With our temperatures reaching all the way into July territory for the past week (92° F yesterday), plenty of spring rains, and a golden sun bent on reaching its summer zenith in record time, everything in the Victory Garden has been doing well — in some cases maybe too well. The cabbages have tripled in size seemingly overnight, and the mustards look suddenly moments from harvest.
All of the perennial herbs are back in the full flush of health, except for a single rosemary in a pot, the only loss the garden suffered this winter. The oregano I’d assumed was dead has proved me wrong, much to my delight, and the chives, parsley and mint are already seeing regular use in the kitchen. The annual herbs, cilantro and dill and basil, are sprouting as I type this, seemingly anxious to get growing.
I’m tempted to pull up a garlic or two to see what’s under there after all this time. The stalks of the rocambole type are so fabulously thick and healthy looking, I picture huge, perfect bulbs below the soil line — but this being my first attempt at growing garlic, I’m nervous lest I discover too late that nothing much is happening where I cannot see. However, the cue to harvest is not gloriously healthy foliage, but brown, dying foliage. Patience, Meredith.
Of course, the poor lettuces and peas are not enjoying the heat and all of the remaining winter-hardy radishes bolted almost two weeks ago — although their flowers are attracting plenty of bees, so I let them hang out a while since not much else is blooming yet. This weekend I plan to pull them and prep that bed for teepees of pole lima beans, a couple of Ronde de Nice squash, and a few direct-sown flowers.
But the weeds. Ah, the weeds!
Lest you think from my recent post about dandelions that I am a sentimental weed-lover, let me set you straight. No one can truly love them who grows vegetables — or perhaps one can only love them in a very Buddhist, non-attached manner, moments before one yanks them from the moist, crumbly soil that has been carefully prepared for some food plant. These interlopers take up valuable nutrients that should be ending up in my produce, or in the healthy early foliage and roots of the plants that will fruit more abundantly later on because of their easy access to the good stuff now. Weeds crowd in easily wherever there’s no shade from tall plants or healthy root competition.
This early in the season in a relatively empty vegetable garden, that means, well, nearly everywhere.
Truthfully, I’m starting to feel like half of everything I do in the garden is pull weeds… and yet three days later, it’s difficult to tell where I’ve been hard at work. And keep in mind this is with a heavy layer of mulch piled on in late winter, in some places four inches thick. It’s enough to make a person who hates the role of plant executioner despair. (That is, if she didn’t also equally crave any activity that gets her hands dirty after a winter of scrupulously clean nails.)
Because I’ve been doing so much weeding lately, I guess I got a little careless. This morning was my wake-up call to pay closer attention. I saw a knot of seedlings coming up in an area where I’d planted things in straight, neat, well-spaced furrows and assumed immediately that they were another interloper trying to cash in on the spring compost bonus.
Wrong!
The whole clump came up easily as I pulled, a sure sign that the plant in question was no weed. I stared intently at the yellow bits caught in the tightly-woven net of rootlets, as something vague tugged at my memory. Then I stared at the seedling shape, and it was oh-so-familiar. I’d ripped up a bunch of cherry tomato seedlings, sprung from a rotted ‘Sungold’ tomato that fell to the ground in late autumn, by which time the taste had diminished considerably with the waning warmth, and in any event we were so sick of cherry tomatoes we weren’t bothering to pick them anymore.
Oh, and if this last part sounds terrible and ungrateful to you because your tomato crop last year was visited by misfortune, as so many in North America were, I do apologize. I made the mistake of getting overzealous with the tomatoes last year (who am I kidding? I do it every year) and planted 19 tomato plants for 2 people, forgetting that I was far from home and could not foist extras off on family, and could not even manage to give them away in a rural area where so many grow their own. As an example, the teenager who mowed our lawn assured me that he would have gladly helped me out and taken our beautiful extras, if only his father had not planted 40 (!) tomato plants in their backyard.
Tomato overkill did teach me some important lessons about eating seasonally, however; namely that when a plant is in season, you get creative lest your appetite die of boredom. (And even then, F. broke down and asked to have a tomato-free supper one night.) But given a break of almost six months from anything remotely tasting of true tomato (that grocery store substitute doesn’t count), I’m now longing with all my heart for a bite of summer tomato.
So I was thrilled to see these wee volunteers. I found three patches of them in all, and carefully teased apart their tiny roots, selecting only the healthiest and strongest seedlings among the approximately 50 total. I planted them in a large container, carefully spaced, figuring I’d let them get sized up before finding a spot for them in the ground. I even watered them in with a bit of fish emulsion to compensate for the stress of moving on a hot day.
