Full Swing

All Garden, No More Yard

Grasshopper with Tomatoes

Tomato Season

Clockwise from Left: Black from Tula; Gold Medal; Red Siberian (the red one in the middle too); Cherokee Purple; Matina (the little guy); Black from Tula again; Green Zebra

Going to Seed

Interesting things can happen when you ignore your garden in the heat of summer...

























Clockwise from top: Lettuce, Chard, Arugula, and Radish

On Beauty and Being Just

Apologies to Elaine Scarry for co-opting the title of her book for this post. As she's also a gardener, I hope she doesn't mind. I came across this beetle on my tomatillos while I was spraying away for cucumber beetles (which for some reason, in my yard, don't eat my cucumbers at all anymore, but devour my tomatillos wherever they sprout up.) Cucumber beetles are lovely, I should take a picture sometime, before I kill them. And they lay tidy little rows of angled bright orange eggs on the underside of my tomatillo leaves. So lovely until they hatch and turn into oozing fleshy maggots. I used to have a real hard time killing them until I saw them in that stage, but they do so much damage even my cruel bias towards beauty couldn't save them. And don't worry, they spray is organic. The kind of organic that eats through the shells of little cucumber beetles and dries them out. "Natural." Anyway I was on the hunt for cucumber beetles when I came across this lovely.

I of course let him live because there was only one, and he couldn't mean any harm, sitting there glistening so pretty. I saw him later in the day over by the door, suspiciously close to the arbor. Little did I know he is in fact a Japanese beetle, responsible for turning about an eighth of my grape leaves to lace. (They eat out the leaf flesh but leave the vein structure intact). I discovered this only later while researching the source of a seemingly unrelated gall on another grapeleaf. I'm still not sure if I could have brought myself to kill him. My grapes are still thriving and every year it's been the same - just some of the leaves, not all. But truth be told, if I found him in some grubby or multiplous stageI wouldn't be so logical or forgiving - it's his beauty that leads me to be fair, if I can call it that.

What gall!

I looked up from my Sunday Times to see this hanging overhead. I can find similar "maple spindle galls" on -line but nothing on grape leaves. These are only on this one leaf on this plant. Not knowing whether they are a damaging creature or not but suspecting yes, I am about to drown the leaf (or worse if necessary).






Look closely to see the little yellow worm emerging from the gall I split open. One per package, wriggling away. Mmmm.







These I am less sure are a gall. They have no wriggling worms inside and each knob seems to be a single seed with a pit like sliver of a cavity in the middle. I am woefully uninformed about my grapes. I have not removed these yet and I'm not sure if I should.

What comes up

It's been an incredibly slow summer in the garden. At first I thought it was all the cold spring, which has made a difference for everyone. But on top of it I think the 3 cubic yards of composted manure I added to my new beds (the 4th yard is still on the floor of the garage) led to prolific growth for some plants, stunted growth for others, and restrained flowering and fruiting for most. I don't want to go all Hobbesian but maybe the rich environment doesn't lend itself to vegetables feeling the need to survive? And I know this is not really an accurate interpretation of Hobbes but it comes to mind that maybe for some the nasty, brutish and short life inspires urgency. I guess that's more Conservative Republican. Big compost keeping the little man down.

But not the turnips. The turnips I planted on a whim in the midst of a rare turnip craving (I.E. heretofore non-existent) thinking they would come up in time for fall soups. Unlike my carrots and beets which have scarcely grown at all, this root has been happy and fast. Alas I am not quite yet in the mood for turnips. I harvested just 5 - two small that were too close to others, and three good size ones - and the greens were outlandish - oversized, lush, indulgent - nothing like the frugality I associate with the humble turnip (thanks to Socks for Supper - a good read at any age). I blanched and froze them looking forward to vitamins in winter. The roots I sliced and browned with garlic. Passable - but I'm looking for other summer appropriate options when I pull the rest of them - in time to lay down a second crop for fall.