Tag: vegetables

gardening

Back in the saddle again…

suzielinn

The rollercoaster which is my life decided it was time to fly off a cliff. Or so it has felt like the past few months.

Last autumn, I took a hard kersplat while training for a 10k run. (Otherwise known as: I took a fall last fall. Autumn and kersplat sound much better, amiright? But I digress…) Life being what it is, it wasn’t until June that I decided to confront the nagging pain and discomfort in my right shoulder, a result of landing hard on my bent arm last autumn. And – wouldn’t you know it – I had a complete tear in the rotator cuff, as well as a torn bicep, and. Hello, Cliff. Time to take flight.

Two months ago, I had surgery to repair both tears and – if you aren’t familiar with post rotator cuff surgery – consider yourself very, very fortunate. Six weeks in the bulkiest, hottest, most uncomfortable contraption ever invented. Yes, they call it an “abductor shoulder sling.” I prefer to call it… er… I will keep this G rated. I will just say that at my six week post-op appointment, I told the orthopedic surgeon that I had a gallon of gasoline and a metal trash in my truck and I planned to burn that… er… sling… in his parking lot, if he wanted to join me for the bonfire. He advised me to throw the sling in the attic “as insurance that I will never ever need it again – Murphy’s Law – as soon as one gets rid of it, they will need it again.” So off to the attic the sling went… I am not one to tempt Fate nor Murphy.

And what does all of that have to do with gardening and being Back in the Saddle Again?

Well, my garden assistant – otherwise known as The Husband – the one who had dutifully kept my garden watered through the hottest part of a Texas summer while I was confined to the above mentioned sling – had been telling me for the past week that I had a lot of peppers that needed to be picked. Yes, yes, I knew that. But I am in what the physical therapist calls, “The Danger Zone.” I am out of the sling but not out of the woods and free to roam about quite yet. My garden strolls have been limited to just that. Strolls. On paths. No actual gardening. Ah. But Sunday, while The Husband, otherwise known as The Enforcer Of Shoulder Rehab Rules, was away running errands, I decided those peppers weren’t going to pick themselves, so off to the garden I went!

Ah! I am ridin’ the range again! Back in the saddle, I am!

It will be slow and steady for quite a while yet but I cannot even begin to tell you how glorious it felt to get some dirt under my fingernails.

And. About those peppers!

I picked a bowl.

And then needed another bowl?!

Yes. The Husband was right. (Sh… Don’t tell him I said that! Our secret, okay?)

I Had Some Peppers To Pick!

Two bowls worth of peppers! Not too shabby considering the garden had run feral for two months.

Some of the poblano peppers went straight in to supper that night as tamale stuffed peppers, which was the first time making that recipe and it will be back on the menu again soon. Some of the peppers are too wickedly hot (ie: 45 minutes after I tasted and spit out one of them, I was beginning to feel my lips again…) Those will most likely be given to a neighbor who likes him some hot peppers. Some of the peppers are destined for the dehydrator, as I purchased one last summer after I realized I can make my own chimichurri seasoning.

I am now anxious to get some winter veg planted, though I will need to clear some garden space first as the passionvine, in my absence, may have tried to outperform kudzu as fastest growing vine in the south. That task will need to wait a while, though, as the fritillary butterflies have been all aflutter the past few days. In the meantime, I will wander the garden a bit more now and dream of better gardening days ahead. And dream of once again having two strong sturdy shoulders.

Keep calm and garden on and take care of your body and each other.

gardening

If there’s life, there is hope

suzielinn

January was a long year, wasn’t it?

First came the dread, then the reality. Through it all, the word “Hope” has buoyed me.

Hope springs eternal. February, here in North Texas, has arrived with sunshine and above average, very warm temperatures. The most perfect day to spend in the garden, in quiet contemplation of Hope. And Peace. And Harmony. For America. For the world.

“To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.” ~ Audrey Hepburn

Audrey Hepburn’s famous quote, while not actually using the word “Hope,” is all about hope. The promise of tomorrow. A new day. A new beginning. Twenty four fresh new hours to make a difference. To make an impact.

