelve pound, long and lean black Siamese cat and Puff the big gray and white Maine Coon. Puff and Spot remained good friends until Spot’s death in December, 2005.

Puff became a star on the Home Grown Tomatoes live video broadcasts. It seemed that a lot of folks were tuning in just to catch a view of Puff and his television antics. In fact, there’s a video on Justin TV of Puff wrecking the HGT studio with his giant tail! http://www.justin.tv/clip/b573a814bfb The clip is also on YouTube and other video share websites. The video also shows Minky passing through the HGT studio. Minky died last year.omeH

I took this time away from my garden writing and other chores to write about my friend here, lying on his bed at my knees. It has taken a lot of courage for me to do it because Puff is dying. He fell ill recently and is unable to recover.

Yesterday, Puff wanted to lie on the floor by the outside door in the office so he could at least smell the outdoors. He hasn’t been able to enjoy looking out of the window since last Saturday. A strange thing occurred while he was trying so very hard to stay comfortable. I noticed a deer in the back yard looking toward the storm door. I seized the moment, grabbed my camera and snapped a couple of pics. But then I realized it wasn’t about me. The deer was there to see Puff. Then there were two more deer that slowly passed by along with two chipmunks. It was as if they were stopping by to say goodbye to their old friend who used to watch them from the upper deck.

When I started this story about an hour ago, Puff had not moved from his resting position. I brushed his tail with my hand to let him know that I was still with him.

Puff has died.

He will lie in state here on his bed tonight so that Pepper the Cat may pay respects.

Puff will be buried tomorrow beside his friend Spot in the Tomato Tower Pet Cemetery. Minky and Miss Whiskers are also buried there, so he will be in great company.

So long Puff. You will be missed.

I am angry and sad because I have lost my best friend. That’s all I have to say about that.

The Garden Revival

I have enjoyed being close to the Earth for as long as I can remember. I'll bet that old septic tank had a layer of Red Mountain dirt in it three feet thick from the baths I had to take under Granny's orders back in old Number 11 camp. I remember the seemingly huge, bigger than any other tree in the world, hackberry that canopied my dirt playground in our backyard at the foot of the mountain in Ishkooda. I'd spend hours making dirt roads for my toy cars to travel on with the remaining part of a garden hoe's head.

The neighbors up the street had, what we called, snowball bushes. Little did I know back then that they were only French hydrangeas (Hydrangea macrophylla) and not the real snowball bushes known as Viburnums. All I remember about those bushes back then is that they were blue and bees loved them and that was pretty scary for a six year old boy!

We had rose bushes and dahlias, touch-me-nots and zinnias. I remember crocus and jonquils in the late winter and marigolds in the spring. But my favorite flowers of all were the four-o'clocks! They shouted to the whole neighborhood, "It's SUMMERTIME!"

35 years later...

I bought an old house back in 1997. It used to be a church. I always thought the old place was neat how it sat there on the hill, overlooking the main artery from Vincent to Brent. Across the highway from the old house, in behind the woods, was a Norfolk Southern rail line. I sure loved to hear that train whistle blow. It reminded me of the days in the camp when we'd hear the trains running from tipple to tipple around the mountain's shoulder or the distant trains traveling through Powderly on their way to New Orleans. Maybe the old Southern Crescent was headed back to DC from the Crescent City, I don't know. What I did know was that the former church had a higher purpose and it was up to me to find it!

In December of 1997 I found myself between employment situations. I took this opportunity to search for a higher and nobler purpose for myself. It was time for me to start looking for the situation that I loved rather than the money trying to buy happiness. I needed to take a position where I could do mindless work for a reasonable salary, thus allowing me to monkey-move my hands and think while doing. I found a position with a wholesale nursery and another with a retail nursery. What a deal it was?! I worked for Twin Lakes Nursery on Monday through Friday and for Burchfield's Garden Center on Saturday and Sunday. I studied under one of the greats in the industry. Mark Burchfield knew his version of how to make money in the nursery business. He taught me some of the simple tricks of the trade that increased his profit margin by so much, I'd be afraid to tell you! Mark doesn't have people skills for the retail end of the business, but when asked, he is always willing to share his knowledge and skill. Mark and I became good friends.

I learned how to custom mix fertilizers, adjust potting soils to my watering habits, how to water properly and how to pot plants; thousands and thousands of plants! I was made manager of the wholesale nursery the first week on the job. The spring rush was on the way and there were a lot of plants to get ready to, as Mark used to say, take to work. I sat on a potting stool and potted and studied nearly every plant at the nursery. While I sat and potted, I thought out and planned my future as a nurseryman. In March of 1998, I established the name for my nursery, "The Garden Revival."

I planned for nine months, then built my nursery; a retail establishment that carried more than just plants. The Garden Revival stocked some of the nicest garden gift merchandise in Alabama.

I decided to open the doors in the middle of the week in order to test the waters, so to speak. I opened the doors for business at 10:30 AM Central Time on St. Patrick's Day, March 17th, 1999. So please join me in celebrating the 10th anniversary of the Garden Revival!

The days are finally getting longer

Happy winter everybody! The Winter Solstice has finally past and now the days are getting longer. There are only 38 shopping days left until Groundhog Day (halfway through winter) and here in Alabama the gardeners are searching for those seed catalogs!

