It's OK For Vegetables To Get Wet -

-but the market tent has definitely seen better days. A few drops were falling as a customer buys a a melon and some cucumbers...I saw the new mower in the yard - parked. Will is over there weed-eating around the beehives. I thought (briefly) that maybe i should drive the mower under the carport. But no. I've been using the leaf blower on it, but it has dirt that won't come off with the blower. And besides, yesterday Will got it stuck in the pond. So there's mud too. So I thought, well, let a little rain wash it off, and I'll get over there with a towel, and just wipe it down. ok. Here's another one for the Department of 'HA-HA'! I mean, the sky didn't look particularly threatening, and i didn't hear any thunder (although I think the dogs and cats did, who wanted in the house in the worst way), and it really looked like a little summer afternoon rain, nothing more. This is where the 'ha ha' comes in. The little drops turned into big drops, then sheets of rain, then more rain, then Will and I were both soaking wet and in the carport. I swear the sun was out in the west, and the clouds were not much to speak of. But this went on for, oh, maybe an hour and a half! pouring rain. Maybe two inches, I don't know. (we forgot to empty the rain gauge, so you can only judge by random buckets and things out in the yard). Here is picture of how unassuming it looked from the front porch:See? you can hardly even see those little fat drops. The market tent was filling up with water. What this means is, big pools of rain are collecting on all four sides, in big pockets on the roof of the tent. Somebody has to get out there with a broom and heave-ho, dumping the water off of each corner from underneath. Either that, or the whole thing may collapse. I ran out there and did the honors. It looked like it was letting up. But the more I pushed with the broom, the heavier the rain got. Then there was a clap of thunder. Not me, I thought. I'm not going down this way, holding a broom under the market tent and getting struck by lightening. I ran back to the house and ran dripping through the house out the other end to the carport. Just to let everyone know, the animals know how to spend their time during a storm: Of course, the black cat has to go into the workshop, because the red cat won't tolerate it's presence. Back to the storm: In the driveway, I find Will vigorously washing the car in the pouring rain! He had done the mower, and moved on to the vehicles. ok. Well, lots of excellent rinsing going on. The tent, meanwhile, is filling up with water again. I got sick to death of running out there and pushing upwards with the broom. By this time, the roof of the tent was ripping along the seams as I pushed the water out. oh well. The tent has had a long and happy life. Its still good for keeping out the sun, right? ...At long last, the rain stopped. I believe (and this from the radar on the tv) the storm just formed over us and stayed there; a red blob - for more than an hour. I wasn't too worried about the melons and vegetables. But they were now all layed on on soaked and nasty tablecloths, and the scale and money box and other stuff were in a big pile covered with very wet dishrags. yuk. So i gathered clean towels and rags and trudged out to wipe down each squash, every tomato. Rolled the melons aside one by one, pushing the tablecloth aside. You have to clean up. I mean, you don't want the customers to think you're a slob now, do you? In my opinion, vegetables look even more beautiful after a good rain. We were out sitting with our coffee this morning, talking about getting the front field cut for hay. It's a tricky business. When the hay gets baled, you better be darned sure you have a couple of days of dry weather coming up...or all you get is moldy bales that have to sit in the field. maybe forever. good thing the guy didn't show up this morning.

Free Cat To Good Home

um...anybody out there want a perfectly good black cat?
talks a lot. doesn't get along with large red cats. wants to play. left out on the road on a very cold winter night. no bigger than your hand. wild as anything. but not anymore. took two weeks to train it to come to the carport for food. wants to come in the house at every opportunity. 'good mouser'. this means, will kill small things - no discrimination. will purr if held very closely. good lapcat too. a joker.we've decided that this cat will never fit in here. mostly because the Crazy Cat is king, and they hate each other with a passion, and that will never do. We won't put him out, but we are hoping someone will think he is very cute (which he is) and will make him a one-cat home.

P.S. also, cannot stay out of photographs...

