Finally.

My tomato garden did not do well this year. Well, let me clarify that. The plants did well. The tomatoes did not. There are lots of fruit, but it’s all green, green green. I blame it on the weather. We had a strangely cool summer, an overabundance of rain in July, and not very much sun the rest of the season, not to mention the late blight that blew through (I did get some blight on a few plants about 2 weeks ago, which was much later than most other people around here).

But my plants held on. I resisted the urge to rip the undiseased ones out, even though there have been unripe, green tomatoes for like weeks now. And today, the wait paid off.

We picked two smallish red tomatoes from the garden earlier this summer, but today, there were big ones, and bunches of them. Okay, there were five. But that’s a huge percent increase.

I picked nearly two pounds of ruby-red tomatoes. And oh, my. My, oh my. They are the tastiest little buggers I’ve had all summer.

So finally, the moment I’ve been waiting for practically since March, when I started these plants inside:

That made the wait worthwhile.

Good Things Also Come to Those Who Just Can’t Wait

Yesterday, while weeding* the garden, I accidentally pulled up a potato plant. Ooops.  We’re still a little early to be digging up the potatoes.

Then I spied a wee little spud nestled in the dirt, right where the plant had been. Well, who could leave a motherless potato buried in the dirt? Not I. I gently brushed the dirt away and rescued it.

This process uncovered another potato plant, and another potato. Before I knew it, I had pulled up three plants, and a handful of potatoes.

Darn.

*weeding generally implies walking past the garden and noting that, yes, there are weeds. In this case, I was actually pulling some of them out.

All Is Not Lost

I’m rather disappointed in this year’s garden, mostly thanks to the varmints, deer and bunnies who were under the incorrect assumption that all the vegetation growing out back was some sort of free wild animal all-you-can-eat buffet. In fact, I had rather resigned myself to a sparse harvest of a few heads of sad-looking garlic. And, while the garlic harvest is a bit sad-looking (the deer trampled all the foliage before it had finished bulbing), there are still some signs of life out there in the vege patch.

For example, I nearly forgot about the cucumber plants. They’re around the corner of my “L” shaped garden, against the wall, so I don’t often see them unless I go back behind the tomatoes to look. The other day I happened to venture back, and lo if there aren’t some lovely vines growing up the trellis.

Even better, we have some little baby cucumbers beginning to form.

If you look past the weeds (actually grass growing out of the manure mulch), you can see a little hot pepper here:

There are quite a few of those, and several flowers on each of the six plants. I’m surprised, actually, considering how cool it’s been.

There’s also a sturdy looking pumpkin vine:

I check it vigilantly, every day, for squash beetle borers. They decimated my pumpkin plants last year. So far, so good, though I am having no luck getting both a male and female flower to bloom at the same time. So we may just end up with a really big vine and no pumpkins. But I’m hoping.

The one thing I’ve been especially glum about so far this year is the tomatoes. My plants look pretty healthy, but there aren’t too many flowers yet, and no tomatoes. But then I noticed these on a few volunteer plants which I had let go:

If I remember right, these are the yellow cherry tomatoes, which were very tasty (and very pretty!). But I also found these volunteers:

If those are also yellow, then they’re Taxis. If they’re red, I am fairly sure they’re either Stupice or one of the black varieties I grew last year. Time to check my notes.

Not only are the wee little tomatoes exciting, but there’s about to be a bloom on the fuschia plant. This is thrilling, because fuschias are typically grown as annuals in these parts. I cut this one back practically to nothing last fall, overwintered it in a cool, sunny room, and now look:

Aren’t they adorable? Such cute little buds? I ask you. It looks like there are about 3 or 4 pair of buds all ready to bloom any day now.

Speaking of blooming, the acidanthera have just passed their peak. I managed to catch a shot of one of the best bloom days:

I seriously can’t decide if I like acidanthera or nasturtiums better. The nasturtiums probably win, on account of they are (a) edible and (b) much longer-blooming. But damn, those acidanthera are gorgeous!

And here is the garlic harvest, somewhat small but still serviceable, hanging up to cure:

Hey, it might not be pretty, but there are definitely NO vampires coming in my back door anytime soon.

Good Things Come To Those Who Wait*

Right… so, remember that nasturtium plant that was all infested with black aphids? The one I was going to rip out and burn because it was so bad?

This one?

Well, I am proud to report that it is aphid-less.

Not aphid-free, mind you. But definitely aphid-less.

