Last of the tomatoes

Tonight I used the last of my tomatoes. Picked a couple of weeks ago, before our first frost, they finished ripening inside. While they aren't as good as vine-ripened tomatoes picked in their prime, the 'Garden Peach' and 'Red Figs' tasted pretty good in the black bean chili I made tonight.

Spring, awakening

Along the side of the house, near the hose faucet, there's a patch of lawn worn bare from walking. It's where I watch for a particular, lowly sign of spring: worm castings.

They finally appeared this morning.

Neighborhood lawns are halfway between brown and green. Lilac buds are ready to burst. Columbine have started to unfurl their leaves. Tulips and daffodils are up, but not yet in bloom. Any day now, Prairie Smoke will blossom.

As the GreenGirls suggest, I've planted some cool-weather crops (peas and beets) in containers.

I am slowly clearing the garden beds of leaves I laid down last fall as winter mulch. It would be faster with a leaf blower, but as long as my knees work and I have time, I like doing it by hand. Being close to the dirt feels right. There's a certain pleasure in lifting matted leaves and uncovering a pale, purplish shoot of some half-forgotten perennial.

Mystery tomatoes

Just as last year, I have tomatoes that don't match the tag. I'm pretty sure I didn't mix the tags when planting. Not that I'm complaining, as these are delicious.

Tomatoes

I've been enjoying cherry tomatoes for a week. Picked the first full-sized tomatoes today.

Mmmm.

Makes it all worthwhile.

Final Harvest

This afternoon, I picked what I assume is the last large tomato that I'll harvest this year. A few cherry tomatoes remain on the vine, but they don't count as a harvest, do they? The purple Cherokee joined three others I had picked earlier this week. In their prime, these are great slicing tomatoes and terrific in salads. They are a bit juicy for turning into sauce, but they were kinda rough looking, so it was off to the saucepan for the lot of them.

Two hours of simmering later, they had reduced by about a half.

Not bad for a bunch of compost volunteers.

And while they may pop up again in the compost pile next year, I'm not going to count on it. I decided to save some seeds. Thanks to some tips from GreenGirls, I know how (and why) to remove the gel that surrounds the seeds.

Tomato Blues

I guess I shouldn't be complaining. At least I'm getting tomatoes. But this variety, "Yellow Magic," has been a disappointment. It looks sort of like a pepper, both on the vine and when cut. All could be forgiven, except that it doesn't taste very good. A couple of garden reference sites recommend these for stuffing. That is, hollow them out and stuff them with tasty stuff.

Stuffing tomatoes is not for me. I'd rather stuff myself with tomatoes.


As for these green tomatoes, the label says "Jersey Devil," but they look like "Green Zebra." A little too juicy to slice for sandwiches, they are great in salads. I don't mind the label mix up, even though "Jersey Devil" was the only red tomato I planned to plant this year.

Compost volunteers to the rescue, however, as it seems that I have a "Brandywine" growing out of my compost bin.

Yellow and Orange

Not sure what kind of flower this is. It came as a transplant from my Aunt's garden. She calls it a golden globe flower, but I haven't matched it up in a flower book yet. These looked rather sickly when I put them in at the end of May, but they straightened up and grew three feet tall. Now they're blooming. A mature bloom should help with identification. The canna lilies provide a nice backdrop for these showy yellows.


This sweet tangerine tomato is easier to identify. Purchased at the U of M Horticulture Club Sale, the label is still at the base of the plant. It's the earliest of my slicing tomatoes to ripen.

To veg, or not to veg.

So here's the dilemma: how much effort (and space) do I put into growing vegetables this summer? Vegetables require much more attention than flowers and shrubs. This summer, I am hoping to add hardscapes and other structural elements to my garden. And then there's my paying job. I want to be sure that I don't bite off more than I can chew, so to speak. This summer, I am reluctantly cutting back on the veg.

A friend of mine has, with each passing year, decided to turn more of her garden over to perennials, fruit trees, and such. She figures that the produce farmers who sell at the local farm markets can raise her veggies for her.

No matter how many vegetables I grow, I still make a weekly trip to the farmers' market. So why not plan to get all my veggies there? This year, that argument has a strong appeal.

However, I read in the Pioneer Press that many Hmong farmers are having trouble renting land this year. Many of them are city dwellers, who rely on rented farmland outside the city to grow their crops. Housing development is a prime factor in making it harder for them to find rental parcels. This year, some are reporting that landowners who had rented them small parcels in the past are choosing to use that land for corn this year.

And that reminded me of Michael Pollan's recent piece in the New York Times, You Are What You Grow.

After explaining how the current farm bill encourages the production of corn and soybeans, which are turned into the added sugars and fats in processed foods, Pollan writes, "the farm bill does almost nothing to support farmers growing fresh produce."

Indeed, the experience of Hmong farmers in St. Paul seems to suggest that the current farm bill actually works against certain farmers who grow fresh produce.

And they are among the farmers who grow my produce. So yeah, it is personal.