Chris:

Summer is here with a vengeance, finally.

As recorded the past two months, the rains of May set back our harvest schedule by  almost a month, but this typically hot (90s to over 100), dry-as-a-bone July has us making up for lost time. The cherry tomatoes continue to ripen at a great daily rate (see the photos above and below), a dozen or two dozen a day,

Husky Cherry Red tomatoes

Sun Gold cherry tomatoes

while the two cucumber plants keep producing steadily.

Meanwhile, the three pepper plants–especially the cajun red–are producing fruit at a record rate for our little garden.

Mild Red pepper

Cajun Red pepper

Even the Black Beauty eggplants are beginning to sprout fruit, a good month later than usual…

First eggplant of the year

…and I have hope for a bumper crop from the three plants in August.

Peaches, anyone? But the big story for the end of July is the arrival of the ripe freestone peaches, a good month later than usual for the past several years. Now, of course, we are inundated, since peaches all ripen–unlike tomatoes–in a big bunch over ten days or so. If we don’t pick them and process them in one or more ways, they just wind up falling to the ground or being devoured by the birds (which we don’t mind at all).

So we chop as many as we can for freezing…

…eat them steadily as dessert or snacks,

…give them away to friends, and/or

…slice them into cereal, yogurt, or ice cream.

Some make their way into Jean’s pies and her blueberry peach muffins (see below).

What we try to avoid as much as we can is just chucking them into the compost bin (not a bad alternative, really), or, worse, watching them soften and rot on the counter or in the fruit bowl.

Ripe peaches on our tree, late July

Jean:

Three Kitchen Treats

        Cucumber-Radish-Mint Salad

Thanks to Molly Yeh and the folks at the Food Network,

https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/smashed-cucumber-salad-with-mint-5543565

here is a tasty salad idea that highlights the cucumbers and mint from our garden. We chop the cukes (into half-inch wedges) rather than “smash” them, and we used the spices we have on hand rather than buy the more exotic elements (like za’atar) that Yeh recommends. Still, the blend of cukes with salt, black pepper, spicy radishes and red onion, plus the tang of the lemon juice (you can also use vinegar) with the bold freshness of the mint, makes this an ideal July treat to serve alongside any meat dish–or eat as the main dish itself.

We put all the veggie ingredients in a bowl, toss thoroughly,

…add the mint, toss again

…then add the lemon juice, the salt, the black pepper, and spices, and toss thoroughly again. Feel free to add more salt, pepper, and spices until you achieve the desired taste.

We added plain yogurt as a topping and cherry tomatoes as a garnish both for color and sweetness.

Tomato,Veggie, Herb Sauce for Pasta

This one is about as simple as you can imagine. What you mainly need is patience as the mixture cooks down on low heat, with you stirring occasionally to keep it from sticking.

It’s a tasty way to use all those accumulated cherry or grape tomatoes. Wash them and be sure to pull out the tiny stems before you plop them into the water (a couple cups) in a large saucepan.  Bring to boil, then reduce to simmer or low.

While the water is heating and the tomatoes begin to soften, chop up your garden herbs, plus a yellow onion and a couple cloves of garlic. We used Italian basil, Greek oregano, fennel, thyme, chives, and marjoram, as you see below…

…but feel free to throw in other savory herbs you have in your garden or pantry.

Add the herbs to the cooking tomatoes, plus salt, black pepper, baking sugar (just a bit, for balance with the savory flavors), and other spices you desire.

Saute the onion and garlic, plus any other veggies you choose, like green pepper, cucumber, or zucchini, in a kind of skillet stir fry…. Cook until the onions are translucent.

Then join all the ingredients in the saucepan; continue cooking on low. As the tomatoes cook, you may want to add more salt, pepper, and spices to taste. If you’d like to throw in some red wine, go ahead. It’s all up to you.

The key is to keep cooking until all the tomatoes have separated from the skins. This will take an hour or more, so be patient. Stir occasionally. Taste as desired. (If you’re like us, you’ll taste pretty often, because the aroma is so tantalizing.)

Once the skins have separated, you can pull them out with metal tongs. We always get a lot of them out, but some stay in and that doesn’t bother us in the slightest.

We used this batch with spaghetti, with polenta, with rice, and even with scrambled eggs. Again, whatever your taste thinks will work together.

Blueberry Peach Muffins

With visits from kids and grandkids coming up this summer (including one visit later this week), we wanted these on hand. They’re great either just from the oven, or out on a plate for snacking–or thawed out from the freezer later on.  Here’s the article we used as a guide:

https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/35815/blueberry-peach-muffins/

but, as you know, we always feel free to make adjustments, depending on what we have on hand.  Instead of all AP white flour, we substituted half a cup of white whole wheat flour and half a cup of instant oatmeal for a cup of the AP flour.  we had some slightly soured milk to use instead of fresh milk, so we added a little (1/2 tsp?) baking soda to sweeten the milk.  For further sweetening and moistening, we threw in 1/2 cup chopped banana with the other fruits, and finally sprinkled some chopped pecans on top.  Oh, and some cinnamon sugar.  Very nice.

A Few More July Bright Spots in the Garden

Ripe Ace Tomatoes

Lavender Rose

Fuchsia and Lavender

Crape Myrtle

Transplanted Lantana

…And a Busy Friend Poses on a Nearby Tree

Anna’s Hummingbird

On to August!

Chris:

One early June morning, I was studying the tomato plants for new fruit and the health of the leaves, when I was suddenly surrounded by a chattering flock of tiny blue gray gnatcatchers. They flew-hopped from plant to plant, especially on the red and white rosebushes, looking for food. I barely had more than thirty seconds to converse with them in my poor imitation of their call before they told me that I didn’t have what they were looking for, and whoosh! they were gone again, taking their chatter elsewhere in the neighborhood and then, presumably, far away, to their preferred summer climate in the mountains (according to National Geographic’s Birds of North America).

Jean and I had seen them the day before from our vantage point in the kitchen, and they had stayed long enough for me to get a few snaps through the sliding glass doors. Ah, serendipity! They have not returned and I don’t know when they will, since they don’t stay long in our hot Valley climate.

The gnatcatchers’ quick visit has been just one of several unexpected events this June, which followed on the very unexpected cool raininess of May (see the May 2019 post). Yes, finally summer appeared in the form of several 100+ days this month, and a solid two weeks above 90, but the growth delay in May has kept some of the plants still well behind schedule.

Some of the most notable laggards are the apricots, the cherry plums, and the peaches.

