Breath

The breath of autumn is now well upon us. It scatters the leaves as well as my mind, and puts the quick into my step. As in life and age, autumn has a way of shifting the unimportant away. In our cold clime that first freeze can be an icy slope. One descends from warmth to frozen in a day or two. No lollygag of a New York City autumn -there is terminus.

The paper wasps have finally crawled deeply into buildings and the ants have long left the work atop their mounds. There is a grasshopper on the garage wall, but no longer in the garden. Flies find their way in as do lady beetles and what remains of the mosquito swarm has descended into the basement stairwell.  A woolly bear and a large wood spider hastened from the unfinished studio. A week ago I heard the frog's last chirp.

Last week we had our first frost, and tonight, should the skies clear, we will have our first freeze. We can now accept bringing in plants, out of sympathy for them, as we do with our pets. Will the lantana come in? Will the begonia tubers be saved? Should I unearth the rosemary and pot it?

Despite better planning, the fall vegetables have not gone as hoped. Cauliflower was a wash, and the broccoli too. Green beans just a week or two too late and nibbled. Brussels sprouts have more leaf than sprout thus far. Spring planted broccoli continues to flourish. Eggplants always do better until they just can't and I have yet to harvest the majority of potatoes.

 

Although it is nearing winter (it comes earlier here), there are still several outdoor projects to complete. I need to replace a porch balustrade, cedar plank the utility room landing and replace several mossy and rotted plank ends on the porch. There is a window frame to repair -it should not go another winter, but it is on the second floor and I don't prefer ladders. A brick walkway has remained a gravel trench. The gutters continue to fill with leaves -this can wait, but not beyond snowfall. Warmer temperatures are required to apply a second coat of paint to the alcove where siding, sill, and door were replaced by the height of summer. The studio has much remaining, but there is now power and today the concrete contractor is placing the insulation foam. Progress. Should I call the mudjacker for the sidewalk that cants to the house? Is there time? Is there money?

Summer Solace

One of the benefits of getting to one's vegetable garden first, before summer's work begins in earnest, is not having to think about the garden at all when you are knee deep in summer's work. It grows itself, mostly, with an intensity only paralleled by the solstice's long day. 

  

One of the beauties of growing garlic is that it's harvest hardly coincides with any garden task other than weeding. By now, the first of the garlic is near completely exhumed (briefly hesitated to dredge up this word), and like any darkling, it mustn't be cast into the bright light. The first pulling is in the shade of the porch, but the full harvest is likely to be dispatched to the cellar. Here, in the midst of harvest, is Xian, a Turban strain, and one of the best for flavor and earliness. Turban's lodge, or fall over, as a way of telling unsuspecting gardeners that they need help -getting out of the ground.

At about the same time sizeable beaks are swirling above the Asiatic strains -here Asian Tempest and Japanese. These will be harvested next, not long after the Turban strains, and sometimes before.

Meanwhile the Porcelain strains have had their scapes (flowering stalk) cut, ready to be pickled or grilled or sauteed or...just don't leave them in the fridge too long before doing something with them. Behind the Porcelain are the Rocambole (shorter in the middle) and Purple Stripe. 

The French Grey shallots have also been pulled. I find that the height of the crabgrass is a useful indicator for timing the shallot harvest. Left behind are the Artichoke and Silverskin strains, those hardy bulbs that we use through next winter and deep into the following spring. 

When the the crabgrass first sprouts, it's the best time to get your peppers in, but I didn't heed the crabgrass this season. No, I put the peppers in a couple of weeks early -listening to the lambsquarters maybe. They're doing fine anyways, although I do think they are showing a little too soon.

Broccoli? Yes! And from seed no less. In spring? Yes! And no cabbage moths to boot. A quick, small-headed variety seed-started on May one and hardly two months later boom -broccoli. Go figure. I've got some of those very same starts in their deep cells holding back growth inside the greenhouse. They'll be put into the garlic beds as they clear.

Green beans? Not so fast. I seed-started these in the greenhouse on May one and planted them out a two or three weeks later. Nice flowers, no beans yet.

Cucumbers before June 21? Why, yes. I purchased a cell pack of four Spacemaster cukes from Shady Acres and planted them in pots raised well off the ground.

They won't ever reach the ground, that's why they're called spacemaster. They do put on an impressive display of cucumbers and have produced a handful of medium sized eaters before the solstice. I've seeded my own, too, to replace these after they give up.

