Daisy here again, emerging from my sabbatical to report on what’s going on in our garden here at the beginning of September.
For the third time, I’ve seeded late season lettuce for a fall and winter crop. Hopefully this time the seeds will feel it’s cool enough to emerge.
The vines of the birdhouse gourds which volunteered this spring have withered and the gourds have begun to brown and dry.
The surfaces of the gourds develop stunningly graphic patterns of mold.
A few late figs barely ripen before birds find them, tearing slices into the flesh until eventually they are no more.
Small clusters of golden muscadines turn russet and grow soft beneath a bower of summer-green serrated leaves. I want a light fixture that looks like this.
I’ve covered the paths between the raised beds with fresh straw. I say it’s for weed-suppression, but the truth is straw-strewn paths in gardens just make me happy.
In the beds, the only things to hang on after the hot, dry summer are the peppers and the arugula. Thank heaven for stalwart arugula, or we would be buying lettuce. The basil remains, too, and the other herbs, but all the tomatoes are gone.
I have kale beneath netting to keep the cabbage moths at bay, but something is still eating chunks out of it and leaf miners are wending loopy trails through some of the leaves.
The late season planting of shell beans looks okay, but time will tell if it was worth planting in such a small space.
I doubt it will, but I have to try it once. I’ve never grown shell beans before because I figure without rows and rows of them it wouldn’t be worth it. I saw a gallon baggie of shelled field peas at a farmer’s market for $19. Not a typo. Nineteen dollars for a bag of peas. Those had better be some good peas.
In the weird plant department, I sowed something called yokatta-na. I will report if, a. it comes up, and, b. if I can identify it among the other mixed greens I toss out with little regard for what goes where. It is said to be similar to mustard, but milder, and very nutritious.
The few sweet potato plants I put in have spread everywhere, as they are wont to do, of course, but I can’t say I’m hopeful about what’s going on beneath the surface. I’ve never had much luck with sweet potatoes. Actually, I’ve never had any luck with sweet potatoes, but the mystery, the suspense, is worth trying again. The possibility that there might be a sweet, nutritious bounty sleeping beneath the surface, growing bigger every day, is irresistible. But it’s probably bupkis, like last year. I looked up the origin of the word bupkis, and it means goat droppings. Which is probably exactly what I need to grow better potatoes. Deanna, bring me some bupkis, stat.
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