On Thursday, Mr. Charles came with his tractor and tiller and finished preparing the garden plots. Nanny said that, at one point, she looked out the window and saw the tractor slowly rolling down the hill without Mr. Charles on it. She nearly had a conniption fit, thinking that he'd fallen off the tractor. She ran outside and was relieved to spot Mr. Charles standing at the top of the hill, watching as the tractor slowly rolled to a stop. It seems that he'd gotten off the tractor at the end of the driveway to pick up Pop-Pop's newspaper and had not set the brake. (Do tractors even have parking brakes?) Fortunately, the tractor came to a stop long before reaching the creek at the bottom of the hill.
Friday afternoon, I went to the greenhouse and bought 108 tomato plants. After setting out about 1/3 of them that very afternoon, Pop-Pop informed me that the Almanac said to plant tomatoes on Saturday or Sunday. I gladly dropped my shovel for the day, and resumed the job on Saturday morning. We'll see if the Saturday tomatoes do better than the Friday tomatoes.
I am stiff as a poker today, but there are about 18 empty rows waiting to be planted in the other garden plot. I'm going to get to it as soon as my joints "loosen up" a little. Nanny has already planted squash and okra. Today I intend to plant cucumbers, butterbeans, and green beans.
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Sunday, April 26, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Plowing
Last Saturday morning, Nanny called and said, "Pete's here to break up the garden. I just thought I'd let you know."
Translation: "If you want him to do it like you want it done, you'd better get your butt down here."
So I dropped what I was doing, hopped on my bicycle, and pedaled down the driveway to "supervise."
Mr. Pete was cranking the big blue tractor as I got there. Pop-Pop was standing off to one side, directing the action with a tomato stake pointer. Four more tomato stakes marked out the corners of the garden. The layout looked okay to me, so I just sidled up next to Pop-Pop to watch as the breaking plow peeled up the soil.
Because of last year's blight issue, I had decided to move the tomatoes to a whole new spot, far away from the usual garden plot to a corner of the former horse pasture, just across the road from my house. While Mr. Pete was breaking the garden, I pedaled back up the driveway to open the gate at the corner of the pasture so that he could get in there with the tractor. As I was opening the gate, Joel was coming down the driveway on his bicycle. We rode back down to the garden together, and when Mr. Pete finished in the garden, I pointed up the driveway and asked him to break up the spot for the tomatoes. when he started down the driveway on the tractor, I turned my attention to scattering some garden lime on the newly-plowed ground.
Evidently, I was not too clear with my directions, for a minute or two later, I heard Joel yell, "Did you tell Mr. Pete where you wanted the tomatoes?"
"Yeah."
"He's parked the tractor in our driveway."
I squinted for a clearer view. "Maybe he's just walking off the place he's going to plow."
"He's in our YARD."
I squinted again, and sure enough, there was Mr. Pete, standing with his hands on his hips in the only sunny, tree-free spot in our yard. I made one of those involuntary "eeek!" noises. "Catch him!"
Joel jumped on his bicycle and pedaled up the driveway as fast as he could. I dropped my bag of lime, grabbed my bike, and followed him. Thankfully, Joel reached our yard in time to stop Mr. Pete from plowing it up.
Whew...close one.
Another neighbor, Mr. Charles, came later in the week with a harrow to knock apart the big clods that the breaking plow had left. Seeing the smoothe soil, I wanted to hurry to the greenhouse for some tomato plants, but Nanny said Mr. Charles was coming back with a tractor tiller to really pulverize the soil. He didn't get to it before the week was up. Now it has rained, and it will be several more days before he can finish. Hopefully, by next weekend, we'll be planting.
Within two days of planting the cabbage and broccoli that I planted a couple of weeks ago, rabbits ate them. All that remains of them are nubby little stalks. Rabbit stew is sounding very delicious to me right now.
But Pop-Pop acquired some wire cages, so I bought some new plants to try again, as soon as the ground is dry enough.
