I’m blaming a colder than usual winter. That’s one possible excuse for the compost not fully composting, which is an excuse for the random tomato seedlings turning up in random places.
Tomato and Dill
tomato and grass
Tomato and – mums?
It’ll all be irrelevant if we get an early frost, so I’ll just nurture these little strays of mine and maybe I’ll get an extra salad or two.
The short story: Our deck umbrella was impossible to close. The wind picked it up and threw it – tucked it in behind the herbs and the lilac bush.
The much more complete story —
The deck umbrella was uprooted by a gust of wind. It would no longer stay open all the way. Chuck took a roll of black duct tape and repaired the broken piece. That’s good. But now, the umbrella could not be closed. That’s not so good.
A major storm came through town. That’s bad. The wind picked up the umbrella and tossed it. That’s also kind of bad – but only kinda. I like to think the new placement of the large umbrella protected the herbs in their pots from the hail as the second part of the storm raged through the neighborhood.
Umbrella, umbrella.
You can decide. Good or bad?
Note: Chuck made a few adjustments to his repair job, and now we can close the umbrella. We wrap a bungee cord around it so the wind can’t blow up its, er, skirt and take it away. This umbrella’s traveling days are done.
I stumbled upon a suggestion one day – rhubarb BBQ sauce. I looked over the ingredients and said to myself, “Self, we have all of these ingredients in the house, including plenty of rhubarb.” Chuck was skeptical at first, but I made some anyway. He tasted it before I went to the trouble of canning, and he pronounced it good.
This recipe uses a lot of rhubarb. I took a look outside to see how much rhubarb we might have, and if I might have enough to make another batch.
Will there be enough?
I needed at least 8 cups of diced rhubarb. Did I get it? Here’s the after shot.
After picking
I have about 6 and a half cups of diced rhubarb now. The dilemma: do I go back outside to pick right now? Or do I set aside the current harvest, maybe freeze it, until the remainder fills out a bit more? Or – cue the ominous music – do I buy a few large stalks of rhubarb at the Farmers’ Market?
Decisions, decisions.
These guerrilla gardeners are getting creative with their travel methods. This batch came by helicopter.
This one left its helicopter in full view.
This sneaky arrival wanted just a little more thyme. Haha.
Tricky things, those maples.
I won this round. All the mini maples are now in the compost. I will remain vigilant, however. Those guerrilla gardeners can attack at any time.
I showed off the guerrilla walking onions already. They are bigger than ever. I mentioned that sometimes guerrilla gardening can be done intentionally with moss graffiti or seed bombs. I don’t know how this happened.
Me: Honey, is this parsley or cilantro? Chuck: It’s tomatoes.
He was right. There is parsley growing in this pot, but it’s getting overwhelmed with tomatoes. I must have spilled a few seeds or reused a little already-seeded soil.
So what kind of tomato is it?
I’ll help narrow it down. I had seeds for cherry, Roma, and beafsteak tomatoes. I honestly don’t know what kind of tomato decided to sneak itself into my parsley. Readers? Assistance please.
While I wait, I’ll see if that chocolate and peanut butter combination really works.
Oregano the Old
Wow. This oregano is growing.
Sorry, friends. I don’t have an after picture yet. I thought I’d wait until the roots have a chance to settle into their new home.
I will tell you this: the transplanted oregano looks a lot better than the rosemary.
Sigh. Green thumb took a break.
Parsley
Sage
More Parsley
and Thyme
Did you notice? Oh, darn, you did. Readers, the song refrain changed at the O.K. Chorale because the rosemary died. I still need to find a new starter rosemary.
The thyme is recovering. I haven’t killed thyme, at least this thyme. Time.
You should see the oregano!
I finished the laundry! Gee, don’t you wish we could all celebrate simple chores like that?
The truth is, these drawers are done. As the impatiens begin to thrive, they’ll fill their new home and look lovely. The suckers from the cherry tree will be unable to pierce the particle board barrier, so they’ll give up. Bwahahahaha!
Maybe.
Flowers in Drawers
The one on the right looks fine, but on the left – what’s happening?
Leaning left
bunny guarding flowers
The other side looks better. Why? Did I mess it up somehow in the transplant? Did the ceramic bunnies take over the world?
Readers, suggestions are welcome.
It’s amazing to see how some plants will go to any lengths to reproduce. My walking onions are huge this year. Now they’re finally reaching out to make new green onions.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave
Don’t let this deceive you. The bulb, caught in the chicken wire as it is, will not give up and quit. If the bulb doesn’t land on ground, it sends out a shoot with a new bulb. If that bulb doesn’t reach the promised land, it’ll send out another extension. These bulbs were made for walking, alright.
All aboard!
This one, for example, will only need one shoot to get to the fertile soil that awaits. Yeah, yeah, I know the prose goes overboard a little. A lot. Never mind.
Score!
Give it a few weeks. We’ll have green onions galore. Onion soup, anyone?
I have a plan. I plan to repurpose these drawers- old dresser drawers, not the other drawers. Quiet down, peanut gallery.
Drawers, ripe for repurposing
Here’s their eventual home: under the mock cherry tree. Before I set up the drawers and turn them to their new use as planters, I need to clean up the suckers beneath the tree. That’s really what they’re called, peoples. Really.
The flats from Fleet Farm’s garden department, seen on the right, will eventually fill the drawers. That is, they’ll fill the drawers after I get the cherry garbage out of the way.
Eventually, folks, I’ll get there. And when I reach my destination, I’ll share.