Tomatoes, well that's asking a lot, isn't it? But among our six strains (of three varieties -plum, grape, and, uh, heirloom beefsteak?) these grape tomatoes, called Red Pearl, are way good producers.

 

In fact the deer are warming up for BBQ season by snacking on our Speckled Roman plum tomatoes. I grew these at the Beach Farm, and deer aside, expect them to do really well here.

Dill, cilantro, basil, and at the very bottom, cutting lettuce. In the background -common milkweed that has grown in this spot for eons, or at least since this house was built, so maybe the late nineties. Infringing on their bed are the potatoes. They are so big they require their own post. Look for that.

Vegetable Early June

The vegetable garden, June 4. Peas growing in the same bed with broccoli and recently planted romaine lettuce. I had so many lettuce starts that I plunked them into nearly every bed. The next bed is green beans and a spot for upcoming chard seedlings. Third row has eggplant, peppers, and a basil patch. The following two rows are Red Pearl grape tomatoes (same as last year and magnificent), five Speckled Roman paste tomato plants, and four heirloom types that includes Striped German and Brandywine and two others I cannot recall. Our starts were from Shady Acres Herb Farm or started in our own greenhouse.

The curving garlic bed is new this year (well, tilled last November). The garlic is doing well although a little tightly planted. Doing really well is the Chesnok Red -a Purple Stripe variety. This one is said to do very well but I couldn't have said that in the past.

Here are our potatoes -five varieties including russets, golds and reds. They grow several inches each day. I am about to add compost to "hill up" inside the framed bed. More garlic to the right, and French Shallots as well. To the left is our herb bed that includes basil, dill, cilantro, parsley, thyme, oregano, arugula and cutting lettuce. I'm anticipating a productive garden and feel better about its organization over last year. When the garlic is harvested around late June, early July, I will add our late summer-early fall crops of broccoli, cauliflower, brussel sprouts, and kale. In the background are cucumbers in pots, a remnant bed of dead nettle and common milkweed, and the curving hedge of hydrangea that we transplanted from the south side of the house last year.

Potential

Finally, there's little to do in the garden, but look around and wait. The weeding is low, the summer planting all done, spring's harvest complete. To eye the garden without a sense of work is a relief.

It has been a galloping year with the beginning of a distant, small farm, two solo painting exhibits, teaching, the day job, and somehow the notion that all this can be blogged. The beach farm an island, now, away from all those activities, its potential transferred from sea into air into mind at most a loping amplitude. 

So, we watch tomatoes.

Milano plum.

Speckled Roman.

San Marzano.

Indigo Rose (black, blacker, blackest. Ripe?)

Pineapple, Hillbilly, or Brandywine I cannot say.

Black Krim.

Black Russian.

Beam's Yellow Pear and yellow wilt.

Miniature White cucumbers.

Milkweed that survived the whack job.

Those that did not.

Foeniculum vulgare. The sweetest young greens you can imagine.

White eggplant.

Larry's leftovers broccoli (I can never take all that he has, but would if I could).

A small patch of Nantes carrots.

And our small patch of the ocean.

The Seeds Of Summer

Fall crops are best for those vegetables that require cooler air to turn them sweet. But no reason not to give in to lettuce and other greens, too. And I'm giving bulbing fennel another whirl. Good luck finding vegetable starts at any nursery in late July or early August. You have to seed these yourself. And it's just harder to start seeds in summer. It's hot, it's dry, the pests are lying in wait, and you've planned your vacation for the middle of July. It's all too easy to get discouraged.

For me this means that the lettuce seeds just refused to sprout. Too hot is that bed. Ok, fine, 55-60 days says this is early. The broccoli and cauliflower did sprout, but first were ravaged by a digging squirrel and now, what remains, is being gouged by cabbage worms.

I re-seeded the overturned broccoli and these are now up (again) and I flicked the green worms to their jelly graves this morning. What's next? Our camping trip to Maine. Who will be the guardian of our seedlings then? I may just bring them indoors and have our cat sitter sit for them too.

Hurricane Haul

 It was eight am. No stop, no tolls.

 Tilden was wide open, with just a few characters hustling toward the shore.

But I went for these. The german stripe has been a disappointment this year and there was no way I was going to allow these two fall to the storm. Bad picture, good fruit. I also picked one that had the slightest blush of yellow on the bottom, where the germans start to ripen first. The remaining greens were left to fend for themselves, including a new flush of brandywine and black russians.

