THE FALL IS COMING, the fall is coming. Nothing to worry about, Chicken Little, if the garden’s been planned for enjoyment in all seasons…well, unless you slack off now and let those foxy weeds go to seed and gobble up the whole place. No, no definitive “end” to the season lies ahead, and some of us even feel happy about the coming of slightly quieter, more contemplative times where less obvious garden stars can shine. Peak planting and dividing time is coming up now; make that work include some focus on the addition of fall and winter plants to the landscape. [Read more...]
my september garden chores
someone started the fall cleanup
I SLEPT WITH EXTRA BLANKETS LAST NIGHT, and have worn a hoodie and thick socks all day. Feels like you-know-what. Apparently the “fall is in the air” message got relayed back to the frogpond, too, where this guy started leaf cleanup already–charming, eager helper that he is. If only I had a rake his size. Brrrr-ribbit!
doodle by andre: compliment, or insult?
EVERY ONCE IN AWHILE AN ANDRE DOODLE just makes me want to open up the magic door and look inside that head of his, and see where all of his utterances come from. Fascinating. What’s the backstory on this one, Andre? And what do you all think: Is a mushroom that tastes of dead worms good or bad; compliment or insult? Seems to me even the really expensive ones do indeed hit some funky notes on the tongue, no? Isn’t that what mushrooms are all about?
potatoes for dinner, but not for storage (yet)
IFELT LIKE BAKED POTATOES TO GO WITH the green beans I was steaming up for dinner the other night, and at first lamented I’d forgotten to buy any, and then…aha! Out I went to the potato row, where the foliage is about half-withered, and stuck a hand down into the hilled-up soil to find my prey. Perfect for eating, but not ready yet for storage, it seems, so I’m leaving the rest, minus the occasional supper requirements, right where they are awhile longer. Here’s why, and what I’ll do at harvest time: [Read more...]
doodle by andre: how about them tomatoes?
APPARENTLY MRS. ANDRE’S TOMATOES succumbed to “tiny insect things that will not leave our garden alone,” we hear this week from Himself, who very sweetly shared the actual sympathy postcard he drew for Herself on the occasion of her lost tomatoes. “The tomatoes croaked,” Andre Jordan said in his email, using the precise botanical term for what’s been going on in so many of our gardens: croaking. A lot of things croaked here, too, and maybe a custom postcard would have softened the blow. That Mrs. Andre’s a lucky girl, despite the tomato tragedy, don’t you think?