The apricots finally came in during the first week in June–2-3 weeks behind schedule. As noted in last month’s blog, there were many fewer than in 2018, about fifty in total. But they were no less sweet and firm when harvested, and made five 10-ounce jars of our jam (see photos of the cooking above), plus more than enough for apricot muffins and Jean’s apricot-pistachio tart (below):

The cherry plums in the most recent five years have been ripe and ready for picking by early June. But this year the abundant fruit finally was ripe in the final week of June and I picked them on the 26th–with some of those harvested just barely soft enough to pluck off the two trees, the one in our side garden and the other leaning well over our back fence from the neighbors’ yard.

In stark contrast with the low apricot volume, this year’s abundance of cherry plums was overwhelmingly greater–in the thousands–than in any year since we’ve been here. For the first time in our dozen years, I was able to harvest all the fruit we would need for our annual jam making–about 400–by just standing on the ground and plucking the literally low-hanging fruit. No step ladder needed.

As in all previous years, pitting and then cooking down the plums is a several-hours job. Here is my setup for that operation:

As I write this post in the middle evening, the cherry plums–with sugar, water, some apple juice, and fruit pectin all added to desired taste and texture–is still simmering away on the stove. The fruity fragrance fills the house…

…Now, here’s the finished product the next morning, after we’ve sterilized the jars and lids:

Peaches: Slow Growing and Being Cooked

The peaches are nowhere near ready for harvest, and were the most delayed by the cool May. Last month’s golfball-size fruit are now closer to tennis balls, but they are also still tennis-ball green and as hard as baseballs. At this rate, I’d give a ballpark estimate of the end of July for harvest–a good month later than the 2018 crop.

But speaking of peaches, Jean dug out our frozen peaches from last summer’s bounty and just made her delectable peach “dump” cake–as well as other goodies she describes below…

Jean:

Peach “Dump” Cake: Don’t be fooled by the name!

Knowing that our peaches were still far from ripe, but wanting to make some summer peachy dishes, I found a large container of last year’s peaches that were still in the freezer.  I used them to make peach smoothies and peach yogurt muffins for breakfast, throwing a few blueberries into each of those.

I found this lovely peach yogurt recipe:

http://www.maysquared.com/blog/peach-and-blueberry-greek-yogurt-muffins/

As the author allows, and as I often recommend in this blog, I swapped some things out.  I used whole wheat flour, almond flour, and oat bran in place of some of the white flour.  I had peach yogurt and used some of that in place of some of the Greek yogurt, and I used apple juice in place of orange because that’s what I had.

I found these substitutions didn’t make much difference in the texture, but maybe that was because I had both more moisture from the regular yogurt and more binding from the heartier dry ingredients.  Anyway, we got both a moist crumb and a slightly crunchy top—perfect!

Peach Dump Cake (Hate the name, love the cake)

After the muffins and smoothies, I still had left over from the frozen peaches the equivalent of a large can of peaches in syrup, so I made my own version of Ree Drummond’s “dump cake”:   https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ree-drummond/dump-cakes-2576003

I wonder why it has such an unattractive name, but I figure it is because you simply dump all the elements into the baking dish and you’re good to go.  None of the usual mess of baking a cake, leaving sticky measuring cups, spoons, beaters, and bowls around the kitchen (to Chris’s chagrin).

So after retrieving my favorite 13×9 inch dish, preheating the oven to 350 (using the convection option), and dumping in the remaining sliced defrosted peaches, I sprinkled the contents of a pineapple-flavored cake mix I happened to have (plain yellow cake is also very good), and then put bits of butter everywhere, as the recipe calls for. I baked it for about an hour.

Here’s the thing.  The dry cake mix may not all be absorbed in the liquid; you may have some dry bits, which would horrify me if it were just flour, but have you tasted dry cake mix?  It’s delicious.  I also worried about so much butter, so I used mostly unsalted butter (the one stick, with a half stick salted) for fear of salty cake, but somehow all the butter and the bits of dry cake mix leave the impression of streusel, so the overall effect is more like a crumble than a cake.  Very peach-forward.  Yum.

Chris:

Tomatoes, Peppers, and Cukes

All three of these annual stalwarts have been in-ground since April 10 or so. They were delayed somewhat by the cool May, but not like the stone fruit. Indeed, once we hit the mid to high 90s this month, they took off and have been steadily producing.

The tomato stars, as usual, have been the cherry tomato varieties, the one husky cherry red (above right) and the two sun gold (above left). Of the several hundred fruit growing at any one time, I can count on a dozen to be ripe each day for snacking, sandwiches, or stews and chilis. As the heat intensifies, so does each day’s production. Though each plant is caged, the shoots go up and out and everywhere (below).

The great success of the cherry tomatoes has created a dilemma for me. Much less early and prolific in our garden are the mid- and large-size tomatoes, with this year’s candidates being Ace and T-67. This comparative lack of performance has been an every-year pattern, and so I’m thinking of sticking only with–and expanding the number of–the cherry varieties next year. (Stay tuned.)

Peppers. This year’s three plants–a mild green, a mild red, and a Cajun red–also sprang to life when the heat hit, and all three have made up for lost time in May. The potted mild green has been especially sprightly (below left)…

but the Cajun red (right), which of course begins as green, may soon surpass its neighbor in putting out new fruit.

Cucumbers. Last season’s Burpless cukes were so successful and tasty that they’ve now become a staple.  (I might go back to zucchini next year, too–see “Z Is for Zucchini”–if I want to engage with that adventure in mass productivity again, but for now the cukes are plenty prolific for us.) I love how the cukes grow quickly and steadily, and how I need to peek under the canopy of leaves to see the dark green fruit in the shade. Both of the two plants have been productive.

Pickling. As last year, we pickle most of the cukes, and they disappear during the ensuing months. I never realized how easy pickling is, and this year both of us have been varying the pickling mixtures. Jean has used a Japanese-inspired light covering of white vinegar and salt, while I’ve experimented with a spicy blend of oil, vinegar, salt, Thai chili pepper, and a touch of sugar.

The photo series below shows the simple stages of the prep for the latest cuke, from the garden to the pickle jar.

Another cucumber delight. Slightly more ambitious for the cukes is homemade tzatziki sauce, a staple of Greek cuisine and one of my favorites. There are many slight variations online, but they share many of the same ingredients. For mine, I used chopped up cukes from the garden, folded into Greek yogurt, thinned with a bit of milk, and into which I squeezed lemon juice. Then I sprinkled in salt, black pepper, and garlic powder.

Play with the ingredients until you get the taste you like. If you want to blend in some herbs, like basil, oregano, thyme, etc., go right ahead. It’s all about desired taste and whatever you have on hand or just outside in the garden:

Use it as a salad dressing or as a topping for meats or cooked veggies.