I do believe it has something to do with a very exciting recent discovery, which happened totally by accident while browsing some online garden site for information on marsh mallows. The reason I was looking for information on marsh mallows is because I’ve started some from seed, but what I thought was a marsh mallow seedling has now also mysteriously appeared in two other locations (important to note that I did not plant marsh mallow seeds in those locations), which leads me to question whether the thing I think is a marsh mallow seedling is, indeed, such a thing. I’m beginning to think it is not. But that’s not my important discovery (although it is useful, since I can now give up hope on growing a marsh mallow plant this year and concentrate my efforts on something else).

No, my very exciting discovery was what, exactly (or approximately), ladybug larvae looks like. (Whoa, how’s that for some alliteration?!)

This is important because, as we all know, ladybugs or lady beetles are excellent companions to have in one’s garden. They rank up there with earthworms and mulch and fish emulsion in terms of garden usefulness, really. And having ladybug larvae in my garden means that soon,  I’m going to have ladybugs. And this means we will likely not be totally infested with aphids on our nasturtium plants next year. And I am so excited about this that I have already started looking around for nasturtium seed sources because, next year, I am going to grow so many damn nasturtium plants that people will think I’m nuts.

As proof that my dastardly plan theory is already at work, please note the (very bad) (hey, it was windy today) shot of a ladybug larva hanging out on a nasturtium leaf.

I swear, I heard it belch.

*even if it is out of sheer laziness

Some Things are Worth Waiting For

Some things are definitely worth waiting for. Vacation. Christmas morning. Turkey that’s been roasting in the oven all day long.

And acidanthera blooms.

Devastation

You know things are not going well in NaBloPoMo land when your post titles go from “Faltering” to “Devastation”. But life- and mundane blogs- need a little drama now and then.

I, however, am not particularly fond of drama in my life, unless it’s the kind that comes in a red envelope.

Some drama is good. This red lily that finally bloomed is an example of good drama:

as are the cascading tendrils and cheerful blooms of the volunteer nasturtium plant:

But there is a dark underbelly to the garden’s beautiful facade. All is not as it seems. In fact, the nasturtium plant is actually a crack-house for black aphids.

It was quite disturbing to see just how many of these icky things are all over my once-beautiful plant. I’m about ready to rip it out and burn it.

But that’s not the worst of the drama, friends. It gets uglier. Much, much uglier. As I scanned the back garden, my eyes were met with a horrific sight:

That is supposed to be a hosta. It was a hosta yesterday, before I went to bed. So were these:

And this was a beautiful double impatiens:

Do you see any beautiful red double impatiens blooms in that picture? No, you do not. This is because the deer ate them during their midnight all-you-can-eat buffet in my back yard.

I sulked about the deer all day. They had already whacked my kids’ bean teepee, which still has not recovered, and trampled all the garlic. This was just one more in a long, long list of deer-related transgressions. But the deer were instantly forgotten when I stepped outside later this afternoon and glanced at the basil planter box.

Yep, that would be a Japanese beetle orgy going on in the basil mix.

Fortunately (relatively speaking), beetles tend to feed in big obnoxious gastronomic orgies. So only one plant was victimized here, which is small relief when I’ve already had a whole series of agricultural failures so far this season. I did feel slightly vindicated when DH volunteered to smash them for me.

With pliers.

After that, I had to look for signs of hope in the garden. And lo, there were my acidanthera about to bloom. Bless them.

On top of it all, I saw some flower buds on the overwintered fuschia today.

So maybe all is not lost.

Yet.

Garden Update

Look at this… I promised a garden update today, and you’re getting a garden update today. Whether you like it or not. Well, I suppose if you didn’t like it you probaby wouldn’t have even clicked through or scrolled down or whatever it is you did to land your sorry browser here. Hopefully it’s not terribly painful for you.

So, then! Garden. In the summer, much of my routine involves something with the garden (usually thinking about it, but, on occasion, actually going out and doing things in it.) I usually wander out first thing in the morning, sip my coffee hot tea and check the rain gauge.

Then I peruse the various plantings to see what has been decimated by deer/rabbits/racoons/blight/insects. Anything that’s left, I take a picture of.

For example, we had grand designs on a bean teepee for the girls to play in this summer. The deer had other ideas. Mostly their ideas were some variation on “mmm… these bean plants sure are tasty!” Two days after we saw gorgeous leaves unfold from the newly-sprouted beans, they were mercilessly mowed down by the evil deer. Surprisingly, we have had new leaves pop out of the old stalks. So perhaps all is not lost.

But our teepee is still rather bare, and forlorn. I do hope we have some luck with it or the girls may just be too traumatized to ever want to garden again. With me, anyway.

