A quick glance at the tomato patch across the road would make you think that I ought to be over there picking tomatoes, but I am disgusted with them. All summer long, I have thrown away far more tomatoes than I've kept, either because the sun had baked them hard or because blight had made black lesions on them. When I was over there Saturday, looking for some ripe ones to take to my mother's birthday lunch, I could barely find a dozen tomatoes that were decent for slicing. We've had a good bit of rain lately, which has caused most of the ripe tomatoes to swell and burst like water balloons. Turtles and birds have been feasting on the rest.
The butterbeans and green beans are coming in. We've picked butterbeans twice now, but they've needed it more frequently than I've gotten around to it. Many of the beans have dried on the vines. Last weekend, having grown fed up with my tardiness in picking the speckled butterbeans, Pop-Pop pulled up about 1/3 of the plants, tossed them onto a wagon, and towed the wagon underneath a shade tree to pick beans the easy way.
I learned some things (the hard way) about running beans this year. (1) Do not plant three rows of running beans next to one another unless you want to end up with one giant, knotted row of butter-green-butter beans. (2) Running butterbeans are heavy; use sturdy a sturdy staking system unless you want the stakes to topple like dominoes as the beans mature. (3) In the event the first two suggestions go unheeded, get somebody else to do the picking. ;)
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Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Blasted Squirrels
Sunday evening, my husband and I went down to Nanny's house to fix supper for her and Pop-Pop. When we arrived, Pop-Pop was sitting on the back porch, his chair angled toward the little thicket of woods by the house. There was a shotgun laying across the arms of a nearby chair. Harley, the old black labrador retriever, was snoozing peacefully beside the back door.
"Waiting on the enemy?" I asked as I climbed the porch steps.
"Squirrel huntin'," he replied. "Blasted squirrels have et ever ta-mater on that vine," he said, nodding toward a healthy-looking tomato plant growing in a planter near the shed door. "I done shot four, but there's another'n."
My husband and I went inside the house and started to prepare supper. A few minutes later, my brother-in-law and nephew came in. We set two more places for them, put the food on the table, and called Pop-Pop in to eat. When the meal was finished, Pop-Pop went back to his vigil, taking my nephew with him. After cleaning up the dishes, I went out to join them on the porch.
We were sitting there, having some mundane conversation, when all of a sudden Pop-Pop interrupted: "There he is, Allen!"
I could not believe how very fast the next sequence of events happened. Allen, who had been sitting in the glider with his back to the woods, spitting snuff juice into the mouth of a Mountain Dew bottle, spun out of his seat, set the bottle aside, grabbed the shotgun, aimed, and fired, before I could even spot the squirrel in the trees. The shotgun blast, made from about a foot from me, nearly deafened me. Hearing the shot, Harley bailed off the porch like a young dog and began running, his nose to the ground, in ever-widening circles, probably having no idea what he was looking for.
"Missed him!" Allen hissed.
Then we saw a downward rippling through one of the trees, like something had been dropped from its upper limbs.
"Naw, you got 'im!" Pop-Pop crowed.
Allen went running toward the woods, calling for Harley. Harley disappeared into the thicket, and a few seconds later returned with a squirrel that was a little shy of fatally wounded. Allen grabbed the squirrel by the tail and whacked its head against a tree to finish it off. He held it up by the tail to inspect it. "A fat one!" he said, giving the squirrel back to Harley.
"He's full of ta-maters," Pop-Pop grunted.
Harley laid down in the yard with his trophy. I guess he's full of squirrels.
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"Waiting on the enemy?" I asked as I climbed the porch steps.
"Squirrel huntin'," he replied. "Blasted squirrels have et ever ta-mater on that vine," he said, nodding toward a healthy-looking tomato plant growing in a planter near the shed door. "I done shot four, but there's another'n."
My husband and I went inside the house and started to prepare supper. A few minutes later, my brother-in-law and nephew came in. We set two more places for them, put the food on the table, and called Pop-Pop in to eat. When the meal was finished, Pop-Pop went back to his vigil, taking my nephew with him. After cleaning up the dishes, I went out to join them on the porch.
We were sitting there, having some mundane conversation, when all of a sudden Pop-Pop interrupted: "There he is, Allen!"
