You have to find good things where you can.

Yesterday, we got rain for about twenty minutes.

One lonely cloud passed over and doused us. 

I was having an incredibly bad day what with the soon-to-be-ex finally moving out and it slamming home just how over our marriage is, and it felt nice that for the first time all summer we got the rain and others didn't.  Made me feel special, like that cloud felt sorry for me and said, "Hey, girl, don't worry about being in the sauna-like heat to water your garden today.  I got this."

Of course, it's ridiculous and just a coincidence, but it makes me feel better.

However, if that is what it takes to get rain, it's asking a little much.

Regular posting will resume posthaste.




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Never fear, the tomato and pumpkin drama shall continue.

Didn't even clean my car...

Dear Mama Nature,

The crossroads up the way were wet.

The area passed the light into our neighborhood was soaked.

So, my block of our neighborhood was pretty much ignored.

Once again, I am finding it hard not to take this personal.

                                                                                                       Just sayin',
                                                                                                       Papermasks




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I think the universe should have a suggestion box. 

A season for everything

It turns out that my concern for the lack of fruiting in my tomatoes might be premature.

See, coming from the deep South, I have always known tomatoes to be a early to mid-summer fruit.  The fact that my current tomato crop has come up empty so far had me seriously worried.  Then, a friend suggested that it's entirely possible that it's just too early for them as some tomatoes don't produce until August and the end of the season is mid-October.

That just seemed like crazy talk to me.  I mean, I remember having fresh tomatoes between May and June in Louisiana, and it's plenty hot enough for them here.

But, then, I got to thinking about summer in Louisiana.  There are really only two seasons in the armpit of hell, and those are "hot" and "hurricane".  Summer doesn't really end down there.  I mean, I've spent 90 degree Christmases there.  Oh, sure, they might get a winter, but it's usually gone around February.  (We went down to New Orleans one year in January to visit friends and it was something like 50 degrees.  People were in parkas, and we were in shorts and sandals.)  Consequently, people plant earlier down there, which means the tomatoes will fruit sooner.

Can I get a big old "Duh" to that?

So, yeah, it might just be too early for them.  Same with my eggplant.  Apparently, it is a cooler weather plant.  Okay, that works.  It means I will most likely have fresh maters and eggyplant when my mom comes to visit the week of Labor Day.  (I think I might have to learn to make eggplant parmigian for that occasion.)  Besides, it's so bloody hot out there I keep expecting to find my veggies roasting on the stem, so it's probably good they aren't ready to fruit.

The only problem is these plants are huge.  The tomato plants come to just below my ribcage, and the eggplant is about mid-thigh.  They are damn near trees!  The eggplant seems to be doing okay, although I think it has aphids which I need to make a spray for, but the tomatoes are seriously taking a toll on the stakes to which they are tied.  And, by "stakes" I mean "sticks I found on the back porch".  Now, honestly, I'm thinking they wouldn't do well with plastic stakes either, so I'm thinking I need to cage the suckers before they get away from me.  I was thinking chicken wire, but tomato cages make it easier to harvest.  Decisions, decisions.  I'll have to price them.

Or, maybe I'll just go find some more sticks. 




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Crap.  I just checked on tomato cages and trellises, and you really have to have those when they are little.  So, yep, I get to build some scaffolding to hold them up.  Blah.

Wait just a damn minute...

Okay, so to all you people who claim in a "professional" capacity that plants should be watered with a drip hose or other means where the water only goes to the roots and no other part of the plant, I have a question:

When Mama Nature decides to rain, does she just water the roots of the plants or does she just soak the whole blasted area?

Just askin'...




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I am sorry.  I know Mama Nature has lost her marbles these days, but I still don't see her wandering around with a watering can.  

Possible tragedy in the making

So, my pumpkin is looking a little down in the mouth.  It's been so incredibly hot that it's been hard to keep the plants watered.