“This will be my fight song: left foot, right foot, breathe. Help the poor however you can, plant bulbs right now in the cold rocky soil, rest.” ~ Ann Lamott

I purchased onion slips earlier this week, as now is the time to plant them in my region. More than a decade has passed now since I spent a quiet, mediative day in the garden, planting onions while my dear aunt was in the hospital, her colon cancer metastasized to her brain, necessitating emergency surgery. She has, sadly, since passed away, but I always think of her and her amazing spirit whenever I plant onions. I know that she is peering down at me, happy that I continue to garden and that I continue to seek hope and peace in the garden.

Tomorrow, the first of the onions will be tucked in the soil, then covered with a layer of freshly shredded leaves. Hope does spring eternal in the garden. Onions, from such humble beginnings, to be harvested months from now and used to nourish my body and soul.

“If there’s life, there is hope.” ~ Stephen Hawking

I was reminded earlier today of a conversation I had last year about the guerilla garden going on behind our property line. The individual wondered why I would invest the time and the money on something that might be removed or mowed over. Ah. But what if something grows from my guerilla garden efforts? Food to feed the hungry. Shade for a too hot planet. Habitat for birds. Friendships. Inspiration for others to take on their own guerilla project. What if the only thing it ever grows is hope to those that need it most?

Keep calm and garden on and always remain hopeful.

What to plant in the garden in February:

Plant onions: I soak onion slips in seaweed, diluted per container directions, for 30 minutes prior to planting.

Peas: Can be sown outside through mid-February.

Potatoes: Can be planted outside any time this month.

Asparagus and horseradish: Both can be planted outside this month. Soak the crowns in diluted seaweed for 30 minutes before planting.

Late winter vegetables: Cabbage, broccoli, Brussels sprouts and cauliflower can all be planted now. Many garden centers are getting a freshy supply of transplants this time of year.

What to sow outside now through mid-March: Beets, carrots, kale, spinach, mustard, Swiss chard, lettuce, kohlrabi, collards, spinach and turnips.

Radish: Can be sown outside now through May.

Additionally, eggplant and pepper seeds can be sown inside now through early March.

Many garden centers are receiving fruit trees and berries. Research best varieties for your location and shop early for best selection.

gardening

Beauty is all around us

suzielinn

The new year – 2025 – is here, along with bright sunshine and crystal clear blue skies. Alas. An Arctic cold front is lurking in the forecast, a reminder that it is, after all, January in Texas. Time to find the outdoor faucet covers and frost cloth for pipes and plants will need tucked in for a few nights. (As do our pets.)

I was wandering about the garden this afternoon, assessing the chores that need tackled this weekend. One of the roses that survived the early waves of rose rosette disease is now inflicted and must be bagged and removed immediately. Leaves are a constant chore this time of year. As much as I would love to “leave them all be” (bad pun intended), we would be knee deep in leaves if we didn’t do something about them. Plants were bought in early fall to redo a few shadier spots of the property and they really need to be tucked in the ground sometime soon. I have space remaining for a few more winter vegetables and herbs, if I am inclined to add some. The upcoming freeze will mean even more open planting space, as the last of the tomatoes and peppers can be cut back now and carted off to the compost pile. But the first order of business tomorrow – Winter Protection. There is always something to do in the garden, isn’t there? Sometimes enjoyable work. Sometimes not so much. I dread removing yet another large, well established rose bush, yet I am looking forward to planting more winter vegetables, knowing I will appreciate them come February. One must find that balance in the garden – and in life! – to keep the spirit alive and energized and not too overwhelmed. Sometimes we need a little reminder that beauty is all around us, for it is easy to get bogged down in the chores and overlook the beauty that surrounds us.

