Summer's succulence

Lucky me for being able to trade some of my apricots and peaches, grown in Sacramento, for blueberries and blackberries of Rainbow Orchards in Camino.  Their location in the Sierra Foothills, with its hot summer days and cool night air sweeping off the Sierra Nevada, brings forth lush fruit.

The blueberries might be smaller than the ones I grew up eating on the East Coast, but each little indigo nugget explodes with a sweet, rather than tart, taste.

Experts claim correctly the blackberry is not a true berry, due to the small drupelets each unit possesses.  All I can claim is that each one contains a drop of bright sunshine.

On the 45-minute drive home, I pondered how to prepare the blackberries.  A pie or tart, perhaps?  Maybe I would fold them into Greek yogurt with a sprinkle of cinnamon or create a lemon-infused sauce to cover the berries and vanilla  ice cream.

In the end, I went the more traditional route.

I sat under the shade of the apricot and peach trees, with the basket of blackberries and a large glass of ice water.

Slowly, as all things during summer's high heat should be done slowly, I nibbled and sipped.

I believe if more people sought out the succulence of summer, the world would be a better place.

Simple Joys

I have traveled the world, met many people and done lots of things. 

However, few compare to the simple joy of gathering fresh fruit and vegetables that I have grown or are under my stewardship.

Today was a big pickin' day with fennel, Swiss chard, thyme, sage, basil, mint, oregano, kale, tomatoes, rosemary, bok choy, lemon grass, peaches and one mini white Japanese eggplant.

Goodness with a capital G!

Looks Crazy, Acts Great

My rudimentary skills with Spanish were not necessary to comprehend what my neighbors were saying.

Seeing several banana skins clipped and hanging from my clothes line, alongside sheets and pillowcases, their expressions let me know that they thought the next door lady gardener (me) was definitely loco.

Actually, I was drying the skins to eventually grind them into a powder.

The organic powder was then sprinkled on the ground by tomato, fennel and rosemary plants to add beneficial nitrogen to the soil.  It has worked wonderfully and a delightful bonus is the attraction of colorful butterflies. This is especially nice as my garden is dedicated to growing food, and not flowers.

A friend recently sent me an article on how some people pee on their growing plants to add nitrogen.

I could just see the neighbors' faces if I used that method!

Baking Soda's Sweet and Sour Tomato Tale.

I felt like one of the doomed mid 19th century Irish upon discovering blight in the garden last Saturday.

Six of the ten tomato plants, ranging from Big Boy to cherry varieties, had overnight developed leaves with lesions and yellowing edges. This was especially upsetting as many of them were heavily laden with fruit starting to turn red.

First, I cut away the affected plant parts and then washed my hands before touching anything else. Then was time to grab a spray bottle and fill it with 1 teaspoon each of liquid dish soap and baking soda and then add 1/3 cup of water.  Baking soda is a staple in the garden this year.  I began sprinkling it around the bottom of the tomato plants a month ago in hopes of having sweeter fruit.

A good soaking of the organic blight brew seemed to do the trick.  Five days later and no further blight has appeared.

Last night the season's first tomato was ready to eat.  After a good wash I bit into it.  Unlike years past there was no sudden rush of acidity.  Instead the taste was rich and dulcet.

Baking soda's place in my gardening tools is now secure.

My favorite spring time garden flowers

Vegetables, not flowers, are planted in my garden.

Whether in ground or standing tall in a container the concentration is on feeding myself and others.

Eggplants

Thus after early March plantings - the following flowers are my favorite ones to see.

Cheery Tomatoes



Zucchini

 

Watermelon


 

The Hanging Gardens of Sacramento

Last year I went a bit bonkers with my seed purchases.

A pre-season sale spurred my imagination and I came home stocked to sow an acre or two. 

Unfortunately, my little backyard measures 10-feet by 22 feet in arable land.

Where was your brain, I chastised myself while surveying my garden then enjoying its winter sleep under a cold February rain.

Taking a swig of bottled water, I looked through its clearness at the weathered fence.

I wonder....

Several internet searches combined with a month's collection of plastic jugs, bottles and containers meant by late March I was ready for non traditional gardening.