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Translation: "If you want him to do it like you want it done, you'd better get your butt down here."
So I dropped what I was doing, hopped on my bicycle, and pedaled down the driveway to "supervise."
Mr. Pete was cranking the big blue tractor as I got there. Pop-Pop was standing off to one side, directing the action with a tomato stake pointer. Four more tomato stakes marked out the corners of the garden. The layout looked okay to me, so I just sidled up next to Pop-Pop to watch as the breaking plow peeled up the soil.
Because of last year's blight issue, I had decided to move the tomatoes to a whole new spot, far away from the usual garden plot to a corner of the former horse pasture, just across the road from my house. While Mr. Pete was breaking the garden, I pedaled back up the driveway to open the gate at the corner of the pasture so that he could get in there with the tractor. As I was opening the gate, Joel was coming down the driveway on his bicycle. We rode back down to the garden together, and when Mr. Pete finished in the garden, I pointed up the driveway and asked him to break up the spot for the tomatoes. when he started down the driveway on the tractor, I turned my attention to scattering some garden lime on the newly-plowed ground.
Evidently, I was not too clear with my directions, for a minute or two later, I heard Joel yell, "Did you tell Mr. Pete where you wanted the tomatoes?"
"Yeah."
"He's parked the tractor in our driveway."
I squinted for a clearer view. "Maybe he's just walking off the place he's going to plow."
"He's in our YARD."
I squinted again, and sure enough, there was Mr. Pete, standing with his hands on his hips in the only sunny, tree-free spot in our yard. I made one of those involuntary "eeek!" noises. "Catch him!"
Joel jumped on his bicycle and pedaled up the driveway as fast as he could. I dropped my bag of lime, grabbed my bike, and followed him. Thankfully, Joel reached our yard in time to stop Mr. Pete from plowing it up.
Whew...close one.
Another neighbor, Mr. Charles, came later in the week with a harrow to knock apart the big clods that the breaking plow had left. Seeing the smoothe soil, I wanted to hurry to the greenhouse for some tomato plants, but Nanny said Mr. Charles was coming back with a tractor tiller to really pulverize the soil. He didn't get to it before the week was up. Now it has rained, and it will be several more days before he can finish. Hopefully, by next weekend, we'll be planting.
Within two days of planting the cabbage and broccoli that I planted a couple of weeks ago, rabbits ate them. All that remains of them are nubby little stalks. Rabbit stew is sounding very delicious to me right now.
But Pop-Pop acquired some wire cages, so I bought some new plants to try again, as soon as the ground is dry enough.
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Friday, March 20, 2009
Spring has sprung.
For a week, I've been hauling a bundle of red onion sets, a bundle of white onion sets, a 9-pack of broccoli, and a 9-pack of red cabbage around in my Jeep. Probably, I should have bought and planted all of it three weeks ago, but I was doing other things, and Mr. Pete still has not come to break up my garden.
Today was a beautiful day, and about 3:30 this afternoon, I went down to the garden, hoping (but not all that confident) that I could get the tiller cranked so I could set out the plants before they croak. After about the 23rd pull, a miracle happened: it cranked.
The ground was a little too wet, but I plowed anyway, and tilled up a strip on the front edge of the garden for the broccoli, cabbage, and onions. I also planted two short rows of sweet peas.
I'm worried, though. The deer have discovered the greens left over from last fall. They've been pulling up the turnips, and they've mowed the kale and mustard down. I see their tracks everywhere.
The broccoli and cabbage may not survive the night.
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Today was a beautiful day, and about 3:30 this afternoon, I went down to the garden, hoping (but not all that confident) that I could get the tiller cranked so I could set out the plants before they croak. After about the 23rd pull, a miracle happened: it cranked.
The ground was a little too wet, but I plowed anyway, and tilled up a strip on the front edge of the garden for the broccoli, cabbage, and onions. I also planted two short rows of sweet peas.
