The Garden Blog

It's the weather I'm talking about: good for people, not for tomatoes. Here in the Los Angeles area, we've had one of the gloomiest summers on record. Now I, personally, am not complaining. I hate the heat and the sun hates me so okay, fine. It's the garden that's complaining. And not even all of the garden -- just the tomatoes and the melons. They get started and then a heavy gloom (complete with morning drizzle) kicks up and they just kind of stop in their tracks. Mostly they don't grow any fruit. I just took a look at some of last summer's entries on the garden blog -- the beauty of a blog is the ability to look and see where things stood year to year (a good reminder to keep a garden journal in whatever form) -- and by mid July I was enjoying tons of tomatoes and by August the melons were well on their way.

Well, it's the first week of August and I just pulled out the tomatoes that had volunteered way back in March because they just got sad looking and weren't offering many decent tomatoes. In the meantime, a new volunteer tomato plant is making its way into the world, as you can see in the above photo, taken of the far east side of my plot a few days ago (it's between the lettuce on the far left and the roses in the middle -- and it's grown in the days since I took this photo).

This photo is actually kind of a microcosm of the garden right now. First of all, it's got that messy look that seems to happen in the summer, plus the new lattice fence I put in to keep my neighbor's REALLY messy garden from encroaching on mine. From left to right, you've got your very happy lettuces, the volunteer tomato, some happy roses, a melon (the Algerian, in front of the roses) just starting to meander, near corn just starting to grow -- and a chocolate sunflower (in the upper right) that's not only not flowering but, because it didn't develop a strong enough stalk, fell over after this photo was taken. The weather: good for garden, not for sunflower. Sigh.

The biggest secret of the corn is that, well, so far I have no secrets. This is my first year growing corn and I'm only growing it because Jeff picked up some seeds on a whim (Silver Queen Hybrid Sweet Corn from Cornucopia, which it would appear is a division of Renee's Garden Seeds sold at Orchard Hardware) so I'm pretty much learning as I go. And mostly what I'm learning  is that corn GROWS - and, when it reaches a certain level, it grows FAST and up (vs. the melons which, as we all now know, grow out, and around and over and through -- but I digress).

Here are two pictures taken less than one week apart. The one above was taken on July 18. The one below taken July 24. You can't really tell from the photo, but the corn stalk grew like a foot in less than week and is now over 6-feet tall. As you can see from the photo, the little tendril thingies inside the top of the stalk emerged triumphantly from the stalk and changed color from green to a vibrant lavender. It almost doesn't even look like the same stalk, right? And if you want to see what it looked like less than two months ago when the first little seedlings poked up above the earth, check out the bottom photo on the blog post dated May 31.

I spread out the planting of the corn seeds -- three seeds each about 2-3 weeks apart -- so once this first stalk gets going, the others should follow and we should be having sweet white corn through fall. Can't wait!

I'd like to say it's because the sun has arrived (with a vengeance) this week that everything in the garden has moved into hyper-drive growth-wise, but really it started last week when we were still having mostly gray days. The garden must've been able to feel the warmth of the sun behind those clouds because, after taking a little time to just hang out, the melons have begun to make their move in a way that rivals the tomato plant I put in just a month ago that's already outgrowing its cage. In this photo you can see both the tomato plant (on the left) and the Hokkaido watermelon. It was taken July 12, so just one week after the photo in the previous blog and the Hokkaido has meandered a good 10 inches. And, as I said, the sun has arrived (with a vengeance) and that should move it into, well, whatever's faster than hyper-drive. 

To give you an idea of where everything stands: The Hokkaido is in the southwest corner of my community garden plot. The French cantaloupe (aka the Chanterais) is in the southeast corner of the plot and the Italian melon (aka the Marina di Chioggia) is about six feet to the west pretty much in the center of the bed on the south side. The last two melons to be planted -- the Algiers (Melon d'Alger) and the African (which is where it is thought the White Wonder Watermelon originated) -- are pretty close to the north east and north west corners, respectively. So, yes, although they're all starting out in their separate corners, we have the potential for a veritable United Nations out there. Any bets on how long it will take before at least one of them finds another to mingle with?