Within an hour, peas, beans, three varieties of lettuce and jalapeno peppers were planted and hanging with kite strings between fence slats.

The brilliance of the plan was its mobility.

When the noontime southern exposure threatened to cook the tender peas weeks before they were ready, all I had to do was move them.

Small containers offered harvests for individual meals, rather than having a bushel of beans to accompany a single salmon fillet.

Best of all I had finally thwarted the unseen creature who in several nights had turned the garden's northeast corner in its private buffet.

Morning glories are currently sprouting from two containers.  By mid May their blue blossoms will crawl across old wood and add color where none has existed for years.

When repurposing containers for gardening, use products that held products for human consumption or bleach and liquid soap.

Prior to using, I fill and soak the emptied and rinsed out container in a solution of liquid soap and bleach for at least 30 minutes.  This helps rid the container of an contaminants.

For large openings on juice bottles and the like, some use coffee filters to hold the potting soil in place. I don't drink coffee, so instead a rolled up paper plate worked fine.

To protect a plant's roots, growing in a clear container, from the harsh sun I grabbed my acrylic paints and slathered them on.

Kite string, 80 lb and Dacron, is hardy enough to sustain four to five months of hot Sacramento summers and rain-soaked winters.

Gardening for Body and Soul

“Eww, you want me to weed?”

“I’m hot and sweaty – yuck!”

“A BUG! Kill it, quick!”

How my whiny teenage utterances haunt me, when I think of my former hatred of gardening.

Worse of all, when it came to eating my grandfather’s bountiful kale and kohlrabi or the glorious red beets grown by my parents, despite a lack of work, my fork was always the first poised to attack.

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A sense of marvel flooded over me.

On my tiny 4-foot by 6-foot patio,  thumb-sized potatoes grew from old peelings and three Kentucky blue green beans hung ripe on a piece of string attached to my patio chair.

Proudly, holding my agricultural bounty, I turned to show my visiting father.

Without a word, he took one of the beans and with a crunch, bit into it.

“Mmmmm, tastes good.”

A gasp of horror escaped my mouth.

In a flash, one-third of my harvest had disappeared.


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Mary, Mary quite contrary,

What does your garden grow?

My name may not be Mary, and my garden's plantings do not include silver bells and cockle shells.

But when it comes to pretty maids all in a row - this little beauty has been living under the tarp shielding the tomato stakes.

Today, this month-old, yet unnamed kitten was held by a human for the first time.

She seemed to enjoy the garden glove massage too.

Daikon Experiment

Despite the many Asian markets in my neighborhood, I cannot find daikon seeds.

Although I barely passed high school biology, I have turned one corner of the kitchen into root central.

Two weeks ago, I cut off the tops of two daikon radishes and placed them in a shallow dish of water.

What could it hurt?

The tops' leaves grew thicker, longer and stayed a healthy green.

No roots appeared at the bottom, but they have been in the ground for four days now and are thriving..

Luther Burbank and Carl Linnaeus would be so proud.

Ho-Ho-Hoeing

Hoeing clears my unkempt land and tangled thoughts.

When a writing deadline looms, and my words remain rigidly entrenched somewhere in my brain, far beyond my best mining abilities – I head for the garden.

If worries, personal or professional, threaten my well-being – I head for the garden.

The very act of repeatedly striking something solid, and breaking it up is cathartic.

Despite vigorous whacks that diminish earth clods and eradicate thick weed clumps there is no guarantee my problems miraculously evaporate.  This is only a postage-stamped garden – not Lourdes.

Sometimes, several hoeing sessions are required to achieve Nirvana. Often sheer exhaustion from the physical labor purges a situation’s difficulties with a deep sleep.

Can hoe-hoe-hoeing bring hope?

Yes, plus a great garden as well.

Hectic Hector, the Hummingbird

Come early morning or at twilight, our tiny Hectic Hector buzzes by for a drink.

This frenetic hummingbird's visits start at the end of February when fragile blossoms festoon first the peach, and then the apricot tree. 

Then as late winter winds make them tumble down like pink and white snowflakes, he sips orange blossom nectar through the month of March.

