July garden - the big picture

A kind reader asked for more big-picture garden photos, and here's a start.  This shot encompasses about half of the garden. That big thing in the middle is a hop plant. It's a pain in the ass. The best thing about it is that it shades a bird box, which it has now swallowed. But it's OK as the birds are finished for the season. It also terrorizes the onions, the peppers, and the melons that are near by. The chard, there on the left, can hold its own against the hops.

But first, a story. We bought this 3.5 acre property in the early 1970s for $17,000. For eight years we lived in the burnt-out trailer that came with the land. It had two bedrooms, one at each end, and a kitchen with homemade cabinets and a tiny living room and not much else. You could see the ground between where the metal siding met the warped plywood flooring. The selling point: the property had 350 apple trees, and PK wanted to be a farmer. It was a dream come true. I didn't understand, but went along. 


He had to get a job, of course, and so did I. For years he worked eight hours at the paid job and another three or four a day at the orchard. He'd come home from work, throw on the pruning gear, and get out there with the shears. And then there was spraying, mowing, irrigating, fertilizing, and so on. The result of his labors? The most beautiful and delicious apples I have ever seen or tasted. 


Trouble was, gorgeous fruit or not, marketing them was painful and mostly unsuccessful. This was my job. I approached markets and grocery stores in our immediate area and got a few takers. They wanted only the most perfect fruit. One out of 10 apples, more or less, passed the perfection test. We put out a sign on the road and sold apples for several years for 20 cents a pound. We also sold tons of apples for 3 cents a pound for juice, and hauled them on our flatbed truck to Jacksonville. Picking? We mostly did it. Ditto sorting, loading, transporting. Ugh. Not much fun. 

I love this photo of Paul and Quinn, about 1980, loading an apple bin onto the flatbed truck. 

Fast forward a few decades. All but about 30 of the apple trees are gone. Quinn is 34 and Chris is 26. Our extended garden now occupies some of the former orchard. The rest of it is being prepared for pasturing animals—part of PK's next five-year plan. Now...a few more current garden views.

The main garden. One huge zucchini in front, then cukes, peppers, more zukes, corn and so on. All that yellow is volunteer dill gearing up to flower.

I can't get over how great the leeks are, or how long they last. And they hum with bees.

Flowers in front of the solarium. 

Here's what happens to asparagus after harvest season.
It is at least five feet tall.

Taken from in front of the house.

The wonderful rose is in its second bloom.

My favorite garden art, crafted by my dear friend Patty for one of my big birthdays.

It is a Celtic knot stepping stone, front and center in the flower garden. I admire it and thank her every day.

Mid-July Garden Madness

The perspective here is that the white surface is not a cutting board. It is a freezer top. And the largest zucchini weighs 5 pounds. All this growth occurred in two days on three plants. Bad zucchini! The striped ones are Latino variety.
The deep green is the typical Black Beauty, and the yellow one is....
well, yellow, and not as prolific this year as in the past. Thank God.

Mid-summer has somehow crept up and it is becoming dangerous to leave the premises without a guard  to beat back the garden. Spring veggies - kale, broccoli, asparagus, chard etc. - were manageable and could be left alone for several days without their attempting to overtake the neighborhood. The summer garden is another story.

We were away a couple of days for an organized weekend bike ride, and I harvested all the zukes from our three plants before leaving. But when we returned just two days later, several huge numbers were bulging obscenely beneath hip-high leaves. Ridiculous. 

All the jokes about zucchinis are warranted. Too bad their exuberant growth habits can't be replicated in grapes (more wine!) Some of the best zuke uses are low carb zucchini pizza crust, zucchini spaghetti, and smoky zucchini lasagna noodles. (Unfortunately, I can't link to this post as it has mysteriously and maddeningly disappeared from my archive. I will recreate soon as I begin to smoke large zuke slices to use as lasagna noodles. )

But wait! There's more!

Twenty-seven pounds of cabbage in five heads, ready for the sauerkraut crock.
Look for this operation in a future post. 

The first of the cucumbers with Walla Walla  onions in a simple salad. One cucumber got too big while we were gone for two whole days, and I had to scrape the seeds out and halve, hence those half-moon slices. Still tastes great.
We eat this salad all summer, which requires a tiny fraction of the cukes produced by our small
group of happy vines.  Recipe below. 

The first of  the tomatoes, Sun Gold cherry variety. Photo is  blurry and warranted only because this is the first "harvest."  Tomatoes were saying, We're not ready! Don't take our picture! They'll be sweet ripe in a few days. 