I could not believe how very fast the next sequence of events happened. Allen, who had been sitting in the glider with his back to the woods, spitting snuff juice into the mouth of a Mountain Dew bottle, spun out of his seat, set the bottle aside, grabbed the shotgun, aimed, and fired, before I could even spot the squirrel in the trees. The shotgun blast, made from about a foot from me, nearly deafened me. Hearing the shot, Harley bailed off the porch like a young dog and began running, his nose to the ground, in ever-widening circles, probably having no idea what he was looking for.
"Missed him!" Allen hissed.
Then we saw a downward rippling through one of the trees, like something had been dropped from its upper limbs.
"Naw, you got 'im!" Pop-Pop crowed.
Allen went running toward the woods, calling for Harley. Harley disappeared into the thicket, and a few seconds later returned with a squirrel that was a little shy of fatally wounded. Allen grabbed the squirrel by the tail and whacked its head against a tree to finish it off. He held it up by the tail to inspect it. "A fat one!" he said, giving the squirrel back to Harley.
"He's full of ta-maters," Pop-Pop grunted.
Harley laid down in the yard with his trophy. I guess he's full of squirrels.
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Sunday, July 19, 2009
APB for Eggplant Pasta Recipe
I wasn't going to grow eggplants this year. No one in this family actually likes eggplant; we just sort of tolerate it if it's been battered and fried, or smothered in some spicy sauce that disguises the taste (or, rather, gives it some taste).
But my sister-in-law found me in the garden early this season and said she'd like to have some eggplants, as she'd seen someone on TV make pasta out of it and wanted to give it a try. I bought a 9-pack of plants. Right now, they are all busting their chops producing fruit.
Two weeks ago, I told my sister-in-law, "Your eggplants are ready," but she did not come to get them. A week ago, she told me that she could not find the recipe for eggplant pasta. I've been helping her search, and I can't find one, either.
Now, I am not talking about substituting eggplant for pasta, as with low carb recipes that use thinly-sliced eggplant instead of lasagna noodles. I am talking about using eggplant as an ingredient in pasta dough. If I had any experience making pasta, I might wade in and try to invent something. But I'm chicken, and I don't have time to waste right now.
So, if any of you know where I can find a recipe for pasta dough that uses eggplant, please hook me up.
---------------
But my sister-in-law found me in the garden early this season and said she'd like to have some eggplants, as she'd seen someone on TV make pasta out of it and wanted to give it a try. I bought a 9-pack of plants. Right now, they are all busting their chops producing fruit.
Two weeks ago, I told my sister-in-law, "Your eggplants are ready," but she did not come to get them. A week ago, she told me that she could not find the recipe for eggplant pasta. I've been helping her search, and I can't find one, either.
Now, I am not talking about substituting eggplant for pasta, as with low carb recipes that use thinly-sliced eggplant instead of lasagna noodles. I am talking about using eggplant as an ingredient in pasta dough. If I had any experience making pasta, I might wade in and try to invent something. But I'm chicken, and I don't have time to waste right now.
So, if any of you know where I can find a recipe for pasta dough that uses eggplant, please hook me up.
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Friday, July 17, 2009
Stocking the Pantry
So far, this week's tomato frenzy has resulted in:
5 quarts of canned tomatoes
4 quarts of tomato juice
10 pints of diced tomatoes spiced with onions and peppers
8 pints of sweet "chili sauce" relish (the stuff you eat on your black-eyed peas)
The tomato juice is probably more like tomato soup. My original plan was to make spaghetti sauce. After juicing the tomatoes, I put the juice back on the stove to cook some of the water out of it. About an hour later, I discovered I didn't have all the spices that I wanted for spaghetti sauce, so I just stopped the cooking and started the canning. It's nice, thick juice - may need to be thinned with vodka before serving. ;)
On deck for tomorrow: 7 pints (according to the recipe) of green tomato "picalilli."