Eggplant. Always the latest fruiting of the summer veggies in our garden, the Black Beauty eggplants (3 of them) have spent June leafing out splendidly and producing lavender flowers in the past two weeks. None of these flowers has as yet become a dark purple fruit, but that’s typical. It’s usually late July before we get our first Black Beauty (or one of the other varieties I often plant). The fruit like to hide beneath the broad leaves that give cool shade to the fruit, so leafing is the job of the plant in June (below).

A Few Other June Treats

As the old song says, “June is bustin’ out all over,” and it’s not just veggies that take off in the heat. Here are a few of the other garden highlights that shine beginning in June:

Lavender roses, back garden

Magenta day lily, front garden

Blue Nile lily, side garden

Peace rose and very late blooming wisteria in background, back garden

Very late blooming meyer lemon and grateful visitor, back garden

Crape myrtle and Provence lavender, side garden

Season’s second explosion of blooms on yellow roses, front garden

June-blooming lupine bush and carpenter bee, back garden

Dragonfly on tomato cage, a favorite perch in the hot June sun, back garden

And on to July…

We had a small rain the first week in April and nothing since. Everyone figured that the rain year was over. Fine. We’d had a good rainy season, over 24 inches, 8 more than 2017-18 and about 6 above average. April was a booming, blooming month (see last month’s post, April 2019) and we were all set for a sunny May with temps in the 80s. Perfect for the April-planted veggies and the baby fruit.  I’d brought out the cushions for the outdoor furniture and turned on the automatic twice-a-week drip irrigation.

Then came the middle of the month. Over four days, 2 inches of rain. In the past week, another 1 inch plus: overall, a record in the Sacramento region for May. Plus temps struggling to reach 70.  While in the Sierra, new snow fell, up to twenty more inches in the highest passes. Predictions were made of the ski season lasting into July!

In our little garden, the drip system was again shut off, and the cushions went back into the garage. Meanwhile, in the San Joaquin Valley to the south, the cherry farmers, who’d been getting set for a mammoth harvest of rich red bings, saw tons of fruit fall to the ground and more rot on the trees.

In California, all weather news is a mixed message: rain in May means that perhaps the fire season will be delayed; but it also means that crops about to be harvested may fail and new crops won’t grow as they would in the hot sun.  The ski operators love it; the reservoir operators fear over-capacity and downstream flooding as all that Sierra snow melts.

Conversely, below normal rain threatens the water supply for everyone and everything, but it reduces the fuel supply in fire-prone forests. Californians, as I’ve learned, can adapt, if they are willing, to almost any extreme of the weather, but pretty much they (we) would prefer that things stay about average–with all the threats and joys that average entails.  We’ve built up stout defenses for the threats, so we can keep our brightest expectations.

In our little garden, the May surprise means that the forecast I made in April was wrong. “The apricots,” I announced, “will harvest in May.” Well, here are the apricots now:

versus where 2018’s were exactly a year ago:

In contrast, last year’s cherry plum harvest was about average in volume and timing (mid-June). This year, the volume of fruit far exceeds anything we’ve seen in the thirteen years we’ve been in California, with clusters weighing down the branches all over the tree:

Look closely to see how many plums are hidden among the leaves.

…but it remains to be seen if the hard little spheres will soften in time for the annual mid-June gathering we make for our cherry plum jam.

Also responding to this year’s copious rains are the peaches, which developed from the tiny green babies I photographed in late April to the plentiful fuzzy green golfballs on their way to harvest in early July:

Last year’s harvest of 60 will be dwarfed by this year’s–unless extreme weather intervenes!  The number of growing fruit this year is greater than in any of the most recent three seasons. Branches broke under the weight of more than 200 peaches in 2016, but the record rains of spring 2017 destroyed the buds and the tree produced no fruit. (See “A Month in the Life” for July 2018.)

Oranges and Meyer Lemons. Unlike 2017, when the record rains caused the orange tree to lose most of its infant fruit in April, this year’s May rain caused fewer than a hundred of the babies to fall, leaving what appear to be hundreds more on the tree and growing to grape size at present:

The meyer lemons, about a week behind the oranges, also came through the surprise rains of May mostly unscathed and are growing abundantly.

The New Veggies and Fruit (all planted early April)

Tomatoes. Four varieties this year (7 plants): Husky cherry  red, Sun Gold (grape), Ace, T-67. Five of the seven have tiny green tomatoes growing amid the yellow flowers, with the Husky Cherry Red leading the way:

Peppers.  Three varieties, three plants: Cajun red (mild spice), red mild, green mild. All have white flowers, but only the mild green (in a pot) has small growing fruit. The low temps have kept it from growing more quickly.

Eggplant. Three plants of the Black Beauty variety. Each has grown steadily, about 2-3 time the size of the seedlings, but, again, the lack of higher temps has kept growth slower than usual. Eggplant are usually slow in producing ripe fruit, with later July the usual time in this garden.

Cucumbers. As in 2018, we have two plants of the Burpless variety planted 4 feet apart for cross-pollination.  Some slower growth due to lower temps, but each has numerous yellow flowers and tiny starter cukes, but only one plant has a larger cuke growing (about five inches).

Blueberries. As with the cucumbers, we have two plants about 3-4 feet apart for cross-pollination. Both are healthy, but growth above ground has been minimal so far. Fed weekly with Miracid.

The photo below shows the array of peppers, cukes, and tomato plants in late May:

Foreground, from left: red pepper, Cajun red, T-67 tomato; row 2, from left: mild green pepper (in pot), cucumber, cucumber, leaf lettuce; in cages in background: Ace, T-67, Sun Gold, and Husky cherry red tomatoes.

Herbs in May

Of those shown below, fennel is a first-timer in our garden.

From left: Russian sage, mint, lupine, fennel, Greek oregano, sweet basil

Of those shown below, watercress is a first-timer in our garden.

From left, in pots: parsley, marjoram, English thyme, leaf lettuce (front), watercress, Italian basil, chives

Flowers and Flowering Bushes

The most dramatic May event has been the swarming of Painted Lady butterflies on the Escallonia fradesii (Pink Princess) bush in our front garden. Enjoy the video!

The painted ladies are especially plentiful this spring, for the first time since we’ve been here. Too bad that no other butterflies, except the occasional yellow swallowtail, have visited the garden so far this season. It’s been several years since we’ve seen a monarch, which are now nearing extinction on the Pacific coast–thanks to neonicotinoid pesticides and habitat destruction. Gone are the days when the monarchs in migration literally covered the eucalyptus trees in Pacific Grove in February. We got to see that one time after we moved West, and it’s a treasured memory.