These were my second concern. Plums are determinate, meaning they set fruit in one or two flushes. I had hoped flush one had ripened, but I was forced to pick them a pale blush. I left the greens knowing a strong gale may drop them from the vine, much as what seemed the earthquake had done the other day. Truly, a mysterious pile of greens under the bush the morning after the quake.

I hate picking fruit before ripe, and there are camps on the practice of picking, I know. I would have left these another week.

The haul. Several carrots, a pile of semi-red plums, green beans of course, a few eggplants, mysterious and small self-dropping poblanos, parsley, basil, and those two giant striped germans. The basket is always full.

In other beach farm news...It's about to be a tropical storm. We expect some flattening. We expect to pull the green beans after the storm. They will be replaced by surviving broccoli starts.

This is the broccoli I purchased last week in Maine and planted this past Wednesday. I decided not to tent them despite the cabbage moths fluttering around. The gale will whip the tent and the tent will whip the broccoli to tatters. They can flatten and survive better on their own.

The cukes were pulled on Wednesday, and now that the wind is about to blow it appears the right decision. In their place, newly planted snap peas, which have not risen yet, and are hopefully waiting out the storm.

Incidentally, next to the flowering cilantro are all the carrot thinnings I attempted to transplant. While they looked pretty sickly at first, they now appear well-adjusted and healthy.

This one is healthy too thanks to the feast of parsley and carrot tops. It appeared that this swallowtail had just emerged, and was clinging without much movement to the fence post. Good luck little buddy.

Rain Date With Broccoli

We spent the day at the beach farm, alas, no photos. We're still hauling in green beans by the quart, eggplants left and right, and carrot season has descended upon us (fat orange tops poking above the black earth). I've never had luck with carrots before, but I gather some things do get better with age. 

We pulled the cucumbers after harvesting 3 or 4 worthy remnants and planted snap pea seeds in their place. The paste tomatoes are ripening, but are not there yet. The others are producing one here, one there, with the exception of the cherries, which always provide. 

I planted 9 broccoli plants and 6 cauliflower, which I found in Maine of all places. I did get to have a moment with the grower-seller lamenting how impossible it is to find starts in the NYC metro region in August for fall planting, how August in Maine is the best time because of the temps, the blueberries, the lack of bugs, and now is even more so because I know I can find brassica starts for planting in NYC. The way life should be. 

I bought 24 plants. What was I thinking? I planted 15, gave away 6 and housed the rest in their containers, set into the farm soil.

This was our view, and lighting, when we arrived last rainy Monday.

And this our tent about to rise.

And here the two bundles we bought for two fifty each, money placed in the can at the driveway.

The tent, the next morning, bright white fog in place, still raining...

Pea And Broccoli Pull

I pulled the broccoli and transplanted the remaining small plants to the fall-season broccoli bed. It was also time to pull the peas, although I was hesitant because they were still producing. But, it was now or never for the paste tomatoes, which were growing stiff and yellow in little pots. 

I was hungry, at the beach farm long after my intended stay, and I was fortunate to have every last snow and snap pea, and some pea flowers and leaves to feed on. As it turned out, the peas had become the target of aphids, which helped me feel better about pulling them.

Although I munched almost thoughtlessly, I noticed tiny, suspended eggs on one pod.

And then on a leaf, along with an aphid or two, more eggs. The peas had become a weakened host, and I was glad to let them go.

Beach Farm Morning

I am now beginning to curse the peas for continuing to produce. Tomatoes. Tomatoes. Tomatoes.

We get a handful or two each time we visit. Chard is pumping out the leaves now. And, I've decided to wrap up the broccoli for the season.

Despite the side shoots, and this lone central head yet to fully emerge.

I've released the broccoli from its tent, baring all to the sun and passers-by who wondered what ugly offspring could have needed to be covered so. Lay all the eggs you want, cabbage moths! By this weekend, or maybe Monday, Poblano seedlings I started two weeks ago will be in this bed, and an eggplant or two, and a hot pepper of some kind or another. And the other beds retro-fitted for green bean seeds.

The tomatoes are putting on some growth now, beginning to rise to the first run of netting. When we get back, I expect, the tomatoes will be at least twice as tall. 

I left for the farm around 6:45 am so that I could test the system, particularly the overheads, while no one was at the farm. Sour luck, the before work crowd was there. I waited till they were off, and tested, tested, tested.

Outside of imperfect coverage, it generally works. The overheads are needed for broadly seeded beds where dribbling emitters would be tedious. Herbs like parsley, the greens, the seeded carrots, and leeks are all good examples. Each tomato has its own in-line emitter -that works well, and was easy.