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5 quarts of canned tomatoes
4 quarts of tomato juice
10 pints of diced tomatoes spiced with onions and peppers
8 pints of sweet "chili sauce" relish (the stuff you eat on your black-eyed peas)
The tomato juice is probably more like tomato soup. My original plan was to make spaghetti sauce. After juicing the tomatoes, I put the juice back on the stove to cook some of the water out of it. About an hour later, I discovered I didn't have all the spices that I wanted for spaghetti sauce, so I just stopped the cooking and started the canning. It's nice, thick juice - may need to be thinned with vodka before serving. ;)
On deck for tomorrow: 7 pints (according to the recipe) of green tomato "picalilli."
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Thursday, July 16, 2009
In Too Deep
I'm in serious trouble, folks. Nanny, my gardening and canning partner, is in the hospital and likely will be side-lined for the rest of the summer. I'd been counting on her help when I planted six rows of butterbeans and 100+ tomato plants. Now, all those ripening tomatoes and bulging bean pods seem more like a menace than a blessing. Looks like I'd best be hunting some back-up workers, eh? Poor Nanny...when I was preparing to leave the hospital Tuesday night, she put her hands over her face and moaned, "Oh, the garden...." I told her not to sweat it, that we'd recruit some grandchildren to help with the picking. It probably didn't make her feel much better; she knows that most of her grandchildren are scared of dirt, spiders, sweat, and such, and probably won't come anywhere near that garden.
When I got home from work yesterday and walked over to look at the tomato patch, I just groaned. The vines are dripping with ripe tomatoes, and the middles of the rows are hairy with tall grass. I decided the first order of business ought to be to clean out the grass, so I pulled the little black tiller from the shed and hauled it to the tomato patch. That ground hasn't been tilled in over a month, and it's harder than a rock. Little Black just whirled on top of the dirt, wrapping its tines with grass. Thinking that it might help to mow the grass, I dragged the push mower from the shed and ran it down the rows. When I went back to the tiller, it would not crank. By this time, I was dripping with sweat and more than a little irked. I put all of the garden equipment away, and went back to pick tomatoes. I picked just enough for "a canning," and brought them back to the house to process. The rest would just have to wait.
There are five rows of tomatoes. I figure that if I pick/process one row every night, I might be able to keep up with the work, with a couple of nights left over to tend to the rest of the garden. Thankfully, when I went to Nanny's yesterday to get the tiller from the shed, my brother-in-law was in the "bean garden," picking the purple hull peas. (Bless him.) I don't know what we are going to do when all of those butterbeans get ready to be picked (which isn't far off).
This morning, we're getting a good, soaking rain, which ought to help boost the crop production. Oh, joy!
Pray for me! And Nanny!
--------------
When I got home from work yesterday and walked over to look at the tomato patch, I just groaned. The vines are dripping with ripe tomatoes, and the middles of the rows are hairy with tall grass. I decided the first order of business ought to be to clean out the grass, so I pulled the little black tiller from the shed and hauled it to the tomato patch. That ground hasn't been tilled in over a month, and it's harder than a rock. Little Black just whirled on top of the dirt, wrapping its tines with grass. Thinking that it might help to mow the grass, I dragged the push mower from the shed and ran it down the rows. When I went back to the tiller, it would not crank. By this time, I was dripping with sweat and more than a little irked. I put all of the garden equipment away, and went back to pick tomatoes. I picked just enough for "a canning," and brought them back to the house to process. The rest would just have to wait.
There are five rows of tomatoes. I figure that if I pick/process one row every night, I might be able to keep up with the work, with a couple of nights left over to tend to the rest of the garden. Thankfully, when I went to Nanny's yesterday to get the tiller from the shed, my brother-in-law was in the "bean garden," picking the purple hull peas. (Bless him.) I don't know what we are going to do when all of those butterbeans get ready to be picked (which isn't far off).
This morning, we're getting a good, soaking rain, which ought to help boost the crop production. Oh, joy!
Pray for me! And Nanny!
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Friday, July 10, 2009
Ummm...about that salsa...?
Yesterday, while I was doing a little research about home canning, an uneasy thought occurred to me.