While this rainy, cool May has not provided the same display of colors that April did, our garden never fails to show off in some spots:

Garlic, Daylilies, and Blue Nile lilies in the side garden

Peace roses in the back garden

Heavenly bamboo in the side garden

White thornless roses in the side garden

Mexican bush sage in the front garden

Wandering jew (Tradescantia pallid) in a wine barrel

Snapdragons in the front garden

All My Loving roses against the cherry plums in the side garden

New Zealand flax blooms in the front garden

Jasmine in the back garden

Now, on to June!

“April showers bring May flowers”…

Or so they sing in the East, but not here in the Sacramento Valley. April here is the month that all the rains of the winter and early Spring work to create.

Not that it’s all downhill from here on (just wait for May!)

But in shiny April the roses bloom and the crazy irises explode and–just look above and below–the wisteria and ceonothus ( AKA Western lilac) take over the side garden to  bring us a canopy of golden bees and black bumble bees.

Oh yes, did I say the roses bloom..

…and did I say something about irises?

This is their month.

We bought three plants (see above) four years ago from an iris farm in our region, to plant beside one another in the southwest corner of the garden. As is their nature, the plants expand their territory each year, and growers can, if they wish, transplant the new growth to a different spot. I’ve chosen not to, so the three have gradually taken a bit more land each year and have produced more and more magnificent blooms–in April. The show lasts a few weeks and then is over for the year.

The rest of the time, into summer, the leaves gradually fade and brown out, to be cut away and composted, or mulched up.  I like to keep watering them a bit through the dry season, so some green remains and the soil stays moist. But once the rains come in the fall, I know that the new growth is happening on the rhizome underground. The new shoots start popping up in February, and around the first of April the buds appear on the new flower stalks.

As you can see on the photo above, the three plants mature at different times of the month. In our garden, the middle plant always is the precocious one, and the showiest. But the other two have their own chances for the limelight.

The Fruit Trees: Orange, Lemon, Apricot, Peach, Cherry Plum

Apricot. This will be the first to harvest, in May. This year’s will be less than last year’s, maybe only a third as many for drying, jam, and cakes. The tree was trimmed extensively in June 2018.

Cherry Plum. In contrast, the cherry plum, which will harvest in June, is set for an amazing bumper crop. I can’t recall when there were so many plums so early. This tree, too, was trimmed in June 2018, just before last year’s harvest.

Peach. Also extensively trimmed in June, 2018, this spindly, crooked tree always looks in February like it won’t come back. But then the blossoms appear in March, and the first tiny, tiny fruit appear not long therafter, and so by April the baby green peaches are growing–looking forward to harvest in late June and early July.

Orange. The final navel orange of 2018-19 was plucked by April 1, even as the new buds were appearing. By mid April the tree was covered in buds and the blooms appeared last week–with the bees everywhere immediately, attracted by the heavenly fragrance, as we were.

We count at least four buzzy busy friends in this shot.

Meyer Lemon. The lemon bush is only about a week behind the orange in blooming.  Right now in the last week of April the bush is rich in blooms and bees. Like the orange, it is heading for harvest in December after a long, slow, hot growing season.

(Hmm, did I show you more roses?)

Herbs: Old Faithfuls and New Plants

Many of our herbs are perennials.

• Some, like rosemary and chives, are green year-round.
• Others, like Greek oregano, lemon verbena, and both culinary and Russian sage, lose their leaves in winter, but come back in spring.
• Still others, like parsley, marjoram, and thyme, can last through the winter, but may dry out in summer (if they get too much sun in our hot climate) and need to be replaced.

Others, such as sweet and Italian basil, are annuals. They need to be replaced each spring.

All of the herbs grow great in pots or in the ground. Most of ours are in pots–which I like so that I can move them around so they don’t get too much summer sun. NOTE: even though virtually every planting guide says herbs like “full sun,” that doesn’t mean the up-to-12 hours of sun a day in 90+ degree temps that our climate gives them in summer. Only a few of our herbs–the basils and the Russian sage–can take that kind of onslaught.

Instead, by keeping them in pots, I can shift the pots to sunnier or less sunny spots, mostly in the less sunny. Indeed, the parsley, marjoram, thyme, and chives thrive in the quite shady areas around our fountain on the back veranda.

Because they are in pots, without much soil to hold water, I water in the dry season every other day, about a quart each time for each plant, especially in summer.

Now, in late April, all are thriving, and it is so easy to pluck a sprig or two or three for salads, stews, and soups.

From left, in pots: Russian sage, leaf lettuce, watercress, Greek oregano, fennel, sweet basil, with mint in ground next to the lettuce pot.

English thyme

parsley

marjoram

culinary sage

lemon verbena

New Veggies and Two Fruits, One of Them New

April is planting month for the spring and summer veggies. This year it’s

• tomatoes, as always–Husky Red cherry, Golden grape, Ace, and T67 (a UC Davis mid-size variety)–7 plants total
• Black Beauty eggplants (3)–which did so well last year
• Burpless cucumbers (2)–which also thrived last year and made great pickles
• mild peppers (3)–green, red, and cajun red (slightly spicy)
• arugula–multiple plants from spread seed–which I actually planted in December and which are coming into their own now
• leaf lettuce–six plants, into the ground in March and being slowly harvested, meal by meal, now.

New veggies planted in April: green and red mild peppers, cucumbers, four varieties of tomatoes, leaf lettuce, eggplants (hidden behind yellow coreopsis)

One of the two fruits is strawberries–6 new plants to accompany the five other perennials–I planted them the first week in April and they are already producing!

The other fruit–a first for our garden–is blueberries. As of this week, two of these acid-loving plants are now in the area between the peach tree and the meyer lemon. Let’s see how they do over the summer to come.

One More Rose for April…and a Few More Flowers

I’ll close this April tour with yet another rose. One not like the others, but a rose in its own right, which graces the very front of our garden in April of each year and has spread over four years to command the space: the California rock rose.

I can’t resist showing three more April blooms:

Alstroemeria in the side garden wine barrel

Chinese orchid in the shade of the meyer lemon

The steady perennial potted geranium

Now, on to May!

New leaves on the photinia, and the cherry plum in full bloom, mid March

Even as the cold rains kept falling from February into early March, and as the snows kept piling up in the Sierra, and as temps in our Valley rarely got above 48, spring was beginning east and west of the Sacramento River. I mean, what better harbingers of that than the Eurasian collared doves on a branch of the cherry plum tree on March 7?

Now, as the end of the month approaches and the temps have risen into the 60s (with a few in the low 70s in mid month), spring is almost fully upon us–even though the cold rains keep coming a few days a week (24 inches total for the rainy season, about 6 inches above normal for this time of year). Really, the combination of moisture and some sunny days has been ideal for new growth. So overall, March 2019 has been your pretty typical first spring month in NorCal.

