Anticipation is…

One of my greatest joys is sowing seeds of new plants and waiting for them to germinate and show off their different leaves. When you’ve never grown them before, everything looms before you like the Great Unknown waiting to be discovered…

Roselle sprout

Jicama - or bangkwang or yam bean - sprout

Baby coriander plant

Newly sprouted water spinach or kangkong - I never expected it to have forked seed leaves!

And then to watch as they mature and start budding…

Red Lady papaya flower - was it a girl or boy? Both! Rather, a hermaphrodite. Notice the rounded bottom? Definitely a sign of fertility!

Mexican sunflower, also known as the Tithonia, budding. My first and only time growing it as it didn't seem to like our microclimate.

And to look out for the first fruits…

Little limes leaning leeward... sorry, couldn't resist a little alliteration... :P

Red Lady papaya tree laden with fruits

Of course the biggest sense of anticipation is waiting for the culmination of it all – harvest! I’ve got my eyes on the papaya at the bottom. Finally, it’s showing tinges of yellow as it ripens. Who will get it first – the Black-Naped Oriole, the bulbuls, mynahs or me? :P

Anticipation is fun!

© 2011 curiousgardener.com All rights reserved.


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Snakes in the garden

Every so often, our dogs get all worked up out in the garden, in full hunting mode. When that happens, I know there will be some kind of “surprise” waiting to be found – dead rodents, birds, etc. Sometimes, I interrupt their hunt – especially if they’ve chased a cat up a tree, or if they’re on the trail of something unusual like the plantain squirrel that visited last year. A couple of nights ago, I had a nasty shock when I switched on the garden light to see what they were nipping at in the dark, and saw a long reptilian body undulating on the ground!

No apologies for the bad camera angle, because I wasn't going any closer to the snake than I had to!

If you think about it, the whole of Singapore used to be one big tropical jungle until we began to tame it over the last century or so. So, it’s natural that wild creatures like snakes be around. I sometimes come across blind snakes when I’m working in the garden. They tend to hide beneath stones and bricks, where it’s cool and moist. Most importantly, they’re usually small – maybe a handspan long at most – but they still have that sinuous way of moving that chills my blood. The snake that my dogs were interested in, though, was substantially longer. It was coiled up and I didn’t want to get close, but I’d guesstimate it at about 40cm long.

We got it identified through a friend as the Common Wolf Snake (Lycodon capucinus), also known as the house snake. I’m not comforted at all knowing that they eat geckos, because we have many house lizards and I certainly don’t want a snake indoors! I still remember the chaos that would erupt when that happened in my childhood – and back then when the neighbourhood was more kampung than built up, snakes such as pythons and cobras crossed paths with us occasionally.

My friend, who is as comfortable wading through Singapore’s swampy marshlands as I am in my garden, called the snake “harmless”. If you say so, Mr Otterman – but I prefer to keep my distance, thank you very much…

I did the humane thing in letting the snake go on its way, but was quick to scatter sulphur flakes around the perimeter of the house. According to the guy at the plant nursery, snakes dislike sulphur, so I hope it goes far, far away from the house. I bought the sulphur over a year ago when we spotted another, unknown, snake and I hope the flakes are still potent!

Can you tell that I don’t like snakes? :)

It’s a small consolation that this snake is non-venomous and shouldn’t be a danger to my dogs, but from what I’ve read, it will defend itself fiercely when attacked and has sharp fangs that it is not shy to use. Thankfully, the dogs seemed unharmed. I did learn that the snake is nocturnal, so that makes hand-pollinating my evening-blooming loofah plants a little tricky. No more moonlit strolls for me! However, now I find myself eyeing the more “wild” areas of the garden and wanting to civilize them – particularly the sweet potato patch. How am I ever going to be able to tell what’s lurking under all that low foliage?

I don’t like snakes!

© 2011 curiousgardener.com All rights reserved.


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My baby brinjal

I can’t wait for the fruit to reach maturity to write about it… I’ve been checking on the little brinjal fruit that’s been developing over the last 10 days or so, and maybe I’m just a proud parent, but I had to share the photos. See how fast it’s growing?

Eggplant fruit starting to show...

Now you see more of the fruit and that first tinge of purple...

Mini purple aubergine - isn't it cute?!

10 days old, 12cm long, and I think it will pretty much look the same when it matures - just bigger...

Growth-wise, I’d estimate they’re about halfway there at 12cm now. I’m not sure exactly when to harvest it, but I guess I’ll learn soon enough. My guides thus far are that it should be between 15 to 20cm long, and still be glossy; and that it should be soft enough that it can be pressed in, gently, but should return immediately to its original shape. If it’s not ripe, it will be hard; if it’s over-ripe, it will be so soft that it will bruise easily.

I hope the other plants start bearing fruits soon, so that this won’t be a one-off garden treat.

© 2011 curiousgardener.com All rights reserved.


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The amazingly strong stem of the giant sunflower plant

Early Russian sunflower with about half the florets open. I'm always amazed to watch how they open in a constricting spiral from the outside, in.

I remember sitting in Biology class way back when and learning about the cross-section of the plant stem. Those black and white line drawings were, well, just lines on paper to me.

Now, however, after cutting down my spent Early Russian sunflower plant, I have a deeper appreciation for that particular lesson.

Not only was the flower head big and heavy, the plant itself was tall (over 2 metres high). The stem that held it all up was ramrod straight, and to do that, it had to be hard and tough. Regular hand-held cutters couldn’t sever the stem at the base. I had to use the heavy-duty shears that we normally use for woody branches – and although the sunflower stem was green in colour, cutting it sure felt like I was cutting through wood!

Looking at the cross-section of the stem, I was immediately reminded of those Biology lessons…

View of the cross-section the the Early Russian sunflower's tough stem.

…which I’m not going to attempt to give here, for a Biology teacher I am not. An inquisitive person, I guess I am. I was just intrigued by the spongy white pith in the middle that resembled spongy packing foam. Not only was it tough and expanded back to shape after being pressed, it was also very moist, like a sponge. Now I know how the plant transported nutrients…

Surrounding that were the tough and fibrous external layers – I guess that would be the xylem, phloem and epidermis. That layer was difficult to peel off. It was hard and had tough fibres embedded in it, reminding me of sugar cane. It was almost like a hard nutshell! When I tried to peel it off, it broke off with a cracking sound, and was difficult to strip away from the pith. Now I understand how the plant held itself upright so well…

After stripping off the outer layer, the spongy white pith is exposed.

Isn’t it so amazing how plants adapt to suit their needs?

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