Seeds
All is not doom and gloom, however – far from it. I'm enjoying all the fall things there are to do around here. Over the weekend we cleared out most of our summer garden and got the space ready for fall plantings, which will be carried out over the course of this week.
One of my favorite things to do when we clear the garden is to save seeds of all the things that were successful, to try again next year. Sometimes the plant that results bears little resemblance to the parent, but it's usually still good and always interesting, and even if it wasn't what I expected, I've still never been disappointed.
Some of the plants I'm saving seeds from this year: black sunflowers, sweet peas (four kinds), nasturtiums (two kinds), marigolds, winter squash, various melons, pole beans, peppers and basil. The basil seeds are especially fun to do, because they're so small and so intimately attached to their plants that you have to really get in there with your hands and fingers to get them out. I've ended up with a lot this year, about two tablespoons of seed, from three varieties: plain sweet Italian, a small-leafed Thai basil that a friend gave me for my birthday, and a beautiful purple one that I've never tried to grow from seed before.
There's also the ginormous tomato we tried on the recommendation of a friend. Mortgage Lifter, it's called. We put it in a standard 3-foot tomato cage and realized before a month had passed that we had deeply underestimated the size and vigor of this plant. It's easily the largest one I've ever grown, a full 8 feet across as it sprawled all over creation looking for support. The fruit is also large, tends to split (at least ours did), sweet-tasting with not much acidity, and super dense. None of those big open cavities full of seeds with this one – every slice is almost completely solid tomato, dark purplish-red and glistening with flavors ... Definitely one to try again, and since it's an heirloom and not a hybrid I'm hoping we'll get the same plant next year, for a change.
For fall we're not planning anything fancy: just some greens, garlic, onions, fava beans, Brussels sprouts, cauliflowers and cabbages, even though I've never had much luck with anything cruciferous, as the aphids seem to love them even more than I do. But it's been awhile since I've tried them, and I'm excited to try again.
As much as I've been complaining lately (if not here, then at least in my heart — a bad habit I need to replace with a better one – gratitude, for example), I have to say that one blessing of being underworked this year has been just having the flexibility to spend time around the house at times when normally I would be chained to my desk at work. I still take about 40 minutes for breakfast every morning, which I never used to do, and I actually cook myself something good and eat it outside all year round, unless it's really pouring.
This morning I also had time to spend working on some of those seeds, straightening up inside and outside, running a load of laundry, and then – at about 9:40 a.m., knowing I had to be at work by noon, I looked at a row of pears sitting on the windowsill and realized if I got right down to it I would still have time to make a little batch of pear-ginger butter as a surprise for Mr. A, who has heard all kinds of wistful stories about of my semi-prowess as an aspiring Depression-era farm wife (a la Olivia Walton, for example), but so far seen little evidence of it.
The pears are from our tree, and they are delicious. Because there were only four of them left (the tree itself is sort of a naturalized bonsai at only just about seven feet tall, and leads a rather rough and rugged existence out at the edge of the field where birds planted it), I ran out and picked two apples off our eastern-most apple tree, the one that is about to split all the way in half any day now but whose fruit is so crisp and sweet and tart I'm glad it's lasted long enough to contribute a few pieces to this combination.
I peeled them all but one (I like just a little bit of that gritty pear texture in there) and sliced them up, and then put in a totally exorbitant amount of fresh ginger and a little honey from the bees I kept at the community garden two years ago, and also a splash of brandy that Mr. A's friend gave us last Christmas, and it's all bubbling away on the stove right now and it makes me so happy to know that I've actually achieved almost everything I set out to do in my life so far, at least in terms of the day-to-day. I've enumerated these blessings plenty of times here already and don't have time to do so again, but I will be giving thanks for them and thinking of ways to share them on my ride to work in a few minutes – on this perfect gold and blue fall day that I'm so happy to be here for.
P.S. If anyone would like seeds for any of those things I mentioned, let me know in comments or email tina at tinarama.com. There's plenty.