Here are some of the headliners in our garden:

Broccoli. I’ve been telling and showing the story of the stir-fry broccoli for months now. The tender broccolini florets have been a bumper crop from five plants, and still in early March the harvest kept coming (see photo, right):

Just picked broccolini, March 1

But as the month wore on, the inevitable happened: those cute, fuzzy little budlets on the florets did what flowers are supposed to do. They bloomed–bright little yellow suns by the hundreds. See below:

Yet, even in the photo of the yellow flowers, you can see broccolini spears still appearing, and the florets are as tasty as ever. The broccoli Marches on!

Cherry Plum. The dominant stars of March are the two cherry plum trees (one ours, one our neighbor’s) that shadow the garden and that explode in white-pink-red blooms in the middle of the month. (See the photo at the top of the entry and the panorama below.)

The collared doves that billed and cooed on those branches early in the month made their nest within that cloud of blossoms. Now, at month’s end, the blossoms have fallen to earth and the trees are covered in their rich maroon leaves. On the ground, the petals created a blanket of pink that for two weeks gave a snowy look to the entire garden:

aeonium and snowy ground

cherry plum petals dust the alum root

Indeed, they still give a candy sprinkles touch to the calla lilies that glow in the back garden:

Oranges and Lemons. The harvest of meyer lemons is now done, with the final picking about March 20. We had almost 200 for the season, roughly the same as in the past three years, as the mature bush has grown little in that time. Most of the lemons went for lemonade or the orange juice/lemonade combo, but Jean has frozen two jars of the juice for lemon pies and her delicious lemon blueberry bread.

Jean’s lemon blueberry bread from our meyer lemons

There are still oranges on our tree, perhaps 20, with the total for the season a splendid 340. As with the lemons, most of the fruit has been squeezed for juice, with some of the oranges given to the local food bank.  Though I’ve picked many from the tree, most of the fruit has been gleaned from the ground the day it has fallen. Because this has been an unusually rainy few months, as noted above, the oranges come down more often, and gleaning must be done promptly before the fruit turns to mush.

Here’s the latest gleaning and picking:

…and here’s (below) the densest cluster of remaining fruit. As always this time of year, the ripe oranges share space on the tree with the first buds of what will be next year’s crop:

Preview of What’s to Come in April

Apricots. This first fruit harvest of the year will come in May, but now the leafed-out tree is studded with tiny green fruit:

The tiny green apricots appear in early March, headed for ripeness in May.

Peaches

Once the peach leaves fall in October and November and make a yellow carpet across the garden, the mature tree looks naked and spindly through the winter, and one wonders if another crop will come. But in later March, the first blossoms appear and by the end of the month, the tree is covered in blossoms and fresh new leaves. The harvest will not be until late June and early July:

The first peach blossoms of the year, mid March.

Roses and Lemons. Just after the last meyer lemon was picked, the first buds of the new blossoms, which will become the new fruit, appeared. The bush will be in full bloom in April:

First buds on the meyer lemon, late March

Meanwhile, even though the occasional rose appears throughout the winter on many of our seventeen bushes, the real explosion will occur in April, as the many buds on this red rose promise:

This will be a glorious display in April.

A Few More March Garden Pix

Breath of Heaven

Geranium, Pomegranate, Chard

Lenten Rose

The first petunia of the year–in its second year–an annual now a perennial?

Jean’s treats for Valentine’s Day: Cherry cheese puff pastry and flourless chocolate cake (See descriptions for the cherry puff and other February treats later in this entry.)

February in Northern California is what we’ve come to regard as the beginning of spring. But sometimes–like this year–we have to look more closely to see spring beginning. It’s been cold, even frosty, and more rainy than normal–almost nine inches this month, with more on the way! Meanwhile, snowfall on the nearby Sierras is at 150% of normal.

Frost-covered broccoli in our garden, Feb. 2019

Still, don’t be fooled.

Even as the chill wind howls today, February spring is upon us. Roses are budding and putting out new leaves, and the apricot has burst into bloom:

Bouncing back from the frost, the broccoli plants are more fruitful and robust than they’ve ever been in our garden. The five plants keep putting our new shoots and florets after some have been trimmed off for cooking…

The five broccoli plants keep putting out new shoots and florets after some have been trimmed off for cokking.

The Swiss chard (one of the six this year) is moving steadily toward its summer splendor…

The Swiss chard stems glow bright red to orange as the plants mature. The leaves are great in salads and stews.

Birds and Bees: The more mobile citizens of the garden have either never left (like the friendly, assertive jay and the lordly crow)…

or are returning after part of the year away (like the little green flycatcher and the white-capped sparrow below

and the fruit-loving finches). Note that the finches in the photo below are perched in the cherry-plum tree, which is budding and will bloom early in March.

Oh, yes–we can’t forget the honeybees, who come out as soon as the sun shines, despite the chilly winds. Here, a bee enjoys the brightly flowering Euryops that lights up our back garden:

New Planting in February

Our newest addition to this year’s garden is arugula (Astro variety), which Chris is planting much later than usual. He’s formerly planted it in late fall, and it thrives through the winter and into spring, producing abundant leaves that are uniquely spicy in salads. He usually has rotated the arugula with tomatoes, which he plants in April.

The Kitchen: Where the Real February Action Is

Our February look at good things from our kitchen picks up where we left off from last month’s celebration of soups and stews: with a few tummy-warming main dishes ideal on cold days–plus some traditional pastries that are always a hit in our home and that smell great as they bake in the oven.

The main dishes use a variety of meats and veggies. For both of us, the dishes we like best will use some ingredients that we grow here, but the main goal is to stay imaginative, always ready to try something a little different. Like the birds in our garden, we don’t mind going out on a limb–or winging it.

To Jean, that imagination means delving into cuisines from many cultures, as well as fusing traditions if the flavor profiles seem compatible. And Chris is always eager to mash-up the leftovers that sit next to one another in the fridge, even if they’d never appear on the same restaurant menu.

Panco-crusted Meatloaf Stroganoff, with Medley of Barley, Mushrooms, Broccoli, and Chard

Now the photo above might not make the meal look appetizing, but not every delicious food is meant to be eaten with the eyes, despite what some chefs say. What makes this meatloaf particularly tasty is the panco breading, which gives the meat a satisfying crunch and keeps it crisp over several days, as we snack on it.

The veggie medley blends the earthy flavors of the barley, mushrooms, and chard–which pair nicely with the savory, salty umami-ness of the meatloaf–but these veggies, plus the home-grown broccoli florets, keep the mixture supple and its flavors bright for multiple meals.

