Nurturing the Volunteers in My Garden

This is kind of an embarrassing story. If you've followed my desert gardening exploits, you know I've struggled with squirrels, birds, and other pests going after our veggies. The veggies that survive are usually covered with a bird netting cage.

But I keep persevering, determined to mitigate our desert soil with compost, mulch, cover crops, and rainwater. I enjoy getting out in the shaded garden and hand watering our plants with rainwater collected in nearby cisterns from our generous neighbor's huge roof. Sometimes an inquisitive hummingbird joins me. 

The plants that are really thriving in my little garden are "happy accidents." From the volunteer palo verde that protects the garden from the harsh sun to the mystery plants that sprout in the compost pile or occasionally where I plant something else. That includes two junior fig trees - that may have been planted by one of those silly squirrels or birds. 

It all started with the compost pile. Despite regular watering (with sink water) and turning it to aerate it, I'm embarrassed to say that I have never gotten my compost pile hot enough. Maybe because I cut my kitchen scraps into tiny pieces so they will compost quicker (less than a month rather than a year). But it makes lovely compost nonetheless. It just doesn't kill the seeds... So occasionally I get mystery sprouts. I've decided to embrace the matter. 

The first step was digging a hole along the fence (where the most sun seeps through). Then I mixed that dirt with compost and built a mound.

At the compost pile, I slipped my shovel under the roots of the sprouts and carefully placed them (compost and all) on top of the mound. Then I tucked them into their new bed.  

But the embarrassment doesn't stop there. There were some naughty mice in our pantry that got into bags of beans and grains. So I scattered that mess into another hole. 

I covered them with some compost - that had more sprouts in it. Couldn't wait to see what would pop up! 

 Long story short, we got some bean sprouts (that died out of season), some plant I didn't recognize with cute round leaves, and two tall volunteers (that I thought might be lantanas.)  

On the mound, one of plants grew big round leaves that resembled squash or cantaloupe leaves. (I affectionately called them squash-a-lopes.) It finally flowered and grew a baby sugar pumpkin. It soon became clear (by the yellow flowers) that the tall plants were tomato plants.

In the other hole (to the right) we finally identified those with the round leaves as lentils and the tall ones with pretty blue flowers were chia plants. Just love my volunteers! 

Remember that I mentioned the volunteer figs? 

I love my citizen science...  So I scrolled back through old photos to find out where they had come from.

Long story long, I had planted complimentary plants - chard and carrots in a plot with compost. I covered them to protect them from the critters. I may have planted too many carrots... The bird netting cage discouraged me from thinning them out, so the carrots were tiny and twisted.

But check it out; there's a mystery plant growing in there! 

After thinning them, the mystery plant thrived. Hey, is that a fig tree? 

And then there were two! These guys are fighters! 

They soon outgrew their cage. So I removed it and installed a fence around them to keep out the critters.

I watched a video that mentioned fig roots like to spread out. So I took out a brick that was blocking their growth.  

So cool! Now I could see where the root had grown deeper than the compost and how it had been blocked by the paver. (Note: That's chard I planted from seed under the figs.)

I extended that hole into a basin. Using the technique I applied to the other volunteers, I mixed the garden dirt with compost and built up a berm around it. Then I covered the basin with palm frond mulch to keep the moisture in longer. 

Those are some happy trees! I deep water their basin twice a week and the twin fig trees are thriving! And, as long as I keep nurturing them, they'll keep nurturing me.