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.
The sweet potatoes took on the yellow pear tomatoes and won. The cages now house greenery for the tubers (hopefully) down below.
They made a move for the sun gold cherries but no. Those cherries made a counter maneuver. Take that, sweet potatoes.
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.
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…
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.
The first tomatoes of the year lasted roughly an hour before DH had a snack.
I struggle to get over there like I mean to.
But I have to change my shoes… and remember what to bring… and convince myself to put on “somscream.”
Then a trip across the state (don’t laugh, it’s a big state) and it’s been ages.
The squash didn’t mind.
I keep telling myself to refresh my tomato pruning knowledge and actually prune them this year. (I likely won’t.)
Just like I ignored the row spacing
instructions suggestions for the cowpeas.
Again, the weeds grew just as, if not more voraciously. I am not accustomed to this. It makes me miss my carefully-crafted, cautiously-curated, mostly weed-free gardens of yore.
Yet I remind myself to be grateful for the bountiful fruitful glorious loam that is this soil. The decades of organic gardening, tending, and watering – even if the Bermuda and torpedo and other such abhorrent invaders have yet to be kept at bay.
Anyone know the name of this invader?