Volunteer cosmos, sunflowers and others are joyous in their corner.
They require little attention and are unlikely to leap the fence. 

I love the in-your-face early volunteer sunflowers. The birds are already watching,
and the bees and other insects are ecstatic about all the pollen.

The following recipe comes from my mother and her mother before her. They used real sugar, of course, while I use substitues. I've enjoyed this every summer since I can remember.

Simple Summer Cucumber/Onion Salad

2-3 small-to-medium cukes
1/2 large sweet onion, more to taste
1/4 cup red wine vinegar (or any other vinegar, non sweetened)*
1/4 cup water*
1/4 cup sugar, or sugar equivalent to taste.* I use a few tablespoons Splenda).
salt and pepper to taste.

Slice the cucumbers and onion thinly. Place into a glass bowl. Mix the vinegar, water, sugar substitute and salt and pepper and stir into the cukes and onions. Marinate for at least an hour. Adjust seasonings. Refrigerate unused portion for a week or so. It gets better by the day for up to a week.

* The proportions are the important consideration. Three equal parts. It gets tricky with sugar subs. I mix the vinegar and water then add Splenda, or whatever I'm using, to taste—in this case just a few teaspoons.

Zucchini "pasta"—a low-carb winner for dinner

This striped Latino zucchini is a favorite. We grow one Latino plant, one Black Beauty, the variety typical in produce aisles, and one golden variety. Latino is especially good for "noodles" as it retains more crunch than the others. 

The zucchini floodgate has opened, and we are dealing with up to a dozen every day from three plants. We planted six seeds in three hills, then agonized over which 15 seedlings to pull. We've learned the hard way that all you need is one plant every three feet. Otherwise it is a riot of rowdy giant leaves and aggressive bully fruits shoving one another and then you are forced to dive in to deal with them. Zucchini can get ugly.

We enter the zucchini microcosms at our own risk. Even though we give away more than we use, I learn more every year about how to use this abundance. Since bread, pasta, rice and most grains are off the table, I'm always looking for alternatives. I love marinara and other pasta sauces, but much prefer to eat them over something. I seriously do not even LIKE pasta anymore. It makes me feel crappy and bloated, as does wheat-based pizza crust and even rice. So I'm looking at zukes with a new perspective.

Zucchini works for pizza dough and lasagna. But spaghetti-type noodles? Let's try it. Of course, I'm not the first to think of this. Nothing is new under the sun, right? But here's what I did and how and wow, it was surprisingly good and will definitely be repeated.

How to make zucchini noodles—and use them for dinner

Select zucchini that is at least 10 inches long. Grate with a cheese grater lengthwise into "noodles." Put into a colander, sprinkle with salt, toss, then drain for 20 minutes or more. Squeeze liquid out before advancing to the next step, which is to saute in a bit of olive oil for a few minutes until "al dente". Don't worry about rinsing off the salt—it mostly goes away as  the liquid drains.  How much zucchini to grate? Figure on one 10-incher per person. Don't include  the inside where seeds are forming. 

Zucchini noodles ready for sauce. They're not at all mushy. These were made with the
Black Beauty variety, which is easily grown and may be purchased in almost any grocery. I sauteed them
 in olive oil and butter with a bit of minced garlic for a few minutes, until they were al dente.

 This is the last of the 2011 frozen marinara sauce, to which I added a bit of this year's basil and
some of Paul's serrano sauce for a little kick. He deserves a little kick himself. 

On the side was broccoli, basil, and sweet onions from the garden and store-bought cauliflower  tossed with a great garlic/sesame seasoning mix I purchased at the Grants Pass Growers' Market with a Candy's Farm label. Unfortunately, Candy's Farm, Salem, Oregon, doesn't appear to have a web presence. But, if you get a chance,  they make a great blend of roasted garlic, lemon grass, sesame seeds, veggie flavoring, ginger, and salt.
 I melted a little mozzarella cheese on top.

Dinner's on! Homemade marinara with a little sausage over zucchini noodles topped with grated Parmesan and a big side of broccoli, cauliflower and onions seasoned by Candy's Farm.

Road Trip Tips

After one entire week! away from home, garden, and elderly mom duties, I am ready to dispense advice. Ignore at your peril. 

1. If the weather sucks, follow the sun. Hint: it's usually south.

We'd planned a bike ride and campout in Northern California. Surly clouds gave credence to the weather forecast—rain, hail, thunderstorms. Nope. All four of us agreed to abandon that plan and head toward Redding and its sunny forecast. 
2. Let others stew in die-hard plans.

Laurie and Steve soaking in the sun near Lake Sonoma.