“It is the beauty within us that makes it possible for us to recognize the beauty around us. The question is not what you look at but what you see.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

The verdant greens of winter, such as the collards above and the mustard greens below, are especially captivating. So much flavor and nutrition packed in every deeply veined and textured leaf. Greens – including kale, lettuce and Swiss chard, can be planted from fall through winter in North Texas. They are easy to start inside to transplant outdoors as weather and space permits. Transplants are also readily available at most garden centers. Cilantro, a cool season herb, can also be planted outside this time of year and only needs winter protection when the temperatures drop in to the 20’s as they will this weekend.

“If you truly love nature, you will find beauty everywhere.” ~ Vincent Van Gogh

I am constantly amazed at the beautiful fungi that grow on the logs that edge my vegetable beds, proving that there is beauty even in the decomposition of nature.

“Every man should be born again on the first of January. Start with a fresh page. Take up one hole more in the buckle, if necessary, or let down one, according to circumstances; but, on the first of January let every man gird himself once more, with his face to the front, and take interest in the things that are and are to be, and not in the things that were and are past.” ~ Henry Ward Beecher

Tomato seeds were sown indoors in the first few days after Christmas and a few are already poking up out of the soil. It is always good to remind myself not to count my chickens before they hatch, but it is hard not to feel overly optimistic about the upcoming spring garden season when those first tomato seedlings emerge.

The edible garden in January:

Watch for onion slips/sets to arrive at garden centers soon. They can be planted outside this month.

Swiss chard can be sown either indoors or outside.

Lettuce, kale and collards are best sown inside then transplanted outdoors. (Be sure to harden off young transplants.)

Sow tomato seeds indoors, for spring planting.

Eggplant and peppers can be sown indoors in mid-January for spring planting.

Fruit trees and berries are arriving at garden centers now. Shop early for best selection. Be sure to research best varieties for your area and mature sizes for your garden space.

January is also a great time to prepare new vegetable beds for spring planting.

Photographs taken January 3, 2025, in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.

gardening

Goodbye 2024

suzielinn

As 2024 closes out, I find myself wandering about the garden, reflecting on what this year has been and looking ahead to 2025. I am filled with a gardener’s optimism at new opportunities and new adventures that await in the coming year.

2024 was a year of lessons and growth, filled with good times and challenges and many unforgettable moments.

Perhaps the most unforgettable moment of all was in January when we (finally!) removed three large cedar elms from the back section of my gardens. (Photo below…) The trees sprouted some years prior, seeds blown in from a neighbor’s tree. As junk trees tend to do, these grew fast and furious, a daunting task to cut down.

This is forever an unforgettable moment as the last of the three trees twisted as it fell and landed with a Plop. Right in the neighbor’s in-ground hot tub! Thankfully the tree didn’t damage anything and the neighbor wasn’t too upset at us. But it was quite a chore getting the tree up and out of the water and up and over the fence.

The trees were cut into long sections and now edge my latest vegetable bed. (Photo below…) I had plans to construct a greenhouse out of an old metal gazebo but record rainfall this spring led to a rather lush garden by June and I didn’t have the heart to remove or cut back any of the plants to make room for the project. Perhaps this will be my first project of 2025, as nothing is stronger than a gardener’s wintertime optimism.

2024 was my 29th year gardening this same patch of earth and what a year it was – for rain! By early June, the ground was so saturated and water was standing the entire length of our property along the west side of our house. I ended up digging a trench to push the water away from our garage to the ditch that runs behinds our property line. (Photo below…) Eventually, I will need to decide what to do with the trench – fill it in with soil or construct a dry creek bed? It currently sits much the way it was in June, though thankfully drier now.

This last day of 2024, we are now roughly six weeks past our average first freeze of the season, a good example of the extremes that make up an average. We have been down near freezing a few times and have even had a few mornings with a light frost on the ground, but nothing cold enough – or not cold for long enough – to kill off tender plants. Sure, the tomato plants look brutal, nearly ten months now since their planting date, and the harvests are much smaller now, but these bonus harvests are such a treasure in wintertime. (Photo below…) Eggplant and peppers are also still growing and producing, though the first full week of January looks to finally bring us a killing freeze.