Turkey, Chard, Mushroom, Tomato Cassoulet

Talk about a fusion of cuisines! The French heart of this traditional cassoulet (shown above) is the cannelini beans that are its main ingredient, while Italian influence and color come from the tomatoes that can be added in any amount and style (fresh, canned, paste, etc.) that the cook finds pleasing. Jean chose ground turkey for this recipe, but any ground or chunked meat can be used, or spicy sausage can be added if desired.

Or this dish is great with no meat. The chard and mushrooms intensify the earthy flavors of the beans, and the chard and tomatoes together give the dish its Italian look.

What makes dishes like this so much fun is that the cassoulet will hold up over several days–and, as you heat up the leftovers, you can add pretty much any compatible ingredient you’d like, so that you keep the flavors fresh and interesting. Don’t be afraid to experiment! For example, the French and Italian dish we describe here could take on a Mexican or Thai character with the addition of red or green chili peppers spicy enough to suit your taste.

Traditional Lemon Meringue Pie

For dessert with the savory, umami-rich dishes described above, why not a good old down home lemon meringue pie? Especially if you are lucky, as we are, to have a bush full of ripe meyer lemons in your garden throughout the winter. The fruit gives the pie a citrus tang that pairs perfectly with the main dishes.

There is one tricky part to the success of this dessert. When the month is as rainy as this February has been, the moisture in the air tends to make the meringue “weep”–drops of sugary water form on the top and can degrade the fluffiness of the beaten egg whites. As the photo above shows, Jean’s meringue this time turned out perfectly because she baked the pie on one of the few sunny days in mid-month.

Still, as a lover of lemon meringue pie, Chris would say not to worry about a bit of “weeping.” In fact, he finds those golden sugary drops a nice counterpart to the sour bite of the lemon curd.

Last but Not Least–the Cherry Cheese Puff Pastry for Valentine’s Day

The dessert pictured at the top of this blog entry is a simple but elegant treat to celebrate the mid-month holiday for lovers. Since red is the color of the occasion, Jean wanted to use cherries for her dessert. But with fresh cherries not available in February, she used frozen sour cherries she had on hand. She filled puff pastry with cream cheese, and she mixed sugar with the sour cherries. Baking the pastry in heart-shaped ramekins was the crowning touch for this special day.  It was a perfect dessert for a cold, wet February holding the promise of spring.

Loro petulam in bloom, front garden, February 2019

Jean’s Chicken Chard Chili

Jean:

January in the Kitchen

January in the kitchen is time for warm (both in temperature and spices) comfort foods.  I love making big pots of soups, stews, and chilis that sit in the refrigerator getting more tasty every day and can be heated up in a few minutes to take the chill off the day.  My birthday is at the end of January, and I have always liked that.  It’s just far enough from Christmas that people can get up the energy to celebrate with me, and the winter weather tends to warm up a bit at the end of January (they call it the “January thaw” in Boston) before plunging back into whatever challenges may lie ahead in the uncertain early spring.

Chicken Chard Chili

That looks awful, doesn’t it?  [photo above]  I don’t know how it came out so tasty.  Chris named it, and also called it the best thing he ever ate.  Now there’s hyperbole.  It’s more of a stew, but we like the alliteration of this three-“ch” name.  I think, basically, that green-chili-chicken anything is delicious.  It shouldn’t have rice in it.  It shouldn’t have black beans or chard. But it does and it worked!

I hesitate to talk about my cooking methods because they are often happenstance.  I happened to have cooked a package of rice and black beans, and I didn’t like the taste.  I had to do something with it because I don’t waste food.  I had been wanting to make chicken with green chili sauce, so I chopped some skinless, boneless chicken thighs and browned them with some chopped onions, cumin, and cayenne.  Then I added some chicken broth and a whole jar of Herdez salsa verde.  Chris brought in some young chard leaves from the garden, and I chopped those into the sauce and let it simmer until the leaves softened and all the flavors merged, about 20 minutes.

I think I intended to serve this over the rice, but we ended up combining them.  It didn’t dilute the flavors to add the rice, like I feared.  It looks like we threw in some canned corn and grape tomatoes that we had on hand  (I didn’t even remember doing that.)  Of course, you could and probably should use white beans instead of black, but remember where I started this.

The most important flavor here, besides the green chili sauce, was the chard.  It made the mixture taste fresh and healthy.  Just a little different and delicious.

Three-Bean Black Mole Beef Chili

I have subscribed to the New York Times recipe service.  Their ideas come from a variety of chefs who have worked for the paper over the years, and I usually find them insightful and delightful, although I still add my own twists.  This one looked interesting because it uses a somewhat different list of spices and other ingredients than I usually use in chili.  If you like the idea of using up those spices you have sitting around, this one’s for you.

Saute some chopped onions and ground beef as you usually do, seasoned with salt and pepper.  Remove any unwanted fat and then add one 6-oz can of tomato paste.  Cook that for a minute or two and add 2-3 teaspoons each of the following spices:  sweet and smoked paprika, chipotle (and/or chili) powder or paste, ground cumin, onion powder, garlic powder, and mustard powder.  Also add 1/2 teaspoon each of cayenne powder and cinnamon, plus 1/4 teaspoon cloves.  Cook all the spices until you can smell the fragrances, about a minute or two.  Now add a 12-oz bottle of pilsner beer and stir it in, which will deglaze the pan of all those dark flavors on the bottom.

From here on, you can continue cooking on top of the stove or move to a slow-cooker, as you prefer.  Add a 14-oz can of diced or crushed tomatoes, 1/4 c. cider vinegar, 2 T. maple syrup or dark brown sugar, 2 tsp. unsweetened cocoa powder, 2 tsp. beef bouillon paste (two cubes), and 1 T. Worcestershire sauce.  Exhausted yet?  Keep going; it’s worth it.

Now add 2 or even three cans of your favorite beans—pinto, kidney, and/or black beans.  For mine, I used them all. They should be drained unless you happen to have beans with chili spices and sauce.  (I threw in one can of saucy black beans and I think it made the chili darker and thicker, which we liked.)  Simmer this as long as you like.

Get some sour cream to serve on top to cut the rich dense flavors and texture, and some tortilla chips to crumble on top, maybe with a cilantro or parsley garnish.  You’re ready for the Super Bowl or any other big evening!

Gingery Winter Stew

This recipe caught my eye because of the unusual mix of vegetables and because I sometimes like to make a monochromatic dish.  You can make it with chicken breasts or thighs, whole or chopped, cooked by your preferred method, or leave them out and make it vegetarian.  Roast some hearty yellow/orange vegetables, cut in chunks–sweet potatoes, winter squash, and golden beets–until each type of vegetable is sufficiently soft.  It may take about half an hour to 45 minutes, but it varies, so check them all.