Behind the teepee, there are a pair of lilies about to bloom:

This is very exciting, because they came up last year but did not bloom at all, and I nearly dug them up but decided to wait another season. I’m so very glad I did.

In the veggie patch, the garlic is completely trampled by the damn deer. All the foliage has yellowed and is starting to die. I dug up a few bulbs and they are smallish, but still serviceable. We will let them cure a bit and see if they are tasty. I sure hope so. That was a lot of frigging garlic.

The tomatoes seem to be thriving, however. Here is our fancy Florida Weave:

The plants in the foreground are in one weave that goes left-to-right. The remaining plants are in three woven rows going away from the camera. Basically, a weave is a cheap way of tying up a whole bunch of damn tomatoes at once. And since we have a whole bunch of damn tomatoes, it seemed like an interesting thing to try out. I will probably have to give the Florida Weave a post of its own since it’s rather complicated and right now I am really too tired to think about how to describe it. Google it if you simply can’t wait. I won’t be offended.

We also have some adorable cucumbers in flower:

These are “Straight Eights”, and supposed to be good for pickling. S5 picked them out herself.

Speaking of garden pests, would you believe how many mosquitoes were out this morning at 7AM 8AM 9:42AM? Lots, let me tell you.

Meanwhile, up on the deck, the nasturtiums are threatening to take over their little planter box.

The flowers have already been plucked twice for vinegar. Now I just pick them to keep the plant looking good, but it’s growing like crazy. Boy, does it smell good, though.

I’m growing lots of basil this year, adding two other varieties to “Sweet” and “Thai”: “Genovese” and “Anise”. The Genovese is much shorter than the other basils so far, but very vibrant:

It also smells darn good.

Meanwhile, there are a few other visitors to the yard that are actually welcome (unlike the damn deer, and raccoons, and rabbits, and mosquitoes). Can you spot our newest guest in this pic?

Here’s a hint:

See her yet? Here’s Baby Robin, who is just learning to fly:

I wonder if I can teach her to scare away the damn deer.

Just A Little Neighborly Chat

We live in an older suburban neighborhood, and many of our neighbors are older folks.  A lot of them have been here for thirty, forty years, some even more. I like old people. They are so much fun to talk to; there’s something so pure and innocent about conversations with people from my grandparents’ generation.  So naturally, when the neighbor catty-corner behind us (an elderly widower in his eighties) started waving at us over the fence a few years ago, I waved back. Last year, we started chatting casually, then regularly. He’s got a lovely garden, and since we’re the only two on the block to grow any vegetables, it was only natural that we’d start talking even more.  Last fall, I gave him three wheelbarrows full of sheep manure and a jar of apple butter, after he gave the girls peonies from his prize hedge and me a sackful of lettuces.  We have a nice, friendly, neighborly rapport.  In fact, he rather enjoys gossiping about the other neighbors, particuarly the one whose property adjoins both of ours.

Rose*, next-door to me and directly behind Mr. L, is a bit kooky, to say it kindly, and on this occasion, Mr. L launched into a little rant about just how odd she really was. Apparently, Rose – single, in her late 50s or early 60s- is a little loose (elderly-speak for “slutty”), because she “came on to” her neighbor-to-the-rear one summer afternoon (translation: she propositioned him by inviting him over for a bottle of wine in the afternoon).  But then our conversation ended abruptly when Mr. L, after completely dismissing any notion of drinking a glass of anything with Rose, turned to me and said something along the lines of “you can come on to me anytime“. I laughed, smiled kindly, and instantly remembered a very important indoor task that had to be taken care of promptly.

Now, I didn’t really think Mr. L was serious, and I didn’t take offense (though I have to admit at being slightly weirded out). He knows I’m married; in fact, DH once helped him get his tractor unstuck from a root, and on another occasion helped him move a railroad tie across his backyard. Men bond when they work on things together. To think that Mr. L (who is 84, by the way) was hitting on me was just preposterous. But then, so was his little comment.

I didn’t think much of it, though.  I did mention it to DH just because it was so strange. He chuckled, and then we started talking about Rose and laughing because the thought of her coming on to Mr. L  was even more hysterical than the thought of Mr. L coming on to me. And so all was forgotten, until this morning.

We had quite a rainstorm last night, so Mr. L and I were both out early, surveying our gardens,  wincing at wilted lettuces and toppled tomatoes and trying to tidy things up before more rain comes this weekend.  I saw him over the fence and decided to see how his veggies had fared with the deluge.  So I slogged through Rose’s rear yard (a brushy mess and one of Mr. L’s pet peeves), and said hello, and he and I had a very nice talk about what had survived the storm and what had not.  And then, as our conversations often do, talk turned to Rose and her current escapades.  We talked about her daughter, who is in her early thirties and a looker (except he used the very modern hot, which seemed comical).  And then somehow, talk turned to age, and all the things that happen when you enter the twilight years.

