Fruit Farm Dilemma

The spring haying is done (thanks to my neighbors, who have hungry cattle). In exchange for mowing my field, they get the hay. And I get the leavings to mulch my garden.

Now, the race is on to see who will get the fruit this year, Pam or the Deer!

Last year, the deer got ALL the pears, a bumper crop decimated in the night. They ate every pear and even parts of the tree, the exact night before I planned to harvest. This year, I am watching both the apples and the pears with a gimlet eye, hoping to beat the ruminants at their gustatory game. Let's see how they feel when they go to eat that bounty and find that the humans harvested a day early!

Bill commented that it must have seemed like Juli was living at home again. That girl could go through fruit like lightning. Yes, just like a herd of deer.

Happy Birthday, Alex!

My little boy Alex is 24 today! Happy Birthday, son!

Rural Summer : I've been noticing some interesting new bugs around this year. Last night, while accompanying Bounder on his night perambulation, this scary moth was hanging out by the front door. The "eyes" are to scare away predators that might eat it.

At 6:30 this morning, it was cool and overcast enough (only 80 degrees! Cooler than inside the library!) to go pick blackberries down at the pond.

Here is what they looked like a week ago:

Give these puppies a week of 95+ degree heat and a rain shower last night, and they plump up and jump into my bucket. Well, not quite. There are the thorns and the bugs and the frogs croaking in the early morning light. And there was some major thrashing about in the sumac up on the south slope, followed by some indignant snorting and snuffling. Deer, bedded down in the brush, resentful that my presence required them to get up early and move. But free food, yippee!

Jeez, try to do the environmentally conscious thing, and...

Compost.

We have a compost bin, not that we babysit it with any regularity, or worry about the ratio of brown-to-green material. I simply take whatever kitchen scraps I have in a bucket down to the bin, hold my nose, and dump it in, trusting that nature will (someday), turn it into fertilizer for my garden.

So there I am, emptying the bucket into the bid, when I was attacked by a fly-by wasp. He or she didn't even bother to land on me, it just stung me on the wrist as it flew by. Within the hour, my hand was the size of a softball, and by evening, my arm had swelled up like a toad. I took the steroids, iced it down, and still this morning it's hot and red and swollen and itchy.

Try to do a good deed, and what does it get you? More stupid injury.

Harrumph.

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Happiest of birthdays to you, my darling Bill. You're 52, but forever young in my eyes!

Digging in the Dirt...or, "It's as Hot as Singapore Out There!"

Dirt squelching in my Crocs (plastic shoes ARE washable), slapping mosquitoes, lugging 2 cu. ft. bags of soil, sorting through seeds, potting up peppers and tomatoes--that's what life here in my own real-life Farmville is all about.

I am late putting in my "garden" this year due to my absence, but putting it in I am (in between naps and lying down with ice-packs on my forehead and lumbar region). I always forget how much work it is to grow stuff. First, the poison ivy has to be defoliated. Then, the weeds and volunteers have to be cleared out of the beds. Soil has to be turned and rocks thrown out and clods broken up.

Despite hat, sunglasses, insect repellent, gloves (yes, GLOVES, Mert!) I always manage to stagger back into the house bathed in perspiration reminiscent of Singapore flop-sweat, splashed with mud and scratching my various bites and skin rashes. And yet I go out and do it again. I must be out of my mind.

I have 4 zucchinis, 4 yellow crooknecks, and a rhubarb in the ground. I have a dozen each of tomatoes and peppers in pots, along with 2 big pots of bush pickling cukes and 3 eggplant. I am almost done with preparing the beds for carrots, beets, potatoes, onions and beans. I decided this year that peas were too much work for too little produce--and it's too hot already for peas anyway, as well as broccoli and cauliflower.

I suppose I could just shlep down to the Farmer's Market on Tuesdays and Saturdays, but it is so satisfying to step out onto the porch and pick my own salads and herbs during the summer months. Not to mention the joy of picking blackberries in the rain (the only time it's comfortable enough to engage in such an activity), or hoping-against-hope that I will be the one to harvest the plums and apples this year instead of the deer.

Come August, I will be drowning in squash, tired of tomatoes, and giving peppers and beans away. This pleases me.

Tired Sea-Dog Makes Landfall

Bill arrived safely in St. Louis last night. He sounded understandably exhausted, especially after being sandwiched in the middle of the back row, between two moms and five pre-school children on the last flight from Denver--he says it's always a bad situation when the kids outnumber the grown-ups! But he's stateside at last, and I expect I will be seeing him around the middle of next week.