Refreshing on a hot day.

A Word About Spring Broccoli

Yum.

But it's not as good as fall broccoli. Or, at least, my spring broccoli is not as good as my fall broccoli. But for warm weather broccoli, this is good broccoli, so don't go getting on my case, cause this is good broccoli is all I'm sayin, just not as good as in the fall, in which I hope it does well, and becomes really good fall broccoli.

This is my first successful seeding and growing of Brassica oleracea 'piracicaba,' a purportedly warm-weather loving broccoli with small heads and multiple side shoots. Its head character is loose with large green buds, and the taste surprisingly sweet although its appearance and the warm weather tell you it should be otherwise.

The head, above, after being cut from the stalk. It takes a minute before you excuse the broccoli for not having tight, firm broccoli-type heads.

Developing side shoots a week after the initial cut.

The cabbage moth caterpillars like broccoli too, which is why most of my broccoli is under tent. This particular plant never budded last fall, survived under snow cover, and continued growing this spring. So far, no bud development, but it had caught the attention of an egg-laying cabbage mother. I watched her flutter to this plant, bend her abdomen under just so lightly and lift off -it's a split second of activity. She then flutters directly to the other tented broccoli, flapping around it awhile -trying to figure it out? Then moves on to the other tent.

And works her way around the tent to the weakness in its defense. The moths know that the broccoli is under these tents -they must be able to smell it! She lights upon the leaf for just an instant, then flutters away as I pretend to give chase.

There were more moths at the beach farm in April than are there now, and, in fact, this is the first cabbage moth I have seen in quite a while. I well assume they are on the rise now, one of a few generations in each growing season. The key, if not tenting (which has its drawbacks), is to time the broccoli head development for the time between moths and hungry caterpillars. If you can figure that out, you'll get my full respect. Or, maybe you will just deal with the dark green poop, white cocoons, and little green worms hidden in the buds. I, for one, cannot.

Beach Farm Bugs, Plantings

We've had a excess of grubs, and then a flurry of these wasps buzzing around, low to the ground, never quite landing. On my return the next day, it was cool and cloudy, and the wasps were gone. Until I started digging. Then I would find them on the surface of the soil, seemingly stunned, often wanting to dig themselves back in. My instinct is that these wasps are here for the grubs. I thought maybe that they were the adult of the grub, but nixed that idea in favor of feeding or laying eggs on the grubs. And since they appeared to have little interest in us, I was pleased they were around should they take out some grubs.

The camera picked up the hairiness, that I was not able to make see.

Of course, click on the image for much larger hairy wasp.

The grubs that I believe are responsible for some lost plants.

These images are from last Sunday, what seems to have been the last of the cool days of spring if weather forecasts are accurate for the coming days. I hearing 90; I'm sure you've heard it too. Ninety has me concerned for the irrigation is yet to be installed, the peas are in their prime, the tomatoes have just been planted, and the broccoli under the heat-increasing tent. Ninety is too much, too fast, and it well seems that the weather has turned on the heat with a switch. Remember last June, it was well in the 90s and little rain for nearly a month. At least we've had rain.

The arugula and asian greens performed poorly this year. I got them in early, yet they didn't move, then it was coolish and rainy and yet they bolted. The red mesclun has not bolted, but hasn't taken off either. All have tasted good, if now a little bitter or spicy. They will be pulled if the weather heats up as they're saying.

The tomato support system has attracted some beach farm attention, no one being quite sure what I was doing, although one farmer did admire that I was using a tape measure. His garden is also quite orderly. I had one broccoli doing quite well from last year's winter crop. Even though I had to plant the tomatoes, I just pushed one snug up against the broccoli.

A view of the garlic from our neighbor's plot. I will not be able to get this shot this summer as he has planted corn. We're sure he didn't give much thought to planting tall-growing corn on the northern edge of his plot, which will shade part of ours. We decided to place a path on our southern border to mitigate any shade gardening. Otherwise, it shouldn't matter all that much -broccoli will be planted where the garlic is now.

I started some seeds on Wednesday! Foolish as it is, I've planted peppers and eggplant. These plants like warm soil temps for germination, and we'll have that. The question is whether or not they will grow rapidly enough to be planted at the beach farm successfully. I've planted some new seeds -poblano peppers and various basils, but I've also planted some very old seeds, maybe 14 years old. I had some New Mexico Chile, Italian Sweet Peppers (Corno di Toro) and two varieties of heirloom eggplant -all old Shepherd's Seeds. Will they sprout, survive, take off? I love a good experiment. If they don't, I'll find some starts which I intend to plant where the tented broccoli is, sometime before we depart for Minnesota this June.