Four Grueling Mornings

as much of the morning as I could take each time, and that's maybe two hours! I'm not a sissy about manual labor, but it's July...this year I'm not quite as good about getting out at 6 a.m. It always seems to be 7 instead. The sun is up, but not over the trees quite yet. The job; 35 blackberry bushes all in a row. But you can't see them anymore. Because weeds and vines have moved in in a big way.They're in there somewhere, those blackberries. And if they aren't weeded and mulched, you run the risk of kissing the whole thing goodbye. It's an investment, and not a one-season venture. So this has to be done. Like any other garden job, it's best not to look down the row as you're working. Especially after you've been working for an hour and you think you've made such excellent progress, only to look up through the sweat and see how pitifully little you have accomplished. I used the deer fence as a guide, telling myself that if I just weeded a section that was as long as one section of that fence, it would be enough for the day. But it's not like the wooden fence everywhere else on the property. The spaces between poles are much, much farther. So I didn't keep that little pledge to myself...it was just a game, but a useful game during this kind of task.Yep. It was as hot as that looks. On the fourth morning, I decided to just stick it out and get to the end, because I just didn't know how many more mornings I had left in me for this job.
You have to locate the center of each bush, then (with a hoe) pull outward to loosen those stupid vines...all the while trying not to break any of the blackberry branches. Each plant had maybe five or so REALLY long branches and of course every vine and weed was tangled up in them. Fact: blackberries will only set next year on this year's branches. So if you tear them up or break them off, you're not going to have any berries next summer. When you're delirious with heat and sweat and you only want to be finished, you have to resist the temptation not to care! you have to care. In the end, Will followed up with the weed-eater so it didn't look so messy, and so that they can be more finely weeded before mulching. But the hard work is done. Will worked so hard to put these bushes in early in the spring, and we knew somebody had to get out there and take care of this...it's true, there' way too much for the two of us to take care of, and we can never keep a handle on everything all through the summer. The herb beds are a mess this time of year. But they can be turned over, mulched, and planted again. The blackberries are in their permanent home, so that's a different matter. Will mentioned maybe hiring somebody to do this, but I figured I'd give it a shot. yea. I tell you, though, it's a pleasant little fantasy, the thought of one or two (or even three) more people helping with this craziness. For now, we'll just push ahead through the hot part of the summer. Some flats of tomatoes and peppers have been started for fall, and if you really try, you can look at them and imagine the cooler weather somewhere down the road.

The $64 Tomato...

Will always joked that, by the time you actually pick a tomato, it probably costs about $60, what with seed and labor and whatnot. Not that you'd actually NOT plant tomatoes just because of that trifle of a statistic. But it's fairly accurate. Wouldn't you know, I was in the bookstore looking for Barbara Kingsolver's new book 'Animal, Vegetable, Miracle' (buy it, read it) and stumbled upon a book called 'The $64 Tomato' which speaks of this very thing. It's a light-hearted kind of 'B' book, and a quick read. The only problem is, the guy who talks about his gardening in writing this book doesn't really do much of the gardening. But he sure hires a lot of people to do a lot of stuff. Yes, he breaks a sweat, but I am here to tell you that if anybody really understands the concept of the $64 tomato, it's Will. And here it is...the object of this book. The Brandywine Tomato.



On to other happenings this week in the Land of Plenty. We robbed the hives and spun out the honey (my goodness but that's a lot of work). We have around 7 gallons of honey , or about 30 pints...and guess what there's more out there. But we'll have to recover from this episode first. I have a friend who also just finished the Kingsolver book, and now has decided that her son (age 4) needs to know as much as possible about growing food etc., which would include the honey experience. So she wants to be here in a week or so when we do the next round. bravo. Now that we've done this twice, we're feeling like old hands, although I'm sure there will be surprises in the future. And, by the way, if anybody out there knows to to separate the hood from the body of a bee suit, let me know. It is a zipper puzzle, not solved yet, although I've shown it to several women who sew, and would normally know how to figure this out. The thing can really get rank, and one go-round of washing it in the bathtub is enough for me.
Once the beans had come and gone, and the garden turned into a jungle, I really felt that the garden was winding down for the summer. But no! Even though you have to wade through the weeds and swat at all sorts of things, there plenty of late summer stuff out there. Evidenced by Will's haul of yesterday. I should be glad, because I do want to have more than just watermelons. They are late, but when they come in, it will be crazy. For the weekend:
And this is why my postings have been few and far between lately....but, as they say, it's all good.

pond in the morning...

Just a picture. That is all.