I'm worried, though. The deer have discovered the greens left over from last fall. They've been pulling up the turnips, and they've mowed the kale and mustard down. I see their tracks everywhere.
The broccoli and cabbage may not survive the night.
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Monday, December 29, 2008
Intermission
Over a holiday dinner, Pop-Pop said to me, "I think our next garden ought to be bigger."
I think if our garden gets any bigger, we're going to have to hire help to work it.
However, rumor has it that Pete (down the road) wants a bigger tractor tiller, and might be willing to trade his smaller tractor tiller for a piece of farm equipment that sits dormant behind Pop-Pop's shed. If we get a tractor tiller, and I can learn to work it, it's on.
Yesterday, after another dinner at Nanny's, I went out to the garden to find out what happened to the two experimental brussels sprouts I planted last summer. (When I checked on them in October, worms had eaten them to skeletons, but they looked like they might have been about to put out new leaves.) One of the plants was D.O.A., but the other is still chugging along, with marble-sized sprouts along its stem.
The sweet peas are goners.
The mustard, turnips, and kale could probably still be eaten.
Rabbits ate the spinach. It's putting on new leaves, though. Bon appetit, bunnies.
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I think if our garden gets any bigger, we're going to have to hire help to work it.
However, rumor has it that Pete (down the road) wants a bigger tractor tiller, and might be willing to trade his smaller tractor tiller for a piece of farm equipment that sits dormant behind Pop-Pop's shed. If we get a tractor tiller, and I can learn to work it, it's on.
Yesterday, after another dinner at Nanny's, I went out to the garden to find out what happened to the two experimental brussels sprouts I planted last summer. (When I checked on them in October, worms had eaten them to skeletons, but they looked like they might have been about to put out new leaves.) One of the plants was D.O.A., but the other is still chugging along, with marble-sized sprouts along its stem.
The sweet peas are goners.
The mustard, turnips, and kale could probably still be eaten.
Rabbits ate the spinach. It's putting on new leaves, though. Bon appetit, bunnies.
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Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Sweet Peas
Though we've had a few chilly nights with frost, we haven't had a serious freeze, and the sweet peas are acting like they were made for this kind of weather. (Maybe they were!) While the first frost completely killed everything else in the garden, these peas are still vigorous - still blooming, for pete's sake!
On Saturday, I decided I'd better pick the peas before the really cold weather sets in. I took a plastic grocery bag to the garden and filled it nearly full of fat pods. The frost had turned the pods a strange, whitish color, but the peas inside were just fine. We shelled them for supper on Sunday night, and got about 2 cups of peas. I should have picked them sooner; some of the peas had grown so big that their skins had split, and they were still a little al dente even after 5 minutes of steaming. But, heck, I'd never grown sweet peas, so what did I know? In any case, they tasted wonderful.
There are many more immature pods still on the vines. We're supposed to get some below-freezing temperatures this week, and I'm curious to see how the peas will cope with it.
While we were at the hardware store on Saturday, I bought a big sack of tulip bulbs. I wish I had planted them this past weekend, since it'll probably be even colder this coming weekend. Spring bulbs are such a joy. By springtime, I've usually forgotten what I planted the previous fall, and so every flower is a welcome surprise. I'm going to plant these tulips in the beds along the front sidewalk, where there is creeping phlox and creeping vinca. Won't it be terrific if they all bloom at the same time next year?
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On Saturday, I decided I'd better pick the peas before the really cold weather sets in. I took a plastic grocery bag to the garden and filled it nearly full of fat pods. The frost had turned the pods a strange, whitish color, but the peas inside were just fine. We shelled them for supper on Sunday night, and got about 2 cups of peas. I should have picked them sooner; some of the peas had grown so big that their skins had split, and they were still a little al dente even after 5 minutes of steaming. But, heck, I'd never grown sweet peas, so what did I know? In any case, they tasted wonderful.
