I can eat that.

The henbit has been loving this weather. It also has been possibly choking out the brassicae sprouts. But also possibly hiding them from the nibbling critters.

I hedged my bets on preventing choking and risking chomps. We’ll see…

The leeks from Dixondale Farms finally found their earthen homes. All ~120 of them. At least they freeze well.

This was the fingerling potato bed. After digging the whole way over it was discovered that the ~12 we buried grew into…3. Too many freezes without cover took them out. So those three are saved for a few weeks when it’s time to try another sowing.

In tomato and pepper (and flower!) news: I, of course, checked for sprouts again this morning. We’re still about five days from the earliest realistic possible growth. I did borrow the instant read thermometer from the kitchen to check the heating pad transference to the soil. 75 degrees F was the goal and exactly where it was. Huzzah!

Over here, the cabbage is happier than the henbit – hooray!

Behind.

I think I’ve felt behind on this every year since the first year.

Tomatoes and peppers of varieties that the nursery will have no backups for. These sprout and thrive or we don’t have them.

An early eager helper turned bored companion quickly yesterday. It’s tricky to enjoy this winter ritual when being harped upon to play something more fun. This is play for me, but work for her.

And then a nap ended and out emerged a bewildered boy. An eager helper beside me once more, who found Papa’s favored pepper seeds that I had overlooked. Peace, for a moment or twelve.

And then his way awoke. Seeds pressed down nearly an inch into the soil, coaxed back to the top, boiled an eruption to the surface within him and I was once again with irritated companions of proximity.

There’s a wiring in her that won’t likely loosen on enjoying plant chores. She has it as deeply set for enjoying the care of animals.

There’s an opposing wiring in him, as there oddly often is, to decline playing dinosaurs with her to help me plant, provided My Way doesn’t over exert itself.

And so I will learn to give more give in my plans, build in cushions of time and space where needs be, so my worry about the impossibility of backups doesn’t tarnish, or simply crumble, the enjoyment of the season.

(And yes, I did check the seed tray first thing this morning to see if any miraculously fast sprouting had occurred overnight. It never has and yet I always check.)

Slush hunting.

The freeze came.

The hottest September on record followed by the coldest November 1st.

Sweet (potato) neighbors creating safe haven for small (golden cherry tomatoes) to survive.

But that’s not what I’m hunting for.

I hunt a little differently than many hunters.

But I bring home a haul all the same.

Tomorrow will be more of the same, as I’ve still more than half way to go here, and two more spots in the garden for hunting.

Like here. Where the sheets didn’t fully protect the green beans in the background.

Rainbow Pico.

Rainbows have hit a new level of glory in our home.

First we had the usual childhood awe, fascination, and adoration of them. Like you do.

Then June came round and for some unknown (to me) reason, this was the year in which much of corporate America felt free, finally, to celebrate Pride month. This added to the rainbow fandom in my house and lead to heartening conversations. When asked by a wee one why there were suddenly rainbows everywhere, I found the answer coming from my mouth before trying to find age-appropriate words: people have decided that rainbows are a way to celebrate love – and that love between any person and any other person is worth being happy about.

From the mouths of babes: then why aren’t there this many rainbows every day? I want to open a year round shop called, “Every Rainbow Every Day” because every love is ok every day.

And so in our house, we celebrate rainbows every day, in every way. Last night’s rainbow?

Yellow pear tomatoes, sun gold tomatoes, black cherry tomatoes, and pink Arkansas traveler tomatoes from the garden with a white onion and green cilantro.

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…

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.