The okra have been standing at attention, reaching their teenage growth spurt.
A few have over grown their britches.
They’ve begun to topple.
Weighed down by my neglect, they lean.
Then the pole beans reach up.
Pulling them down.
Glut
Tis the season…
We’ve long since lost track of the harvest. Pounds and pounds every few days. To snack, in curries, in tacos, to family, cabreses, to work, to friends, to the birds. Still they march on, and no one complains.
Guatemalan blue banana squash is new for me this year. It’s getting cozy with the volunteer sunflowers.
As one of the varieties of cow peas (with orange blossoms!) gets cozy with the volunteer amaranth.
Last week, this bean was cozy with the hose. After a week away on vacay, I’d say they’re more than cozy.
Tomorrow, I hope for uninterrupted TV time – a rarity in my home. (Go USA!) But I have plans for the long commercial break at half time…
Are we there yet?
We missed our turn here…
A friend is going to try to roast and grind the seeds to make a tastes-like-coffee drink (with no caffeine.) Perhaps overgrown okra will have a delicious purpose after all.
New starts
I started a new job last week after almost two months sabbatical. I’m grateful for the time off and honored for the opportunity before me.
Last Monday, my last untethered day, I visited a local nursery I’ve meant to visit for ages.
And saw some fascinating and strange plants.
With fun names like Elephant’s Foot.
And as the week passed, I haven’t made as many trips to the plot. The tomatoes were patient for me.
Sometimes it’s worth it to use the oven in June.
A tip of the hat to you.
I’m currently reading Closing the Food Gap and it’s lighting new fires while dousing others. I keep interrupting my husband’s quiet to read aloud an outrageous statistic here or a shocking history there. Education is not always comfortable.
Twice so far, it’s mentioned that in community garden the most important word is community. I’ve stewed on this a bit. I didn’t join a community garden this round for the community. I joined for the soil to soothe my soul.
When I’d joined in 2012 (same community garden, different plots), I had joined for both the community and the garden. I’d been chastised, looked down upon, and otherwise made to feel wholly unwelcome and less-than during that experience with the community part of the community garden.
So this time, I signed up hoping to garden in peace, quiet, and solitude.
I’ve met more neighboring gardeners in the last six weeks than the entire year I was here last time. Each has been friendly, kind, and generally also hoping to part ways shortly for their own peace and solitude.
Yesterday, I spotted this “Hi” left on the far side of the path between my garden and a neighbor’s I’ve yet to meet. It is one of the main paths in and out of the walled garden. A butterfly had alit beside it.
Yes. I hear you. Community gardening, indeed. (I added an ! before heading home for the day, lacking sufficient supplies for a suitable reply.)
Gardens have no fury like an okra ignored…
Monsters.
The first tomatoes of the year lasted roughly an hour before DH had a snack.
One of a kind timer.
“Would you count to twenty and then do the same for the next tall plant and the next one?”
“Right here, mama?”
I hope these little bean flowers make food before the heat causes them to keel over.
Not everything out of place is unwanted in its place.
Okra are coming.
I’ve been weeding by type. With so many weeds, weeding by section wasn’t the name of the game for me.
That one. That one will spread like the dickens deep under ground if it continues to gather sunlight unchecked…
And then the next visit:
And you! You’ll go to seed in another two days whilst your neighbors will slowly crawl.
Not you, little radish, not last week, not yesterday, but today… yes, you.
plumdirt 