Now several months before the stone-fruit is ripe, his thirst continues.

After several seasons of putting up a hummingbird feeder, the daily battle with invading sugar seeking ants got to be too much.

Instead if I lightly sprinkle water, atop the bright green leaves, nearest the growing fruit he is sated.

Should the hose's spray be late in the morning, meaning anytime after 7:30, Hector rewards my tardiness by dive bombing my head. 

Never close enough to cause harm, but near enough so I recognize his annoyance.

Just another member of our garden's peaceable kingdom.

Life in the Garden

Life in all its glory and fragility is abundant in my garden today.

Yesterday, Licorice, the oldest feral cat resident, decided to bypass the tarp covered plastic bins I had set in the side garden I rarely use. 

Instead, she gave birth to her kittens in the only remaining high grass - exactly where I had planned to cut it down today and plant sunflowers and cosmos.

Now she moved her new family of three a few feet away to under the thriving rosemary scrub and within a snarl and a scratch away from all the new containers filled with sage and basil, lemongrass, ginger and garlic.

Oh well, temporary hand watering will build up my arms.

Honey bees and a backwards flying Anna's hummingbird gleefully gather the nectat from the orange blossoms.

Peace reigns supreme, and is that not what a garden is supposed to provide?

Farming Faith

As a teenager, I grew up surrounded by farm fields of Central New York.

Corn and beans were the primary crops dotting the curved landscape between tufts of wooded areas.

As an adult I moved to Montana where fields of wheat were larger than five Oneida County farms put together. 

Sometimes in the middle of harvest, I would drive back roads just to watch the majestic ballet of machine and nature. Four to six massive combines, with precise movements in perfect harmony would sweep across large expanses of land gathering grain.

Now living in Northern California's Central Valley, the land's fertility is literally palpable - especially as spring approaches

While my own farm is a tiny backyard - it does need to feed me for most of the year.

Like any farmer, including hundreds of years of my forefathers and mothers, this is where faith is the greatest product to be farmed.

Prospects look good.  The sun is bright and temperatures warm.

As I place lettuce seeds into the hanging recycled plastic bottles along the fence, I can only hope come this June no hail suddenly appears and pulverizes tender leaves like it did last year.

Will there be enough heat to have continuous tomatoes come August or will a cooler summer stunt the harvest?

What about the little stalks of lemon grass. with newly sprouted roots from three weeks sitting in water in my sun-filled back room, will they mature in the large container?  Considering a feral cat has formed a disturbing curiosity with their scent - I can only hope they will someday flavor my Asian dishes.

Hope is faith-based.

Right now I am farming on faith, that everything will grow to their full potential.

Real Life Gardening vs. TV Gardening

Someday, a gardening TV show, like a home repair one, will honestly depict how filthy, frustrating and icky it can be.

It is a disservice to new gardeners, especially, to make it all look so easy and clean. 

Take someone whose green thumb is itching to plant for the first time.  Visions of backyards brimming with picture perfect plants and profusions of colorful flowers, all bug-free and straight-rowed, dance in their heads. 

No one speaks about cutting back years or at least a winter’s growth of weeds to find an empty bird's nest or worse a full one - with baby mice or rats.  

Breaking up untended ground, baked and frozen under sizzling summers and lingering winters can be back breaking work with a hoe in your hands.

Why do we never see a smiling host break a sweat, get a blister or wipe their forehead forgetting their gloves had alpaca poo on it?

All occur with regularity.

Then there is a wicked low-hanging branch that whips off the gardener's glasses. This leaves one fumbling around in the blind hope of finding their specs before a heart-stopping "crunch" is heard.

How about the hostile hose? 

I have one.

Just when I think I know all its kinks, it suddenly stops spraying.  As I turn to free it from its tangled self - with almost pre-planned viciousness - it unleashes a full torrent of water into my face.

From late spring to early fall my garden shoes are flip flops. 

Why is it that one will suddenly flies off as I am walking?

This causes my bare foot to hurtle, with  unstoppable momentum, into the squishy mud where I just watered.

When within days of harvesting the heads of cabbage, I have raised from seeds, are attacked by unseen critters that rip into its tender leaves with giant holes - I cry real tears.

