GRO4US

Well, it’s that time of year when we need to plant indoors, fix up the beds, and remove the dead and dying plants from the garden. Even my little garden is thinning out and needing a good once-over before I plant again. Most my cucumber plants have yellowed and slowed their production, the tomato plants look like they’re dying, and I’ve got to rip out the rest of my much-too-old lettuce.

And yet things are still going well.

The three bush beans that I planted have furnished nearly a full serving for six adults over a week’s time. The carrots that have been ever so doubtful are growing decently, and even my beets have thrived.

The last month or so feels like it has flown. All of a sudden my well maintained garden looks like a nightmare, and the weeds on the border have crept in nearly three or more inches. What doesn’t help is that the last cucumber that I planted has grown to massive proportions, with some four vines almost five feet long. (And they claim you can put a cucumber plant in a three-foot by three-foot space, hah!)

Of course, while I do have to work I also have to start things like broccoli indoors while I prepare my garden for the next plantings. I feel almost like Damocles, except that it feels like a big sack of flour is dangling over my head. It would help if I didn’t have to amend my soil and add more compost thanks to the hefty rains this year (by the account of one long-time gardener, this wasn’t a good year for a new gardener) but such is life.

At least I’ve seen the worst water can do in my region!

Perhaps you remember that I’ve got three kinds of tomatoes: cherry/plum, German Striped, and Beefsteak. I think I slipped up and called the last Big Beef for awhile, but they’re Beefsteak as far as I can tell. The primary problem is that the German Striped are a heirloom variety, and as such are more susceptible to splitting.

All things considered, I’ve done a good job with the tomatoes this year.

The plant that was supposed to produce cherry tomatoes has absolutely thrived, and has maybe fifty or so plum (or Roma) shaped tomatoes currently on the vine. I haven’t counted them, but that was a conservative estimate! According to my refractometer these tomatoes measure eight brix, an approximate measure of taste and nutrition (based off sugars present in the liquid of the fruit); the tomatoes from Costco are quite good for industrial-grade, which measure at about five point five brix. The tomatoes from the farmer’s market have been poor this year, in comparison, and rate the same as Costco did, but their taste was poor. Wish I knew what I’m doing right, but I’m picking enough great tomatoes for the three tomato lovers in our family.

The German Striped is another story. Out of all the fruit that I’ve thrown away I was only able to save three, all of which were split and unattacked by insects. The rain we had recently was tremendous, perhaps as much as a whole foot in the last two weeks. If I were to estimate, then I would say that we’ve had roughly eleven out of fourteen days with wetness.

But the real clincher was Sunday.

On Sunday we had several storms whip through in the wee hours of the morning. I awoke to howling winds and shearing rains at maybe 3am; by 7:30am another storm had come in with even more ferociousness. In less than an hour our yard had six inches of standing water from that one storm.

In spite of everything I’d figured would protect it, the clay soils and fifteen degree tilt to the area, my garden was waterlogged. In the night hours the hydraulic action of the tomato plants kicks in, absorbing all the water its roots can contact—and the storms had provided that in surplus. The net result is that all semi-ripe fruit on both the German Striped and the Beefsteak split.

Yet, I’m still doing something right. Last year’s tomatoes wouldn’t have survived a storm that size, being bent fully to the ground, or being stood back up. But I’ve got stems a full inch in diameter this year, and none of the tomatoes came lose during the storm. Understand that these were 60mph winds that uprooted trees half a mile away. All my tomatoes have survived that wind flattening them and are standing tall, if somewhat askew; the oddball cherry-plum tomato has gulped all the water it could with no ill effects.

If only I knew what I was doing right!