Today, I planned to give you the "grand tour" of all the gardens here. But it's too hot and muggy outside! It's the kind of day when sweat stings your eyes. I can't have you running around with smudged mascara, John. So instead of galloping from the Boxwood Garden to the Whatever Garden, perhaps we should limit our time to the Kitchen Garden:
As you might recall, last month I mulched the this garden's 12 veggie beds with some bagged straw. The straw was pricey -- $20 per bagged bale -- but I didn't mind the expensive. For the material was "specially heat-treated" and free of weed seeds.
But two weeks later, this "miracle" sprouted 8, 246, 357 weeds.
I'm glad you weren't around to hear the curse words that leaped from my lips.
I pulled up every trace of that sordid straw, and dropped it in my wire-mesh compost bins. Then I raked up some shredded leaves left over from last year, and used them for mulch.
Autumn leaves, if you are willing to shred and save them, make the best mulch. Here's the proof.
Shall we open the gate and step inside?
The garden's entrance is marked by 4 long, narrow beds. These are filled with 'Purple Prince' zinnias. At least, that's what the seed packet said. The plants are actually a mixture of various zinnias, all within the purple range.
They are tall zinnias, too. Nearly my height. I recently staked them with bamboo sticks and green Velcro "garden" tape, just to keep them from toppling over during rain storms.
Let's visit the veggies!
Sweet Potatoes are one of two experiments for me this year. I don't know what kind of crop I'll get, but the vines certainly look happy. So happy in fact, that they've decided to explore other areas of the garden. I'm giving them free reign.
Another bed is devoted to bell peppers. I use the fruit for an awesome French/Spanish saute called Piperade. Piperade belongs in every cook's repertoire. Here's the recipe.
And do you remember the asparagus I planted from tiny crowns back in April? They've turned into a green, ferny forest!
The asparagus has produced lots of edible green spears, too. Alas, the spears can't be harvested until the plants have grown for 3 years. That's the rule.
The onions got a late start this year, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a good harvest. And I'm keeping my toes crossed for a cookbook deal. The agent sent my proposal to publishers in late May. So far, I've heard two "nays" and one "maybe."
Meanwhile, the leaves of autumn-planted garlic are turning brown. This means the bulbs are ready for digging. Once dug, I'll cure and store the crop.
The tomatoes have responded to the high heat by scrambling, like Jack's beanstalk, to the top of the wooden trellis. I've already harvested lots of fruit...
And there's more on the way!
Also teeming along is this lovely crop of leeks. Leeks are a staple of my winter diet. I especially love them in this Rustic Bacon and Leek Tart.
Well. Let's get out of this blazing heat! Shall we head down the hill to the little herb garden beside the house? We can enjoy some refreshments there.
As we nibble these chocolate cookies with fresh mint...
And as we sip our homemade Limeade...
I hope you will tell me what's happening in your own veggie patch.
And if you don't have a veggie patch, feel free to discuss a different topic. Perhaps you'd like to chat about your love life. Or your vacation plans. I'm all ears, dears.
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