Just a picture. That is all.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
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...
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...
Sunday, June 24, 2007
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:
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:
Friday, June 22, 2007
Bee Crossing!
Sometimes life is just plain weird...
bee bees bees. This week was re-queening. more later.
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?
Here you go!
A Bee-Crossing sign!
How cool is that?
bee bees bees. This week was re-queening. more later.Monday, June 18, 2007
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 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.
Monday, June 11, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
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.