Here’s the odd ingredient–Japanese daikon.  I didn’t see any in the market that day, so I roasted a large French breakfast radish that Chris had just pulled from the garden.  You still get some of the same crunch and spicy bite from a roasted radish as from a raw one, but you could also save the radish to slice or shave raw on top of the finished dish.

For a sweet and tangy touch, I also added some chopped peaches that we’d frozen from last summer’s harvest. If it’s on hand and I think it will fit, I’ll use it. We’ve found that slicing and freezing the peaches we can’t eat or give away in the summer keeps their flavor the rest of the year.

The real secret of this dish is in the sauce.  Chop and saute some onions and garlic with salt and pepper and a tablespoon of yellow curry powder or turmeric.  Stir in a quarter cup of fresh minced ginger or purchased ginger paste and cook for a couple of minutes as well.  Then add 2 cups of vegetable or chicken broth, one quarter cup soy sauce, the juice of one lime, and 3 star anise.   Cook the sauce down for about 15 minutes and remove the star anise.  (You could leave these in longer, but you would have to remember to fish them out at the end, and they might be hard to find once everything else is in.)

Add the chicken and cooked vegetables and simmer everything in the sauce for another 15-20 minutes.  Serve over yellow rice if you want to keep with the color scheme.  Serve a green vegetable alongside to brighten it up.

Calvados Apple Bread Pudding

Bread puddings are fun because they do double duty.  They make great desserts and also great breakfast items.  This pudding was inspired by a large loaf of apple bread I had purchased on impulse as I walked through the bakery section of the grocery store.  It was good, with big chunks of cinnamony cooked apple, but we weren’t eating it as fast as we needed to.  Before it got too stale or went bad, I decided to make a bread pudding with it because I also had a lot of eggs.

I looked online for the proportions of milk and eggs to bread and whipped up a custard, flavoring it with some Calvados we had.   I also had a big chunk of cinnamon sugar butter that had come with the cut squash I bought for the winter stew (above).  Chris dislikes much sweetness in savory dishes, so I had set that flavored butter aside in the refrigerator, and now brought it out to melt and pour over the bread before soaking it in the custard.  This is just another example of how often I am inspired by what I have, even if it was not purchased for a specific purpose, but just needs to be used up.

This bread pudding baked at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes until it smelled like heaven.  I pulled it out, cooled it a bit, and poured a touch more Calvados over it, I must confess.  I served it with ice cream for dessert at dinner–and then with yogurt for breakfast.

January in the Garden

Chris:

January is one of our rainier months, and our coolest, with nighttime temps in the low to mid thirties and occasional frosts. Rainfall to begin this new year is higher than normal: almost six inches this month, about two above average.  Of course, we have a long way to go–and many stormy days–if we would want to reach our record rainfall of 2016-17, almost 45 inches for the season, more than twice the average of 20 inches.

But who would want that? Surely not the folks up along the Feather River, who had to leave their homes when the Oroville Dam gave way. Our January 2017 entry in the blog details the effects of that month’s rainfall on our little garden.

The ten inches of rain we’ve now had this season is 2-3 inches more than usual, but close enough to the average that this January seems to be pretty much what we expect in this region.  So when I peered through our rain-blurred window at part of the back garden last week, I saw what I expected for late January:

Nopales, ripe navel oranges, ripe meyer lemons, rosemary (in the background), green hibiscus in a pot, puddles in the mulch, and an almost full rain barrel (in the foreground)

What’s growing?

Radishes

The radishes (“French breakfast”) I planted in late November are ready to harvest now: their bright red tops are prominent above the soil. Since this is my first crop of this variety, I was excited to learn how much they have grown below ground. When I picked the first of them last week–Voilà!!

Just look at the size of that beauty! And when we sliced it, it was crispy and spicy all the way through, perfect for Jean’s Gingery Winter Stew (see above). When I pick the rest, will they be just as flavorful?

Stir Fry Broccoli

The five plants have thrived in the raised bed since their planting in late November. In early January, I followed the advice of the online experts for this variety and trimmed off the main trunk of each plant when the head had grown to at least an inch to an inch and a half in diameter. The heads and trunks became part of one of my omelets and one of Jean’s stews. (Delicious!)

As the instructions predicted, and as you’ll see below, multiple heads have now sprung up all around the center of each plant. These, too, I will soon harvest, and make them the basis of one or more veggie stir-fries.

Note the trimmed trunk in the middle of the broccoli and all the new heads around it.

Swiss Chard

At the start of this entry, Jean wrote about her “Chicken Chard Chili,” with a few leaves from this year’s chard as a main ingredient–a real flavor popper with a basil/anise tang! All six plants continue to thrive, with three in pots and three in a row in the ground. The plants have been growing for two months, and are now beginning to show the variegated colors for which they are famous. As they continue to expand and mature, the stems will continue to thicken and their colors will become bright orange and deep red. The new leaves will start bright green, but some will become dark green and even a very deep dark purple. In an entry from two years ago, I called chard the “Queen of the Edible Garden,” and I’m hoping this year’s plants will also merit that title.

Note the colors of the most mature stems and leaves of the chard. Jan. 2019, two months old.

Two Other Old Favorites and an Infrequent Visitor

What is our typical January without the occasional rose? Every January produces at least a few salmon roses from our back garden thicket…

…like this gem just outside our window.

And what is our January without the now ripe navel oranges and meyer lemons, from which I make an ever-ready supply of juice? I like to mix the flavors, as shown below..

Finally, what is any garden, in January or otherwise, without at least one unexpected visitor flying in? Yesterday morning, Jean and I were chatting in the kitchen when I spied this fellow and his friends darting among the branches and along the ground in the back garden. Luckily, the camera was nearby, and this one guest stayed still long enough for me to grab this snap:

…of a male Oregon junco, probably on his way north. I hope he and his friends found something to make their stop worthwhile.

Chris:

Bitter ironies sometimes take time to appear.

In late October, I wrote this about our garden: “Along with the bees are the birds in our bit of paradise.”

Paradise.

We once visited the town of Paradise, California, up north amid the dark green forested hills of Butte County, miles from even the small city of Chico and in a different world, it seemed, from Sacramento. We spent a nice afternoon in Paradise. What I remember from that visit was that feeling of getting away into the cool, dark forest.

Our late October post this year celebrated the beauty and bounty of a still sunny and rainless fall–but in the writing I feared a repeat of the devastating fires of October 2017, if rain did not come soon. Then, on November 8, the inevitable erupted in the wooded foothills–not far from Paradise–and within a few hours the wind-carried flames had engulfed the town and trapped hundreds of residents.