I've always read that tomatoes, because of their acid content, can be safely canned using the waterbath method, and that's the method I used for the salsa I made two days ago. However, looking through the recipes in my canning books and the ones I found online, I noticed that all of them called for vinegar or lemon (or lime) juice. My salsa contained only tomatoes, peppers, onions, and salt to taste. I did not add any vinegar or citrus juice, mostly because I did not want to alter the flavor of the salsa. I started to worry that the onions and peppers had jacked around with the acidity level of the mixture, and that it might not be safe. I decided to call the local Agricultural Extension Service and run my question past the Home Economist (or whatever they call those workers these days). She told me some surprising things.
First, the Agricultural Extension Service doesn't recommend waterbath canning tomatoes anymore. She said that the tomato growers have bred tomatoes to be less acidic, and that they now recommend pressure canning them. (I just looked up some of the varieties that I planted this year. The "Jet Star" and "Park's Whopper," both of which I planted, are low-acid tomatoes. Nuts!)
Secondly, I was correct in worrying that the onions and peppers would lower the acidity level of the stuff in my jars. She said that I should add vinegar, lemon/lime juice, or citric acid powder (1/4 tsp. to 1 pint) to boost the acidity. Vinegar or citrus juice will, of course, change the flavor of the mixture; citric acid should not change it. I asked if it would be okay for me to open the jars I've already canned, add some citric acid, and re-process the salsa (in a pressure canner). She said, "Probably, but do it TODAY."
I've already been to the grocery store this morning for citric acid. Now, I've got to find a pressure canner to buy (would you believe those things cost over $100 these days?).
I am scared to death of pressure canners. It dates back to my childhood, when my mother and her friends discovered "Presto" pressure cookers. These were not the giant canners that people use for preserving food, but smaller, 8-quart pans used for speeding up the cooking process. I remember a story about my Aunt Marilyn having blown potatoes all over the ceiling of her kitchen because she forgot to let the pressure go down before she took the lid off the cooker, and other such nightmare stories. (She probably shouldn't have been cooking potatoes in it, in the first place, since starchy stuff reportedly stops up the "jiggler," which could ramp up the pressure to the danger zone.) Last year, when I borrowed Nanny's canner for the green beans, I made her sit in the kitchen with me until the first batch was well under way, and when the time came to take off the lid, I wished there was someone else around to do it!
No, I am not at all happy about this pressure canning revelation. It takes a long time to run one batch of jars through the pressure canner, counting the heating-up and cooling-down time. And I'd just bought a second waterbath canner so that I could fill up two canners at one time and "rock and roll" with the canning process. I suppose I could "double down" by borrowing Nanny's pressure canner, but I hardly trust myself to watch one canner at a time, much less two. It looks like my canning job just got a lot more complicated. :(
------------
I've always read that tomatoes, because of their acid content, can be safely canned using the waterbath method, and that's the method I used for the salsa I made two days ago. However, looking through the recipes in my canning books and the ones I found online, I noticed that all of them called for vinegar or lemon (or lime) juice. My salsa contained only tomatoes, peppers, onions, and salt to taste. I did not add any vinegar or citrus juice, mostly because I did not want to alter the flavor of the salsa. I started to worry that the onions and peppers had jacked around with the acidity level of the mixture, and that it might not be safe. I decided to call the local Agricultural Extension Service and run my question past the Home Economist (or whatever they call those workers these days). She told me some surprising things.
First, the Agricultural Extension Service doesn't recommend waterbath canning tomatoes anymore. She said that the tomato growers have bred tomatoes to be less acidic, and that they now recommend pressure canning them. (I just looked up some of the varieties that I planted this year. The "Jet Star" and "Park's Whopper," both of which I planted, are low-acid tomatoes. Nuts!)
Secondly, I was correct in worrying that the onions and peppers would lower the acidity level of the stuff in my jars. She said that I should add vinegar, lemon/lime juice, or citric acid powder (1/4 tsp. to 1 pint) to boost the acidity. Vinegar or citrus juice will, of course, change the flavor of the mixture; citric acid should not change it. I asked if it would be okay for me to open the jars I've already canned, add some citric acid, and re-process the salsa (in a pressure canner). She said, "Probably, but do it TODAY."
I've already been to the grocery store this morning for citric acid. Now, I've got to find a pressure canner to buy (would you believe those things cost over $100 these days?).
