The First Tomato of Summer

Tonight we ate the first tomato from our garden - with basil, salt and pepper, and a little olive oil. Perfect!

The garden is really crazy now - I picked a half dozen beets yesterday, some as big as softballs. The green beans and cucumbers have to be checked daily lest monsters grow under the leaves. The cilantro went to seed weeks ago, but I'm keeping the basil in check - barely - by pinching off the seed heads as fast as they can make them. Kale and swiss chard are green (and red) and glossy. Since I got smart and only planted one short row of each, we only have to eat them once a week so far. The 5 tomato plants are ready to start full production - bruschetta parties are planned.

And little peppers are growing at last on just 3 plants. This is my first attempt at those, so whatever we get will be a bonus.

Gardening Thoughts in February

For the last few years, I've heard that gardeners should start planting tomato seeds in February in order to set out some sturdy seedlings by Mother's Day. I've never done it yet and always ended up standing in line over at the local garden shop in May. Let's see if I get my act together and get some on the windowsill this month!

Last summer, Environmentalist Daughter convinced a couple of us to go in with her for a share of weekly summer organic produce from a local farm. The farm had drop-off points all over the city with one conveniently near her, so she would get our box of fruits and veggies on Saturday, divide it up, and the rest of us would get ours later that weekend.

What I liked was trying new items, including some I'd never heard of, like Asian melon. What I didn't like was that some veggies were already limp by the time I got them. Meanwhile, I had already set out my own backyard garden, and was ready for tomatoes, green beans, kale, spinach, beets, peas and radishes. Luckily, you can never have too many tomatoes, so I was still able to use everything. But this year, I'm sticking to the backyard garden.

I'm a child of North Dakota and Minnesota, and grew up thinking everyone ate strawberry-rhubarb sauce for breakfast. Unfortunately, my two rhubarb plants have withered and died, and it takes at least one year of growing uncut to give a plant a good start. So no sauce for us this year.

If anyone else is looking at the seeds in the drugstore now, you might want to read an account by novelist Barbara Kingsolver, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. Tells how she moved from the Southwest to Appalachia with her husband and two daughters and they decided to eat only food grown or raised within 40 miles or so (locavores?). How they did it, what they had to do without, etc., is mighty interesting.