Tomatoes!

My first tomato this year was premature–the unnatural result of artificial greenhouse growth and fertilizer saturation.  And while my current yield is still of these purchased plants, I can at least attribute this batch to my own TLC.

That small one is an Indigo Rose, the two in the middle are Black Prince, and the one in my hand is a Pink Girl.  I wonder who names these?

The trouble with heirlooms is that until I harvest one, I never know when a particular variety is ripe.  They’re nice and squishy though.  So it begins.

–Simon

Mantis

Mantises arguably qualify as cool members of the insect class.  They’re also really creepy.  But, like spiders, they adhere to what I like to call the “Quarter Rule”.  That is to say, if they’re smaller than a quarter, then they’re cool/cute.  If they’re bigger, then I’m grabbing my 20ga.

But the one I found met the cool size requirement.  As I was inspecting my jalapeño plant, I noticed this little guy hanging out, blending in nicely with the bright green:

They’re primarily ambush predators, and I recall from my childhood that once they claimed a spot, they tended to not leave unless hungry.  It’s been a week and he’s still there.  So it would seem that my jalapeño is lucky enough to have its own guardian.

–Simon

Rhubarb

According to legend, this rhubarb plant, which was given to my by my mother, is part of a plant which was given to her by my father’s mother, who also received it from someone else in the family.  I guess this plant goes way back.  I’m not sure if if qualifies as “heirloom”, but it’s certainly an elder.

At the time, I stuck it in a pot, because I hadn’t installed a garden for it.  Still, it seems very happy, so Liz decided to experiment with a rhubarb crisp recipe.  I find the phrase “You can’t have your cake and eat it too” to apply to my garden.  I watched as she chopped away and reduced the plant to a few stubs.  Sigh.

No matter.  It’s already growing new leaves.  As for the crisp, the conclusion was that it was good but a little too sweet.  I expect there will be future recipe refinements as the plant grows back.  Even so, it was so good that I failed to get a photo of the final dish before it was gone.

How long will a rhubarb plant live?  Aren’t we just essentially cloning it?  It has to be at least a century old.  I wonder.

–Simon

Pumpkins!

Volunteer plants are always fun.  Nature has done the selection process for me.  I don’t have to cull or deal with failed germination–just transplant and be rewarded with a hardier stock, already more adapted to my specific micro-climate.  I mentioned these plants previously, but now I have actual fruit.

I still don’t seem to be having major problems with the vine borers either, so maybe everything’s happily maintaining in symbiosis.  I’ve also been pretty generous with the nitrogen additives, given through foliar feeding, which has yielded giant leaves, resembling tropical undergrowth.

I have two promising jack aspirants:

I’d swear this was a watermelon

–Simon

Minty

I realize of course that it’s a little silly to get excited about mint growing well, but look at the size of this sprig:

And this was only one of several sprigs that Liz cut, as it was starting to crowd the rest of the herb garden.  And so, faced with the conundrum of too much mint, what should we do?  It would be a shame to waste it.

If you know anything about me, then you probably already figured out what happened.  Hehe–MOJITOS!  Some classics are eternal for a reason.

–Simon