In keeping with the time of year, I’ve planted my first bed of fall crops. In my top bed I’ve planted 21 beets, 12 “Russian Red” Kale (the ragged sort you might find in a store), and have started Broccoli and another Cucumber in pots. Depending on what goes on with my tomato bed I may wind up with a whole other bed to use.

My oddball roma/cherry tomato plant has produced, seemingly by a miracle, some two pounds of fruit over the last week and a half. Yes, virtually all the tomatoes on the plant ripened at the exact same time. Err, I take that back (since I just weighed them to see)… the basket I gathered yesterday was 1lb 5oz in weight, and we had over 10oz already indoors. I think there are several pounds of ripening tomatoes still on the plant!

It’s getting late enough that I’m hoping that my lone pepper plant will fruit; it is almost the size for flowers. Out of nearly six attempts to start the plants from seeds, only one bore a tiny sprout and that was almost by accident. So, it’s been a very slow two months while I await peppers; it would seem that most other gardeners, and farmers here, have had trouble with peppers this year.

What have you planted in your garden for your autumn planting?

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!

Here are a few tips and tricks I’ve learned with them during this season.

Trick: Rub Ends, No Soapy Flavor

Sometimes cucumbers taste soapy near its ends; it can be a bad enough taste to slow even the most cucumber-loving vegan. But the trick to get rid of this problem is simplest of all: cut the ends off, one by one, and rub them in a circular pattern. You know you’ve got it right when the cut seam begins to look soapy—so lather up, rinse, discard, then enjoy.  Thanks to my mom for this one.

Tip: “Careful with the water, pal.”

Cucumbers are 95% water. That’s a lot! But, how much water should you give during the bearing cycle of the plant?

I’ve found that the plant will take almost as much water as you will give it. But, depending upon your variety you may not want to drench it with a half-gallon daily. Instead, try giving about a quarter gallon daily and observe the results. If your cucumber is no longer mostly round, and is like a triangle with bulging sides, you’re giving a little too much water; if it is very skinny or oddly shaped, try adding a little more water. I’ve found it to be quite hit-and-miss in getting the optimum growing size, but still gives decent “cukes” in the meantime.

Tip: Pick Early, Pick Often

The objective of a fruiting plant is to produce a mature fruit, once that is done the seeds can propagate the plant. In other words, its job is done when it produces a mature fruit. This is pretty common, but well exemplified in the cucumber. Find the size that tastes best to you and pick it; when in doubt, pick it; when near maturity, pick it. The production of fruits will accelerate as the plant tries to reach its goal.

It didn’t work.

Cucumbers and zucchini are large plants that take 3′ x 3′ worth of space each—neither of which I like. Because I wasn’t sure how this bed’s soil conditions were, it caused severe blossom-end rot that prevented any harvest of big beef tomatoes, I figured it could serve as a backup bed. So, I planted two rows of carrots, none of which sprouted, and two zucchini plants; I started some cucumbers in planters and then moved them out to the same bed.

The result was a dismal failure of slow death from pH imbalance. The plants paled, wouldn’t grow, and produced nary a blossom.

Or so I thought.

Roughly a month ago I noticed that one cucumber plant had not only grown and produced leaves, but had blossomed. This was strange: a weak and sickly plant had recovered in sub-optimal soil. Skip forward a month to the present, and that first cucumber plant is now 4′ long, furnished three good cucumbers, and has several more fruits growing. My other cucumber has recovered as well and has two inch-long cucumbers already. In addition, one of my zucchini plants recovered and has already blossomed twice (I think I even see a tiny squash growing).

Go figure!

Because I was pretty sure the bed wasn’t going to thrive, I let it go fallow; if I were to weed now, my semi-artificial soil would crumble to pieces. That first year I followed the Square Foot Gardening method in making a raised bed, including making my own soil. The pH problem stems from what the soil came from (equal parts each): vermiculite, peat moss, compost. The compost we got was bagged (fully dead, I’m afraid) and was probably on the acidic side. When I mixed the already acidic peat moss with the compost, I inadvertently made it more acidic.

Instead of letting this bed continue to go to waste, I have a plan for it at the end of this season.  And, hopefully, I’ll figure out a good way to mix it in and improve the soil in my new beds.

Anyone can grow lettuce. Throw out some seeds, lightly water at dawn and dusk, wait two or three weeks, and presto! you have baby lettuce. But, now what? Like many, I harvested individual leaves early, before the lettuce qualified as a “head”. This leaf lettuce only amounted to a single serving at first picking, but that picking stimulated rapid growth. For the past month I’ve had nice heads of lettuce in my garden that provide biweekly salads.

Yet, last week I noticed that my lettuce aged almost over night. I looked a little closer and found the signs that I’d missed, so that I will harvest my heads in time from now on.

Maybe one day I won’t commit these mistakes as frequently.

Several signs of mature lettuce:

• Leaf Shape
  Mature lettuce has a broad, curly leaf; immature lettuce is spoon-like with a long, narrow stalk.
• Leaf Waviness
  Lettuce, when mature, has a wave to the leaves—the deeper the folds, the older the plant.
• Leaf Color (Romaine Lettuces, etc)
  Romaine lettuce begins its life as a normal green plant that slowly, or quickly depending on the variety, changes to a brown color in its leaves. The De Morges Braun leaves gain a uniform brown hue when mature, and the end of the leaf turns a pink-rust color when old.
• Texture
  I discovered that young lettuce feels particularly soft. This softness only departs when the lettuce becomes old and firm, when its leaves will tear apart with more easily.

I pick my De Morges Braun lettuce by the head when it reaches equilibrium in color. When the leaves are uniformly brown in color I sever the stem and refrigerate it that day, even when I have used that head as leaf lettuce. I find it unique that this variety grows old from the center out, and adorns its leaf tips with a rust-pink color.

I pick my “normal” lettuce, the Black-seeded Simpson, when its leaves curl and develop small spines on their back, but before their shade of green changes. When old, Black-seeded Simpson will change hue in one of two ways: its leaves may become pale yellow at the tips; or its leaves may become a darker green.

Now I have a mixture of just-right and too-old lettuces to eat—all at once.  At least we enjoy salads!