The Insanity of Summer....

... Or maybe I'm just lazy.

The first garden I visited after I started gardening was an inspiration, and it was ridiculous. My crop at the time was modest, but my beds were perfect. Row after row of tired burnt plants, yielding their efforts at securing seedlings for the following season. Fruit so pitiful pealing renedered only seeds.

My friend's garden, was chaos. Weed covered, trellissed plants matted together, gigantic unharvested fruits. My fried was however an expert gardener. I scoffed, silently of course, but now, I'v boarded the same boat.

I do weed, around seedlings only. I water, of course, a complete necessity in our climate. I fertilize also, perhaps the most important. Last weekend, though, as I poured my last jug of putrid emulsified fish water over my straining, bending, breaking tomatoes, I had a moment. It's hot! Glad I got the fertilizing done! I'm gonna have a beer!

There will be detractors, but I say let them come. It's fairly mid-summer. I've weeded hard. I've planted, transplanted, chased pests. . . And to show for it, I have so many vegetables I can't keep up with the canning. One more tomatoe and cheese snack plate, and I'm sure my wife will leave me.

If I miss a water mellon until fall when the grass dies, so be it. I work hard to get the most from my garden, don't get me wrong, but after mid-July, I've gotta let her fly. Do what she wants. I've got volunteer plants I've not even identified yet. But the volunteer melons from May were a hit. Who am I to judge.

So, here's to chaos. Keep the fertilizer on 'em, pick what you see, leave some for the pests, and crack a cold one in the shade.

I Just Planted the Hell Out of Some Bush Beans

Lettuce, cabbage, a couple pounds of strawberries. Three jars of pickled beats. Lovin' it. My late spring harvest is in, all my hopes lie with summer. Nine tomatoe planst, eight or so squash, mellons etc. As they said in the eighties, the heat is on. The last of the cool weather crops have given way to the summer standards. Pray for sun, pray for rain. The normal balance that inlanders enjoy, we on the edge can only dream. I've got friends in VA that water twice a week. I wish! But, blazing sun is blazing energy. I've got two rain barrells. I'm ready for the worst. And, I'm sure I'll see it. I've got plans for berries and fruit trees, I'm a month late, but such is life. We'll see how it goes.

Tomato Time!

Dogwoods are pretty. Budding azaleas are impressive. But, nothing says spring quite like planting your tomatoes. Their little hairy stalks, the smell of the actual tomatoes that will come from them lingers on your fingers just from a casual brush with their leaves. They are the only garden plant I deal with that gives such a sensual prelude of things to come. I mean the fruit is still like two months away, and the plant already smells like it.

They can also be the canary in the coal mine for the aggressive gardener like me. They are in the ground. It's still late April. A cold snap, perhaps. A couple of days of cold maybe . . . They may be doomed, but, if they make it I'll be reaping the rewards early!

I'm trying a new spot for them this year, up next to a heat radiating wall of my house, opposite a light-colored, sun reflecting walkway. There's already a ton of heat there, and it's only April. They are sheltered from some rain, mitigating fungus, the Rain barrels are hooked up to the gutters. It's gonna be a great year.

The other great thing about tomatoes is that you don't have to preach about them. They sell themselves. A vine ripened tomatoe, fresh from the garden, sliced on a plate will dissapear. Add salt if you really want to see them fly off the table. Spring veggies . . . ? The roots, turnips, radishes, Collards; they can be a tough sell. Tomatoes herrald the arrival of the good stuff. Squash, mellons, beans.

Someday soon. I'm going to start the truck and head off to work, and roll down my windowat 6:30 am, and it will be warmer outside than in, and I'll know. Summer is here. The plants I'm planting now will know it is their time. They will litterally kill themselves trying to produce seeds in attractive packaging. And, I will be there, gathering, preparing and canning whatever is left.