I am scared to death of pressure canners. It dates back to my childhood, when my mother and her friends discovered "Presto" pressure cookers. These were not the giant canners that people use for preserving food, but smaller, 8-quart pans used for speeding up the cooking process. I remember a story about my Aunt Marilyn having blown potatoes all over the ceiling of her kitchen because she forgot to let the pressure go down before she took the lid off the cooker, and other such nightmare stories. (She probably shouldn't have been cooking potatoes in it, in the first place, since starchy stuff reportedly stops up the "jiggler," which could ramp up the pressure to the danger zone.) Last year, when I borrowed Nanny's canner for the green beans, I made her sit in the kitchen with me until the first batch was well under way, and when the time came to take off the lid, I wished there was someone else around to do it!
No, I am not at all happy about this pressure canning revelation. It takes a long time to run one batch of jars through the pressure canner, counting the heating-up and cooling-down time. And I'd just bought a second waterbath canner so that I could fill up two canners at one time and "rock and roll" with the canning process. I suppose I could "double down" by borrowing Nanny's pressure canner, but I hardly trust myself to watch one canner at a time, much less two. It looks like my canning job just got a lot more complicated. :(
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Thursday, July 9, 2009
Knee-Deep in Tomatoes
Predicting that yesterday would be a slow day at work (and it was), I took the black beans to my office and was able to shell most of them before the day was over. My husband shelled the rest of them after he got home from work, while I was fooling with the tomatoes. All told, I had a good-sized shoe box full of shelled beans. They are in the refrigerator, waiting to be blanched and put into freezer bags when I get home today.
I started washing, scalding, and peeling tomatoes for salsa the minute I got home from work. After two hours of this, both of my hands were numb, and I'd peeled only half of them. I began to envision a l-o-n-g night of tomato processing. I tried to pawn some of them off on Nanny, but she was in the middle of making cucumber relish and did not want to think about tomatoes. Drat.
It hit me that I could cut my work in half by making tomato juice instead of salsa. While the salsa was cooking in my big soup pot, I cut up the remaining tomatoes (no scalding, no peeling) into the waterbath canner. The pot was nearly FULL of raw chopped tomatoes by the time I finished. After cooking them and mashing them through a sieve, the canner was about 2/3 full of juice. Like the beans, the juice is in the refrigerator, waiting to be processed when I get home today. I peeked in the canner this morning. The solids have settled to the bottom. Tonight when I come home, I'm going to dip the water off the top and make spaghetti sauce instead of tomato juice.
The salsa cooked down to 10 pints, and it is yummy - hotter than a firecracker, just like we like it. We'll need more than 10 pints, but there are plenty more tomatoes ripening under the tree, and a thousand more green tomatoes still on the vines.
----------------
I started washing, scalding, and peeling tomatoes for salsa the minute I got home from work. After two hours of this, both of my hands were numb, and I'd peeled only half of them. I began to envision a l-o-n-g night of tomato processing. I tried to pawn some of them off on Nanny, but she was in the middle of making cucumber relish and did not want to think about tomatoes. Drat.
It hit me that I could cut my work in half by making tomato juice instead of salsa. While the salsa was cooking in my big soup pot, I cut up the remaining tomatoes (no scalding, no peeling) into the waterbath canner. The pot was nearly FULL of raw chopped tomatoes by the time I finished. After cooking them and mashing them through a sieve, the canner was about 2/3 full of juice. Like the beans, the juice is in the refrigerator, waiting to be processed when I get home today. I peeked in the canner this morning. The solids have settled to the bottom. Tonight when I come home, I'm going to dip the water off the top and make spaghetti sauce instead of tomato juice.
The salsa cooked down to 10 pints, and it is yummy - hotter than a firecracker, just like we like it. We'll need more than 10 pints, but there are plenty more tomatoes ripening under the tree, and a thousand more green tomatoes still on the vines.
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Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Black & White Beans
Since it's "only" 90 degrees today, I decided to get busy and pick the white beans and the black beans. In the case of the white beans, I should have gotten busy a week ago. Most of them had dried on the vines. The black beans, however, were in their prime. Some of them could have ripened for two or three more days, but it's supposed to get hotter as the week goes on; I figured that the odds of me making it back to the bean rows in three days are slim to none, so I picked everything that was out there. After dinner tonight, the shelling will begin.
