garden

Gardening: The definition of hope.

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(Happy Throwback Thursday! This post originally ran on May 6, 2021. Since it was snowing this morning, I decided to re-read this post for its reminder of hope. And there IS reason to hope: We have celery seedlings popping up, and DF put tomato and marigold seeds into little peat pots this morning. Sooner or later, the snow will melt and the ground will warm up enough to accept plant starts. Hope it’s sooner.)

(Note: This was a gardening post I started to write and then dropped. It was begun in the second week of April and picked up again on May 3. Sorry for any confusion.)

It was nine degrees when I got up today. And we’re at sea level! And it’s April!

Then again, it was minus 18 in Fairbanks this morning. So I guess I’m still ahead on points, but come on.

Fortunately, DF bought flowers for his mom on Easter and thought they looked so nice he’d get some for us, too. They stuck around for a long time, and having them on the table to look at was a good antidote to weather-related grumblies.

Nearby is a miracle plant: a pot of snapdragons that we nursed through the winter. The foliage is a bit pale, but it survived despite low-to-no light levels. The plant had widely spaced buds instead of the usual tightly packed stems. As a result, each bloom was wide-open and on its own, looking as though it’s ready to take flight.

Sun and semi-warmth returned on April 21, so we put the snaps outdoors to take advantage. (Brought them in at night because cold.) On April 22, I got a photo of the first honeybee* of the year.

I think it was pretty confused: “Flowers? At this time of year?!? HELL YEAH!!!” 

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Drinking from the hose, eating from the dirt.

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Saturday at my niece’s house was warm and clear, weather perfect for lounging on her newly painted deck and enjoying the scents of clover and sun-heated greenery. At one point we visited the tent-like structure that acts as her greenhouse, where we found tomato and squash plants languid from thirst.

She dragged out the pocket hose and soaked all the pots. A bit languid myself by then, I requisitioned the nozzle and shot it directly into my mouth. The icy blast refreshed in a way that a glass from the sink might not have.

No matter how old you get, drinking from the hose is absurdly satisfying. That is, unless it’s a really old hose that tastes like melting plastic.

This one didn’t. All I got was the flavor of Anchorage H2O, which is better than any city water has a right to be. (Fun fact: It comes from a glacier.) The experience catapulted me back to my childhood, when playing outdoors was so important that you’d sometimes drink from the hose rather than waste time going inside.

 

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What summer tastes like.

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GetAttachmentThumbnailThis vegetable plate represents summer in our yard and greenhouse. The red tomato slices are Czech’s Bush, the oddly colored ones are a Siberian variety called Black Prince, the cucumber is called Space Saver and the garish beets are Detroit Dark Red, pickled in a bonehead-simple recipe of vinegar, sugar, water, cinnamon and cloves.

In making that plate I flashed back to the covered-dish suppers of my youth. Each table in the church basement had a cut-glass dish of pickles, olives and pickled beets (or something quite like it). The suppers tended to happen in fall and winter, so freshly sliced tomatoes and cukes weren’t on the menu.

After an unusually sunny June and July, we’ve been treated to near-constant clouds and rain. “State fair weather,” we call it. Great for the rhubarb and raspberries and other outdoor crops. Not so much for the greenhouse tomatoes, which are bursting with fruit but ripening more slowly than we’d like.

 

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A tomato haiku.

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thThe first tomato sandwiches of the year have been enjoyed. Maybe a little too much, since the sighs I made while eating sounded nearly coital.

But dang, there’s nothing like eating a tomato that five minutes ago was on the vine in your own greenhouse.

Hence the haiku:

Just-picked tomato

Fresh bread, mayo, salt, pepper

Jersey girl heaven. 

If this were New Jersey I wouldn’t need a greenhouse – just a patch of dirt almost anywhere. My childhood neighbor had one come up in the middle of the lawn, uninvited.

 

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Gardening on a small scale.

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thIt’ll be several months more before DF and I can put any plants in the ground, but we’re definitely looking forward to seeing green rather than white outside. My desire to play in the dirt was exacerbated by the arrival of a media kit from Renee’s Garden, purveyor of more delicious-looking seeds than you ever imagined.

Or maybe you can imagine quite a lot – especially in light of the particularly ugly winter weather in much of the Lower 48. Maybe you’re dreaming of things like Peppermint Stick Chard, Lace Perfume Dianthus, Black Cherry Tomatoes, Baby Snack Peppers and Heirloom Chocolate Daisies.

If so, now’s the time to plan those dreams into vases and onto your dinner plates. Not everyone is able (or willing) to care for a giant backyard spread, but why not consider container gardening and/or edible landscaping? Even condo dwellers can harvest small versions of greens, vegetables and herbs, and food crops can do double duty in terms of visual interest and palate pleasing.

Put another way: You can even grow zucchini in containers. Honest.

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