Not to be outdone by the tender vegetables, even the tropical mandevilla vine is still blooming. (Photo below…)

One of my gardening goals for 2025 is to reign in the self-seeding passionvine. I have vowed to only let a handful grow, as they have a habit of popping up everywhere and scrambling over everything in their path. I love the blossoms and the fact that the vine is the host plant for the gulf fritillary butterfly. Alas. The vines sure can get out of hand by the end of summer! Our weather has been so mild lately that a few caterpillars are still munching down on the foliage.

This spring and early summer, many of my noontime meals were entirely from my garden, though the heat of summer and sudden switch from too much rain to not a drop of rain was quick and intense and brutal on the garden. Fall rains have been nicely spaced out and many of the “winter greens” are doing quite well, including the Red Dragon cabbage. (Shown in photo below…)

Red Giant mustard (shown below) is also doing very well. In 2025, I would like to write more about my chronic health issues and what prompted me to switch from ornamental gardening to edible gardening, along with my reasons for growing vibrantly hued vegetables.

I planted a number of dwarf ornamental pomegranates (shown below) about six years ago when I was in transition – a former ardent rose gardener but not yet a veg and fruit gardener. I have yet to decide what to do about these pomegranates. Yes, they are beautiful! Alas. The fruits are not suitable to eat and they are taking up valuable real estate. I have since planted a number of edible pomegranates, though they are still a few years away from producing a crop.

And on that note – Here’s to a healthy and active new year. May 2025 be filled with many happy days spent in the garden, either hard at work or simply meandering about barefoot. Be well, my gardening friends.

(The first two photographs were taken in January 2024. The third photo was taken in June 2024. The remaining photographs were taken December 30, 2024. All photos taken in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.)

gardening

November comes and November goes…

suzielinn

November comes and November goes and with it, 2024 is nearing its end.

One frenetic month to go before we usher in a new year, a new beginning, a time when hope springs eternal and the seed catalogs flood the mailbox and the promise of a new gardening year begins again.

November comes
      And November goes,
      With the last red berries
      And the first white snows.
With night coming early,
      And dawn coming late,
      And ice in the bucket
      And frost by the gate.
The fires burn
      And the kettles sing,
      And earth sinks to rest
      Until next spring.
~Elizabeth Coatsworth

Thankfully my North Texas garden hasn’t seen snow yet – or even frost by the gate – as Elizabeth Coatsworth’s poem flows. Our earth never truly sinks to rest as it does it does in colder gardening climates. Winter gardening in this region can be that Lagniappe – that extra little something – Mother Nature’s way of saying, “You made it through another Texas summer! Here is a little extra, your reward, a little something.” Some gardeners retreat inside, happy to curl up with a cup of hot tea and dream of the spring garden… Others are planting collard greens and kale and preparing new garden beds for the seasons ahead. Both are perfectly acceptable. That is the joy of gardening – You do you! Because… She who plants a garden plants happiness.

(Photo above: I am always on the hunt for preowned garden items, whether from estate sales, thrift stores or antique markets. This little plaque came from an estate sale, out of a dusty old greenhouse. Oh, how I wish I knew the gardener! But her spirit lives on now in my garden.)

You Do You may well be my garden motto, though I am quite unsure how to put that in the first person. My garden is unique. Not everyone’s cup of tea. But I am good with that. I garden for my self – both for my physical health and my mental health. This year, I opened my garden for three garden tours, two formal tours and one very informal tour. Each time I had the same apprehension. I know my garden can be… a bit much. But I love it that way. It is free spirited, much like myself. A bit wild around the edges.

Last year, I joined the local garden club, which is still in its very early years of existence. For background: We bought our home 29 years ago, knowing how I wanted to garden. For that reason, we sought out a property tucked away from street view and without an HOA. Our property – and my garden – are not the norm for this area and especially not for this suburban garden club. When I offered my garden as a stop along their progressive supper/garden tour, it was with a disclaimer: My garden was anything but a standard suburban garden! The garden club visited my garden in early May, the final stop of the evening and the ladies lingered over tea and homemade rosemary orange cake. The feedback was all lovely and I do hope that many were encouraged to think outside the box, to have some fun in their own gardens.

