Why NOT to transplant carrots, Knautia macedonica, and, of course, bees.

You may recall that I had to see for myself why most folks say “don’t transplant carrots” and yet… your John Jeavonseses recommend it.  Well, I’d say that the jury is mostly in on that one.

Transplant your carrots, and you can expect to produce something that looks like:

Roaster Chicken Carrot

A roaster chicken– in this case, a roaster chicken sitting on a wall because it doesn’t want you to see:

FREAK!

ITS PIGGY TAIL!!!  AAAHHHHH!!!  MUTANT PIGGY TAILED ROASTER CHICKEN CARROT CREATURE!!!

Oh boy... oh boy... where's the bathroom...

You may also get the incontinent pot-bellied person carrot.

In any case, my point is, unless you are tired of the plain, old, run-of-the-mill, carrot-shaped carrots, you may want to stick with planting the seeds in situ.  On the other hand, I ate these freaks of nature, and they tasted just like carrots.  Good carrots, actually.  And, to be fair, there were also some less humorous carrot-shaped carrots.  I’d say the mutant-factor was about 50% or so.  Still, that’s pretty high.

The garden has a remarkable amount of this in it:

Scabiosa... NOT!

Remarkable mostly because I never planted it.  I can only assume that the previous owner planted it, and it’s been lurking in the background waiting to strike.  I guess this was the year.  It turns out that it’s actually called Knautia macedonica.  Truth is, sort of like the much more invasive Alstromeria,

Alstromeria? I barely know ya!

I like the Knautia.  I used to freak out about invasive plants.  Now… eh…

I have come the conclusion that most things will give up if you pull them enough.  Sure, they come back a couple of times, but big deal.  I pull them out again.  No plant (with the possible exception of bamboo, which… never ceases to amaze me) can live if you keep yanking it out.  Believe me, I cleared about half of my property of giant examples from The Oregon Big Book of Invasive Weeds.  I still get the occasional Clematis vitalba or Himalayan blackberry four years later, but it takes me about 10 seconds to yank them out.  It kind of creeps me out to see people in the big box stores asking for “something stronger than Round Up” for their weeds.  I’d hate to eat their mutant piggy tail chicken carrots.

Sorry, I digress (again).  My point was… one man’s weed is another man’s bee-attracting background filler.

Speaking of bees:

Is she sticking her tongue out at that flower?!

The lavender’s blooming, and the bees are clearly pleased.  Washington hive is going gangbusters, but Adams is still queenless (or was, last time I looked).  I think they’ve actually got a queen, but I haven’t seen her or her eggs.  I suspect she exists for two reasons: they’re mellow, and the supercedure cells have been torn down.  If they were still queenless, I’d expect them to be making that agitated sound they make.  I’d also see no reason for them to tear down the supercedure cells (one of which had been opened from the side– a tell-tale “death by first queen” sign) if they didn’t have one.  I actually saw them taking one apart with the ghostly white, apparently deceased occupant still in it… ew.

Why not requeen Adams?  Well… I guess I could.  I might still.  It’s just that I didn’t really want two hives.  I’m ambivalent about it.  If they peter out, my feelings wouldn’t be hurt.  If they survive, I guess two hives aren’t much harder than one to care for.  I hate to spend another dime on this, though.  It’s already gotten a little out of hand.  I’ll probably crack it open tomorrow and see what’s up in there.  Best case scenario, Her Highness has returned from her fuckfest and has gotten to the business of laying an egg every 45 seconds or so.  Chop chop, Your Fecundiousness.