Here's the thing. The sun and I are not friends. I'm skin cancer prone and wear hats and major amounts of sunscreen. But the sun IS the friend to my little buddies in the garden and we haven't seen much of the big guy in a few weeks now. Hello? We need you here, dude. I promise to wear a hat.
In the last month, the tomatoes that popped up so quickly (they loved that mid-April heat wave) are now
kind of lollygagging. I will say that the watermelon plants I got in Templeton are already making their move, especially the Chilean heirloom. Here's a recent photo, taken on May 23. If you compare it to the photo taken May 9 (the second photo in the May 9 blog), you can already see the difference, with the Chilean (top right) already inching its way up the trellis. Also in the new photo is a recent addition to the "watermelon patch" - a transplant I grew from a seed in the kitchen window. It's a Hokkaido Black Watermelon and is the speck of green to the right of the other two seedlings and next to the wood marker. They're supposedly very rare but somehow Jeff managed to get his hands on some seeds for one of my Christmas gifts. So I now have three different kinds of watermelon growing this year: the Iowa heirloom, which should provide the kinds of melons I had last year (BIG and green) and two types of black watermelons, the Chilean and the Hokkaido. I have two other Hokkaidos going (also started from those seed) over by the grape vine. Those went in awhile ago and are starting to rival the Chilean in movement.
A word about "awhile go" -- one of the things I'm learning from talking to more experienced gardeners is the importance of keeping a garden journal or log of when you do what. This way you can learn better what works and doesn't work. When I recently interviewed Memo Rodriguez, master gardener for the Bix restaurant in Napa, and asked him when he put in his English peas, he didn't say "oh, I don't know, maybe a couple months ago," he gave me a date: March 6. Because he had written it down.


The Garden Blog
Naturally, I decided I should get a seedling from the same source for this summer's garden. How could I not? I'm still known in the garden as the gal who grows the watermelon (even the older couple two gardens down who don't speak English ask me about them).
But I digress, for the first thing I put into the early spring garden was my grape vine. It's the white thing (well, it's in the white thing, which is known as a planting sleeve) you see against the wall to the left of the Frantoio olive tree.