Unfortunately, it could be I've over-watered the pumpkin.  Being all knew at this gardening thing, I often forget that different plants require different levels of water.  Unfortunately, I have many a water hog in the garden.  (Cucumbers, I'm looking at you.)  And, let me tell you, when you have a heat index of 107 degrees, you are less inclined to stand out there and measure out who gets how much water when.  You just water it all.  Unfortunately, my pumpkin might be suffering.

The leaves look okay for the most part, and I discovered what look like tiny tap roots along the vine, but I'm starting to notice a disturbing sight close to the main root system: possibly mold.  I say "possibly" because I'm not sure.  I thought that when old leaves died they just died, but these are turning gray, and I'm afraid that I might have given my pumpkin mold.

In an attempt to check this theory and save the vine, I shall not water it for a few days, and will check in the early mornings as the leaves will be slightly wilted if they haven't gotten enough water.  It'll give me a gauge.  

If I didn't just kill it, of course.

Trust me when I say I am doing everything I can to not chew through my fingernails on this.  The pumpkin was the one that started quickly and grew like mad.  I would be horrified if I managed to kill it.  It doesn't help I've seen all of one bee pollinating my garden this year, which means there's a very good chance my pumpkin won't fruit simply because they need that insect interaction.

I am incredibly disturbed by the lack of pollinators, and I'm starting to think it's also the cause of my tomatoes not fruiting.  Yes, I will be raising honey bees.  Our neighborhood gardens demand it!

Either way, I might only get lucky enough to have cucumbers (harvested three more today) and jalapenos.  And, possibly garlic.  The rest?  Well...we'll see...

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Unfortunately, with the divorce and my subsequent depression, I also haven't been tending to the weeds as much.  I tried weeding today.  It was an experience I don't care to repeat.  Next year, the bastards won't even get a chance.

Better than nothing

Well, it was a bit anti-climatic, but we did get some rain.

The way the sky was looking and the wind was blowing and the thunder was thundering you would've thought we missed the memo to build an ark.

Instead, it was a light steady rain for a bit.  Definitely better than nothing, but if that wasn't an example of sound and fury signifying nothing, I don't know what is.




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Maybe it's Mama Nature's version of the tease sneeze.  A tease sneeze is where you can feel a sneeze build up to such epic proportions you'd swear that once it release it will register on the nearest seismograph only to have it retreat into the recesses of your sinuses.  That or Mama Nature has ADD.  

It's not like I was carrying an AK-47

The wind is whipping out there.  The sky is looking ominous.  We've had thunder most of the day.

So, any time it would actually like to do something productive, like, I don't know, rain, would be great!  I mean, seriously, I went out there to check and see if I had any cucumbers ready to harvest and saw this haze in the air all around me.  Normally, I would've thought it was humidity, but it was different, mostly because it was brown.  I honestly think it's dust and dirt kicked up by the wind because we are so very, very dry right now what with not having had rain in three weeks.

Also, it would be nice to not have to stand in the blistering heat to water my garden.  (I have got to get a sprinkler.)

Now, admittedly, as I walked outside, instead of immediately going to the side yard, I stopped at the end of the carport because the strange brown haze had grabbed my attention.  I stood there pondering it for a moment, and then saw a lady carrying her small dog and walking with an intent purpose down the street, probably to get indoors before the heavens opened up.  That's when I became aware of the dagger in my hand.

As much as that sounds like the opening to a murder mystery or my life as a serial killer, there is a perfectly innocent explanation.

See, I have this thing about blades.  I love them.  A lot.  I have near orgasms at the sight of a finely crafted sword or knife.  But, I also believe blades are meant to be used.  I don't go for those decorative pieces of crap that just sit there and pretend to be something they are not.  (A lot like trophy wives.)  This mean, my dagger gets used.  I use it for a number of things, but lately it is the blade that cuts ripe veggies off the plant.  (You never just yank them off as it could damage the plant.  Besides, it only seems polite that if you're going to rob the plant of its fruit the least you can do is cut it cleanly instead of trying to tear it off like a hangnail.)