Lastly, and just because, well, I have to and because it fits with the theme of little guys starting their growth sputs: here is a photo of my dad's new English Bulldog puppy, Buster.  Adorable, right? Feel free to oooo and awww at your leisure. That's all.

Yesterday was the annual Fourth of July potluck in the community garden. I have to admit it was a little embarrassing when someone introduced me as the "watermelon queen." For one, I don't take any credit for the crazy watermelons I've grown the last two summers as I think it has more to do with the location of my garden plot (against the cement wall, which holds the heat) than anything I personally have done. And also, well, "watermelon queen" -- really? That said, perhaps because of the proclivity of my garden space when it comes to melons, I've added a few more to the mix. As you may recall, I already have the Hokkaido going (from a seed harvested from one of last year's melons). It was the slowest of the seeds to start in my kitchen window but, as you can see from this photo (it's the vine hanging on to the watering can), it's pretty happy now and already starting to make its move. The Cantalupo de Charentais and the Marina di Chioggia (to the far right in the photo below) are also beginning to branch out from their respective spots in the garden.

To that mix, I've added two new varieties from seeds I got from the Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds company. I learned about this company in a strange way: One day I came to my garden and found their catalog, along with two seed packets (for lettuce and for okra and if anyone wants the okra seeds, please let me know) sitting on the bench. I'm still not sure who left me the catalog or the seed packets but am very glad they did as the more I learned about the company, the more it's one I'd love to let more people know about. All their seeds are heirloom -- some very rare and from all over the world. Although based in Missouri, they also have a Seed Bank -- an heirloom seed store in an old bank building -- in Petaluma and publish the Heirloom Gardener magazine.

I also learned that they're the type of company that when you order a packet of seeds they send you a second packet for free. That wasn't just a fun surprise when I ordered some seeds myself but also the answer to why the okra and lettuce (and not just any lettuce but Lettuce Marveille des Quatre Saisons or "Marvel of Four Seasons") packets ended up on my bench. Obviously my mystery benefactor thought I should have these seeds (and I think someone else, really, should enjoy the okra). I myself ordered the Watermelon White Wonder ("so pale it's almost transparent") -- how could I not, right? And, when I received my package, was delighted to discover a packet of Melon d'Alger ("another colorful ancient French cantaloupe") as well. Both were started in my kitchen window and now take a place in the garden. The Melon d'Alger seed started first and is shown above (below the white marker) right after planting. The Watermelon White Wonder went in yesterday -- on the 4th of July. Better than fireworks any day, right?

Every so often, a piece of produce is just so beautiful it stops you in your tracks. It happened to me yesterday with the onion in this photo. Gorgeous, right? I'd like to say I grew it myself but I didn't - it was one of many onions at a stand at the farmers market that were, quite simply, stunning and did, indeed, cause me (and others) to stop and ogle and buy.

I do have some onions growing my garden - the Walla Walla onions that were planted in January. As you can see from the photo below, they are starting to bulb on the end of their stalks so I did some research to find out the best time to harvest them. According to an article from the National Gardening Association, it'll be time to harvest them when the tops holding the bulbs fall over. I will then bend the rest over and leave for a few more days, then pull up and leave for 24 hours sitting in the sun before bringing inside. (If any of you who've grown onions before have other tips you'd like to offer, feel free to send them in!)

After learning what to do with the onions, I looked into what happened to my garlic, which when I finally pulled it up had a very odd look. What I learned is that essentially I waited way too long to pull my garlic. Part of the reason is I didn't really realize that it was the garlic at first. As an experiment, I'd put some garlic cloves around the garden in the winter to see if it was true that this was all that was needed to do to grow the garlic bulbs. Well, it worked but I didn't really realize that that's what those stalks were until they were all brown (they should have been pulled up when they were just 1/3 brown). So the good news is that to grow garlic, you really do just need to stick a clove in the ground and the lesson learned is to then pull the newly grown garlic OUT of the ground a little earlier.