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.

FIGS! GLORIOUS FIGS!

Our fig tree is a Brown Turkey that my father rooted about 7 years ago (green thumb similar to Mom's mentioned in my 7/12/08 posting). I prune it every February for 2 critical reasons: (1) figs appear on the new growth, and (2) I can reach almost all the way to the top without a ladder (indeed, my reach is proportional to the flexibility of the limbs which, I admit, must bend a good bit for my 61 1/2 inches to reach).

This tree is situated in full sun and received no fertilizer or extra water this year. However, it soldiered on and gave us 25 to 50 figs several times a week for about 3 weeks.



One of our favorite recipes: figs wrapped in prosciutto. Mix 2 tablespoons of walnut oil (I use olive or grape) with 2 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. Split the fig and put a quarter teaspoon or so of goat cheese (I'd use Gorgonzola if LL liked blue cheese, but she's a tender petal...) in the center. Dunk in the vinaigrette and diaper its bottom with a strip of prosciutto.


I've waited too late in the season to photograph the rich red interior of a perfectly ripe fig. All the good ones are gone now. This is a poor facsimile, but this'll give you an idea.

PERSONAL-SIZE IT

On July 12th, the cantaloupe vines promised a glorious crop. We went weeks in our micro-climate without sufficient rain. My hand watering did not save the day. One problem I had when watering was I couldn't tell where the plant was. I'd thought of marking each with a tall stick, but never got around to it. The positive side to gardening is there's always next year.



The drought shrunk my cantaloupes. Instead of human head size, I got single-serving size. Some are sweet, some are not. As you can see, they're definitely ripe.



These squash are not water-starved dwarfs. They were meant to be personal-size. They remind us, and folks we've served them to, of acorn squash in flavor and texture. I've cut them in half, scooped out the seeds, drizzled olive oil on the inside, wrapped them in foil and grilled them.




As long as I'm talking about good eating, here's one of the light dishes we've been eating on Wednesday nights when LL gets home late after work. This selection includes beefsteak, Park's whopper and brandywine with mozzarella, olive oil and basil.

Other Predators

This caterpillar was on my next-door-neighbor's wax myrtle. Chris captured it and ran straight to me knowing I'd be fascinated. It's like a gardening science fiction creature.











This is not just a photo of the side of the house; note the wax myrtle post caterpillar defoliation.














This handsome creature prefers figs...
















...as does Nash, although he enjoys the ripe ones best.













I'm not certain who the predator is here. I have lots of hexagonal shaped beetle thingies that congregate on my tomatoes and squash. Or, it could be a worm. Either way, I cut off the bad part and eat the rest. I'm not proud.

Oh Deer!

Deer, deer, deer. Daddy Deer with antlers and spotted fawns tagging behind him, no less. The entire Deer family. In my backyard. Grazing on whatever catches their eyes--Grandma's rose, Neblitt's blueberry bushes, Parker's Whopper tomatoes, stringbeans, cucumber vines. I'd show you a photo, but it came out too blurred. If your glasses fog up and you can't tell your camera is set on close-up when you're taking a picture from across the yard, well....


The forensic evidence is in:

hoof prints----------------- and I wonder
why my cubanelle pepper grows like it's
doing the limbo. Yes, that stem is parallel to the dry earth.















dental imprints--------------tell a trained investigator
age, sex, species, size and social security number.
I, however, am not trained. For all I know this could be the work of a raccoon or the devil. What, I ask, is the purpose in biting this exquisitely perfect fruit without consuming it?

Why I'm Late for Work During Harvest Time

It takes a good 30 minutes to harvest, wash, sort and store what's coming in now. Counterclockwise: tomatoes, cucumbers, banana peppers, jalapeno peppers, okra and stringless stringbeans.

I've been asked why I pick the tomatoes before they ripen on the vine. In my garden there's a lot of competition for my vegetables. There are all manner of bugs, birds and squirrels lying in wait for the perfect moment to take that one random bite--and move on to the next meal. Also, I know that after watering--not raining because we haven't had that going on 3 weeks--tomatoes grow faster than their skins and tend to burst, leaving them vulnerable to bugs and rot. Tomatoes seem to be perfectly happy ripening in the safety and comfort of my kitchen. I rest easier knowing their integrity will not be compromised when I need them. Believe me when I say the bugs, birds and squirrels aren't going hungry in my garden. They enjoy about 25% of the produce and share another 25% where I cut away evidence of their bites. Having thus justified my practice, I will say that there is nothing better on earth than picking a perfectly ripe Beefsteak from the vine, wiping it on my sleeve and munching on its supple, juicy flesh. A preview of heaven to be sure.

DAHLIAS IN BLOOM

Dahlias delight the eye in our backyard, please the bees and sate the vase. What's not to like about them?

Dinnerplate. The plant itself would tower over me if it were not flopping over--I'm clocking 61 1/2" myself. Can you say "super-size me"?

Susan B. Kommen Dahlia

Cantaloupe Update

I bought a 6 pack of cantaloupe seedlings in mid May on my trip to Dobson in Surry County. Paid .99 at a country market--the original "Fresh Market"--the kind of place that sells flower and vegetable plants, fresh vegetables and fruits, hoop cheese, pork rinds, RC Colas, etc. all under overt closed circuit television surveillance. Kind of a "smile you're on camera" situation at the checkout counter with a photographic quality not unlike your driver's license.

You can see they're well underway (as is Jubal) on 6/12/08.


One month later, the vines truly hum with bees.


...and if you look closely, you will see fruit with the potential to become a divine melon with tan netlike ridged rind and a sweet fragrant orange flesh--in maybe another month. Stay tuned.

My Mother's Green Thumb

My mother is a master "rooter" of cuttings: gardenia, forsythia, rose, confederate rose, rosemary, wisteria, hydrangea, peach and fig--to name a few. This is a peach tree in her yard that she grew from a pit. Some of its blossoms are pink and some are white.

I think if we tested the dna on her thumb, the results would reveal something like rhizocaline, a powerful hormone that stimulates the growth and development of plants. Or, maybe it would reveal consistent attention to the details of gardening on a daily basis.


Below is a sample of some plants I have in my yard that she started.

gardenia

rosemary

confederate rose
(mallow)

fig

wisteria

forsythia

Mama is also a really good biscuit maker--more on that topic, later.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LAURIE!

Celebrating the life of a special gardener

...it's not 52 degrees out...it's not the 52d day of July...it's not just a random number...

Fruits of Late June

What we're eating now.

peaches
blueberries
cucumber
sweet banana pepper
Parker's Whopper

Brussel sprouts

squash
plums