Heirlooms

At the beginning of the season I bought some heirloom tomato plants. I watched the tomatoes as they went from green to less green to a soft yellow and got larger and plumper, full of the sun’s heat. On the day a large yellow beauty was just about ready for picking, I went outside but couldn’t find it. I couldn’t find two others, either, that were on the verge of ripeness. What could have happened to them?

My initial thought was those wascally wabbits or perhaps the ubiquitous squirrels were at it again (I didn’t have any peaches this year again!) but I didn’t see any evidence that they might leave – no half eaten tomatoes, no splotchy seeds on the ground, no broken stems. Besides, the tomatoes were growing fairly high off the ground. It would take a good jumper to get at them. Could a person have taken them? I recently read in the NY Times that urban gardens are the target of veggie thefts. But this is not a city garden. It is also pretty insignificant and in a secluded place. Who would have discovered it? Besides, if someone had asked I would have been happy to share.

There is something delightful about eating something picked moments before and I felt annoyed that I was deprived of this. My husband’s parents were wonderful gardeners. I remember how we all picked corn at the moment they were ready and ran to the kitchen to toss them into the pot of water that was already boiling and waiting. No corn ever tasted better.
I looked at the tomatoes I had picked yesterday and today. There were three sizes - a Papa tomato, a Mama tomato and a wee baby tomato, like the three bears. I put them on a silver tray that was handed down in the family; heirloom tomatoes on an heirloom tray. Ah. Perspective kicked in. How lucky I have been. I smiled. At last I could put aside my annoyance. I hoped that whoever/whatever took the heirlooms at least enjoyed them. And perhaps those tomatoes were shared with the family, whether animal or human.

Rose of Sharon

I lived in the city when I was growing up. There wasn’t much room for growing things in the summer. My backyard consisted mainly of a paved driveway and a small slab of concrete, room enough for a couple of chairs that were never sat on. The tiny plot of grass was home to an outdoor clothes dryer. By contrast, the front of my house seemed almost lush. There were rows of white, purple and red portulacas on either side of the walkway leading to my house, a few hedges, and an exuberant Rose of Sharon shrub. Each time I left the house, the flowers would surprise me. They were so out there, bursts of pink that greeted the day and lasted until they closed and fell at night. They didn’t seem to mind that they were growing in a limited space or that they were far from their tropical roots. Each day was new and they made the most of it.

Now I have my own Rose of Sharon. It was a gift from my daughter’s in-laws who have a yardful at their home. They warned us, though, that it can take over. They were right. We remove any outcroppings we see around the bush but somehow the seeds made their way to the rear of our yard and they are now challenging the privets we have back there. It doesn’t seem to matter that they supposedly prefer full sun (they are in full shade) or that they like well-drained soil (we have marl that can be quite swampy). Sometimes they need reining in but I can’t help admiring them for their joie de vivre.

It is a boost to my spirit whenever I see them. There are so many reasons in our world to focus on the negative, to allow joy to withdraw or wither. These bushes thrive no matter what and express themselves in beauty and persistence. They are a vibrant life-force, as enticing as I remember. Seems like a good example to follow.

Being a member of the hibiscus family, Rose of Sharon is easy to grow. Take a look:
http://treesandshrubs.about.com/od/commonshrubs/p/RoseofSharon.htm

The Heat’s On

Last week we had a tiny bit of rain. It was so welcome but it didn’t add up to much and the garden was still panting with the heat. I took a photo of the leaves on the Flowering Plum tree just to document that we had some rain, little though it was. And then there was yesterday. Out of the blue, literally as the sky had been cloudless and the sun brilliant, gray clouds started to gather. Low rumbles could be heard. And then – BOOM – a flash of lightening, a loud bang of thunder, and the sky became a waterfall. The rain overwhelmed the gutters and cascaded down along the perimeter of the house. The water slooshed over driveways, flooded the sidewalks, pounded hard on unsuspecting plants. Then it started to ping against the siding. The raindrops now alternated with hail, small, hard ice balls, which grew larger as the storm continued. Crack. Ping. Splat. The percussion section in a weather symphony.

We were standing by our front door watching the concert and noticed the neighbors across the street and some down the block were doing the same. One of our neighbors pulled up in his pickup and made a mad dash for his porch. When things started to calm down, he took an umbrella and splashed his way across the lawn to check on his plants. I wondered how our tomatoes had fared. Had they been squashed? One was almost ripe – I wished I had picked it and let it finish ripening on my kitchen counter.

All-in-all the rain, even with the unexpected hail, was welcome. The rain gauge registered 1 ½ inches. Yay. Today the grass that had not succumbed to during the various heat waves was smiling green. And the temperature went from the low nineties to the mid seventies and way less humid. Breathing weather.

Nature has been so different this year, all around the globe. Extreme. So has the world of humans. Revolutions, disagreements, political disputes, economic challenges pretty much everywhere. Is this a chicken and egg issue or coincidence? (I can here the shouts of those who believe there is no such thing as a coincidence.) Things certainly have heated up on a grand scale. I wonder how we can all find some breathing weather for life in general.

Trenton, NJ, set a record with 108 degrees, Alaska with 97 degrees. Wow.http://www.ouramazingplanet.com/50-states-set-july-hot-weather-records-1812/

I Kissed the Hibiscus

It’s hibiscus season again. The plants in my backyard (and side yard as shown) are in full, incredible bloom! I have seen various flowering plants – I understand there are over 200 varieties – but each year these come up with blossoms that knock my socks off. It’s quite a display for a plant whose name means “delicate beauty.” Perhaps that refers less to the physical characteristics of the hibiscus than to its essence. Lots of benefits have been ascribed to the hibiscus.