I have spent the last couple of weeks cooking, canning and baking breads and cookies. My friend Billy and I have found that we enjoy preserving stuff that we grew on our properties. The other day he brought me bottle of wine and a quart of dill pickles. I offered him some of my pickled hot green pear tomatoes, an assortment of ales that I brewed and a jar of my raspberry balsamic reduction. Want the recipe?

I will have an announcement later today about my special guest for Home Grown Tomatoes this Saturday. The name you will recognize I'm sure, but we have an announcement to make about a special rose. I'll include a video with the next post so be sure to check back later.

Any how; I hope your day is relaxed and warm while visions of garden plans dance in your heads. -Kenn

National Chicken Cooking Contest

Your original chicken recipe could be worth $50,000!

That’s the grand prize in the National Chicken Cooking Contest, sponsored by the National Chicken Council (trade association for the chicken companies). We want to find America’s best chicken recipes!

Click the provided link to find out more! The deadline is tomorrow!

HGT Show Notes

Saturday on Home Grown Tomatoes, the Doctors Across the Street paid us a visit again! Dr. Grant Gentry gave us a briefing on gardening techniques and practices in Costa Rica and Ecuador.

Dr. Malia Fincher said her pear tree in her front yard was so loaded with fruits that she had enlisted Dr. Momma and Dr. Gramma to help peal, core and preserve some of the freshly picked bounty. There's plenty more where those came from too. Malia offered the following recipe for pear relish that sounds great. It was passed along from Grants grandmother.

Pear Relish

15 Large Pears
3 Green Bell Peppers
6 Jalapeno Peppers
2 Cups Sugar
3 Sweet Red Bell Peppers
6 Onions
1 T salt
2 Cups Vinegar

Peel and core pears; remove seeds from bell peppers and peel onions. Grind pears, peppers and onions in food processor until chopped into a relish consistency. Add salt, sugar, and vinegar. Put in a large pot over medium heat, bring to a boil, and simmer for 30-45 min. Stir often. Put in sterile jars and seal (you may elect to use the hot pack method, but processing the filled jars in a water bath is preferable.

Malia asked that if you have a pear recipe you'd like to share, please post it here in the comments of this blog. There are so many pears, she said, that she's ready to try some new recipes!

The gender and proposed name of Dr. Baby was revealed! It's a BOY! He's due around December 2nd. The proposed name: Bubba Chuck Norris

If you have a suggestion about what Dr. Baby should be named, please post that here in the comments section.

Well, that's it for this entry. I'll have more to offer later. In the mean time, I hope you'll subscribe to the blog so you will get regular updates on the entries.

Until next time, thanks for reading! -Kenn

Coach Simpson Pepper

Late today, Jeff Sentell of The Birmingham News wrote:

"Simpson Pepper, known as "The Voice of Legion Field," died this evening at UAB Hospital. He was preparing for his 45th year as the public address announcer at Legion Field this fall."
Article

I have known Simpson Pepper since 1964, when I started school in the little blue-collar town of Powderly, Alabama. He was my first principal in elementary school and later became my high school principal. It seems that he was destined to see some of us all the way through the tough and turbulent times of the 60's and 70's. I was one of the lucky ones.

I never knew in my early school years why all of the older kids called him, "Coach." I did know that he was athletic; always riding an old black balloon-tire, one-speed bicycle all over the school campus and all over the little town. He was always seen outdoors either on the bike or jogging to wherever he was going.

Athletic: I once saw him chase down a trouble-maker kid and leap from his bicycle to tackle him. He later took the boy to the office and gave him the usual punishment for cutting class or smoking. Two licks with the short boat paddle he kept for years for just such tasks was how offenders were dealt with.

When I moved to high school, Coach Pepper followed and his style and tradition followed as well.

He loved football: Coach most especially loved Alabama Football! He was at almost every high school game. You see? We played most games at Legion Field and Coach Pepper was the "Voice of Legion Field." He announced all of the games there, from high school to college and pro.


Why, Coach loved football so much, that I later discovered how to distract him away from giving me a detention slip when he'd catch me in the hall without a pass. He'd say, "Where you headed, big 81?" That was my old jersey number and he usually used our numbers instead of names. It was a term of endearment and respect. I'd mumble something until I could find the right words to use and then I'd launch a statement or question about who was playing, who won last weeks game or what we were going to do next season. It worked most of the time.

Coach Pepper dedicated his life to education, offering his well-rounded philosophy to all of us who would listen. He was an excellent role model.

Remembrances: I don't remember when I started calling him coach. It just happened one day and felt natural, so it stuck. I remember him on that old bicycle, going to the post office or to Bruno's. I saw him one afternoon all the way down at Powderly Park at my little league football practice. He'd ride it to the Friendly Twelve Cafe` to see if any of us were cutting lunch for a burger and a malt. (I never got caught. Since my grandfather owned it, I could sneak out the back door.) I remember asking him where he had gotten the bike. He said that he had traded a basketball goal to a friend for it.

Sportscaster, Paul Finebaum had him on his radio show from time to time and I would always stop what I was doing to listen.



I last saw Coach nearly two years ago at my high school reunion. He delivered a heartwarming speech about his days at our school and there wasn't a dry eye in the house!

I will miss Coach Pepper.

Show Notes and the Jurassic Garden

Kitty Rochester was my guest again last Saturday. We picked up where we left off two weeks ago. After the show, we went out to the Jurassic Gardens here at Tomato Tower and snapped a few pics to show you! Enjoy!

Kitty and the Jurassic Garden

I've been home alone for several days now and have enjoyed the quiet! More later.