Late May Farm Report

It is late May, the days are getting hot, and I am getting ready to dig the second garden bed, the one for the seeds.

Back in April, I moved the transplants outside and into the first garden bed, the one next to the garage. I have only had one frost scare-just this week in fact, after the "last frost" date for this zone. Otherwise, everything is out there and more or less on its own. I spent last night thinning tomatoes and peppers. I tossed a few of the culls away, but if I pulled a tomato out with an intact root system, I dug another hole and put the plant back in the ground in another spot. I did the same thing with the peppers, which are much smaller and more easily transplanted.

What all this rearranging means is that I no have no idea what is what in my garden.

When I planted the seedlings, I did a rough (very rough) plot of the bed. I more or less knew where the Purple Beauty peppers and the Red Zebra tomatoes were. Now I am not sure. I am not sure even of the original plantings, what with all the additions. When the plants mature a bit more, and certainly, I hope, when they start to bear, I may be able to tell again what is what, but now they are "just" peppers and "just" tomatoes.

The rearranging also means that if even "just" half of these plants mature and produce, I will be awash in peppers and tomatoes for weeks. I had a hearty number before I thinned and replanted; now the number of tomatoes and pepper plants is staggering.

I have planted the herbs outside around the rim of the garden, transplanting indoor chives and oregano, seeding all the rest. I probably should have started the herbs inside on the heels of the vegetable seedlings, but I was seeded out by the time April rolled around. I could not look at one more seed pot or watch one more sprout. If they grow, great; if not, our local Farmers Market opens this Saturday and will be open until October. My friend Donna grows great basil and I can buy it from her when I am at her stand buying sweet corn this summer.

I am eager to get the last bed dug and readied. I want the last seeds in the ground, I want the last load of compost with its intoxicating aroma spaded in, I want the last rites of spring performed. This is a long weekend and I have a feeling I will spend a lot of it with a shovel in hand.

Robert Frost wrote a poem, "Build Soil," in which he admonishes the reader to

Build soil. Turn the farm in upon itself

Until it can contain itself no more,

But sweating-full, drips wine and oil a little.

I am ready to build soil and turn my little farm in upon itself. No wine and no oil, but how about some tomato juice?