Behold the Broccoli!

July is winding down and our garden is gearing up. Gardens, plural.

After months of lollygagging around, the peppers have finally decided to grow. They are like the boy who was always the smallest one in class but suddenly puts on seven or eight inches over the summer. There are blossoms on most of them and maybe, just maybe, I might reap one Purple Beauty or Sweet Chocolate yet this year.

Maybe.

I may get a lone eggplant from the one plant that did not get overshadowed by the broccoli. The artichokes have also had to joust with the broccoli for sunlight. Everything I have read about artichokes says "180 days" and it will be nip and tuck with the calendar to see if they can produce a choke before the first frost.

I had no idea that broccoli grew so fiercely and could so completely dominate a garden. If my peppers are the smallest kid in the class, the broccoli is the boy whose parents start him a year late so he will be "good at sports." (Why was that always the reason given? Why didn't anyone ever say "I held my kid back so she could kick butt reading?")

The tomatoes have not been intimidated one whit by the broccoli. Thanks to my helter-skelter, post-planting transplanting, there are tomatoes everywhere. Pig is gone. Oh, it's still there, but hidden under the tomatoes vines that now cascade down over it.

The tomatoes are still green. Drat. I just know the first ones will ripen when we are out of town in early August. I know it, I know it.

Down in the sod garden, the pumpkins and zucchini are in full and beautiful bloom. Whatever has been nipping the zucchini blossoms seems to have slacked off. Maybe it didn't like the taste of zucchini stem that much. As for the pumpkins, after quickly taking over three-quarters of the garden, they have gotten down to the business at hand.

I recently learned that pumpkin vines have male and female flowers. What I did not know was whether we have enough bees and other pollinators around to make the necessary introductions. I am pleased to report that when I walked down to the patch this morning, I saw not one but several bees landing on and lifting off from the pumpkin blossom flight decks.

The bees know their stuff. We already have a baby pumpkin.

I cut the first broccoli last weekend. After I washed it and put it in a bag for later, I turned to Warren and said "let's stop at mom and dad's because I want to give dad some of the broccoli."

Mom and dad live about a mile (as the crow flies) from here, just outside of town on a rural road. When we pulled into the driveway, dad was out in his garden. It had been dry, so he had pulled the hose out to the garden, then ran it up a stepladder to a rotating jet sprinkler. Given the height of the ladder, dad figured the water could reach the whole garden. That is a typical "dad" solution: it may not be pretty, but it is practical and immediate. And it worked.

Dad came up to the truck as we got out. I handed him the broccoli and he grinned. My dad is not an easy man to get presents for, but certain things go right to his heart. The first broccoli from our gardens is one of those things.

Warren stood and chatted with mom (he is a favorite of hers, so much so that I have no question about where I stand on that scale) while dad and I looked at his garden. His tomatoes were dying off one by one; he thinks it is because he planted them at the end closest to the walnut tree at the lot line. Could be; walnut trees are brutal on gardens. The beans looked good though. (In fact, his beans are good. As I write this, I have a sack of green beans from him waiting to be blanched and frozen.) We talked about how next year he may move the garden further south and reseed to grass the section nearest the walnut tree.

I haven't thought too much about next year. Getting through this year is such an adventure. Oh, at times I look at the broccoli and wonder if I should expand the garden to give those bad boys more room next year. But for the most part, except for some occasional notes in my gardening notebook, I am too consumed with this year's crop to look ahead to next.

Our friend Kermit stopped over yesterday to give us some fresh peaches from South Carolina, where they had been on vacation. Kermit is gardening using the "square foot" method that seems to be all the rage this year. While we shared some zucchini bread at the kitchen table, Kermit and I compared garden notes. He likes the square foot method and is getting good results. Kermit is already planning ahead as this year was just a trial run.

I understand the principles of square foot gardening and can appreciate its appeal. I don't see myself turning to that method. I like the confusion and the mess of a traditional garden. I even like the weeding. My sprawling, higgledy-piggledy garden has brought me joy and contemplation and sweat all at the same time.

And maybe I am not tempted by square foot gardening because I remember the size and abundance of my grandparents' farm garden when I was little. The farm is long gone but my memories are not. Even if I could fit the right plants into the grids of the square foot garden, I am not sure I could fit my heart.