One of my favorite things to do when we clear the garden is to save seeds of all the things that were successful, to try again next year. Sometimes the plant that results bears little resemblance to the parent, but it's usually still good and always interesting, and even if it wasn't what I expected, I've still never been disappointed.
Some of the plants I'm saving seeds from this year: black sunflowers, sweet peas (four kinds), nasturtiums (two kinds), marigolds, winter squash, various melons, pole beans, peppers and basil. The basil seeds are especially fun to do, because they're so small and so intimately attached to their plants that you have to really get in there with your hands and fingers to get them out. I've ended up with a lot this year, about two tablespoons of seed, from three varieties: plain sweet Italian, a small-leafed Thai basil that a friend gave me for my birthday, and a beautiful purple one that I've never tried to grow from seed before.
There's also the ginormous tomato we tried on the recommendation of a friend. Mortgage Lifter, it's called. We put it in a standard 3-foot tomato cage and realized before a month had passed that we had deeply underestimated the size and vigor of this plant. It's easily the largest one I've ever grown, a full 8 feet across as it sprawled all over creation looking for support. The fruit is also large, tends to split (at least ours did), sweet-tasting with not much acidity, and super dense. None of those big open cavities full of seeds with this one – every slice is almost completely solid tomato, dark purplish-red and glistening with flavors ... Definitely one to try again, and since it's an heirloom and not a hybrid I'm hoping we'll get the same plant next year, for a change.
For fall we're not planning anything fancy: just some greens, garlic, onions, fava beans, Brussels sprouts, cauliflowers and cabbages, even though I've never had much luck with anything cruciferous, as the aphids seem to love them even more than I do. But it's been awhile since I've tried them, and I'm excited to try again.
As much as I've been complaining lately (if not here, then at least in my heart — a bad habit I need to replace with a better one – gratitude, for example), I have to say that one blessing of being underworked this year has been just having the flexibility to spend time around the house at times when normally I would be chained to my desk at work. I still take about 40 minutes for breakfast every morning, which I never used to do, and I actually cook myself something good and eat it outside all year round, unless it's really pouring.
This morning I also had time to spend working on some of those seeds, straightening up inside and outside, running a load of laundry, and then – at about 9:40 a.m., knowing I had to be at work by noon, I looked at a row of pears sitting on the windowsill and realized if I got right down to it I would still have time to make a little batch of pear-ginger butter as a surprise for Mr. A, who has heard all kinds of wistful stories about of my semi-prowess as an aspiring Depression-era farm wife (a la Olivia Walton, for example), but so far seen little evidence of it.
The pears are from our tree, and they are delicious. Because there were only four of them left (the tree itself is sort of a naturalized bonsai at only just about seven feet tall, and leads a rather rough and rugged existence out at the edge of the field where birds planted it), I ran out and picked two apples off our eastern-most apple tree, the one that is about to split all the way in half any day now but whose fruit is so crisp and sweet and tart I'm glad it's lasted long enough to contribute a few pieces to this combination.
I peeled them all but one (I like just a little bit of that gritty pear texture in there) and sliced them up, and then put in a totally exorbitant amount of fresh ginger and a little honey from the bees I kept at the community garden two years ago, and also a splash of brandy that Mr. A's friend gave us last Christmas, and it's all bubbling away on the stove right now and it makes me so happy to know that I've actually achieved almost everything I set out to do in my life so far, at least in terms of the day-to-day. I've enumerated these blessings plenty of times here already and don't have time to do so again, but I will be giving thanks for them and thinking of ways to share them on my ride to work in a few minutes – on this perfect gold and blue fall day that I'm so happy to be here for.
P.S. If anyone would like seeds for any of those things I mentioned, let me know in comments or email tina at tinarama.com. There's plenty.
1 Comments:
Lovely post!
I have to say I'm very impressed by how much you got done before work. If I had to be in to work at noon, I know what would happen--I'd sleep til 8:00 or so and then fritter away the whole morning and have nothing to show for it. Disgusting.
Post a Comment
<< Home