tim merritt [dot] net

We just finished a late dinner, mostly of fresh vegetables from our garden and from Stu’s. I grilled zucchini, squash and peppers from our combined gardens, an onion from the store, seasoned with no more than olive oil, and served that with some steamed green beans, sliced tomatoes from our garden, and an ear of sweet corn from the market. This last – corn from the store – is heresy to the sweet corn purists who race from the fieled with the freshly picked ears so none of the sugar can turn to starch, but even so, it was sweet corny goodness.

My moans, though, were for the tomatoes from my garden. That’s why I planted it, to taste that sweet, slightly acidy, slightly tart fresh tomato flavor. These fresh ripe garden tomatoes are almost a beverage themselves, there’s so much water in them.

Just consider me well-fed and cosmicly grateful.

Metafilter had a great post on the best times of year to do or buy things: best times to travel to Dublin or Africa, best places to break up with someone, and more, including What’s In Season? from KQED.

What’s in season now is our garden: plenty of tomatoes, especially cherry tomatoes, so next year one more regular tomato plant and one fewer cherry tomato. The classic tomato sandwich deserves a plug here: thick tomato slices, optional thin slices of red onion, plenty off mayo and salt and pepper… aaaaahh.

The two yellow bell pepper plants have done okay, but they’re getting bugs in them. Have to let them ripen on the counter more. Ellen’s three basil plants are insane, so we’ll have pesto from the freezer often during the winter. Our neighbor Stu’s garden is going well too; lots of squash and cukes. Tomorrow I’ll see if the cantaloupe he gave me is good.

This year is my first successful garden. Makes me happy.

I’m really enjoying my little garden. There are green tomatoes the size of plums already, the squash blossoms are big and bright bright yellow every morning, and we’ve made pesto with some of the basil and gazpacho with some of the parsley. I water it at least every other day, I’ve mulched successfully, I pick the suckers off the tomato plants. I’m really getting my hopes up… I’m becoming a gardener, and I like it.

As serendipitous reinforcement, a couple of days ago I found A how-to for container plants at Slate, a gardening column by Constance Casey – “a former newspaper editor [and] a New York City Department of Parks gardener for five years.” Seems like sound advice, enjoyable to read.

... and others have gardening thrust upon them.

Ellen had grown some herbs for a few years outside the back deck, and last year wanted to plant sunflowers across the back of the yard. And I thought I’d grow a few tomato plants, as neighbors on either side have large gardens and often share their extras with us. Before I knew it, Bob – a veteran gardener who has his own homemade garden shed for housing his tiller, other tools, fertilizers, and other arcana for coaxing goodness from the ground – helped me (unasked, but much appreciated) deeply till my little plot, and gave me some tomato plants, sticks for staking them, and advice. I turned some manure into the soil, planted Bob’s plants (and some geraniums to ward off tomato-eating vermin), watered them when I remembered, and for my intermittent attention we got a total of three or four edible tomatoes. That’s it. Better luck next year.

Well, it’s next year. I’d spoken a little to Bob over the hedge about our vague plans – a larger garden for more tomato plants and other vegetables, a larger flower bed for Ellen, and when the tiller was back from the shop he’d help till again. Saturday, Ellen and I went to a plant sale presented by the Georgia Native Plant Society and bought some plants we hope will take.

Tonight as we were just finishing supper, he brought his tiller around the big hedge and knocked on our back door. He dug up the old plot and an area as big again, and tilled Ellen’s flower bed. We’re set for rain in the next day or so, and Friday I’m off, so I plan to add some more fertilizer – probably manure again – and plant the garden. Wish us luck.