And then realized I’d done a useless thing.
‘Sungold’ is a hybrid. A lovely, highly-productive, part-shade tolerant, tasty hybrid, to be sure, but a hybrid nonetheless. That means plants grown from its seed will not “come true,” a fairy-tale phrasing on the part of the plant wizards. Those seedlings I saved may produce something… just probably not the juicy, crack-resistant, ultra-sweet, bright orange, baby tomato darlings that go by the name of ‘Sungold.’ Maybe not even anything remotely resembling the parent plant. Maybe not even something I’d enjoy eating before I got good and sick of cherry tomatoes in late September.
And I just can’t waste space in this tiny garden of mine on something I might not like to eat. Even though they were such perky volunteers, and the experiment does interest me. What wonders might they make, if allowed to live?
We’ll never know, I’m afraid. They are destined to die, like so many others in the Victory Garden lately. How can it be that a place which later in the season seems just crammed with life, is now the site of so many little deaths?
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I almost pulled up some of my garlic too!
It just looks so good.
I let some hybrid volunteers go one year – don’t even look back. Those tomatoes were AWFUL!!!
You should preserve your tomatoes by freezing,canning,or sun-drying. I’m still enjoying the tomatoes I canned last fall!
Sylvana´s last blog ..This Is No Joke
Glad to know I’m not alone, Sylvana, in my response to the tempting garlic.
And I won’t be looking back; my space is limited and I’ll make decisions with that always foremost in my mind. The problem with preservation is that I have zero experience doing it. My sister and I are taking our first tentative foray this June, we’ve decided, by trying our hand at jelly and preserves once the strawberries are in season. She inherited some equipment last year. If it goes well, I may borrow her equipment in tomato season… but we’ll see!
Preserving tomatoes is EASY! I promise. Pickles are pretty darn easy too.
I process tomatoes in glass jars. Basically the process is the same whether you want to have tomato sauce or whole tomatoes.
Tomatoes in jars don’t need a pressure cooker. All they need is a pot big enough to be covered entirely with water. After processing the amount of time my book suggests, the jars are removed and placed on the counter. Before long, we hear the popping sound which are the lids sealing.
Making jam takes more effort than preserving tomatoes in my opinion. For jam you have to measure sugar and fruit, and make sure you have the right amount of pectin for it to set properly. Then there’s timing how long to cook, etc.
Wow! 92 – I still haven’t seen my first daffodil – but soon – I do have 1 helebore opened.
I did a post on roses – I’ll be seeing them in June- I want lots of tomatoes this year. I decided with all the bad press on canned tomatoes due to that white lining, I want to can my own. Gloria
Uh-oh, Gloria, what bad press on canned tomatoes? I’ve been out of touch on this one… off to find out more. And tomorrow we are back in a more normal, spring-ish temperature range, only up to 73, yay!
Meredith, the issue with can-liners that Gloria referred to is probably Bisphenol-A.
You sound like us when it comes to growing too many tomatoes for two people
We sometimes reach our limit on tomato dishes by the end of summer, but like you, I can’t wait for the first ones this season! I’ve found with the cherry tomatoes that the heirloom yellow pear cherries like to self-sow here. Every year I start some from seed, but I don’t know why I bother. I’m sure we’ll have some volunteers here somewhere. I understand not wanting to keep your Sungold sproutlings though. At least they’ll make good compost.
Curbstone Valley Farm´s last blog ..Oh Deer, Not AGAIN
Indeed, they will shortly become compost. That’s good to know about yellow pear, as we really enjoyed this trouble-free heirloom last season, and I may have let some late ones fall — but if not, I have a seed packet of them, and the heirlooms do “come true.”
The title of your last blog has me worried, CV. I’m hoping the damage was not enough to kill off your fledgling orchard, and I’ll have to head over immediately to check!
my dad also planted 40 tomatoes last year (for himself). He does nasty stuff like eat about 3 tomatoes mixed into his plain quaker oatmeal. Makes me want to gag just thinking about it.
Anyway, interesting way of looking at the death/life in the garden bed! Cool to see the sungold skin still attached!
I have a couple of interesting volunteers. I suppose they could be your garden variety weed, but it looks too.. I don’t know. I should recognize them but I don’t. Perhaps I’ll post a pic at some point. It’d be interesting to see what last years sungold would produce this year…I understand about the shortage of space though.