For three weeks, the fires on the remote hillsides and through the canyons remained virulent and elusive. The Camp Fire (named for its origin near Camp Creek) eventually destroyed over 150,000 acres and became the worst fire in California history in lives lost (86) and in the thousands of buildings devoured. Even hundreds of miles south and east, California cities and towns felt the effects of the inferno, as a seemingly endless cloud of smoke and ash darkened the sky and damaged lungs. A hundred miles south in Sacramento, schools and universities were closed for more than a week because of the treacherous air.

When finally rains came toward the end of November, the thousands who had been evacuated from Paradise and nearby towns still could not return to what was left of their homesteads, as crews from throughout California worked day and night to clear hazards and debris, search for the hundreds of the missing, and make the firetorn hills safe once again.

A neighborhood in Paradise, early December (Photo: Sacramento Bee)

Paradise no more.

Still…in the photo above see how many of the trees, particularly the most mature, were not destroyed by the inferno. As we saw last year in Sonoma and Napa, nature will lead the comeback and provide humans the inspiration to use their knowledge, humility, and compassion, so that the forested hills can once again grow toward the beauty and peace that the inhabitants once enjoyed.

December in the Garden

Nopales and navel oranges, bed of yellow leaves, in the late December garden

Blessed we are to have this small garden, still a paradise to us, all the more precious now. The gentle rains have soaked the soil and kept our many plants green–and the animals who rely on them housed and fed.

Our neighborly Anna’s hummingbird stands vigil atop our peach tree, December 2018.

With low temps flirting with freezing, but still above the magic line, the late December garden retains a few vestiges of summer–vincas still flower in their pots and petunias glow bright in their back garden bed. Calla lilies act as if it’s spring, even as the flame trees proclaim NorCal December.

To the left, calla lilies, petunias, and flowering rosemary sing summer, even as the ripe meyer lemons in the foreground and the sweetgum (liquidambar)trees in the background say December.

Fruits and Veggies

With all our years in the East, I doubt we’ll ever take for granted the sunshine brilliance, even in the rain, of the oranges and lemons that highlight December in the Northern California garden. The photo that graces the top of this entry may be technically a “still life,” but the oranges and meyer lemons, plus the golden coreopsis and pink tea roses that also dress our December garden, pulsate with warmth.

Meanwhile, the three veggies I planted between late October and late November have thrived in the cool temps and occasional rains. Chard, stir-fry broccoli, and “French breakfast” radishes steadily mature toward harvest in late winter and early spring. This variety of radish is a first for me; the chard is a returning favorite after a few years; and the five broccoli plants renew my appreciation for this hearty, flavorful, symmetrical veggie.

• The chard plant shown in the photo below is one of three I have for the first time in pots, while three others are in the ground (not shown). All are coming along well.
• The six radish plants (background) have been in the ground only three weeks as I write, so they have a good month or more to go before harvest.

Paradise at Christmas

Most of the former residents of Paradise and nearby towns have no homes to return to. They are spending this Christmas season and many coming months as refugees. Their homes for the foreseeable future are those of relatives, friends, or genuine good Samaritans, as well as the refugees’ own RVs or trailers provided by FEMA and other social service agencies.  Some of them will never return to their pre-cataclysm homes, as predictable by what happens to refugees of other similar disasters.

Whether they return or not, their future prospects–like ours and everyone else’s–will depend on the largesse and good will of government agencies and on the donations and support of the entire society. Would that all refugees, regardless of the cataclysm they are escaping and where it occurs–were so lovingly regarded by our governments and by us. Is such a thing imaginable in the U.S. of 2018?

If so, then that would be as close as we can all get to Paradise at Christmas. A bit like a petunia in the late December rain.

Chris:

The last few poblanos and red peppers still grow slowly as the days grow shorter. Oh, the thermometer still occasionally touches 90, but the nights go down to the 50s. The sun’s heart doesn’t seem to be into roasting the soil and the plants any more. The tomatoes told me almost a month ago that they wouldn’t be turning any more yellow flowers into green fruit, so I began pulling them out, reluctantly, one by one. The last one, my magnificent, spreading red grape tomato, came out struggling last week–its long green tendrils clung to the ground and around each steel fiber of the cage, which had tried unsuccessfully to contain the plant’s eager arms and legs. Over the eggplants, the marigold pot, several strawberry plants, and even the dormant irises, this prodigy had grown since mid-April, as it produced many hundreds of luscious ruby gems. As I hacked away, a big handful of red and some green tomatoes appeared fruit by tiny fruit, having been hidden among the still-green leaves.

The magnificent red grape tomato, still in yellow bloom and hiding red gems

Also reluctantly, I pulled out the two eggplants–the black beauty and the little fingers. They had been steady producers through the summer, the source of Jean’s succulent ratatouilles and eggplant parmesans. Both plants were still in full green leaf, and one or two lavender flowers still clung to the little fingers variety. But, peering under the canopies of leaves, I saw no more robust black beauties, so out that stalwart came.

But when I ventured a timid hand beneath the prickly stems of the little fingers, I was surprised to find one, no, two, no, three–no, four– ripe slender eggplants. And I thought it had stopped producing in early July! But out that genius also came–after all, it was September–and I figured that even if I had missed a few, no more new ones would be coming. Well, maybe so, but as I brought the uprooted plant up to eye level, I felt and saw among the green leaves no less than four more small perfect fruit. These eight had done their silent, patient, hidden growing over July and August.

Can you see the eight purple eggplants growing beneath the leaves of the plant in front? Not me.

To my ravaging hands, out also came the spent cucumbers, one of the pepper plants, and some of the summer annual flowers (impatiens, chamomile, some of the marigolds). But some will hang on a while more before I pluck them for the compost bin. Living in a land where it rarely gets cold enough for a string of hard freezes, annual plants hang on for a long time (sometimes for two years or more), so gardeners always hold out hope that their favorites will live on and on.

Once I’ve picked the last peppers and taken out the last of the marigolds (and maybe even the vinca and the petunias), it will be the official end of summer in the garden.

But it just means that fall-winter planting is coming. What will it be this year? Definitely the hearty, spicy arugula and the sweet, buttery bibb lettuce. Jean wants the bold, richly-colored chard again, and she’ll have it. Onions? Of course. Beets? I love the look of the leaves and the mystery of what lurks beneath the soil. Ah, yes: broccoli–the promise of those plump, delicious heads and crunchy stems.

All of this bounty depends on the rains. What will happen this year? Always the mystery. Always the hope.

But for now, we are between seasons. The soil rests, getting ready.