Odds and Ends

Nash felt compelled to do a LOT of barking this week during the 3 a.m. hours of the mornings. Spot-lit by the Spider Moon, the deer, rabbits, raccoons, foxes and goodness-only-knows what else were in full view as my boy perched in the dormer. Since I was alerted to the breach of the integrity of our property, I grabbed the camera on my way out the door and managed to hold steady long enough to get this shot.









Flying dragon--mock orange.
Inedible. Prolific. Spiky thorns.
Obviously impervious to nematodes.
We planted this as a specimen in the front yard 9 years ago. I believe it has the ability to rule the world, taunting the citrus-deprived with its hard, bitter, juice-free, seed-packed fruit. So uninviting neither insects, nor beasts graze on the oranges or the leaves.






This is a ginger lily. It generously perfumes the whole backyard with its gingery, lemony scent.

Green Things

We have a tree frog who visits, but has not taken up permanent residence, on one of our living room windows. Early morning, late evening, he appears. Where does he go in the heat of the day?










This evening when I went out to water, I discovered this green thing: Tomato Hornworm. Luckily I caught him before he totally defoliated the plant.










My luck runs wild. This hornworm has rice grain size wasp eggs attached to its back. Had I not discovered it and applied the snips, death would surely have been imminent.










Not a good image from 8 p.m., but, you get the idea of the green things. Broccoli plants and mustard sprouts. Both went in on Saturday, August 22. I'm pleased the broccoli is thriving in our 90 degree heat, and I'm surprised at how quickly the mustard seeds sprouted.














Not a green thing, but a lovely purple utilitarian thing at the entrance to the vegetable garden. I always wear gloves and need a pair of snips when I visit the garden. With this storage addition, I can make impromptu visits--no worries.

Peppers

This has been a peppery, 90 degree, muggy day. Good for picking peppers, pickling peppers, roasting and stuffing peppers.
From the grill the Giant Marconis went into a lidded bowl for awhile, then we slipped the skins off, slit the tops and gently tugged the seeds out, made a small slit--unless the body fell apart and then it was more like putting a puzzle together--and LL stuffed half with a refried bean mixture and I married the other half with a pepper jack cheese concoction.










I pickled jalapenos, hot bananas, brother David's salsas, and 2 odd-shaped Giant Marconi using cider vinegar and water 2:1, sugar, garlic, bay leaves and ground coriander. Yes, the seasonings were experimental, but I'm the only one what eats 'em, so there.








Just to catch you up with the harvest. I picked about 10 pounds of figs this week, which magically turned into preserves after I washed, cut, macerated, cooked, and canned them.

I've groaned and moaned about my tomatoes--verticulum leaf mold, nematodes, deer munching, bird pecking, squirrel stealing--you name it, and it's more likely than not the reason I've lost 10 out of 20 plants. Plus, everything went in late so we got nothing until past mid-July. But, but, but, as my good neighbor Gherman says, I am picking a peck here and there of German Johnson, Cherokee purple, Anna Russian, Mortgage Lifter, and a small round red hard clustering fruit I can't remember the name of. So, the situation could be worse. With any luck the half dozen plants that I've got in large pots will produce before frost. Took a page out of brother David's book with that trick. I'll keep you posted.


By the way, the corn nubbins in the box were full and sweet--both yellow and white kernels. I had about a dozen hills which each produced 1 large ear and 1 nubbin. And, no worms. Next year, ah next year, there'll be a bigger crop. The gardener's hopeful heart runs wild with desire.

Nematodes Happen

Stunted growth, yellowed and browning leaves, wilted demeanor. This is not just another depressed plant in need of cheering up. I suspect nematodes. Can't be certain until the roots are examined for knots, aka galls. However, I have already lost 6 or 7 tomatoes and cucumbers this season whose roots I have examined and wept over. Sadly, this plant is scheduled for surgical excision under sterile conditions later this week. Silly to wait, but I am a silly optimistic gardener operating under the delusion that I can salvage the Yellow Pear fruit hanging so valiantly on the pathetic vine.