We have a visitor in town, keeping me from the work. But on the other hand, we attended Carnegie Hall last night to see friend Marouan Benabdallah give his debut recital. But today, I must farm, must roll out the irrigation pipe. I believe in irrigation. And sunscreen.

Beach Farm Bugs, Rapture

Today we ate our first snap peas, not our last.

The broccoli tent is exploding with growth and I steel myself against taking off the cover.

Inside it's snail heaven, and being heaven, I suppose they need not eat, because they're not.

I reduced the leek rows from four to three, transplanting into the places where we lost leeks.  

When I dug out this leek, out came the grub in the same shovelful. The leek's leaves just fell away. I do not know what these larvae become, other than some form of bug or beetle, but they seem to be wreaking the most damage at the farm. I now blame them for the cut down broccoli and the wilting, cut down young chard. We find these wherever we dig, and I presume the snow cover helped more survive than usual.

I went over to the untended plot and thought about grabbing some asparagus tips, but I noticed these eggs. Click on these photos for much bigger images.

Then I realized there's a lot of reproduction going on.

Name that beetle. Please say asparagus beetle, because it was only on that, in numbers, and the name rings a bell.

We headed to the beach after 5 hours pulling weeds, building tomato trellis, repairing Federal fences, thinking of the rapture. It was all the talk, while everyone worked hard on their plots, sure in their actions, if not in their words.

And a wedding was held on the beach today, happy and hopeful.

And Betsy and I felt thankful that we could spend another day on this earth, rapt as we are with it. And since there will be a tomorrow, I'll plant all these tomatoes at the beach farm.

Should Be Farming

My plan was to hit the beach farm today, but I simply could not get my act together enough to finish an application for a residency program last night. Post-mark deadline today, I will be desk-bound until I am finished. In lieu of going today, I will post some pictures from last Saturday's beach farm visit which in all the busyness never got posted.

I hope you can see how the front broccoli tent is ballooning out. That is because the broccoli is getting quite large. The back tent broccoli was planted 2 weeks later than the front and are much smaller. I now see the benefit of planting out earlier -despite slow green growth at first, strong roots develop and then speedy green growth when the temperature warms.

I released the stakes tying the whole tent apparatus together so the broccoli will lift the tenting as it grows upward. I really wanted to expose the broccoli to the cooler air, but I had to remind myself that the tent is to keep the moths out as much as it was for protection from the winds.

Inside the tent. It's hard to weed in there, and the broccoli is super tender, as if grown in a greenhouse.

The garlic is getting quite large, the stems at the soil level almost an inch in diameter. I'm expecting scapes sometime in the next two or three weeks.

And, of course, the peas.

Farmboy Racer

This Sunday I raced down to the beach farm in the hours before the studio where I needed to polish up my entry into the pinewood derby. The weather was brilliant, the weeds were abundant, and the lady who kept taking the pavers back last year was there yackin it up, and leaving, again, this time permanently. I was rushing about, weeding half-handedly, stepping on tiny leeks.

The lettuce were large enough for me to pull a few out and clip some others for our first greens of the season. I had lengthy thoughts about the human selection (as opposed to natural selection) of weeds, unintended as it may always be, to closely resemble desirable plants when young, and grow well at the base of desirable plants. It comes down to that, doesn't it? One hundred thousand years of weeding created the successful weeds we have today simply because the successful ones are the ones we missed year after year.

The greens were plucked, snipped, de-rooted, washed triply, spun, and placed in a bowl at dinner. We ate them with our fingers, ungarnished. They were the best damn greens I've had in years. Those clear clamshell greens have nothing to do with taste, nothing. In fact, a recent package I bought was filled with aphids. Others always have rotting reds, or rotting in general, which I hate to find, because, as far as I am concerned, rot ruins my appetite for salad.

It is exceptionally difficult to get a good shot under a fabric cover pinned to the ground. 

But look at that growth in two weeks. The weeds too, so difficult to pull that I needed to make swiping motions with my hand, scraping at the dirt. I wanted to lift the tents so that the broccoli could be exposed to the cooler air, but then I remembered the moths, and left the protection in place.

Yet this is all that remains of the broccoli I planted without a row cover. Two small standing plants, and all the others shriveled and out of the ground. But why -human, animal, insect, earthly elements? I don't think I'll ever know.

I'm expecting scapes in the coming two weeks. Can't wait.