The Season Of Falling Down

That's just the way it is: The garden is so beautiful. Everything is tall and strong. Then things get even taller. Then comes a storm of one sort or another. High winds or much rain or both. It is late in the season. Plants are past their prime. You want everything to stop and stay the same for a while. But that can't be. One day your garden is something fit for a postcard. The next day (after the storm) things are disheveled. One thing falls on top of another. There is mud, so you cannot make things right - not for at least a few days. When 'the smoke clears' you realize that, once again, the garden has won and you have lost. You cannot possibly just 'straighten things out'. You will, in the end, have to mow and plow and start all over. Darn! So - let us admire what there is while we can. Because even things that have fallen over are beautiful in their own way.Here, we have precariously leaning sunflowers and old squash thrown to the side: a staple of every Southern garden.Here we have something that has been flattened on purpose: Obviously, someone has been tromping around in the corn, tearing off ears and stomping on fallen plants. That's ok. We are pleased that the corn is 'over'.Even the flowers must fall over at some point. It's not an emergency with flowers, because there's nothing to harvest - and they are just as beautiful up or down.
As with any garden, things are winding down while other things are just cranking up. Although the sunflowers are on their way out, the okra is just now coming into it's own.
Once you are able to admit that you have, once again, lost control of the garden...you can at least admire the sheer wildness of the situation. The garden wrests control from you, and lives the way it wants to. You don't really want to haul out the tractor...it was so much work, after all. Let's let things be for a week or two. Fall planting is still a long way off. And there are a lot of veggies in there. What I'm trying to say is this: we have moved from wielding a big stick over orderly rows to being thankful that we are allowed to remove edible things from the craziness of the garden. Next up: melons...

Lock That Cat In The House!

It was 6:30 a.m.
I was on a bench by the garden, in my bathrobe, with the camera and coffee....
My mistake was letting the back screen door slam on my way out of the house.
Too late. The 'little kitty' (who really should have been assigned a better name by NOW) heard that. And the favorite place is the garden. This cat is a talker. He simply will not leave you alone when you're in the garden. He wants to talk to you (constantly) and thread his way through the rows...hiding like a panther, slinking around. Actually, if he was a panther, he'd be a very poor one, because he cannot shut up(!) AND he wants to play. AND you feel sorry for him, because after all he was tossed out of some car on a cold winter night and it took weeks to tame him and he was so very tiny. And now the adult cats really don't want to play with him. And the Crazy Cat attacks him at every opportunity. So you kind of put up with him. But my intention of taking garden pictures was sabotaged. He insisted on being in every picture. So here we are:

Bee Crossing!

Sometimes life is just plain weird...

One of the Louisiana beekeepers had emailed me, asking about this blog andI was responding and I heard the driveway alarm. I went out, thinking it was a customer, but it was the mail-lady. Something big and flat that wouldn't fit in the mailbox. i wonder what this is? It's been sent by a friend of Will's, an co-worker from way back...and she's interested in gardening and is involved in the pumpkin growing contest every year.

Well.
Here you go!
A Bee-Crossing sign!
How cool is that?

bee bees bees. This week was re-queening. more later.