See the little bumps? Nematodes are microscopic, so I can't even use my favorite bug control--index finger and thumb pressed firmly together with bug betwixt. This photo is the root of a tomato.






And, this is the root of a crookneck squash. Pretty impressive demonstration of the vile invader. The squash worked like a maniac above ground producing flowers, attracting bees, suffering the vigorous assaults of squash bugs, and actually setting fruit (about 20) that matured. All the while, it had a sub rosa secret life. Who knew?



The discovery of this nematode infestation was accidental because this plant got yanked for other reasons. SQUASH BUGS. Their eggs look like those gold bead cookie decorations and come by the dozens. This photo is a juvenile. The adult is more toasty colored with a harder crust. At this stage I clap my gloved hands together over both sides of the leaf and easily eradicate--well, a handful of the sap suckers.













My apologies for starting my new blog year on such a negative note, but this is the problem that's been on my mind for the last couple of weeks. On the bright side, working on this solution is a way better caliber of problem than this gardening girl has gnawed on at 3 a.m. for the last year or so. This one can at least be fixed with solarization and lying fallow for a while. Come to think of it, most things I perceive to be problems at 3 a.m. benefit from exposure to the light of day and letting be.

OKRA

Back in June and July when the rabbit families were mowing down my okra plants, I wasn't remembering what always happens: the okra continue to grow to the point where the rabbits can't reach them. Then they're mine! As you can see above, they're 8 to 9 feet tall now.

Come August, the pods must be picked daily or they grow into woody stems suitable for painting a red Santa suit and white beard on, but not for eating. I cut those whoppers off and drop them on the ground. Then, next spring, I'll have a batch of seedlings ready to transplant. They'd volunteer to germinate all over your garden if you let them.





We had a pan-full of fried okra for lunch today. I cook them the way Mama always does (with the omission of bacon drippings). She "accidentally" lets them brown a bit much so some are extra crispy and crunchy--no breading. My friend Judith calls this sauteing--sounds like "so taying."

Spiders Welcome Here

A view from the web:

I love photographs with unintended results. LL took these two. (The pond beyond the chairs is where the water lily in the sidebar resides.)




I thrill to the sight of my yellow-backed garden spiders (Argiope aurantia). Their presence tells me my garden is a healthy place to live and raise a family. I'm not saying it's free of predators--got plenty of those from the hawks that taxi on unseen currents above, talons itching for snakes and bunnies and mice, to the birds that snack on bugs and the gardener who mashes flea beetles between her thumb and forefinger.




Speaking of reproduction, this brownish silk pouch, about 1" in diameter, was deposited in the tea olive that she used to anchor her web. Come spring we'll be the proud grandmothers of a thousand baby garden spiders.






Now, this is a type of spider that I've observed for years. You can guess where. That's right--my kitchen counter. I cut a lot of zinnia bouquets, and as I arrange them by the sink, these unfortunate hitchhikers jump off or get washed off.


This green fellow is a lynx spider with spines on its legs.

Space Alien Caterpillar Update

When you find a creature that you cannot identify, email a photograph to the N.C. Museum of Natural Sciences. They are smart and helpful.

"This is the caterpillar of a Cecropia Moth. This is a large species of silk moth. The caterpillar will eventually spin a large cocoon and pupate inside. It will spend the winter in the cocoon and hatch into a large, beautiful moth next Spring. The moth has 3-4 days to find a mate, lay eggs, then die. This species is not common in NC, but is found in the Sandhills and areas in the Piedmont and foothills." John Connors @ NC Museum of Natural Sciences

You may recall this caterpillar came off of my next-door-neighbor's wax myrtle. The bush came from Fuquay, but based on what John says, I'm guessing the bush's provenance was by way of the Sandhills, Piedmont or foothills.