Today he is hoping to meet up with his dad at the VA hospital, and have a chance to talk to the doctors who are directing his care. On Monday, Dad will have a CT scan, and a decision will be made as to whether chemo will or will not continue.

Bill is also going to discuss whether his father is well enough to travel to Austria to look up his "cousins." Bill's grandfather immigrated to the U.S. as a child in the early 1900s, but no one knew where he came from until Bill found the region and the geneology records on the internet a few years ago. His dad's desire is to go to Austria before he dies, and Bill is going to try and make that happen. Their tentative plan is to fly to Munich, Germany, then rent a car and drive to the southeastern corner of Austria, and meet as many Pliemitschers as they can (the spelling was changed upon entry through Ellis Island). Bill's dad didn't know much about his own history until very recently, as his immigrant father died when Bud was only 9 years old.

While I'm not thrilled about Bill leaving again soon, I think this trip is a great idea for both of them, if Bud is well enough to travel. It has certainly given Bud something to look forward to, while he has been battling his cancer.

On the home front, the container garden is winding down. The last of the tomatoes are being gnawed on, the bean plants have been completely consumed by critters, and the corn patch similarly descimated--some large chewing machine has knocked down most of the stalks and nibbled on the barely-formed ears. Oh well. It was a dubious experiment from the beginning. I am getting accustomed to having my hopes of fresh home-grown produce dashed by the hungry hordes of the forest. I guess I'm just going to have to move up the food chain and eat the creatures who ate my garden.

Requiem for my Pears

You remember that pear tree, loaded with all those beautiful red pears? They are no longer available for human consumption. It appears that a herd of ravenous ruminants have decimated my pear crop this year. Not a single pear remains, NOT ONE! And the apples are gone too. The darn critters didn't bother to pluck the fruit from the stems, they just nipped the branches right off--they are EATING MY TREE.

Now I know why men hunt. It is not sport, it is not meat, it is revenge.

The only way to get my pears now is to eat a venison steak. Not exactly what I had in mind, but I'm just mad enough now to saddle up, put on some camouflage and go blast me a big, fat buck. I'll take a photo of my pears with me and stick it under his little black nose, just so he draws his last breath knowing why he had to die.

And don't tell me to just order pears from Harry & David. It's not the same thing at all.

Five pounds and 1000 miles later...

After all the drama of cars last week, it is pretty quiet here on the mountain.

All the plants were hanging dejectedly over the railing, whispering death rattles of "Water Me!" when I arrived home. I complied. One particularly nice Brandywine tomato was ripe, but I decided I was too tired for harvesting, and left it until the morning. In the night, some critter ate half of it. There must be some proverb to address this situation, some didactic lesson about sloth perhaps?

There was laundry, of course. And much unloading of the car. With factory tours of Snyder's Pretzels and Utz Potato Chips, visits to the farm market at the Big Round Barn (which uncannily resembled my house), and my purchases at Ron's Barrels, there was an astonishing amount of stuff to lug up the stairs.

I went out to pick beans and found that fully half of my bean patch had been nipped to the ground by another (or perhaps the same?) critter. Even so, I got a half-bucket of beans to process for the freezer.

And then there's the American Red Cross debacle. Bill asked me in an email to contact them to send a message to the ship that he needs to get home to his dad. I got all the information when I was in Pennsylvania, and when I got home, I started the process of an "Emergency Military Message."

I ran into problems immediately. Bill's dad couldn't tell me the names and contact numbers for his doctors (to verify his illness). It was 4 pm on a Friday, and no one was answering the phone at the VA hospital in St. Louis. When I finally got the hospital's social worker on the line, he wouldn't give me any information because of HIPPA privacy regulations.

Is there anything more annoying about today's medical climate than HIPPA laws? I think not. Privacy is a good thing, but when it gets in the way of common sense, I get cranky.

Cousin Alice saved the day by getting out her file on Dad, and giving me the information I needed to share with the Red Cross. By this time though, all those contacts were gone for the weekend. And, without a signed release from Bill's dad, they probably wouldn't talk to the ARC anyway. Sigh.

Alice typed up a release for Dad to give all his people on Monday, when he goes for his chemo. Hopefully, the ARC will get through and people will start talking to each other tomorrow. And then, the ARC will send a message to Bill's ship via the Pentagon, requesting his presence at home. Even though Bill is due off and his company has his replacement ready to go, this will hopefully spur some activity on board towards shore and Bill's timely relief. We don't want them to go off on a lengthy mission at this point, and forget about changing out the crew.

