I Have the Internal BER

Oh, Blossom end rot! Thy name is villainy!

My precious ruby red, heavy-set tomatoes are filled with poisonous black pus.  Well, shit.

Years ago, I watched that PBS special on the farmer's wife.*  It was a fascinating documentary on being a farmer in the US, but mostly focused on the marital dynamic.  I was gripped by the story and convinced I do not have the patience to be a farmer or married to one.

However, the show did not convey the personal heartache from a failed crop.  My sweet, leafy sprouts that I have fawned and cooed over, excited by their promise, have led to naught this year.  My grandparents were farmers of several acres in Massachusetts.  How did they do this?  I am not cut out for the disappointment. I feign a cavalier attitude, but I am crushed: store-bought tomatoes for our house this summer.

My Grampa with his prized bounty, 1965.  

His green thumb decidedly did not rub off on his granddaughter.

* oh.  they divorced in 2006.

GPOYW

My Darlow's Enigma overflows.

The lettuces don't look half bad either ;)

I, on the other hand, look pained and pale.  /sigh

Descent of the Dragonflies

Garden Update

This right here is what has been making a salad bar out of my garden.  Nature is about to get a lot redder in tooth in claw, if you catch my meaning..

Survivors.

Wow.  The video above is loaded through bloggers engine.  Below is the youtube resolution.  Score 1 for Youtube!

Flowers in the Attic

Tomorrow morning at 5am, My Beloved and I have a hot date in the attic.  Literally.  We're doing the last push to get the new insulation down.  It's gotta be over 95* up there now and at least 92* outside.  Two words: butt sweat.  No matter how much you're in love, that's just plain not attractive.  I'll do it, though, and gladly, if it means we can finally (!) turn the air on.  My fingers and toes have been the size of little sausages since Memorial Day.

In other news, my work on my independent study is going swimmingly with only two meetings under my belt.  See, it's all about finding something that is interesting to me.  I can't imagine the "rhetoric of defeat in science" holding my attention for long, but for the next 11+ weeks (or until we've exhausted all publication options or have had it accepted for publishing) it will be enough.  Of course, this has spurned yet another round of fantasizing what my life would be like as an academician and wistful longings for the days of gentlemen (or gentlewoman) scholars.

GPO my garden returns

Suntan Lotion

It was a perfect pre-summer evening, tonight.

My Beloved and I ate homemade pizza on the back porch.  My Lonicera has just come into bloom and we are bathed in a baby-soft, summer smell. It reminds me of the smell of suntan lotion.

My Gruss an Aachen is in full bloom, loving the additional sunshine since we lost an oak last season.  It smells a little citrusy, it's pink, and I love it.

Want Milk With That?

The past few weeks have been increasingly challenging as my school work ramps up.  The assignments are stimulating and not overburdensome, but they do take some time.

I spend much of my time worrying about time.

I'm not sure if it is a function of being old(er) or pathetically out of shape (or both), but small things take more out of me.  Earlier this week, I spent part of the day at the client's site.  The few hours of being "on" just wiped me out.  I mean my tank was on E.  Not half-full.  Not low.  E.  As with the school work, I love interacting with clients, but there is a price to pay.  And it is higher than it once was.  Like my laptop, I take longer to recharge than I used to, run down faster, and make a lot of loud, grumbly noises of protest.

Tonight is a beautiful evening:  high 70's, light wind, glowing sunset and all of spring just bursting in color.  I picked fresh arugula and spinach from my garden, ate some leftover pasta, and while feeling completely put upon, tried to relax by the TV.  I got caught up in a show on the Independent Lens about garbage pickers in Brazil.  They "work" at the dump collecting recyclables, which they trade in for money.  All of the women interviewed for the show spoke of the pride they feel in this honest work and, in spite of the smell, were grateful they had an option besides prostitution.

And here I sit, feeling so beleaguered by my homework, while I eat fresh produce, a home-cooked meal, and ponder what my well-stocked kitchen might contain for a little dessert. I think I'll have a slice of humble pie.

One Cubic Yard of Dirt

This year I will use the "square foot gardening" method.  It promises considerable output for less resources (fertilizer, seeds, sweat, etc.).  There are several websites to assist with planning.  I had the best luck here.  So, what have I decided to grow?

Peas!  Lettuce!  Carrots!

My goal is to stagger the planting of the radishes, carrots, lettuce, scallions and spinach.  I'm not putting in any corn, even though a pot of it is my favorite summertime dinner!, because it is important to be successful this first year.  Some crops, like corn and tomatoes, can be tricky since they are so affected by weather (both heat and humidity).  As a good scientist, I don't want too many variables that will make it hard to identify keys to success or failure.

We're coordinating with the neighbors (family of four, including two teenagers) to maximize our yield.  She's doing Roma tomatoes, I'm growing yellow cherry tomatoes.  I'm in charge of herbs (other beds which are not captured in the grid above will house the herbs) and she's doing squash, but we're running independent on peas and lettuce since those are so easy to consume.  By golly, we've our own CSA!

Why Do You Build Me a Buttercup

My Beloved built me a raised bed.  What to plant?

• tomatoes
• basil
• zucchini
• sugar snap peas
• buttercrunch lettuce
• ?