Images from the garden

Our Plot 17E

A Midsummer Night's Visit

I just returned from an incredibly pleasant trip to the garden. This is unusual in that I generally arrive at high noon, with sweat running down every pore of my body, trying to water as fast as possible so I can retreat to my airconditioned car. To make matters worse, the girls are usually with me complaining about the heat and begging to go home. So tonight it was delightful to enjoy the solitude of the garden at dusk.

It's been more than two months since my last post. Blame it on summertime -- the hectic end of the school year, five-day fever viruses, sweltering heat, and but most of all --sheer laziness. Now that the garden is actually producing something edible, it's time to start posting again.

In my last post, things in plot 17 E looked bleak. Tomatoes shriveled up in the cold, basil turned black and that was pretty much the extent of the garden. Well, it's amazing how things can turn around in a matter of weeks. The weather improved, new tomatoes and basil replaced the casualties. Romaine lettuce bloomed, then quickly bolted. The first bunches were for the most part edible, but sadly the rest of our lettuce crop was too bitter for human consumption. The girls experimented with scattering green bean seeds in the center of the plot. In a matter of what seemed like a day, small green shoots poked up through the dirt and soon after lo and behold we had some actual green beans. The beans when cooked were quite tasty. Eating them raw, on the other hand, required excessive chewing resulting in a sore jaw. The act was discouraged. We also had miniature red peppers so cute the girls and I didn't have the heart to eat them. Jack, however, swooped into our salad and popped one right into this mouth without a moment's hesitation. All in all the garden has defied my expectations (which were admittedly low). It's hard to top eating a ripe cherry tomato fresh off the vine knowing that you planted it yourself.

Battling the Elements

The weather has been positively dreary for gardening. First ark-worthy rain, then steamy heat, then close to freezing temperatures (in May!), and now more cold bone-chilling rain. As a result, we did minimal additional planting, which was a good thing. The freakishly cold evenings turned our basil plants into sad droopy greenish brown lumps and freezer burnt all but one lone tomato plant. Emma has been very concerned about the tomatoes, but I haven't had the heart to tell her they didn't make it. It was selfishly reassuring to see that many of our garden neighbors lost plants in the freeze, and we were not alone. I'm trying to be optimistic about our depressing little plot. I know the weather will improve staying warm and toasty, and we will try, try again to keep our plants happy and thriving.

Rain, Rain GO AWAY!

It's been raining hard for two days. Yes, rain is good. It's an essential element in the growing process. However, this weekend we took a family outing to the newly discovered local Agway, where I could barely contain my excitement over the abundance of vegetables. Earlier in the week, Jill and I finlized our list of veggie candidates for the plot. Making the cut were: tomatoes, peppers (orange or yellow but not green), lettuce, herbs, companion flowers (marigolds or nastursium), cucumbers, and just for kicks we'd try broccoli. As I walked through the Agway offerings I tried to stay focused on selecting just lettuce. This proved somewhat difficult, as my eyes kept wandering toward the perennial section, and away from both the lettuce and my kids, who kept trying to add plastic garden ornaments in the form of squirrels and mice (two animals I'd like to see on the endangered species list) to my cart. The girls, fortunately, lost interest in the offensive ornaments once they found a kid-sized gazebo in which they could romp around. With my children momentarily contained, I honed in on the lettuce choosing arugula, a mesculun mix and some romaine. While I managed to stick to my veggie list, I couldn't restrain myself from adding some perennials to liven up the sparse garden beds around our house. So with my card loaded up with both plants and kids (who thought it would be fun to ride on top), I went to pay, and hopefully find my husband in on the way out. As luck would have it, he happened to be settling up his purchase of organic lawn care products, so we were able to depart en masse.

Eager to plant something other than our heirloom tomato, I was discouraged to awaken the next day to rain -- all day. Then today, rain again -- all day. As my lettuce plants were starting to look a bit water logged, I moved them under the protective overhang of our garage. I am desperately hoping the rain will ebb, and I will be able to get our awaiting lettuces in the dirt tomorrow.

(Dis)respecting the Neighbor's Plot

Yesterday, I took the girls to the community garden for the first time. Since it was right after school, I didn't think it would be too busy, but I was mistaken -- the place was humming with activity! Much to the dismay of my aching shoulder, I dragged a bag of mulch to our plot to finish filling out our walkway. Emma, finding renewed interest in the heirloom tomato plant, was in charge selecting a good spot for it within our plot. While Emma and I tended to the tomato, Bree proceeded to check out the raised beds in the plot across the way. With the memory of gymnastics clearly present in her little head, Bree must of have mistook the black tarps covering the beds for trampolines. As my head instictually turned the way a mother's usually does when they sense something gone amiss, I caught sight of Bree jumping up and down on top of the neighbor's garden beds. Meanwhile, garden chairman Paul was just two plots down intently chopping up grass clogs with a giant machete. Trying not to call to much attention to Bree's offending act, I quietly pleaded with her to "GET OFF NOW". Amazingly, she listened, hopping off the beds, channelling her energy into stomping down the mulch in our walkway. Moments later drops of rain began falling, and with great relief, we took leave of the garden and headed out for ice cream.

What's an Heirloom?

Several days ago, I received a mysterious email saying "We're holding your heirloom tomato plants from Paul. Garden is now open. Please come pick them up this week." and there was a number to call. I had know idea who Paul was.


I called the number and ended up speaking to Bill (the email sender), who was put in charge of distributing the tomato plants to members of the Community Garden. Apparently, the plants were donated by Paul, who turns out to be the unofficial Community Garden chairman. Since the plants were kept indoors, they looked a little sickly, with leaves beginning to yellow. Fortunately, I was the first to pick up my plant so I got to choose what I thought was the healthiest looking one. However, when my daughter Emma returned home from school, she eyed the plant suspiciously. Her look brought back memories of my discovering a plant that looked strikingly similar to cannabis growing in my parents' greenhouse. Fortunately, when she asked "What's that?" I could answer honestly that it was a perfectly legal heirloom tomato plant. The questions continued "What's an heirloom?" I explained that it's something that can be passed around from generation to generation, like a quilt. "But this is a plant." she exclaimed. "Yes, seeds can also be passed on from generation to generation." "How?" I provided a pretty lame explanation, but was saved from further interrogation by my neighbor's kids who stopped by looking to trade silly bands. Emma found this activity of much greater interest than debating the finer points of heirloom tomatoes, so our conversation prompty came to an end.

Emma did get me thinking that the sooner we got this plant into the ground the greater the likelihood of ensuring the next generation would get to enjoy it's tomatoes. So, I guess we're off to the garden this afternoon.