Echo continues to recover from her ordeal in Dog Jail, spending most of her time sleeping on the couch. I think she's almost forgiven me.

Despite the massive pigging-out of travel and extravagant dinners with friends, I only gained five pounds back. And now it's time to go downstairs and do something about that sin of gluttony.

A Penitent's Supper

After two days of virtuous eating and rigorous exercise, I have lost ONE of the offending FOUR pounds I gained as a result of Tuesday night's pig-out.

This has been my life since my fall from grace:

Nice salad, right? Lots of fiber, lots of veggies--broccoli, beets, tomatoes, cukes, corn, pea pods--what's not to like? Looks good enough to eat. So I did.

Happy tyranny of the beans! I'm pleased to report the little darlings just keep on coming:

Forty minutes of picking and thirty minutes of cleaning, blanching and ice-bath shocking yielded these good babies, ready for the freezer:

And here's to poblano pepper joy! Ten minutes under the broiler to blacken the skins, then steaming until cool enough to peel and take the seeds out:

I am eating well this summer. I am putting up provisions for the fall. I'm feeling mighty smug these days.

Emergent Eggplants, Problem Peppers, Ripening Tomatoes

The gardening goddess has smiled upon me again. I have little baby eggplants! While trying to keep all the pots hydrated out there, I suddenly realized that I am going to have a wagon-load of these babies!

The eggplant flowers are breathtaking in their purple-and-yellow, multi-petalled majesty--no wonder all the bees want to pollinate these pretties:

I'm also delighted to see the baby poblanos finally coming on:

The other peppers are suffering from some sort of leaf-crinkling malady, and my next project is to re-pot them with fresh soil and a shot of fertilizer:

And deep in the foliage, there's a tomato turning pink!

Yes!

Berries, Taters, Corn & Other Agricultural Marvels

I've got crops!

I am SO glad I took a bucket with me on our walk down to the pond yesterday! I had a sneaking suspicion that the big rainy day may have spurred the blackberries to plump out and ripen up, and I was right! I came home with several stickers that needed to be removed with tweezers, red-stained fingers and about 2 quarts of berries!

What a difference from last year's dried up tiny blackberries! I am amazed at what our over-abundance of rain has done. This year's berries are big and juicy, and they're just getting started. The chore of picking them will have to be added to my daily routine from now on.

On our way down, Echo and I also spied germinating corn:

I still find it amazing that one can put a seed in the ground and consistently get results. I mean I know it's supposed to work that way, it's evolutionarily designed to be that way, but I'm always over-abundantly thrilled when I see those shoots poking up through the soil.

For instance, here's what happens when potatoes get forgotten in the kitchen and start getting all soft and sprouty. Instead of throwing them out, I went outside and stuck them in the ground. Three months later, a handful of new, free potatoes appear! Amazing!

The tomatillos are starting to form. I love their little Chinese Lantern-type shapes:

The tomatoes are fruiting:

Anaheim chiles are starting to produce:

And bell peppers too:

I am such a dope about stuff like this. To me, gardening (or just gathering, in the case of the blackberries) is all magic and delight. Even with the stickers.

And wait until you see the PEARS!

To be continued...

Who's been sleeping in my (lettuce) bed?

Wildlife abounds. On my way back from the dump a few days ago, a big buck leapt in front of my car, in my own driveway. And now, this morning I awakened to signs of an interloper, right by my front door:

So who's been molting in my pathetic little lettuce tub? A three-foot Blacksnake, that's who! I have pretty much been ignoring this paltry, heat-stroked lettuce, as I have much tastier greens growing inside in the hydroponic AeroGrow unit:

Out on the porch, the tomatoes and peppers (and eggplant and artichokes) are taking over the railing, hanging over the deck and waving at passerby. Well, okay, there aren't any passerby, but you get the idea:

It just seemed easier to tie the plants to the railing than to stake them. I am all about the easy when it comes to gardening. I have baby green tomatoes and little nubby peppers appearing!

And yes, down in the lower level, the beans continue to outpace my picking motivation. I'm getting about a pound per day, with no signs of slackage in bean production.

Ah, summer!

What Price Green Beans?

I know I do go on (and on) about my "Magic Beans," but this is photographic proof of profligate bean production! I spent yesterday morning combing through the foliage for a kitchen sink half-full of these bad boys, then blanching and freezing 5 ziplock bags full.

Then I spent the afternoon and evening scratching myself silly from about 50 bug bites all over my body. Some of the bites are in really inconvenient places. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was out there doing my farm work in my birthday suit. I was clothed, honest. They are not mosquito bites, but some kind of invisible insect that either bites through clothes or flies up pant legs and down shirt collars. Itch, itch.

