Gardens as autobiography

I've come a long way in three years. My improving gardens are evidence of my progress.

Though I had an expert gardener and professional chef at my very own fingertips in my step father while I was a teenager, I regret I did much more pulling away and distancing myself than reaching toward an incredibly gifted man for all the wisdom I greatly desire as a grown woman. The consequence remains that I must learn these things hard way, since I refused in my careless youth. And just so you know, I've since spoken with my former step dad over my regrets. He responded with grace and kindness.

Onto the garden tales.

The first year, I learned the ropes about the best locations (by water source, in full sun, etc.) and the basics of tilling and planting. Things grew into a lush jungle, making picking impossible, because I ignored spacing advice. I allowed the zuchinni grow into a mighty tasteless giants. I harvested the corn too soon, before kernels formed, and too late when the kernels became sadly shriveled. My tomatoes got some kind of blight before picking and they withered on the vine. However, we got the very best green beans ever that year. I haven't grown good tasting beans since. That year I also planted an herb garden. It flourished, but I honestly didn't know how to cook with those beautiful green delights or how preserve them like the ones in the jars at the grocery store. I learned much about what sprouts and plants look like when they spring up from the earth which has been helpful in identifying volunteers I'd like to keep. The only successful zinnias have been replanted volunteers. The first year's garden was the most labor intensive both mentally and physically.

The second year, I still didn't space plants well again. Buck expanded the size of the garden for me. I grew one ton of tomatoes, but I couldn't eat enough to keep up with them. I gave away many plump red treats to people, and threw a zillion to the grateful chickens. My sweet peppers went crazy, and I found easy ways to freeze them for future use. I put much energy into learning how to sprout things from seeds. I found myself to lack the discipline of everyday misting and later hardening seedlings slowly. I planted a few asparagus plants which I knew wouldn't produce till the following year. The second year I expanded both my garden and growing knowledge a bit.

This year, I spaced much better though the tomatoes are a bit too close together. I was able to harvest the first asparagus. I didn't pull volunteer whatevers, because I didn't have the heart, so the fung sway (how do you spell that?) is way off. For example, an unplanned sweet one hundred entirely over took my leeks. I grew many heads of fresh cabbage which exhibited a nice display of insect bites, and my previous nasty experience with the electric green worms in our perfectly matching green broccoli in our dinner did me in. Completely. The green beans I planted are somewhat hairy and not too tasty for a palate which recalls grandma's freshly snapped green beans cooked to perfection in dripping bacon grease. The plants turned out to be bush beans instead of pole beans. I bought the seeds because I was attracted to the "stringless" variety, but I'm not buying those again. Sugar snap peas were awesome. We had great zuchinni until some nasty triangle sand colored bugs consumed it.

Also, over the course of this year, I've incorporated all my spices (basil, thyme, oregano, sage, rosemary, parsley, mint) into my cooking now which has been a huge accomplishment to me. I've even bunched tidy groups spices to dry on the hanging pan rack over the island in my kitchen. Martha Stewart might be proud. However, I silently kicked myself in the grocery store today for not planting cilantro and needing to spend an entire dollar on a not-so-delightful looking sagging bunch of it for an upcoming recipe.

Though there is a blight on my tomatoes again, I have plenty to harvest. I promised myself this summer to make a plan other than having the leftover maters become chicken candy. My garden buddy, Hauna, gave me an "easy" recipe for tomato sauce. I hesitate to claim ease of it all due to the fact that one must follow a rather long journey through Oz from picking to freezer:

1. pick 12 pounds of tomatoes
2. wash them
3. weigh tomatoes, pick more if not 12 pounds
4. core and quarter tomatoes
5. wash and cut endless other fresh veggies like carrots, celery, peppers, mushrooms
6. Peel and chop 12 cloves of garlic
7. Pick, wash, and prepare 8 combined tablespoons of basil, thyme, oregano, and parsley
8. Roast everything for 45 minutes
9. Cool
10. Slightly food process eveything
11. Pour into freezer bags
12. Click heels three times

Viola! There's no place like homemade spaghetti sauce.

Buck and I have put several bags in the freezer for the winter...if the tastey stuff doesn't get eaten before frost appears.

My kitchen counter is collecting twelve more pounds for the next batch.

Next year, I will:
-expand my spice garden
-plant only tomatoes, corn, mild peppers, good tasting pole green beans, maybe some melons, zuchinni and yellow squash, cucumbers, and of course, flowers- everywhere. I know I will use all the tempting fruit of these.

I have three very successful plots of lavender planted last year but established this year. It is my favorite plant of all due to the magnificent aroma wafting from each stacked purple bloom. I pick stalks for most every flower arrangement I've made this summer to top the tables about my home. I've made a few lavender wands. Have you heard of lavender wands? They are something you may rest on your pillow which smell heavenly and are guaranteed to lead a restless soul to slumber.

Sydney Eddison says, "Gardens are a form of autobiography." In which case, I think mine might read, "A lost opportunity revisited. A few weeds and fencing imperfections, problems with bugs occasionally, though fruit bearing and lovely. Overall a fanciful and splendid place to linger and discover."