I want to see that happen to someone in TV land.

They always look too neat, hair in place and wearing unsoiled gardening gloves. Reveling in the beauty of the greenery and plants surrounding them, at the end of the show they congratulate each other -sometimes holding cool drinks.

Show me their callouses, along with a pile of their dirt and sweat-stained clothes, and then they can have that drink!

 

 

 

Late winter stirrings

It begins.

Warm February weather allowed my fennel to shake it feathery fronds and deepen its greenness. The kale's curl is looser and mint is doing what it does best - trying to stake an early claim to the garden.

Despite what the calendar shows - spring has arrived.

While my nose and eyes suffer through the accelerating pollen punch, the sight of the peach and apricot trees' fragile, paper-thin flowers means it is time to pull out plans and a wish list for the 2013 garden.

What's on for this year?

More than Japanese eggplants will add an Asian aspect.

Right now bok choy is growing in small pots in the sunny spare bedroom, while two stalks of lemon grass, placed in a water glass, are starting to show new roots.  Wish I could find daikon seeds.

To combat the critter(s) who enjoyed snacking their way through my cabbage and kohlrabi last year - I am investing in additional large pots.  Last year's success with jalapeno peppers and pear tomatoes is making me adventurous as what else can be grown in them.

Tomatoes are always a given, and I have accepted the fact I cannot grow peas or beans, either in the ground or in hanging tree containers.  Well, I can grow them if only one periodic pod was an acceptable harvest.

Also, off the list is corn, but its not that healthy anyway.

Basil, basil and more basil head the herb list as do additional varieties of thyme and sage.  The lemon balm was a fun find for tea and rice dishes.  Marjoram will join its cousin oregano while red-tipped leaf lettuce and spinach will supply salad makings for much of the late spring and early summer.

I am still undecided if butternut or spaghetti squash will get the corner filled with blazing hot sun June - September.  Two years ago I tried planting pumpkins, but my gourds near geared up to its expectations.

Gardeners and baseball fans have much in common, especially in the spring

Hope is ripe in the air for a good summer showing and a fruitful fall.

Keeping Green Local and in Season

Although my own garden is offering kale, fennel and Swiss Chard - the take is pretty scant.

Off I went to one of those quasi/organic fruit and veg shops where rain forest music softly plays in the background and the help wears earth tones.

Rows of blueberries, blackberries and raspberries were highly visible under "ORGANIC" signs.

Upon further inspection they were grown in Chile. The South American country over 9K miles away.

Any organic good was wiped out by the immense fuel used in transportation.

Plus, such long distance travel increases the possibility for food contamination and other risks.

Eating in season and local are important components to being helpful to both yourself and Mother Earth.

Eat local by shopping at farmers' markets or joining a CSA (community supported agriculture). Both can be found almost anywhere and year-round in the USA.

During winter in the Northern Hemisphere it is the time for root vegetables (carrots, butternut squash, sweet potatoes, broccoli and the like). Incorporate kale, cabbage and brussel sprouts. Apples provide sweetness and variety in fruit desserts.

Currently in Florida, strawberries are bountiful from places like Plant City and soon in Northern California they will appear along with early springtime asparagus.

I am big on freezing in-season veggies and fruits for use at a later date.

Tonight, peaches - sun dried fresh from being picked in July - will be incorporated into a pound cake.

The memory of that summer day, along with the fact both Mother Nature and myself are healthier, is better than eating out of season berries anytime.

Rewards of Staking the Tomatoes

Admit the truth.

As salty sweat pours down your face and sears your eyes in the summer heat you have thought about not staking fast growing tomato plants.

Forget about the damage of snails and other ground crawling insects, my hot brain only screamed one thing, on occasion, as I struggled to add more stakes into rock-hard  clay.

"Let them fend for themselves!"

Luckily, common sense always prevailed.

So did the tomatoes - abundantly. Many were then roasted and frozen in September and October.

After summer, not giving into a bit of uncomfortable perspiration shows its rewards.

A late fall day like today, cold and rainy with a blustery wind, is brighter with the making of tomato soup.

Heat, so hated a few months ago, is now savored and appreciated.