Taking stock of the situation, I can’t say the garden I’m looking at lives up to the grandiose visions of tidiness and bounty I envisioned back in May. The thick, fresh bed of seaweed I laid down has mostly receded into the earth. My early vigilance against the incursion of weeds waned a bit, and now a few strongholds have developed, likely housing some of the pests that seem to have found a happy home amidst the bramble. But all is not bleak. The beets have healthy tops, the cherry tomato plants keep churning out sweet drops like small factories, a few golden heirlooms hang heavy in the evening shade, even a couple of hearty buttercups haphazardly populate the grounds. Perhaps it’s unreasonable to expect to attain the standards established by the minds eye.
Things started out smooth as can be following the initial frost scare; the weather cooperated and the plants were fast out of the gate. By mid-June the zucchini was doing its best to turn the garden into a tropical rainforest and the winter squash was executing a tactful blitzkrieg on its neighbors. The seaweed, dry on top, juicy underneath, was keeping the weeds at bay while providing a steady diet for the cast. A healthy population of ladybugs and aphid lions kept the little nasties at bay.
The south side was a different story. It started out bad, and stayed bad, and maybe got worse, some might say ugly. Something needed to be done. You see, the hedge had a couple scrap red maples that went untended for the last several years, probably more. No big deal I thought, they’d provide a nice respite from the burning high summer sun. Wrong. Somehow, and I’m not sure how, these two were able to spread a thick, damp blanket on all of the carrots, lettuce, beets, peas, and cucumbers for the first half of the summer. They hung over the garden like two oppressive beasts. Action had to be taken, and it was. A chainsaw and a well placed fell narrowly missed obliterating the southwest district. Let there be light. Alas, this action was too late; the young ones had been abused for too long, rehabilitation was futile, the damage was permanent. Save the beets, which were able to pick up their skirts and make a dash for the finish line, ending up with healthy tops and sweet beet roots that, once roasted, were candy.
Once August rolled around the fate of the garden was pretty much sealed, for better or worse. As usual the zukes were prolific, maybe too much so. Their exuberant growth made it difficult to catch the fruit when they were ripe for the picking, resulting in behemoths with seeds like tic-tacs. The broccoli was harassed by meaty cabbageworms. What broccoli we did get was deliciously sweet and tender, unfortunately only one of the plants made it to the fall for a second fruiting. The buttercup, as previously stated, promised to produce a cellar of squash. However, like many times prior, the vine borers wreaked havoc, decimating the plants in no time at all. It was sad to see these robust and promising vines have their foundation wither away behind them; they had no chance. Only a few early birds made it to the table, yummy too. The watermelon was a success of sorts. We got fruit, and a blue ribbon form the Ag Fair, but they were not quite what I expected. In the spring I envisioned lumbering giants settled in the earth, unwilling to budge, ready to burst with nectar. The cute softballs, albeit sweet, came up a bit short. The cherry tomatoes, once they got started, didn’t stop, haven’t stopped. These too walked away with a blue ribbon. I love popping cherries as I assess the State of the Garden. The brandywine heirlooms were contenders for the title for my personal best in show, unfortunately they just never caught on. They did come up with a few rich red/purple fruit that were unmatched in depth of flavor and beauty. But the town champs were the bullyish hillbilly’s. Beautiful fruit, golden, delicious, and prolific. Unfortunately the green zebra’s never survived their early trauma, and barely gave a squeak before meekly withering away. The peppers did their thing but I couldn’t say they stood apart from their grocery store cousins. Maybe they’re just not fit for the north, or maybe it’s a bell pepper thing. Now only if the poblanos had a little Yankee blood. The rest of the cast was unremarkable, not making much of an impression. Perhaps they will not make it into next year’s play, we’ll see.
Epilogue: Standing in the garden on this fall day, I contemplate members of the cast that have succumbed to the march of time, recognizing the others will soon follow. Recalling the expectant hours spent sowing these young plants in the spring, I saw a bountiful harvest glowing in the late summer sun. Although this goal was ultimately achieved, the true satisfaction lay in the early summer mornings spent cultivating, tending, watering, and watching the garden grow. I guess you might say it is more about the journey than the destination. Now, the cast recedes into the ground, their final resting place. Like most lives, the end comes quietly.
Fade to black.
Simple Cucumber Salad
The few cukes that made it out of the garden were turned into a vibrant light salad that made the taste buds sing.
Ingredients:
3-4 medium cucumbers, peeled and seeded
1/2 Vidalia onion, grated or minced
1/3 cup rice wine vinegar
1/3 cup sugar
1 tbsp toasted sesame oil
2 tbsp chopped fresh mint
Salt/fresh pepper to taste
Dissolve sugar in oil/vinegar mixture, mix in remaining ingredients. Serve chilled.