Wendy´s last blog ..Spring Break 2010: farms, fires, eggs, and eggs
Wendy, I get nervous when I don’t recognize a weed immediately as a weed. This morning’s mistake came at the end of too much weeding, and I was just ripping too indiscriminately by then. It couldn’t hurt to wait and see as long as whatever volunteers you have are not hogging space from a current plant — and as long as the thing doesn’t put out flowers and seed itself forthwith when given half a chance, in which case it’s probably not a weed anyway.
Oh. I’m dreaming of tomatoes. Mmmmmmm…
Lisa´s last blog ..Completely Enchanting!
I’m not quite to dreaming of them yet, Lisa. I suspect I will be by July 4th or so, though, right on schedule.
Leave them in the pots. You never know…they might surprise you with something perfect for your salad bowl. An interesting experiment, at least. Sounds like things are really coming along well, though I don’t envy your temperatures. I wilt when it goes over 80F.
Nancy Bond´s last blog ..It’s Not Easy Being Green: A Different Perspective
Oh, Nancy, you’d never last through June here, poor thing. F. also wilts at those temperatures, although I must say, he is toughening up rather admirably with time and habit. I would leave them in their pot… but I’d planned to use that pot for something else once they got to seedling size and could be transplanted out. Perhaps I’ll give them a running start in the woods and see what happens… nah, I can’t do that. The woods need to grow their own things.
I love sungold tomatoes…too bad they won’t come true…But Nancy is on to something, they might be pretty tasty on a summer day! gail
Gail´s last blog ..Wordless Wednesday~Sort Of
Me, too, Gail. They are wonderful. The sad thing is, F. doesn’t like them much, so I wasn’t planning on a repeat performance anyway.
Even one cherry tomato plant puts out a bit much for two people, and I’ve got more than one ready to be transplanted in a couple of weeks. Of course I do, LOL.
Holy Moly it did get hot there… I guess thanks to the ocean we were only in the mid 80s, but it does sure feel like summer.
My stepdad every single year plants 1000% more tomatoes, peppers, potatoes, etc etc than can possibly be eaten or given away (and he’s a doctor and brings them in to his patients!). My mom laid down the rule this past year: no more canning of stuff (we have enough canned for the second coming), thinking it would stop him some. But no, he was out there last week, planting 15 tomato plants, rows of corn, a forest of peppers.
Jess´s last blog ..I Think I Can, I Think I Can
Yes, it did, Jess. Insane is more like it. And wasn’t the upstate the traditional region where folks from the coastal region went to cool off in summer? Or did I get my SC history wrong?
Enough for the second coming, huh? LOL. I feel totally in sympathy with your stepfather. It is so difficult to hold oneself back from visions of bounty — and really, there are more exciting tomato and pepper varieties out there now than I could ever try growing in a lifetime. I feel I should give as many as I can a chance.
It does feel a bit like being an executioner when you’re weeding. But imagine if we didn’t? Oh, but I can’t wait for freshly picked tomatoes! And I can’t wait to move my herb pots out to the garden. But with a forecast of possible snow showers Friday, it’s going to be a while yet – lol!
Talon´s last blog ..The Apology (Short Story)
Oh, my God! Snow!! Poor Talon.
I shall shut up and not complain about 90+ degrees anymore. Sending you warm vibes until the precious day to move the herbs outside shall arrive…
Dear Meredith, Oh, the trials and tribulations of gardening. I do understand what you are saying and sometimes, I believe, each one of us wonders why we continue. Weeds! I always find that the best way is to be terribly methodical and painstaking so that, even if only a small area has been cleared, one is able to be satisfied with a job well done. Having said that, April and May are, in my book, weed months. By June things improve a little and, thereafter, if one has done the work in the earlier months it should be glasses of wine on the terrace all the way!
I totally agree about home grown tomatoes but in my view I should be content to live on them for ever more.
Edith Hope´s last blog ..Get Ahead – Wear a Hat
I’ve found myself apologizing to plants I’d mistaken for weeds. Sometimes I have to sacrifice plants that volunteer in the wrong places and while some get transplanted elsewhere, many get thrown into the creek on a sink-or-swim basis. As for the tomato? I’d probably have saved it in a container as a curiosity
Deborah´s last blog ..Getting Organized–A Little…
I wonder if any of those little plants take root in the creekbed. The problem with saving a cherry tomato in a container is all the work involved. Indeterminate tomato plants typically grow to over 12 feet in my garden, and do not belong in containers, even the largest containers I have.