Of course, it was at that realization that I had my dagger in my hand, not in its sheath, that I quite possibly looked like a lunatic.  So, I quickly hid the knife behind my leg and ran off to the garden.  I hoped that she actually passed in front of my house and saw me in the side yard using the blade to move aside the prickly leaves and vines of the cucumbers to see if any of the vegetables were ready to harvest.  I hoped that she saw that so she didn't think I was actually behind my house cutting up a body and feeding it to the raccoons.  Of course, I didn't dare look up to see if she was passing by because then it just makes it weird, like I'm trying to hide something...

So, I checked my cukes (none were ready yet) and nonchalantly went inside, careful to hide the dagger behind me.

Although, I'm not sure why I care what people think.  It's not like I was covered in blood with an insane gleam in my eye.  I was just kind of staring vacantly at the brown haze in the air...looking a little...

Crap.




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And, yet, I am still not the strangest one in this neighborhood.  

I have a machete and I am not afraid to use it!

Okay, I know this is going to sound stupid before I type it, but I feel the need to share so others don't repeat the mistakes I make.  Besides, if I can't hand out a few laughs at the same time, then what good am I?

So, yeah, let's get this over with.

I didn't know cucumbers climb.

Yes, I know they are vines, but not all vines are climbers  I mean, look at my pumpkin, for instance, could you see it trying the same stunt?  And, honestly, it's the fault of my grandparents.

I know Grandma is looking down at me from the hereafter saying, "Do what now?"  (Probably in Cajun.)

You see, anytime my grandparents grew cucumbers, which was pretty much every year, they just let them spread out on the ground.  So, this is what I thought you did with cucumbers.  (Then again, I was also a kid who was nearly convinced by my grandfather I was born from a pot of gumbo.)  When my cucumbers started their ground spreading, I figured all was right with the world.

Then, they started getting into my beans.  And, by "getting into my beans" I mean grabbing a hold of them with these freaky little tendrils as if they were out to strangle them one stem at a time.  I pointed out to a friend that I didn't understand why my cucumbers were a) trying to murder my beans and b) growing towards the house.

"They are looking for something to climb," she said.

"They're cucumbers," I said.

"Yes?"

"They don't climb," I said.

She looked at me as if I had suddenly sprouted frog legs out of the sides of my head.

I continued to live into denial until I walked into the sun room one day and saw this:

Caaandygram.

Yes, that is one of my cucumbers climbing the screen on the window.  Apparently, no longer happy devouring my beans, it's now after the house.  And, trust me, this isn't the only one I found.  I would go outside to get a better picture of the invasion, but the last time I walked outside while the sun was out, it took me an hour to peel my clothes off as they had all but permanently adhered to my body through sweat and the melting of unnatural fibers.

Of course, it could be that's why they are climbing the house.  It may not be some primal need to climb more than they are actually trying to come into the house to get out of the blast furnace that has become our summer.  I can't say that I blame them.

However, I will say:

KEEP A KNOCKIN' BUT YOU CAN'T COME IN!  KEEP A KNOCKIN' BUT YOU CAN'T COME IN!


*dances away*




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Of course, it might be a bad idea to tease them like that seeing as how they have tried to grow under the sun room as well, which makes me think they're going after the A/C unit on the other side.  If they can't have A/C, no one can...

At least I was nice about it

Dear Mama Nature,

My garden is panting, and the only time I can find it bearable to water it is at dusk.  I don't suppose you could find it in your heart to turn on the A/C now, huh?  Spontaneous combustion of vegetation or humans might be funny as hell to watch, but it's kind of a bummer.

                                                                                                              Thanks,
                                                                                                              Papermasks




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I'm pretty Mama Nature is just a big ten-year-old holding a magnifying lens in the sun.

At least I'll get a lot of pickles this year

I went today to get some neem for my tomatoes as something is eating the blossoms before they can fruit.  I haven't found anything else wrong with the plants.  I mean they are about three feet tall.  There is no reason they shouldn't be bearing fruit by now.  Well, the nursery was out of neem, but the nice gentleman who helped me suggested this other stuff.  It appears to be a hormone to help the blossoms.  Unfortunately, it wasn't until I got it home that I realized that it was also a pesticide.  Now, see, I've been avoiding such things, but since I already bought it, I figured I'd try it to see if it works.  If not, there is a homemade organic spray I'm going to make and try.

