Peas are one of my most favorite types of plants. They really thrive in the wet and cold spring of Montana, and then they tend to wilt when the heat of summer gets cooking (usually July) which conveniently allows sunlight to pass through the row and reach the summer heat-loving veggies that I plant near them. They do well in many other parts of the country, too - check with your local extension office for varieties.

In my garden, I plant all four of the basic types of peas - sweet, snow, snap, and shelling. Assuming you've got a good climate for peas (long, cool and wet spring), there are only three things you really need to figure out when it comes to peas. The first is what kind of pea you want (more on that in a sec). The second is whether or not your soil has the right microorganisms to grow peas, which is easily remedied if it is an issue. And the third is what you want the peas to climb. A wire fence that is at least 2 1/2 feet tall is best, but anything will do - a rock wall, some sticks and string, a trellis... the possibilities are endless. Peas are good climbers and will create a wall of vegetation along whatever they are able to climb.

Here are the types of peas:

• Sweet Peas: Gorgeous ornamentals and fantastic for cut flowers. The flowers come in all sorts of vivid and amazing colors, and last a long time once cut. These are a fun way to add nitrogen to the soil in a flower bed, while still producing a beautiful flower.


• Snow Peas: Thick podded peas that mature early, and you eat the whole darn thing. The peas itself is not nearly as important as the pod, which is almost string free and very succulent. So delicious!


• Snap Peas: Another thick podded pea that matures medium-to-early. Again, you eat the whole thing, but in this case your goal is a tasty pea in an edible pod. Some strings, but not a problem.


• Shelling Peas: A thin podded pea that matures later than the other kinds, with the goal being eating just the peas. The pods are thin and fibrous, and best to just compost (and not eat). This is the kind of pea you usually buy frozen in the store.

Now that you know your classes of peas, just select the type you want. For me, the Oregon Sugar Pod (a Snow Pea variety) is the proven winner. But I also grow Alaskas (Shelling) and Sugar Snaps (Snaps, of course). For Sweet Peas, just pick the color and height you want and go for it. I like the Royal Mixes myself, because the variety of colors lets me cut different tones of flowers to fill arrangements according to my mood. All red one week, lavender and pink the next!

Don't be intimidated by the microorganism thing. All legumes (peas, lentils, clover, and more) need certain tiny organisms living in the soil to thrive. The easiest thing to do to figure out if you soil is already colonized is to answer this question: Is there clover all around your yard and garden, perhaps driving you crazy? If so, you're set. Now, if you are thinking, "Well, I have a little clover here, and a little there... but it isn't everywhere," then you need to go to step two: Clover inspection.

Dig up a clover plant and shake all the dirt off the roots. Are there lots of weird little buttony-knobby things sprinkled around the roots? These are the little houses for the microorganisms that legumes need to thrive. If you clover has them, your peas will have them. It won't hurt you to skip the step of inoculating the peas, in this case.

Now... if you have no clover, or if you are starting from all imported fresh soil, or if you just want to hedge your bets, you'll need some "inoculant." It is usually a powder that you sprinkle on the soil, as you plant the peas, to help them grow. It is available as an organic product. Personally, I have never inoculated my peas because I have clover growing out of every nook and cranny of my entire property. But if you are in doubt, it might really help your peas out. Some people swear by it.

We are a family of impatient and over-extended gardeners, so we don't start lettuce as early as we can, or should, for our climate, and by the time we do, we're ready to eat those fresh greens now. The solution is to buy seeds and started greens at the same time. Plant the seeds, give them a good watering, cover them with wet burlap, and while they wait to sprout, your starts are already hale and hearty.

The clumps are the giveaway.




Salad burnett has a lovely peppery flavor. You can eat it on its stems or easily strip the tiny leaves from the stems for a more delicate texture.


Sorrel, a personal favorite - both for its vibrant purple ribs and its sweet and lemony flavor.


Mesclun greens, best eaten this big or smaller. Flavors range from slightly bitter and licorice-y (the serrated, long green leaves) to hot mustard (the purple and green mustard leaves) to sweet and tender (a looseleaf lettuce thrown into the mix).

But see? We are growing them from seed, too. Here's our new lettuce bed, which is well-shaded for the Texas heat. It is also somewhat sheltered by the nearby crepe myrtles, so we're hoping it will make a nice space for a makeshift coldframe to inspire us to finally buckle down and grow some winter greens next fall.


We have a lot of petrified wood.


Family stepping stones are a fun garden accent and a great project to help young children remember and celebrate their loved ones. This one was made during a visit by some dear friends, a couple and their then one-year-old son. You can find out how to make them today on Z Recommends.


Wonder how this back edge will turn out... not very weedy, but will the weeds love the new soil?

We supplemented the flavorful greens from our garden with some good old-fashioned foraging.


A discarded broccoli plant yielded some surprisingly tasty flowers that would add a great visual accent to our salad. It isn't even in a pot anymore! Flowers in salad are always fun, and broccoli flowers, as it turns out, are quite sweet.



Another depleted broccoli plant yielded up some spindly broccoli. Broccolini, I say. It's as tender and flavorful as the stuff you'd pay too much for at the grocery store.


Then we went hunting for one of my favorite greens of the season.


Would you believe it's in this picture?


Green briar, a prickly vine in our Texas climes, would hurt anyone but a goat under most circumstances. But the tiny green shoots? Delectable.


Preparing the meal took under half an hour, much of the time spent making a new invention of Z's - cut-out pieces of flatbread toasted in our toaster oven, which made fantastic croutons.



Setting the table.



A meal of fresh salad with balsamic vinaigrette, plus spicy chipotle field roast (fake sausage) for Mom and Dad, and garlic-stuffed green olives, acai and blueberry juice, and hummus for everyone.




A lovely way to start our spring!

As Mariah mentioned in her recent post, amaryllis are a nearly foolproof way to enjoy vibrant color in the dead of winter - or in my case, in that maddening early-spring period when your plants are just taking TOO LONG to wake up after their winter's nap. In another week or two, these guys - pictured here in early March:



. . . will look like this:



It's not difficult. After you enjoy your blooms, cut the stalks back to about 6 inches, but leave the foliage alone. Continue to water the bulbs and keep them in a sunny spot. When it's quite warm (June) you can bring them outside; I used to plant them in the garden, but now I just bring the whole big pot outside and nestle it among the daylilies that grow like mad on the side of my house. Or you can just leave them on your windowsill, but the leaves do grow to be rather unsightly - they get very long and then buckle into a mess.

When summer is over, bring the bulbs back indoors and repot them. (The dates here are quite loose; last year I forgot about mine until several frosts had passed, and I was sure I had killed them, but they bounced back admirably.)

This next part sounds cruel, but it makes more sense when you understand that the amaryllis grows naturally in the desert. You need to duplicate the desert environment: withhold water, light and heat (though don't let it freeze; an unheated basement is ideal) to allow the bulb to enter the period of dormancy that will allow it to replenish itself and bloom again. I set my pot in a corner of the basement and drape an opaque trash bag over it.

About 6 weeks later (again - very loose dates!) cut off the dead foliage, water thoroughly, and set in a sunny spot. Do not water it again until, several weeks later, you begin to see some wide green shoots poking through the soil. It never fails to amaze me, but they come back with gusto. Every year the bulbs grow larger, and after 3 to 4 years they will divide, giving you an extra bulb to add to your collection. Or, if you're feeling generous, give it to a friend - but don't forget to tell her how to take care ot it!