Does this mean I need to slather myself with repellent before I get dressed? Deep Woods Off! is my usual summer eau de cologne, but this is ridiculous!

The Jungle

I have succeeded in my goal to do absolutely NOTHING this week, except for puttering in the "garden" on the deck and taking several naps per day.

The torrential rains we have had this week have really gotten things growing on the porch. The tomatoes and peppers and eggplants that were hanging over the rail crying "Water!" when I got home, are now screaming "Enough!"

And the beans down by the driveway are doing their magic-beany thing:

I am going to be inundated with beans again. While I am contemplating filling the freezer with French filet-type green beans, I'm also looking at the available space in the freezer for said beans. It might be time in the next week or so to clear things out and make some room. Or fire up another freezer.

Because there are also going to be several thousand ziplock bags of berries to deal with. The blackberries down by the pond are daunting--it looks like I've got another summer of blue-stained fingers in my near future. While I despair at the labor-intensive chore of picking all those berries, I can't help but be thrilled at all the "free" food. And despite my protestations to the contrary, I will probably be making blackberry jam again. And blackberry pie. And blackberry cake.

I am also in the process of ripping out the peas, which all perished in the heat while I was gone. I'm actually thinking about planting some corn there. Crazy, I know. But I have the space, and I might as well use it. I can get a crop in about 70 days, I think. It also means I might have raccoons underfoot if I plant tasty corn. Or deer. But I think I'm going to try it, despite the likelihood of failure.

I also need some space for cucumbers, because Jean is coming in the fall for "Pickle School." I have seeded cukes twice, without success, in the raised bed. I may give it one more attempt before I give up and buy my cukes at the Farmer's Market.

In the pots on the porch, I will have the aforementioned tomatoes, peppers and eggplant, along with herbs, artichokes and nastursiums. The lettuce is not doing well--I think it's just too hot, and something is nibbling on it besides. Rabbits? Possums? I have seeded the hydroponic indoor AeroGrow in the house with greens and lettuce as a backup.

So, while it hasn't been a very productive week, it's been a pleasurable one.

A Plethora of Plums, One Peach, and Other Marvels

There is something so satisfying about growing food for personal consumption. Subjecting oneself to the vagaries of "home farming" requires several acts of faith--that spring will come again, that the rain will fall and the sun will shine, that the pests and the birds and the vermin will leave enough to harvest for the human table, and that the cycle of life will go on.

I never lose my sense of wonder when my annual gardening hopes are rewarded with tangible signs of success.

A single peach (on a tree that was not supposed to bear fruit until 2010!) and my magic bean patch bring me joy:

And look at all those pears!

The peas, beaten down by the torrents of rain, are blooming:




Nature provides both the sublime and the annoying, as other signs of spring abound; yes, that's an American Dog Tick on Echo's fur:


Echo is on Frontline, so the ticks don't bother her at all--but she carries them into the house, where they must be found and destroyed before they jump onto us. (I am not on Frontline, and there's nothing pretty about scratching my head and finding a tick on my scalp!)

Squirrel Antics

Yesterday morning, Bill was looking out the upstairs window and pointing, "What's that? That white thing with the red spots, is that a fungus in the tree?" I looked and agreed it must be some kind of tree growth.

Later in the day, Bill came in and said, "Pam, your gardening gloves have been stolen!" He found one of my cotton gloves at the base of the same tree, and immediately looked up 20 feet to realize that my other glove was the presumed "fungus."

He got out the telescoping pole pruner, and recovered my glove. I guess I'll have to keep them under lock and key from now on, instead of just lying on the porch.

Thieving rodents...

Planting Peas

What glorious weather we've had for the past two days! The birdies are all peeping and searching for nest sites. The air is warm and the wind is blowing with the smells of green!

Cousin Jean came for a visit and, with spading fork in hand, turned over my two front beds of earth, chopping up the clods and getting them ready to plant. Bless her! There was no way I could do the heavy shovelling work, but with everything all set, I was able to plant peas with abandon yesterday afternoon.

At 57 days, I should be able to get a crop of peas in and out before it's time to put the solanacious crops (tomatoes, peppers, beans and cukes) in. Peas are great for the soil too--they pull nitrogen from the air, and fix it in the dirt--instant fertilizer!

I made the rows wide enough that I will also have room to sneak in some carrots and beets between the rows, to grow underground while the peas grow above.

It soothes my soul to play in the dirt and anticipate plants growing.