I'll try to get a good pic of the tomatoes later, but here is my garden in general.

Still not dead!

You can see the tomatoes way in the back.  But, what I would like you to take notice of is the huge section of green on the right hand side near the house.

That would be the cucumbers.  Inside that jungle of leaves is part of the row of bush beans.  I mentioned in my last post that I have tried very hard to convince the cucumbers they want to grow the other direction, but they are definitely not listening.  So, yeah, I don't see a lot of beans this year.

However, I have gotten this:

Ta-da!

My first beautiful, lovely, delicious cucumber!  I was checking some of the baby cukes I've seen, and was shocked to find this guy hiding under the leaves.  I immediately wanted to slice it up and eat it with a dash of salt, but my need to show it off to my friends is holding me back.  (Hey, we are all attention whores in our own way.)

Apparently, the cucumbers are enjoying this godawful heat.  I have three more that are close to ready.  Funnily enough, one of them is round and about the size of a baseball and another looks like a gourd.  I'm not sure what would cause a cucumber to distort into another shape, but I'm hoping the oddness continues.  I want to put them out in a big bowl on the dining table when I have friends over as proof that my innate weirdness is even contagious to my plants.  There's something inherently satisfying to know that one's own weirdness actually warps the world around her.

I knew there was a reason I was put on this earth.




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A lady at the nursery suggested that it could be the fact that it's over 75 degrees at night that could be doing a number on my tomato blossoms and could be why my pumpkin isn't fruiting since they just aren't getting a chance to cool down.  I keep telling everyone the sun is evil, but do they listen?  Noooooooo...

It hasn't turned into a mass veggie graveyard yet...

So, while this blog is only a few days old, I spent that time putting in all of my entries about the garden into my hand-written journal.  I've not caught up to present day, thankfully.

The last entry was nearly two months ago, and there are good reasons for it.

Our marital breakdown took a serious turn for the worse.  I lost my job.  I nearly lost half my family to the Joplin, MO tornado.  In order to keep my own sanity and protect myself, I was forced to actually file for the divorce I still do not want, completely sacrificing my integrity and moral views on the subject.

Needless to say, there has been a great deal of deep depression and anxiety that has made it nearly impossible for me to function beyond job hunting.  Some days, just getting out of bed was a major accomplishment.

I'm still not at my best, but I am improving.  The job search continues and is getting nail-bitingly frustrating.  I have got to find a job.  I've applied to thirty places last month alone (although I can only find the confirmations of twenty-four for some reason).  I need money, sure, but I also just want to be working again.  Hopefully, something will give soon.

On a brighter note, the garden is doing well.  There have been some confirmed casualties: the onions and the chard.  I thought the bell pepper didn't make it, but I appear to have at least two little plants coming up.  I've harvested two jalapeno peppers and a handful of beans so far.  The jalapeno seems to be the most prolific.  The basil is happy, and the tomatoes are huge although I've seen no fruit on them yet.  The pumpkin is trying to take over the garden, and the cucumbers have decided for some unknown reason to grow into the beans and try to come into the house.  I've tried to keep them out of the beans, but they are stubborn, so I may just not have much in the way of beans this year.  A few days ago, I planted cloves of garlic bought from the store where the chard was and in the corner I left empty for the pumpkin to have growing room, which it promptly ignored.  So far, I'm happy with it, even if I did screw up the leeks.  (That's for a whole other post.)

Either way, I continue to have my good days and bad, but the constants that I've experienced that have kept me afloat are my family, my friends, my garden, and God.

I can't say I'd want it any other way.




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I am rather concerned about my thyme suddenly rising from the dead.  Apparently, I didn't contain my undead mint quickly enough, and even worse I didn't think about it when I put the thyme in the garden.  I'll just have to watch it carefully and look for any signs that it's munching on neighborhood children.