A few years after we bought our home, I attended a garden club’s plant sale in a nearby suburb. I loved the club and the gardeners so much that I decided to join, as our suburb was still small at the time and we didn’t yet have a club. This year marks my 25th year as a member of that garden club and the third time I have opened my gardens for a tour.

I have said before that gardeners are a fickle lot when it comes to the weather, so it goes without saying… Between the first garden tour in May and this second garden tour five weeks later, it rained….

And rained.

And rained.

We swung from historic drought to historic flooding rains in a matter of weeks. Our garage flooded for the first time ever. Two days before the June tour, I was up to my ankles in mud, digging a trench along the side of our property, trying to get the water to drain away from the house, in hopes that the main path to the back gardens would dry out enough to make it passable for garden visitors.

As more rain was falling and even more rain was forecast, I spent the day before the tour hauling in mulch and placing a new stepping stone path along the other – slightly higher – side of the house.

With even more rain falling, I decided on Plan C.

I posted a note on the front door: Please come through the house. Don’t worry about tracking in mud. Seriously. Do Not Worry! Mud Happens!

The rain that fell that June morning would be the last that my garden would see until late October. But that June day was glorious. The rain cleared off, the sun came out and I had 80 or so garden club members through my garden.

The third garden tour of the year was quite unexpected and very informal. A neighbor wanted to organize a block party over the Fourth of July weekend and asked if we would mind if it was held outside our home, our property being tucked away at the end of the subdivision and away from vehicular traffic. I had long assumed that most of our neighbors simply put up with me, the eccentric gardener at the end of the street, so I was unprepared for all the requests for garden tours. I didn’t have the chance to reign in the weeds or to tuck in some of the crazy…

(… because every free spirited garden needs a disco ball!)

But – from what I heard – the gardens lived up to everyone’s expectations of what the rest of my gardens would look like. From the driveway food forest to the (shh… back garden annex…), the neighbors loved what they saw. A little fun, a little wild, packed full of plants of every sort.

I don’t know quite how it happened, but then – in a blink of an eye – that early July day is now… almost December? Summer and autumn went by much too fast.

(Photo above: This morning’s harvest, what may be the last of the summer vegetables from 2024.)

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December,
A magical thing,
And sweet to remember:
“We are nearer to spring
Than we were in September.”
~Oliver Herford

The first seed catalog arrived in the mail just a few days ago and I have yet to find time to sit down and dream and plot and plan, but I know cold wet days are ahead and seed catalogs always make one feel hopeful and cozy when most needed. The garden walk this morning was good for the soul, a sunny yet crisp cold day, this last day of November.

(Photo above: cypress vine growing over a pepper plant.)

By this time of year, the gardens are late season feral and overgrown, vines scampering and rambling, smothering everything in their path. It makes harvesting an adventure, a real life Jumanji meets Easter egg hunt. I have made a mental note to keep the vines in check next year, to not let them get out of control. But I know… I will see them in full bloom, hummingbirds and butterflies flitting about, and let them be. You do you. And this is me.

This morning, I harvested roselle hibiscus, which I will dehydrate to use this winter in teas and in dying papers and fabrics.

November is usually such a disagreeable month…as if the year had suddenly found out that she was growing old and could do nothing but weep and fret over it. This year is growing old gracefully…just like a stately old lady who knows she can be charming even with gray hair and wrinkles. We’ve had lovely days and delicious twilights. This last fortnight has been so peaceful…. ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery

The garden is growing old gracefully this year. We have had cold nights, but have yet to have a freeze. The roses (above) and salvias (below) are still blooming, as if they know December and colder days are coming. But, until then… I am out enjoying the garden, feral as it is.

gardening

…young and hip, I am not… Or am I?

suzielinn

One moment you are young and hip and the next moment you are taking photographs of your vegetables. Or so the meme goes…

I say you can be young and hip *and* still take photographs of your vegetables!