The tomato vines are heavy with red tomatoes. I should be out there picking them right now so that I can start canning them tomorrow after work. This year, I intend to make a lot more spaghetti sauce than I made last year. I also intend to can a mixture of tomatoes, chili peppers, and onions - my own version of "Rotel" tomatoes. I canned a similar mixture last year with the final remnants from the garden. We used it in cheese dip, in chili, and in soup, and wished for more when it was all gone.
Now that I've cooled off, I think I'll go pick tomatoes.
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Part 2
Earlier, when I'd been in the garden picking beans, Nanny had told Pop-Pop that Harley, the dog, was stinking to high heaven, and she had given him strict orders to bathe Harley. As I was pulling my wagon across the road to the tomato patch, I saw Pop-Pop at the end of his driveway on the riding lawnmower. Harley was loping along beside him, sopping wet, carrying his Frisbee in his mouth. It seems Pop-Pop had taken the easy route with the dog bathing, and had simply ridden the lawnmower up to the edge of our pond and sailed the Frisbee to the middle of the pond. Harley, being the water-loving Frisbee dog that he is, had leapt in after it. Instant dog bath.
Pop-Pop stopped the lawnmower at the tomato patch. He slowly and painfully climbed off and ambled over to the gate as delicately as his arthritic feet would let him. "Lord have mercy," he muttered as he scanned the rows of ripe tomatoes. He heard me coming with the wagon, and looked over his shoulder. "You fixin' to pick these ta-maters?"
"Yessir."
"I'd pick all the ones that are turning," he said, "and lay 'em out to finish ripening under the trees."
"Yessir."
"Lord have mercy," he said again. Shaking his head, he climbed back onto the lawnmower and went home.
I had set a HUGE Rubbermaid tub - the 40-gallon size - in my wagon. When I finished picking, the tub was full. My intention was to pull the wagon down the driveway to put the tomatoes on the tables in Pop-Pop's back yard, but it was too heavy to pull so far. I went back to my house to get our riding lawnmower, hitched the wagon to it, and pulled it down Pop-Pop's driveway. I took out the least ripe tomatoes and laid them out on the tables to ripen, then I pulled the wagon back to my house.
The tub is still half full. Looks like I've got some work to do tomorrow.
Lord have mercy.
------------
The tomato vines are heavy with red tomatoes. I should be out there picking them right now so that I can start canning them tomorrow after work. This year, I intend to make a lot more spaghetti sauce than I made last year. I also intend to can a mixture of tomatoes, chili peppers, and onions - my own version of "Rotel" tomatoes. I canned a similar mixture last year with the final remnants from the garden. We used it in cheese dip, in chili, and in soup, and wished for more when it was all gone.
Now that I've cooled off, I think I'll go pick tomatoes.
---------------
Part 2
Earlier, when I'd been in the garden picking beans, Nanny had told Pop-Pop that Harley, the dog, was stinking to high heaven, and she had given him strict orders to bathe Harley. As I was pulling my wagon across the road to the tomato patch, I saw Pop-Pop at the end of his driveway on the riding lawnmower. Harley was loping along beside him, sopping wet, carrying his Frisbee in his mouth. It seems Pop-Pop had taken the easy route with the dog bathing, and had simply ridden the lawnmower up to the edge of our pond and sailed the Frisbee to the middle of the pond. Harley, being the water-loving Frisbee dog that he is, had leapt in after it. Instant dog bath.
Pop-Pop stopped the lawnmower at the tomato patch. He slowly and painfully climbed off and ambled over to the gate as delicately as his arthritic feet would let him. "Lord have mercy," he muttered as he scanned the rows of ripe tomatoes. He heard me coming with the wagon, and looked over his shoulder. "You fixin' to pick these ta-maters?"
"Yessir."
"I'd pick all the ones that are turning," he said, "and lay 'em out to finish ripening under the trees."
"Yessir."
"Lord have mercy," he said again. Shaking his head, he climbed back onto the lawnmower and went home.