There are many more immature pods still on the vines. We're supposed to get some below-freezing temperatures this week, and I'm curious to see how the peas will cope with it.
While we were at the hardware store on Saturday, I bought a big sack of tulip bulbs. I wish I had planted them this past weekend, since it'll probably be even colder this coming weekend. Spring bulbs are such a joy. By springtime, I've usually forgotten what I planted the previous fall, and so every flower is a welcome surprise. I'm going to plant these tulips in the beds along the front sidewalk, where there is creeping phlox and creeping vinca. Won't it be terrific if they all bloom at the same time next year?
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Wednesday, October 29, 2008
First Frost
We had our first frost two nights ago. Foreseeing the chill, Nanny picked the remaining green beans (4 gallons of them!) and bell peppers. She covered the tender lettuce with a sheet of plastic. I never got around to buying that extra plastic sheeting, and so she didn't have enough to cover up the other greens. Hopefully, they can take a little chill. Hopefully, I can remember to get more plastic today.
I am also crossing my fingers that the sweet peas can stand the cooler temperatures. Few of the pods have matured. I picked the fattest ones yesterday afternoon, and they yielded a handful of peas, which I tossed into a noodle concoction for last night's supper. There are many more immature pods still on the vines. I left them there, hoping that they will grow a little more.
After leaving the garden yesterday, my husband and I went into town on a furniture-buying mission. We have not had new living room furniture in 20+ years. For a long time, we've been talking about buying new furniture, but never got around to it. When our son and his family moved in with us (temporarily) a few months ago, we gave away our old living room suite, making room for our son's furniture, knowing that when he and his family moved into their new house, we'd be forced into action.
We began shopping for furniture in mid-September, anticipating a late-September closing date on the new house. We each found a few things we liked - my digital camera is full of pictures of sofas and recliners - but, naturally, we did not agree on anything, and, since the closing date kept getting pushed ahead, we kept putting off the decision. Last week, while we were on a camping trip, we learned that the closing is "definitely" to happen this week. I said to the husband, "Since we can't agree on anything, and since we've both seen what the other likes, one of us should just go and buy the furniture, and get it over with." On the way home from the camping trip, the husband said, "Since I'm off work again tomorrow, maybe I'll go buy the furniture."
I gave him the "have-you-lost-your-mind?" look.
He said, "Well, you SAID that 'one of us' should just go do it."
I said, "Yeah, but I meant ME!"
Wisely, he refrained from going to the furniture store until I got home from work. As we should have anticipated, none of the things we had liked on our previous outings were still in the store. We had to start from scratch. But 30 minutes after I walked in, I knew what I wanted. So did the husband. Unfortunately, they were not the same things. The compromising started.
Other customers came and went. A friend came in, and called to us, "Hey, how are you guys doing?"
"We're about to fight," I told him. He waved, and ran for cover.
Before it was over, poor David, the store owner, had rearranged about a third of his inventory, moving "that chair" next to "this couch" so that I could see how they looked together. (I believe if we had debated a little longer, David might have paid us to take some furniture and get out of his store.) We finally agreed on one chair - a cushy burgundy leather recliner for the husband - and were able to build a suite around it. "Put 'sold' signs on these," we told David, "and we'll call you when we're ready for them." I thought David was going to cry.
He may cry for sure when I go back to the store today, to see if I still like everything in the daylight. ;)
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I am also crossing my fingers that the sweet peas can stand the cooler temperatures. Few of the pods have matured. I picked the fattest ones yesterday afternoon, and they yielded a handful of peas, which I tossed into a noodle concoction for last night's supper. There are many more immature pods still on the vines. I left them there, hoping that they will grow a little more.
After leaving the garden yesterday, my husband and I went into town on a furniture-buying mission. We have not had new living room furniture in 20+ years. For a long time, we've been talking about buying new furniture, but never got around to it. When our son and his family moved in with us (temporarily) a few months ago, we gave away our old living room suite, making room for our son's furniture, knowing that when he and his family moved into their new house, we'd be forced into action.