And there's movement in the snap peas!

I could not resist snapping a leaf and tendril to taste as I worked. I snipped a few more for the bowl of greens -the sweet pea flavor to set off the slight bitterness of the greens. First bites of the growing season must be raw, without adulteration.

 I completely forgot about this -the bike tour. 

You should have seen the backup of cars behind this backup of bikes. Yikes. Thankfully, it was on the other side and I was able to make it to Greenpoint the fastest way just in time for racer check-in.

It's all a little silly, but my first derby proves to be a winner. That's my car on the far left.

Risk

I've planted my tomato seeds in their bond paper tubes, each 4 inches tall. There is only room for one group of seedlings on the window shelf, and so this action requires the broccoli and leeks to toughen up, to take to the outside -permanently.

It is March 14th, and on March 14th our weather history shows that the temperature could rise to 85 degrees F or sink to 6 degrees F. It could snow as much as 15 inches or rain nearly three. But on average, our temperature should rise into the high forties, stay above freezing at night by just a few degrees, and rain should be no more than a quarter inch, daily. Our NYC days are now nearing 12 hours of sunlight, enough energy to warm the soil and power the plants.

So my judgement is that I'm to leave them outside, in the cold frame, with a jug of hot water, each night. This Wednesday I believe I will put them in the field, where they will need to be brave because I will not be available to tend to them for 8 plus days after the moment they settle into that cool, damp soil. It's the wind that will challenge them, broccoli mostly, and I have not yet devised a good system for breaking it. I do have row cover fabric and must give that some thought before planting day.

In the vegetable garden the risk lies between this and that -at boundaries, but averages tell us it's gonna be alright. And so we do not wait, we accept risk.

Windowstill

I snipped the leeks as the seed packet suggested. Little onion scented drops emerged.

Broccoliscape.

Start Dancing

The broccoli and leek starts are dancing in the warmer than expected weather.

The snap peas are up in the cut bond paper tubes. The roots come way out the bottoms.

Alright, just one, amongst the black mesh that keeps the cats from doing their business.

It's hard for me not to want to stop right here.

Playing Outside

I've been playing outside these past few days. Digging out the cold frame, moving pots, tossing frozen cat poop, and beginning to think about picking up all that litter. Bulbs are shooting up greens, expecting crocus any day now. The cold frame has seen better days ever since it became the cat frame, and then snow shed, but it's hanging on enough to do its job.

And its job is to house the seedlings on sunny days, lid propped.

These complicated, bent beginnings are leeks, my first attempt at the onion.

These are the leggy, but graceful Broccoli 'Piracicaba' seedlings. I did not try hard enough to drop one seed per dib, but I do find that broccoli disentangles fairly easily when it's time to plant.

These seedlings are only a few days up, and the window sun and excessive kitchen heat push them to grow too fast. So they get to play outside whenever it's sunny and above 35 degrees F. They come in at night, unless it isn't expected to drop below freezing. I do want to balance the quick growth of inside with the hardening of outside, so that they are ahead of the game when I go to plant in the middle of March. 

Beach Farm: Week 18

The snap peas are flowering well now. A decision must be made. 

 I pulled most of the radishes.

The broccoli has been doing well, but there simply isn't enough energy in this low sun to have grown them for harvesting before a serious freeze. I also haven't brought more plastic to fully tent these. Ah, I suppose I'm giving up. Good luck broccoli.

I harvested most of the asian greens and arugula. This is what I left. I started snipping, but then just went with all out pulling.

 The bundle of greens.

 Recent heavy rains made lots of splash up and the wet soil stuck well to the growing roots.

 A bit of buttock.

 On my way to the compost, I spotted this in the field.

 The seed says nothing short of geranium.

This three bin system, instituted by our fearless NPS Ranger Thaddeus, will hardly work. All bins filled. Cannot turn the heap, cannot transfer into the next bin. A compost corral would be way better for the quantity of organic matter we're creating here.

On my way out, decision made. I chopped the snap peas for the greens. I will saute them in butter and garlic with pancetta and serve with pasta -better than waiting for 10 pea pods and then finding everything frozen on my next visit.

Freeze Tomorrow Night?

Maybe. Tonight, there's some cloud cover, and moderate humidity. I think the beach farm will be spared tonight, and that iris out there in the side garden as well. Tomorrow, that's another matter altogether.  I think I shall try to hit the farm tomorrow morning. It's been all of two weeks. To fully tent, or not to fully tent the broccoli -that is the question. Answer tomorrow.