There's been some harvesting around here. I canned a few pints of tomatoes this weekend, and the fall-like weather prompted me to make some nice cabbage soup. That same weather prompted me to make a stew of vegetables and farmed Vermont venison, and roast a chicken stuffed with rosemary, parsley and thyme from the garden, and serve it with my usual melange of what's-in-the-harvest-basket. This time it was green beans, zucchini, summer squash, baby potatoes, cabbage, broccoli, and red onions sauteed in a combo of olive oil and butter.
Pumpkin Watch will continue, but there is sad news to report. I discovered that that pumpkin is the ONLY pumpkin that has survived, and the plant from which it grows has succumbed, as have all the others, to downy mildew. The Watch may not be as exciting as I'd like, but we'll do it anyway. Because the plant is stressed, the pumpkin will probably not grow anymore, but also because it is stressed, it will send out a message to ripen. The fruit's job is to make seeds for survival of the species, and when the plant gets sick, the last bit of remaining energy goes to seed production, therefore ripening.
Much of the vegetable garden has been very recently (literally in a few days' time) overtaken by disease. All of the cucurbits -- cucumbers and squashes -- are struggling. Insect damage and the aforementioned downy mildew have taken their toll. When this sort of thing happens, I could cry. My pole beans, which were thriving just last week, also seem to have been taken over by some sort of disease. There's still a lot of stuff to eat and to harvest, but some of those crops are just withering away now. So sad, after all the work and good care I've taken. This is not anything new -- it happens many years. I'm excited to see if the large-scale permaculture compost layering that I'm hoping to do along with Jen this fall will improve the situation for the future. When I surveyed the vegetable garden area yesterday afternoon, though, I started to hyperventilate, thinking about the volume of materials I will need to bring in for it. We've been saving newspapers and having others do it for us, too, but that is only a small portion of what we'll need for the project.
There were several questions about the tomatoes the other day. If you've read me go on about the tomatoes before, you may want to skip the rest of this post. :)
The tomatoes in the photo of my post the other day are a cluster-type variety that I can't remember the name of, sorry to say. I can remember that it said "cluster" on the label, but that's all I can remember. As you can see, they are doing extremely well -- very fruitful and perfect.
I also grew Early Girls that didn't do so well this year. Usually they are one of my better performers. I think because of the cold and extremely rainy spring, they didn't get off to so great a start. When it was time for blossoming and pollination, it was non-stop rain.
Because this was shaping up to be a "weird" year, and I could tell that at the beginning of the summer when I was buying my tomato plants, I decided to concentrate on the old standby and family favorite: Big Boy.
Other years I have grown Better Boys, which I didn't feel were any better than the Big Boys, and Beefsteak and other various and sundry varieties -- there was an Italian striped tomato that was pretty cool, and there were yellow ones that were delicious, but I never could embrace a yellow tomato -- my brain just couldn't wrap itself around it -- and I haven't grown them for a few years, except last year I grew a yellow cherry tomato. Also, yellow tomatoes are less acid, and I must admit that it is the acidity of a good tomato that I really like. I will never understand people (even some great chefs) who say you should add sugar to tomato sauce "to cut the acid." Give me my damn acid! Tomatoes are not supposed to be sweet! Well, not that kind of sweet, anyway.
I also like Brandywine, but this year could not find any at my nursery. I grew some Sweet 100 cherry tomatoes and some Roma Italians this year, as well.
My method for planting tomatoes: Dig a very deep hole. Aim for all of the plant to be underground except the top two leaves (although this year mine were not planted as deep as that, because I was a bit lazy.) In the bottom of the hole, I put a small handful of each of the following: bone meal, lime, all-purpose organic fertilizer, and Epsom salt (because my soil is magnesium-deficient. I used to get blossom-end rot before I figured this out. I thought my plants had tomato blight, but I had misdiagnosed that, thank goodness -- I found this out from my gardening bible -- and it was a magnesium deficiency that was causing the leaves to turn brown and die and the plants to wither away, as well. The easy, cheap answer to magnesium deficiency is Epsom salt.). I also put a splash of liquid kelp in the hole, set the plant in, fill the rest of the hole with water, and then fill it in with soil.
I've written about this several times, but for newer readers, I swear by the red tomato mulch that I get at various organic gardening places, but someone even wrote me this year to tell me she saw it at Wal-Mart, so I guess it's gone mainstream now. Imagine that. Since I first wrote about this stuff a couple of years ago, several readers have written to say that they've tried it and they now swear by it as well. Right, Adelaide, for example? :)
The tomato cages that Jen exclaimed about the other day are these from Gardener's Supply, and they work beautifully. They are pricey, but worth the money. The ones we have are at least 12 years old. Now they have the even taller ones, that, if I were just starting out, I'd buy instead of the ones I have, because my tomato plants tower above the existing cages and flop over the top. We have five of these, as well, and we like them even better than the cages. They are sturdier to stand up to being pushed into the ground year after year, and they are easier to clear old vines off and put away at the end of the year. Get some. They are worth every dime.
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