Have you ever had hibiscus tea? I must have. It’s pretty hard not to have tasted it. Hibiscus is in lots of herbal teas and comes available with blueberry, coconut, vanilla, pineapple, even sangria flavors among others. Yogi Tea, Tazo, Republic of Tea, Stash, even Lipton all have hibiscus varieties.

Have you shampooed with the flower? I haven’t but it is tempting. It supposedly nourishes hair and slows premature graying (a little late for me, there). I wonder if it colors the hair. This might be something to experiment with.

Have you eaten hibiscus? No, not yet, though I have eaten nasturtiums. I’ve been reading that the flowers can be added to salads, is available as hibiscus honey and syrup, and can be made into tea at home.

Have you used hibiscus medicinally? Can’t say I have. This needs looking into. The plant has a long history of medical use. Claims have been made for its use as an antioxident, as a help in keeping the digestive tract functioning regularly, can help in weight loss, etc. There’s quite a long list of healthy possibilities.

Have you kissed a hibiscus flower? I did yesterday, in appreciation. What a pleasure to have this dazzling plant growing in my yard. I kissed the hibiscus not because of its useful values, which seem to be extensive, but because of its nature. It is what it is and can be appreciated on many levels. Even on the most obvious one – its delicate beauty.

What does hibiscus mean? http://www.flower-meaning.info/hibiscus.php

The Garden State

Around this time of year I am really happy to be a resident of New Jersey. We have such incredible produce. New Jersey tomatoes, corn, and blueberries are abundant. Of course there are early asparagus and strawberries, and then lettuce, broccoli, garlic, eggplants, cucumbers, spinach, peaches, apples, cherries, pears, plums, and more. Later come the cranberries and pumpkins. There are lots of pick-your-own farms, some organic, for the freshest produce possible and even more farm markets for the next best thing. And more supermarkets are carrying local produce from farms around the state.

This year we planted tomatoes, three different Jersey varieties, in my side yard. Yesterday I harvested the first one! It was warm in my hand as I gently tugged it off its stem. It felt as if I was holding sunshine. The watermelon vine we planted at the same time is slowly snaking its way around the plot which already seems way too small for it; if it produces viable fruit, next year we will offer its successor more space. We are learning, going back to our roots, so to speak. After all, our house sits on what was once a potato field.

One of the state nicknames is The Garden State, well earned I believe. There are others to reflect different times in the state’s history and development, not always flattering. But then everything is flexible, even states. People change, society shifts, culture moves along. I seem to have as well, from former city girl to harvester of Jersey tomatoes, in my New Jersey garden. Nice.

More historic nicknames for New Jersey: http://www.netstate.com/states/intro/nj_intro.htm

Mama Mallard

Meet Mama Mallard with two of her four beautiful ducklings. They live on a pond in the midst of a townhouse development, across from a shopping mall. They were strolling near a backyard patio oblivious to me and the others sitting there. Or rather unconcerned with us; I guess they are used to having people around. I spoke softly to her, complimenting her on her lovely family. She waddled over and looked at me. Then the ducklings came, too, and scrambled around the tile and pulled at the grasses on the edge. They settled in for a little nap on a tuft of grass about five feet away. Mama Mallard was vigilent while the babies slept. And then it was time to move on. Mama started walking and quietly quacked. The babies roused and followed her in single file. Papa Mallard joined them, his green head glistening with iridescence and his body language showed pride.

“Congratulations,” I called out. I got a “Quack” in response. “You’re the Duck Whisperer,” said one of my patio companions. “They were responding to you!”

It wasn’t the first time other beings have responded to soft talk: a llama in Machu Pichu, seagulls on the beach, a rabbit in my backyard. Why shouldn’t they? We talk to our pets and expect them to respond. I think all creatures respond to gentle intention. Babies certainly do, why not ducklings? The language may be foreign but the way something is said, the tone and spirit, we all can understand. Gentleness and respect work wonders. Wouldn’t it be great if we remember that when we speak to each other?

Fun notes about Mallards - for the kid in all of us:
http://www.ducksters.com/animals/mallardduck.php

Sunflowers - I Hope

I guess it was inevitable that we have sunflowers in our backyard. We buy black oil sunflower seeds for our visiting birds. Their table manners are questionable and there is a carpet of shells and some discarded seeds underneath the feeders, which is where this little one is growing.

There is irony here. We have planted seeds in the past in various parts of the garden with all expectations of exuberant, large, enticing flower but they were always decimated by our local critters before we got one full blossom. So we stopped trying. Now, of its own accord, a sunflower is growing. It must like the soil better than that in our garden though it seems that sunflowers are not all that difficult to grow. And there are many varieties from giant to mini.

Perhaps it is better this way. We appreciate the flower all the more for its survival. The flower, with petals so cheery it’s hard not to smile when I see it, is a treat in itself. And then there are the seeds - who hasn’t crunched a seed or two or more (lots more)? I hope this one makes it to full, seed expression. But even if it doesn’t I know that it is helping to the backyard community. It has my good wishes for a healthy, seedful life.

Have any recipes to share?

All about sunflowers:
http://www.gardenersnet.com/vegetable/sunflowr.htmSome nutrition facts about the seeds: http://vegetarian.lovetoknow.com/Sunflower_Seeds_Nutrition