Making Peppermint Tea

well...making tea-bags.
The Coreopsis had taken over the peppermint beds, And I didn't have the heart to pull them out, so I let them do their thing. Several years ago, we planted a row of Coreopsis in the garden, and it got six feet tall, and we even tied it up with an elaborate rope system to keep them all from falling over. It was beautiful. It will also never be necessary again. Because, since that experiment, coreopsis sproings up all over the garden every year. And in the yard, and anywhere else it can.
This year, a bunch of them popped up in the mint beds. They're just so beautiful. It's impossible to mow them down or pull them up before they've bloomed and set seed. Well, they did all that, and it was time to rip them out and cut back the mint, which had grown long, long trailing vines in it's efforts to reach past the coreopsis plants. I mean, how much mint could that possible be? Turns out, way, way too much to handle at one time. I sat in the carport all day long; with the hose running and a scissors and the big mesh garden cart - cutting and washing and trimming and bagging and on and on and on. But I got it done. Then begins the drying process, whereupon I mentally thank for the billionth time my friend Maria who gave me the professional herb dryer on 'permanent loan'. With it's flat leaves, mint dries faster than many other herbs (like rosemary, for instance). But it still takes more than a day. You have to catch it between 'limp but mostly dry' - and 'so dry there's no aromatic essence left'. Then, one rack at a time (and I process about ten at a time), you must remove all of the stems, even the teeny tiny ones. That's kind of a pain, but there' no way around it. This is why dried thyme should cost a million dollars an ounce. What you wind up with is a big bowl of crushed, dried, fabulous peppermint, and boy do your hands smell great, and plus your entire respiratory system is thankful. You've been inhaling mint for hours. Now comes the confessional part.
Long ago, when I first ordered teabags, I would stuff them with whatever herb I was making tea from, then sit and stare and the unsealed side of the teabag. I even sat with a friend or two and asked for advice. How do you think you're supposed to close up this side? So I would fold the edges and staple it shut. I even had those little white tags on a string. It was ok, but never looked that good (certainly not professional), and you could never really get it completely closed no matter how hard you tried. This means little scraps of tea would leak out when you put it in a cup of hot water. It was much later that, in desperation, I went looking for an answer on the internet. well. lo and behold, you're supposed to iron them shut! who knew? not me. Let me tell you. This is a great trick. Actually, it's not a trick. It's the way it's supposed to be done. So there you have it.


A little bit of 'packaging ingenuity', and you have teabags to sell in the market tent. Also, a jar of teabags for your own self. yes. It Is A Lot Of Trouble, all told. But, everybody spends their time doing Something. And I can think of a lot of other things I would rather not be doing. It's worth every step.

the 'Any Minute Now ' Edition

We have had a lovely 5-day visit from Will's mother, and although we mowed and did some picking and selling and a tiny bit of planting (and Will did beekeeping and tied tomatoes), we have not really been in the garden very much. So, last evening my mother-in-law and I wandered around the garden to take pictures...all I can say is; everything happens so fast in a garden. The Borage - a foot high a week ago, is now knee-high and quite stunning: But the real surprise are the ANY MINUTE NOW vegetables: Corn, tomatoes, and melons...and then there are the BEES! We did want bees, and by god we have them now. They are everywhere. Not just in the garden, of course. They do so love the lemon balm flowers. I need to cut them back, but I was in the garden early on Saturday. Early, but not early enough. I will have to sneak out at 6 a.m. (they do sleep in just a little). Or wait until 8 at night, when they go home. I'm not just fighting them in the squash row anymore.

In the meantime, I have learned that if you want to hose down the patio, you'd better do it in a hurry, because once the bees find out you're spraying water all over the place, they run over there. They do love (and need) water.

Two weeks and one day

from: First Sunflower of the Season to this:

No time lately for new pictures or tirades or cute postings; we have been working hard, as we always do in the early days of June. Hose-dragging, vegetable-picking, mowing time is here with a vengeance. Last week I was amused at my early attempts to beat the heat. This week, it is not a joke. You know, all year long I look forward to green beans. What a fantasy! Green beans are a wonderful thing, no doubt. But after a week or so of trying to keep them picked, you are thinking how wonderful it would be to just plow them under (!) That may sound evil, and I'm sure all of you would love to have some fresh organic green beans. But as I write this, there is a 75 ft. row out there that would take a single person most of one day to pick. I kid you not.

The yellow beans have been equally prolific this year. I actually sent out an 'emergency!' to our email list on Sunday due to yellow bean excess. By the end of the day, much of the row had been picked by hearty individuals who showed up and thought it was not so bad out there at noon (!) well, more power to them. The effort is worth it to most folks. The beans are indeed very wonderful. But enough of bean talk.
This morning, I was tasked with picking the yellow squash first...and that seems an innocent piece of work. We don't even have a whole row. We were trying to be conservative...and smart. I mean, how much squash can one garden really have before it's a joke? I waded in there with a knife. It's not so bad if you wear gloves. Smarter if you have long sleeves, which I didn't. But I moved slowly, because the new bees think the squash belongs to them, not to me. And they are fighting over each and every squash blossom. If you take your time, they can't figure out what the heck is annoying them (and it's you).If you look closely, you can see that there are three or more bees in this flower. I'll show them, though. I;m going out in the morning to pick these precious flowers. We'll make stuffed (and fried) squash blossoms for dinner.