I had set a HUGE Rubbermaid tub - the 40-gallon size - in my wagon. When I finished picking, the tub was full. My intention was to pull the wagon down the driveway to put the tomatoes on the tables in Pop-Pop's back yard, but it was too heavy to pull so far. I went back to my house to get our riding lawnmower, hitched the wagon to it, and pulled it down Pop-Pop's driveway. I took out the least ripe tomatoes and laid them out on the tables to ripen, then I pulled the wagon back to my house.
The tub is still half full. Looks like I've got some work to do tomorrow.
Lord have mercy.
------------
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
First Tomatoes
The near-100-degree weather of the past two weeks has done a number on the tomatoes. The parts of the fruits that have been turned up to the sun are baked white and may not ever turn red. Pop-Pop suggested that I go ahead and pick all of the tomatoes that are starting to turn and let them finish ripening under the shade tree in his back yard.
Yesterday evening, Joel and I pulled the garden wagon to the tomato patch and started picking. We threw away about as many tomatoes as we kept (the blasted turtles have been snacking), and still had enough tomatoes to cover the top of a picnic table. There are probably enough fully-ripe ones to justify a canning, but they will have to wait until tomorrow, as I am on the third (and, hopefully, the final) day of a monster house-cleaning project.
The okra is barely knee-high, but making enough okra for supper, despite not having had a whipping.
The great northern beans and purple hull peas will need to be picked before the week is over.
The green beans are sitting there, doing nothing, just like they did last year. Over the weekend, I visited some relatives and saw at least a dozen jars of newly-canned green beans on their kitchen counter. When I commented that my green beans weren't making, the husband asked, "Are you fertilizing them well?" I said that I was. "Well, there's your problem," he told me. "Green beans don't like much fertilizer." He also said they don't like this heat. Maybe they will do like last year's crop, and get busy when the temperatures get cooler. Considering that all of the other beans seem to be producing like crazy, it may be a blessing in disguise that the green beans are bucking the trend.
Two days ago, I harvested enough cucumbers for Nanny to make a batch of her delicious cucumber relish. She can have all of the cucumbers this year, as far as I'm concerned; I made too many pickles last year, and still have enough left to get us through next year.
The pods on the yard-long beans are 18" long and still growing. My sunflower-stake idea is not working. The sunflower plants at each end of the bean row are growing tall and thick, but the ones planted between the bean plants are spindly, barely taller than the beans, themselves. (The idea might have worked if I'd given the sunflowers a two-week head start.) But the bean pods are happily coiling on the ground, seemingly unconcerned about having anything to climb. It may be a b*tch to shell a spiral bean, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.
---------------
Yesterday evening, Joel and I pulled the garden wagon to the tomato patch and started picking. We threw away about as many tomatoes as we kept (the blasted turtles have been snacking), and still had enough tomatoes to cover the top of a picnic table. There are probably enough fully-ripe ones to justify a canning, but they will have to wait until tomorrow, as I am on the third (and, hopefully, the final) day of a monster house-cleaning project.
The okra is barely knee-high, but making enough okra for supper, despite not having had a whipping.
The great northern beans and purple hull peas will need to be picked before the week is over.
The green beans are sitting there, doing nothing, just like they did last year. Over the weekend, I visited some relatives and saw at least a dozen jars of newly-canned green beans on their kitchen counter. When I commented that my green beans weren't making, the husband asked, "Are you fertilizing them well?" I said that I was. "Well, there's your problem," he told me. "Green beans don't like much fertilizer." He also said they don't like this heat. Maybe they will do like last year's crop, and get busy when the temperatures get cooler. Considering that all of the other beans seem to be producing like crazy, it may be a blessing in disguise that the green beans are bucking the trend.
Two days ago, I harvested enough cucumbers for Nanny to make a batch of her delicious cucumber relish. She can have all of the cucumbers this year, as far as I'm concerned; I made too many pickles last year, and still have enough left to get us through next year.
The pods on the yard-long beans are 18" long and still growing. My sunflower-stake idea is not working. The sunflower plants at each end of the bean row are growing tall and thick, but the ones planted between the bean plants are spindly, barely taller than the beans, themselves. (The idea might have worked if I'd given the sunflowers a two-week head start.) But the bean pods are happily coiling on the ground, seemingly unconcerned about having anything to climb. It may be a b*tch to shell a spiral bean, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.
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