Fall needs to hurry the hell up and get here!

So, I've been absent for a bit.  This would be because both my phone and my internet became terminally ill on the same day, and I have been fighting to get both up and running for two weeks.


It is a complicated divorce matter.


I will not discuss that here.

What I will discuss is my few veggies managing to grow this summer are now coming pre-cooked.


The cucumbers that are on the vine are not ready to pick but they are turning assorted shades of roasted.  Other than my cucumber, I've only had my jalapeno produce, and I'm not so sure about that one these days.  The pumpkin has all but died.  The herbs are hanging on.  The tomatoes are still not producing.  I'm not entirely sure I'm just watering weeds.  The heat, this unbelievable heat, is worse than last year, and I think I might have seen what bounty I can from my garden.

The beans are gone, although I am sure that was survival of the fittest. (Don't screw with cucumbers.)  My herbs are only hanging on because I water regularly.  (I don't even water my yard.  It's all overgrown weeds and dead grass, but I am sorry I won't waste the water on grass that lets the weeds win.)  My tomatoes are growing like mad but aren't fruiting.  Everything else has pretty much given up.


What do you expect from 120 degree heat?


I'm sure Nevada is laughing its ass off at us right now, but truthfully, as humid and miserable as it can get here, it's not normal that it's so bad that even the plants can't seem to make it through. 

The good thing is last week we got a lot of rain.  A lot of rain.  Rain we weren't even supposed to get.  It was like Mama Nature woke up and realized she forgot to turn on the sprinklers.  It also cooled off for a couple of days.  It was 90 degrees yesterday, and it was bliss!

I know you think I'm crazy for saying that, but trust me, the heat has been so bad that yesterday with its low humidity was actually a very pleasant day in comparison.  That is disturbing, my friends.  Disturbing.

Well, the garden limps along.  A friend heard a report that we are expected to have a late tomato season this year and were advised to not give up on them.  I will let them continue on then.  As for the rest, well, it might be time to cull the herd.  My friend, April, and I decided we're going to put some fall crops in the ground and see what we get.  Things like chard, lettuces, and the like that do better in the last half of the year.  I'm also thinking of building a low cover and seeing if I can't pull off cabbages over the winter months seeing as how it usually isn't too horrible here.  (Watch.  I just cursed us.  We're going to get an ice age.)  I'm still planning on raising honey bees, so y'all might start hearing more about that in the coming months.

I'm saying this because I had a brief moment of wondering what I was going to do during the winter with a garden blog.  Well, I'm moving some of it indoors where it will experience such dangers as cats, possibly a dog, and my inability to remember to water.

Never fear, the adventures shall continue.




____________________
April and I have also decided we are going to plant right after the last frost next year.  Apparently, the normal planting time for Arkansas has shifted as all the people I know who planted early got full crops.  Whether it's a cyclical thing or outright climate change, it's damn annoying.  I wonder if it's making the writers of the "The Old Farmer's Almanac" cry.

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.




___________________
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




____________________
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. 




___________________
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'...




____________________
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...

___________________

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.




____________________
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.




___________________
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*




____________________
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




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