We began shopping for furniture in mid-September, anticipating a late-September closing date on the new house. We each found a few things we liked - my digital camera is full of pictures of sofas and recliners - but, naturally, we did not agree on anything, and, since the closing date kept getting pushed ahead, we kept putting off the decision. Last week, while we were on a camping trip, we learned that the closing is "definitely" to happen this week. I said to the husband, "Since we can't agree on anything, and since we've both seen what the other likes, one of us should just go and buy the furniture, and get it over with." On the way home from the camping trip, the husband said, "Since I'm off work again tomorrow, maybe I'll go buy the furniture."
I gave him the "have-you-lost-your-mind?" look.
He said, "Well, you SAID that 'one of us' should just go do it."
I said, "Yeah, but I meant ME!"
Wisely, he refrained from going to the furniture store until I got home from work. As we should have anticipated, none of the things we had liked on our previous outings were still in the store. We had to start from scratch. But 30 minutes after I walked in, I knew what I wanted. So did the husband. Unfortunately, they were not the same things. The compromising started.
Other customers came and went. A friend came in, and called to us, "Hey, how are you guys doing?"
"We're about to fight," I told him. He waved, and ran for cover.
Before it was over, poor David, the store owner, had rearranged about a third of his inventory, moving "that chair" next to "this couch" so that I could see how they looked together. (I believe if we had debated a little longer, David might have paid us to take some furniture and get out of his store.) We finally agreed on one chair - a cushy burgundy leather recliner for the husband - and were able to build a suite around it. "Put 'sold' signs on these," we told David, "and we'll call you when we're ready for them." I thought David was going to cry.
He may cry for sure when I go back to the store today, to see if I still like everything in the daylight. ;)
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Wednesday, October 15, 2008
This Year's Last Hurrah
The greens are ready to pick. According to my last blog entry, I planted them about a month ago. We have plenty of mustard, turnip, kale, and lettuce. Sarah took home two sacks full on Monday. This barely made a dent in them. Come Saturday, I'll be picking greens for the freezer. Wish you lived close enough to help! ;)
The spinach is being persnickety and has come up thinly. Same goes for the beets. Right now, there's enough spinach for a couple of small salads from the baby leaves, but not enough to sautee. We intend to make a plastic tent for all of the greens, hoping to extend their growth into winter. I should go to Home Depot for plastic tomorrow, so that Jack Frost won't catch me unprepared.
This afternoon, I picked the first green beans from the "new crop." (We planted those two months ago.) I went to the garden hoping to find enough for supper, and came out with 2 gallons of beans. They'll need picking again by the weekend. After skimming a couple of handfulls off the top for our dinner, I gave the rest to a cousin up the road. Mine are now slowly steaming in garlic butter, to go with the potatoes and the pork loin that are roasting in the oven.
The sweet peas, planted two months ago, have nice, big pods on them, but they're not filled out yet. I can hardly wait for those!
Back in the summer, I found two scraggly brussels sprouts plants at a garden center, and stuck them in the ground. It was way too late to plant brussels sprouts, and they just sat there, doing nothing, during the hot part of the summer. Last month, I noticed that they had begun to grow, and I thought we might get a little crop of sprouts, after all. Today, I noticed that they are now green skeletons, thanks to some cute little green/black striped worms that have helped themselves to the leaves. I'm going to leave them - and the worms - alone to see what happens.
It's too bad that there aren't more resources for fall gardening around here, because gardening at this time of the year can be so pleasant. It's not too hot or too cold. The bugs (except for those pesky brussels sprouts worms) aren't too bad, so there's no need for pesticides. How nice it feels to eat vegetables that are fresh and crisp and, except for maybe a little bug poo, clean enough to eat while standing right there in the garden.
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