Dear readers, allow me to present to you the one plant in the Victory Garden that turns F.’s blood to ice.

F. confided in me just the other day that seeing the broccoli ripening is upsetting him.  Every time he passes it, he gets chills.

This startling revelation caused me to laugh.

A lot.

I am such a heartless wife.

F. really does not appreciate most vegetables, unless they are cooked for over an hour with fatback or salt pork or ham bone or some other bit of the pig.  And really, the more pork and fat in it, the better.  When he first discovered true Southern cooking (not in my kitchen), his eyes lit up with wonder.  Ever since that time, we’ve both been convinced that, when it comes to food at least, my Eastern European hubby is truly a good ol’ boy at heart.

As such, he’s convinced that broccoli was invented to torment him.  And because I am a creature of habit, not to mention cruel [insert evil cackle here], I generally persecute him with steamed broccoli at least once per week.  I love the stuff.  In some seasons, I even crave it and would gladly eat it several times per week.

Which is one of the reasons I planted so much of it.

The other reason?  The sight of ice-blue broccoli buds swelling is just… beautiful to me.  They are especially lovely first thing in the morning with the dew still on them.  Blue-green foliage is a favorite of mine in the garden, too, and this plant’s gorgeous, slightly wavy leaves come with one of my favorite vegetables attached.

How could I resist?

Well, easily, to tell you the truth.

I didn’t always feel this way about growing broccoli.  For over a decade, I avoided growing it with the same zeal F. now devotes to avoiding eating it, all because of a bad first experience.  When I was 20, I left my six baby plants alone for a weekend — that’s right, a mere two days and nights — in mid-spring, and came back to find only skeletons of the leaves left.  It was my first wipe-out crop (and weirdly enough, this was back when I was still using pesticides), and it rattled me.  I was not ready to repeat the experience.

But since then, I’ve realized that incident was relatively rare.  I just got spectacularly unlucky with broccoli on my first try.

Now, however, it is F. who feels unlucky with broccoli, surveying the surfeit of healthy plants at all different stages of development, promising blue-green spears on our plates for weeks and weeks to come.

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All the recent rains have not only made me a grumpus (stuck indoors), but turned the whole world bright green, as though Earth — or at least our bioregion — were reliving its springtime youth in a flashback.  It was actually rather difficult to decide what to post for today’s G is for Green entry in Capturing Beauty‘s Rainbow Challenge, which I’ve been unofficially following during part of the month of September.

This plant, however, is always this gorgeous lime green.  Meet Ipomoea batatas ‘Margarita’ (or ‘Marguerite,’ depending on the source, but frankly Margarita makes more sense to me), the chartreuse sweet potato vine.  No, it doesn’t make sweet potatoes.  But it grows like gangbusters.  This was probably one of my first discoveries, years ago, of a no-fail landscape plant.

You really cannot screw up with ‘Margarita.’  I don’t see how.  (Unless we’re talking about the alcoholic margarita, and I have no advice to give you there.  If I were very wise, I’d say to try and be as respectful of your body as you are of the Earth when you choose to garden organically — and I’d do so myself.  That would be a consistent way to live.  However, I’m not always consistent.  I sometimes suspect consistent = boring.  And I enjoy girly frozen drinks.)

Anyway, back to our darling ‘Margarita,’ the vine:  the only drawback is that it’s an annual.  However, I bought one plant this year, and it has achieved a spread of nearly eight feet in a little over four months.

And I have discovered a wonderful use of this plant for the organic gardener.  The bugs that like to gnaw leaves really go for these vines.  Maybe they taste like the bug equivalent of sweet potatoes with melted butter and brown sugar.  Who knows?  I just noticed a few years back that nearly everywhere you see this plant, it’s been munched, even in places where they use the poisonous chemicals to try and create a plant-in-a-plastic-bubble wonderland.  The bugs still come.

Last year, when I was limited to pots on a terrace with a view of the skyscrapers of Atlanta for my vegetable gardening (it can be done!), I planted one of these, and realized that the bugs would go for the sweet potato vine in preference to anything else nearby.  Even the June bugs chewed on it as opposed to, say, my little lettuces.

And even with bite holes all through the leaves, this plant is still gorgeous, and it’s usually seen from a distance anyway, since it’s used as a landscape focal point for the most part.  (Those big, shockingly lime exclamation points in the concrete mega-planters in front of malls are often filled with a couple of these tough beauties and something else for contrast up close.  Red begonias and dramatic coleus with chartreuse accents seem to be favorite, easygoing pairings.)

So with all this in mind, I used it as a trap plant this year.  Worked like a charm.  In July, it was getting eaten alive — but my nearby trellised cucumbers had bite-free leaves, not a single pickleworm larvae in the cukes, and the tomato plant and zucchini were completely untouched for most of the season.  The nasturtiums did get a few little pinholes.  (I hardly mind this; I find it picturesque.)

Now, I’ve never seen this use of the sweet potato vine recommended by an organic gardener.  My guess is they’re usually planting large fields of trap crops, and this plant would be a little expensive for the purpose.  But for a home gardener with a small kitchen garden, it’s perfect.  I’ve planted it in a big container near our front door, paired with a tall lantana, and they look lovely together.

The lantana attracted — and continues to attract — ruby-throated hummingbirds, and the sweet potato vine protected all our nearby produce while looking bright and pretty to guests and neighbors approaching the house or anyone just passing by on our little one-way lane.

I like that combination of looks and practicality.  Worth a $3 investment any day.

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Beautiful; isn’t it?

I don’t know why I prefer these kinds of blowzy photos (and live views) of the garden.  Probably because when Mother Nature does chaos, it looks like order to me.  Or rather, there is a wonderful and imminently mysterious order to the apparent chaos of untouched places in this world.  It only looks disorderly when I approach it through the lens of the conditioned mindset modern Western culture has given me, with its predilection for monoculture, predictability, geometry.  But I never did enjoy coloring within the lines….

Even though you could hardly call the kitchen garden untouched, I haven’t seen the need to mess with it much lately, and it shows.  I mostly use nasturtium leaves and blossoms for salad garnishes, and it’s been way too hot to grow salad greens for a while now.  For the time being, I’ve just been letting them be — which I believe is about the nicest thing you can do for any person, any animal, or any living thing.

I love the yellowing of the more aged leaves, the pinholes taken as a spicy feast by some friendly bug, the curling of the leaves as they struggle to compensate for the lack of rain during these hot August days.

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