I planted two cover crops in October-November, crimson clover and fava beans. Those who live in the northwest know what wacky-cold and snowy weather we had this winter. The result in spring? The fava are nada. Frost killed all of the plants. The crimson clover? Thriving. I’m going to experiment with some other cover crops this fall, but clover will definitely be making a repeat appearance.

One decision I have to make this spring: whether to just give the clover a “haircut” and let it continue to keep root, preventing weeds while my vegetables grow out right from under it, or whether to till it under. I think I’ll try both options and see what happens.

The OSU extension service has a wordy but very useful article about cover crops for home gardens and their benefits for building healthy soil.

Here is a perfect example of how I can feel like a total idiot in the garden. 

My friend very lovingly gave me two broccoli plants.  They shot up stalks and flowered, and now they look like this.  Nothing like any broccoli I’ve seen.  Broccoli should grow kind of like cabbage or cauliflower, kind of like this.  Right?  I’m really confused.  I’m wondering if I have an unusual variety.  Maybe they’re mutant.  I’m becoming a little impatient but I’m going to wait it out and see what happens.

Darn. Should have picked cauliflower all at once. In just several days, it has gone from sweet to acrid. I guess it began bolting, because the curds are sort of irregular. I found aphids all over one head. I don’t think it did well with the recent 90-degree weather.

I’ll have to read up on this. Then get over it.

My c-flower is turning yellow in the sun. Call it sepia. Next year I think I’ll rubber-band the leaves to give them a little cabana so they can stay snowy white. Because we’re all about perfection.

But I also noticed a PURPLE coloration in between the curds. I thought it was a fungus or something. It’s not. Here’s one explanation. I guess it’s just harmless pigment, again, related to sun exposure. It doesn’t seem to be affecting the taste.

Picked the first cauliflower today!

“Cauliflower looks like cancer,” my brother says. I can understand the cauliflower haters. It’s kind of smelly and funny looking. But the c-flower I cooked was sweet, crunchy and much milder than the grocery shelf version. Totally yummy.

Here’s a good recipe we used for a teriyaki veggie/tofu/meat marinade. Blend up these things quickly in your blender:

• Green onions
• soy sauce (or tamari) – don’t overdo it
• ginger
• jalapeno peppers
• an orange
• sugar (optional)

I threw in some early squash and some late (kinda tough) peas. Not too bad.

First tomato fruit!

It’s here! The first little green nubbin’ of a tomato. Actually, there were two, and I couldn’t resist picking one and taking a bite. It was bitter. What can I say, I’m tactile-kinesthetic. And orally fixated.

I have both determinate (bush-type) and indeterminate (viney-type) tomatoes. This season, my first in this garden, I’m experimenting with the indeterminate type. (What’s the difference?)

Steve Solomon says in his book “Growing Vegetables West of the Cascades” that you can grow indeterminate vines that are 8 feet or more in length, trailing up an over a tall trellis or support system. To do this, I’m following his suggestion to trim off all but two (I’m doing three) main leader vines on this plant. It is the one pictured, the first to produce fruit. Not sure if the first fruit is because of  the method of snipping all but 3 leader vines, or if it’s the variety (yellow pear).

I’ll do a subsequent post that shows my vine support system — an “A” frame support and twine.

My goal is to get these vines 7-8 feet long, to go up and over my trellis support.  Has anybody had similar luck getting long, productive indeterminate tomato varieties?

Our neighbor passed away. I wondered if I could pull together an arrangement for the grieving family from just backyard flowers. The answer is… yes. Resoundingly yes. So many unexpected things are producing great flowers right now. Hosta. Broccoli. Yucca. Mostly stuff that I didn’t plant. When we moved in last November, I had no idea the blooms that these plants were going to display in the summer.

Our irises were disappointingly short-lived this past spring.  It is nice to be able to use the speared, green leaves from bloomed-out irises as a height-giving element to this arrangement.

Funky bolting lettuce

“There’s no way we can eat all this lettuce.”

Salad a day — heck, two salads a day, wouldn’t do it. When my little lettuce seedlings sprang up in April they were as precious to me as gold. Today, as I yanked yet another giant oblong, bolting red flame head of lettuce, I decided a couple things. 1. Plant less lettuce. 2. Start writing about my garden.

So, with the bitter taste of post-pubescent lettuce leaves still in mind, today begins this blog.