Monday, August 14, 2023

This Year's Gardens: Part 10

Cherokee Trail of Tears Heritage Pole Beans

The gardens continue to baffle and amaze. There are no other words.

I have made it official: the zucchini garden is a total loss. TOTAL. However, there may be a ray of possibility. I went to our local Farmers Market this Saturday in search of zucchini to prepare and freeze for the winter. Only two vendors had it at all. The first vendor said they had had trouble with it this year, a first for them. The second vendor, who had more zucchini at his stand, listened to my description of what I had seen in the garden, furrowed his brow, and made some suggestions as to what it might have been. (And given the state of the cabbage and cauliflower in that same garden, I think he was on point.) He then said he was getting ready to do a third planting, just for household use. "You have any seeds left?" Yes, I still do. He suggested I clear out the debris, till, plant (no starting inside, just straight up planting), and see what I get, saying there should be enough warmer weather left to get one more crop in. 

I'm game. I know I will have some limitations on my physical capacity, but heck, why not try it? Worst thing that can happen is the zucchini comes up and gets destroyed again. To give the plants half a chance, I will try to be better at (mostly) keeping the weeds down. 

Related somewhat to the whole Hej garden issues (the zucchini, the cabbage, the cauliflower losses), I am (as always) thinking about how to make it work better next year. There is a gardening account I follow sporadically on Instagram, and a few days ago someone (they have many people who post) put up a 3-tips video. Tip #1? Grow red cabbage, which bugs abhor; they go after the green cabbage. 

Bingo: my red cabbage has been virtually untouched. The green I will be pulling up and throwing out when I clear the Hej garden for a second attempt at a zucchini crop. Next year: red only. I can plant them in the Hej garden and clear up space in the kitchen garden. 

In the kitchen garden, the tomatoes are finally ripening and I am in tomato heaven. I will get a few more peppers, but those plants were too shaded by the tomatoes and pole beans to do well. (Not to mention the enormous leaves the red cabbage put out early that totally shaded everything around each one of them.) 



Warren, knowing my frustrations this year and looking ahead to next year, suggested I plant the tomatoes on the north side, or in the middle, and give the peppers a chance by putting them on the south side. Yep, he is right. We also talked about the burgeoning flower section, cosmos and sunflowers, and how they too take up space. The sunflowers I want to keep in the back against the garage wall, but the cosmos would possibly (maybe?) enjoy the garden bed (also neglected this summer) that runs along the back of our house. I have been collecting cosmos seeds already this month and can see a cosmos project next spring.

The cosmos and the sunflowers

I have been picking the Cherokee Trail of Tears black pole beans. I think I have been late in picking (waiting for them to go totally purple), so I cut up and froze some (to have some night with dinner) and opened up all the other pods to collect the beans inside and dry them for further use from cooking to replanting. 




The beans are beautiful. 



I have more of them coming along in the Hej garden, a few weeks behind these in the kitchen garden. As I said to several friends, no surprise that the beans were the only thing that survived out in that garden. Anything that could survive a forced death march of thousands of miles had to be hearty. And they are. 

Laurie over at The Clean Green Homestead, reminded us in her blog today that while many of us are talking about the end of summer, the midway point of summer on the calendar is August 7. "I'm not wanting to wish these days away," she noted. I smiled; our local schools start this week and for many of us, even without children in school, that signals the end of summer. But I endorse her gentle reminder to savor our days. This household has been running on overload on too many fronts, many of them not within our control, and it has taken a toll. It is good to take a break and to remind myself to relish the day in front of me. 

7 comments:

Laurie said...

It's definitely been a strange zucchini year, with us harvesting our first just a couple of days ago. I hope you'll get some with this new planting. Gardens can keep us all guessing with what will be happy where.

April said...

Laurie, I agree about gardens keeping us all guessing, but this has been a staggeringly unusual year here!!!

Out My window said...

Those beans are too pretty to eat. My pole beans are just starting g to flower as the bush beans are practically on their last picking. They will continue into late October. But I do signal summer over when the kids go back to school. We have 2.5 months of summer left here.

April said...

Kim, they ARE pretty. If you want, I could send you some to sew into a wedding dress neckline...just saying. (And does Sissy know you are sneaking off and commenting on other blogs? What a taskmaster! LOL)

Celie said...

Those beans are nice looking. I do not have a vegetable garden, never have. I plant two flower cutting gardens. This has not been a good year for them. The plants are still very short and mostly without buds. Even the sunflowers that usually are 4-6 feet by now are wimpy. Not sure what's going on. The cosmos are the exception and are doing well. Your flowers are lovely.

April said...

Celie, I agree: a weird year all the way around. I have a back flowerbed with cone flowers, day lilies, and Black-eyed Susans, and they did pretty good this year. But the spiderwort burnt out early, even the ones in the shade. Just weird.

ladybug said...

I hope you are doing well. I have missed reading your posts. I would guess the garden has been put to bed for the year. Here in Indiana we've had a few cold nights - I've been covering the flowers just hoping they will hang on a little longer. Winter is kind of bleak without color.

Lisa