Oh dear Meredith, that was an up and down emotional ride! Here I was getting all excited about the discovery of the tomato seedlings and their rescue from near disaster, thinking we were heading to a satisfying conclusion anticipating the tasty tomatoes on the horizon…
There is just so much more to it with tomatoes than I had ever appreciated.
Heidi´s last blog ..A Delightful Visitor – The Eastern Spinebill
Sorry for the emotional rollercoaster, Heidi. I felt it, too, so proud of those healthy wee seedlings — and then remembering the reality of growing hybrids. This is, of course, part of why I’m drawn to heirlooms and find myself gradually converting more and more garden space to the heirlooms over time.
I do hope your ripening tomatoes are still coming along nicely…
My only volunteer this year (I am currently only gardening in containers) was a fuschia snapdragon! It was a very pleasant and healthy-looking surprise. I have two tomato plants (a cherry and a larger one, I can’t remember which variety) and if all goes well they will produce far more tomatoes than I can eat because I’m the ONLY ONE in this house who likes tomatoes. But I grow them anyway (or try) because there are few things better-tasting in this world than a home grown tomato.
Kathy´s last blog ..I [Heart] Baseball
What a lovely volunteer to have, though, Kathy, if you were going to have only one! Volunteers have been rarer for me in the containers — and usually not something I wanted.
That’s too bad about your family not liking tomatoes at all, but you are right to grow them for yourself. Nothing compares to the homegrown version!
I love that expression – volunteer. I have plenty of volunteers already in my pot of weeds.
I do feel a bit of envy for the tomatoes. I do love them, but have no good place to even put them in pots in my condo area.
Lynn´s last blog ..Popping out, half off and dear…
Lynn, you, yourself, are a wonderful volunteer, as you mentioned just this week, if I remember correctly. Maybe that’s what put me in mind of my title when I was composing.
Who knows?
We’re blessed with weeds here too. They do feed the compost pile when we pull them up. What really concerns me is digging up earthworms! I’ve been potting up various volunteers and tip-rooted black raspberries and every time I dig up something the soil is full of wriggling worms. I’m donating the plants to our MG plant sale, but I don’t want to donate my lovely worms!
And speaking of the plant sale, last year one of our MG’s potted up some volunteer tomato seedlings like you did, and then nursed them along for weeks before realizing they were HYBRID! They were then labeled “mystery tomato” and folks bought them anyway. Sungold is one of our favorite tomatoes
villager´s last blog ..Wordless Wednesdays for Gardeners
Oh, villager, I can imagine it’s distressing to dig up earthworms. I don’t think ours are very near the surface lately: I have to dig about four to six inches down to disturb anybody, and since I’m mostly planting seeds or pulling up shallow-rooted baby weeds, it’s not necessary. How wonderful that you’re donating plants for the sale! (I can’t imagine selling a known F2 plant, even labeled “mystery.” I’d feel bad, I think. What if some poor new gardener got stuck with unsavory results after their first year of work?)
I am just trying to figure out how to give away a few extra seedlings today. A neighbor will end up taking several, I suspect.
there are snow flurries outside, and i didn’t like turning the heat on last night. argh! enjoy that sun and planting for me. : )
xo
Oh, Christina, that’s distressing.
I wish we could somehow equalize our temperatures and then you wouldn’t have to turn on the heat and I wouldn’t be so tempted to turn on the air. (Although resisting so far.) I’m longing for rain today under cloudy, potentially promising skies… the pollen is getting to me, and I’m not even a serious allergy sufferer!
I grew out six Sungold F2s last year. Some were bright little orange sweet mouthfuls. Most of them were smaller than their parents (the tomatoes not the plants, the plants were mostly just as vigorous as their parents). Most were orange, but two were red. They were all tasty, but some tastier than others.
Daphne´s last blog ..Wordless Wednesday in the Garden
Interesting, Daphne… now you’re making me wonder if I ought to try a couple.
This is the first I’ve heard of someone doing a purposeful growing of F2s. But I do trust your veggie gardening wisdom.
I grew out Sungold seeds last year. One of my F2 plants was amazing! Better than the Sungold F1. I tried to start the F3 seeds, but alas, they are sterile.
Jackie´s last blog ..When life gives you kohlrabi buds…eat them!
What??? Better than the F1! Oh, dear, now I’m feeling tempted again… Brave Jackie, to have given it a long shot!