“Don’t get old,” Mr. L admonished me.  I laughed, because it’s such a cute play on words, and just about every elderly person I’ve ever talked with has said it just like that.  “I mean it,” he went on.  “You have to keep active, or you won’t be able to do anything when you get to be my age.”  He explained how he had discovered some arthritis in his back, but immediately started going to physical therapy, and now he was able to bend down to tie his shoes again.  “Of course,” he said, rather wistfully, “some things you just can’t do anything about as you get older.  Some things just go limp, if you know what I mean…”

Oh, I hope I have no idea what you are talking about, Mr. L.  I laughed again, a little uncomfortably.  Exactly where was this conversation going??

“…but then you just have to improvise,” he concluded.

Did he just say that out loud?

I must have had a very strange look on my face at this point, and was really at a loss for words (what does one say, exactly, after that sort of comment from a man fifty years your senior? I ask you), because at that point Mr. L brought up our conversation from earlier this spring, the one where he sort of suggested that I should come on to him (were I so inclined).  I had rather believed at the time that he was just making a risque little joke, but now there was talk of limpness and improvisation and hot neighbors’ daughters and I really just did not know what to make of it all.  Maybe he sensed that his joke had gone awry, or maybe he decided that his advances (if that was, indeed what he was doing) were not being well-received, but in either case he tried to put me at ease by explaining himself a little more plainly.

“I can’t remember exactly the phrase,” he said, “but afterwards, I thought maybe you got the impression I was asking you for sex. “

Oh, good lord.  I thought your generation didn’t talk about sex?  I thought you didn’t even know what that word was, for chrissakes.

“Ah, no,” I stammered, “no, I didn’t take it that way at all.”  Not really, anyway.

“Because that’s not what I meant, you know.”

Wait a minute.  Are you trying to say that you don’t want to have sex with me?  Why do I suddenly feel insulted?

“I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Yeah… I think we’ll stick to talking about tomatoes from now on.

*not her real name, but damn close

Time Flies, Whether or Not You’re Having Fun

It has been almost six months since my last post.  Bad, bad blogger!

Last year at this time, I was posting pictures of my garden.  There were garden giveaways and mystery seedling quizzes.  There were incredulous potatoes.  There were stands of suburban corn.

This year, there is an even bigger garden, but I’ve hardly taken a single picture of it.  Shame on me!  How could I neglect to capture the singular beauty of my first germinated pea?  The return of the dianthus pinks “Firewitch”?  The giant load of sheep manure that’s sitting like a miniature Mount Everest?  There are so many ideal subjects for photography.  I can’t believe I’ve passed them all by.

Dear friends and readers, if you’ve come back or caught me on your blog roll, please know that I’ve missed you all terribly.  I promise to be more faithful to you and my dusty, meagre little web log.  I promise glorious photos with snarky captions, amazing garden news on a regular basis, and possibly, just possibly, another contest of sorts.  And I promise you won’t have to wait another six months for any of it.  Honest.

Seeds!

In case you didn’t know, it’s winter here.

And it’s cold. And we have a ridiculous amount of snow.

But while the sub-arctic chill we’re enjoying has kept me from typing much at the computer, it did encourage us to daydream about spring. S4 and I spent an afternoon sketching how the backyard might look after the 15-odd inches of snow melts (assuming it doesn’t become a glacier first), and we talked about what we’d like to grow in our garden this year. She is a fan of pickles, so the first thing we put on the list was a stubby variety of gherkins. O3 wanted carrots. I added nasturtiums. We all agreed on potatoes, which the girls don’t care to eat but really like to grow. And then we picked out some herbs, some flowers, and a few other things.

Our seed order was duly placed, and it arrived on Saturday. This is both good and bad. It’s fun to handle little packets of seeds and dream about the lush and luscious plants that will (hopefully) grow out of them. But now spring seems ever so much farther away, and I’m finding myself growing impatient with winter. I have to remind myself that winter is necessary for spring, that the ground needs time to rest and replenish itself (as do I). So for now, I will content myself with poor sketches of garden possibilities and a few more weeks’ worth of anticipation before we get to pull out the seed flats. And I can look at some of these pictures from last year’s gardening efforts to remind myself that it is so worth the wait.

Oh, and this one helps a lot, too.