Some stalwart friends would have toughed it out and slogged through the rain. I love them, but I'm glad they weren't there to say, Hell, let's do it anyway! This time PK and I were with Eugenites Laurie and Steve, and Laurie is an ardent sun seeker with extreme gloom aversion. 
Whatever's happening in the sky is reflected in her face and demeanor. Why does she live in rain-drenched Eugene? She's working on that. In the meantime, she leaned south, and so we went. Happily.
3. Look for the unexpected gifts of going where you didn't intend to go and doing what you didn't intend to do.
So we ended up in Redding, where we discovered a great bike path along the Sacramento River in the Turtle Bay Exploration Park and lots of good camping, hiking, boating and swimming in the Whiskeytown National Recreation Area just 10 miles out of town. We'll definitely return for the biking and also may entice grandson Noah and his parents to Redding's hot dang water park. The beautiful Sundial Bridge alone is worth the trip. 
4. If it rains/snows/spits regardless of your efforts to escape, put on your raincoat, your best attitude, and shut up. As Scarlett said, Tomorrow is another day. 
We had some sprinkles during dinner prep camping at Whiskeytown. We turned up our collars and swilled more wine. Life was good. Still is. 

5. Pack lighter than light.

Four-Wheel pop-up is a super deluxe and comfy unit but does not accommodate excess. 

 This is a constant challenge, especially since we now travel in a small pick-up camper. Small is the operative word when talking about that camper.  I confess to toting more than needed and rummaging through 15 garments when half as many would have been enough. 
6. No one cares how you look, and looking good is a big part of over-packing. That and planning for every contingency. Relax.
Everyday advice. Not just for camping. Without anyone to compare yourself to, who cares? Only the people who want to look better than you do give a rip about whether your socks match. Screw em. 
7. Carry more maps than you think you'll need.
PK and I added "Atlas" to our always-bring packing list. 
8. Carry a smart phone.
We don't have one, but we will as soon as our phone contract expires. Thanks to Steve for supplying instant information via iPhone. In the meantime, our GPS unit came in handy, and sometimes our iPad, which is pretty worthless in the sun.
9. Bring a smart person, someone who likes to drive and isn't too opinionated or set in his/her ways.
 PK and I have been married for close to 40 years, and I am so lucky that he is the smart person. True, he is opinionated. But he's a great traveler, and he prefers to drive. I'll keep him handy for the next trip. 

PK and me near the end of a happy road trip hike.

Healdsburg host and blade runner/road warrior, Lanny says, Right on. Life is SO good.
Go with the flow, baby.

The Garden at Summer Solstice

From the garden today, basil, a sweet onion, and the season's first zucchini!

A memorable summer solstice was in the Grand Canyon in 1994. PK was the trip leader for our private group of families. Sixteen people, 18 days. Half of our entourage was age 16 or younger. Our sons Quinn and Chris were 15 and 8, respectively. Quinn and Sarah created a solstice symbol in the sand at our camp, red cliffs soaring overhead. Mark and Susan Goracke attempted to create pizza without crust. Or a working stove. How to top that?

Today topped it. Why?

Because today is now. And now is what we have. And really, today is all that matters.We have wonderful memories, but memories don't sustain. They may even hold us back. 

Today is summer solstice 2012. I was ruminating about the Grand Canyon while digging in our garden to water and eradicate weeds. Amidst the tomatoes, at 90 degrees, I laid low, literally, and snipped soil-skimming tomato leaves. If you don't know, tomato leaves on the ground are not good.

Just above, a nest of baby swallows twittered.  (Not online, however) A bit higher, adult swallows dive bombed. I was literally on my back a few feet from the nesting box originally created for bluebirds, but which swallows have commandeered. Swallows are fearsome, brave, spirited, and wonderful. I laughed and shouted as they tried to clip me.

This is what you don't expect from gardening, but what you can rejoice in if it happens. Lying helpless on the ground and having birds try to scare you away. Seeing the natural world as if you weren't even there. (Glad it wasn't a cougar or grizzly!)

I didn't have my camera, but will try to capture. Alas, the fledglings will soon leave the nest and the drama will be over. The swallows won't give a damn about me. I probably won't get a photo. But for today I have this memory of tiny birds with giant spirits. And a bit more. 

A major random volunteer lettuce harvested.

A black beauty zucchini in the making.

Leeks about to bust into flower. 

The first sunflower of 2012. 

Among the first raspberries.

The end of the major strawberry crop and the start of broccoli.

Thank God for blueberries. It'll be a trick to shield them from  devil birds.