Not that I am either young or hip. Or am I?

I crossed the threshold to “not young” a few years ago. However, I firmly believe, as the saying goes, that “we don’t stop gardening because we grow old, rather we grow old because we stop gardening.” Gardening keeps us all young at heart, as you are never too old to see the magic contained within a simple seed.

I don’t know that I was ever hip. At least not in the conventional sense. But I do think gardeners are quite hip in their own way. We are all gardening our own little piece of this world, doing our own thing, marching to the beat of our own drum, yet all – in a grander sense – beautifying this wonderful planet. And you can’t get any more hip than that, amiright?

Popeye loved his spinach and kale has had its moment of nutritional fame. Chard, however, is often overlooked by today’s chefs and gardeners but it is also a nutritional powerhouse. Chard, shown in the above photograph, has been loving our unusually cool spring days and abundant rainfall. This patch is nearing two years old and it is still tender and flavorful in salads. Chard grows wonderfully in containers and can take a good amount of shade, so it is a leafy green that anyone can grow, even on a small balcony or patio.

Cut and come again mesclun (lettuce) mix, shown above, is another leafy green that does well in containers and in a semi-shady location. This pot was sown in the fall and has provided a number of cuttings through winter and spring. Alas. It was time for one final harvest, so the container could be planted with summertime crops.

Peas are so beautiful in the garden, from the gorgeous blossoms to the delicate tendrils and the dangling pods. Both the leaves and the pods are edible, making this a two-for-one plant. Peas (shown above and below) are a cool season crop so I know our days together are winding down. I will, however, continue to grow some inside so I can enjoy the leaves as a microgreen.

Only time will tell if I have a fava bean (shown below) harvest this spring or not, as they do not like warmer temperatures. We usually go from winter to extreme summer with barely a pause for moderate spring temperatures, making cool season plantings – such as these fava beans – a gardening gamble. Until then, I will admire the flowers and know that they are providing important nectar for the pollinators.

It is always exciting to see the first tomatoes of the year, after a winter with no homegrown ones. “And we are off to the races!” Which tomato will ripen first? Which tomato will be most productive?

Several of my tomatillos (shown below) are already starting to produce, which makes this homemade salsa loving girl very happy.

Ah. Sunchokes. What to say other than, Yes, they appear do to be a super spreader, as I was warned they could be. Sunchokes, aka Jerusalem artichokes, are a love it or hate it food. I have yet to eat any to know which side I will come down on.

A bit of the backstory to this raised bed, shown below with super spreader sunchokes and rosemary: It is hiding the stump of a very aggressive junk vitex tree that we took down two years ago. I spent an entire Saturday this time last year, sawing and hacking away at the stump, which had refused to die. Then I put the metal ring around the stump, filled it with soil, planted some sunchokes and said, “Battle On! Vitex versus Sunchokes.” Then I spent all summer and fall plucking little bits of the vitex that took my dare and tried to grow. The sunchokes rewarded me with absolutely stunning yellow flowers last year, which the pollinators all loved. This year, no sign of the vitex. But the sunchokes. Oh.My. Do I have sunchokes. So far, the count stands at Vitex 0, Sunchoke 1,001. (Note to self: Move the rosemary before it gets consumed…)

I planted four Baby Cakes blackberries (shown below) two years ago and they have grown so well that I added another three this year. I also have seven vining blackberries, so I am hopeful we will have an abundance of blackberries in another few years.

Bountiful Blue blueberry, shown below, is a new addition to the garden this spring. I am hopeful I can defy our alkaline soils and grow a decent crop of blueberries.

My original gardens were mostly ornamental, with just a few edible crops tucked in here and there. The transition to a mostly food producing garden is now in its third season and things are going very well. I have had zero regrets…even if it means I now take photographs of my vegetables!

Keep Calm and Garden On. And grow some chard. You won’t regret it!

All photographs taken April 12, 2024, in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.