Moonflower Evening

It was unseasonably cool last week, with night temps dow  into the 40's, and I worried that my moonflowers would drop every bud and give up on 2011. But over the weekend the temps began to warm, and by Monday night the moonflowers were putting on a show.  

Each afternoon when I came home from work, I would visit the garden to count the buds that were  beginning their slow uncurling.  After dinner, as dusk descended, the flowers would flatten out and release their delicate, sweet perfume into the humid night air.  I always plan to watch them open, but somehow I get busy, and when I finally step out the slider to check on them, they are already open.  I sniff them and admire for a moment, then head back inside as darkness falls, and the moonflowers bloom for the night sky.

Moonflowers resemble their cousins the morning glories, but they are larger,  more elegant, and much more work to grow.  Because they are native to the tropics the seeds must be started indoors, and they must be soaked overnight or they may not germinate.  

I always plant my moonflower seedlings out into the garden too early, and as a result they sulk and refuse to grow for up to a month, or until it is hot both night and day.  The nights that moonflowers love are the ones so hot and streamy it's hard to sleep without air-conditioning.  

Wednesday night (when I took these pictures) still felt like summer,  but was made  more precious than an evening in July or August  by the knowledge that it was one of the few such nights left.  As I sat and smelled the moonflowers on the air, a pair of  monarchs landed on the Verbena Bonariensis for some last deep sips before migrating.  I caught Sol in mid stride in the third photo, between verbena and goldenrod, the purple and gold glory of  September.  Finally I picked up my bowl of peppers and went inside to make some more pickles, summer captured in a jar.

The answer...

The 'Dragon Tongue' mentioned at the end of the tour are beans, not peppers! Here is what I picked last night.  The Patty Pan squash have outlasted all the zucchini, and I found all the beans hiding under tired looking  (but apparently still productive) bean foliage.

September Garden Tour

Here is the garden tour for September.  There is one mistake in my variety descriptions- did you catch it?

Green Curb Appeal

My kitchen compost bin is just outside the front door because this location is accessible in all weather.  It's so convenient that I use it every day.  Here is a picture of how I have tried to make it less stark and utilitarian.

Rainy Day Thoughts

   It was cool and wet today, and I spent a few hours mid-day baking and reading.  I made what is probably the season's last zucchini bread, and while it baked  I sat at the dining room table and read a book about a boy's summers on his grandparent's farm in New Hampshire.   They were dairy farmers, and frugal by nature and necessity.  The title of the book is the punchline of an anecdote: a box is found in an attic, and it is full of tiny pieces of string.  The box is neatly labeled 'string too short to be saved'.
  One character in the book dies in a house filled with straightened nails he never used.  I thought of my boss at the nursery, who used to pay us to pound nails straight instead of buying new ones, even though the cost of our labor was more than the cost of new nails, and the bent nails were recyclable.
  When does frugality cross the line into the ridiculous?  I periodically look around my house and yard and ask myself that question, because extreme frugality that is beyond necessity is as soul destroying as obsessive buying.  Both are ways to avoid dealing with unfilled deeper needs for meaning, for creativity,  for love.  That frugality can lead to a life with too much stuff that is no longer useful, or too little stuff of quality.
  I buy good beer because I drink a little and enjoy it a lot.  I don't eat out much because I really like simple, fresh food, and because I love to cook.   I make these decisions after discussion with my husband, because he is important, and the beer and food would not be as good without him.  But I'm not perfect, and sometimes I pass up on experiences worth the cost because I worry too much about money, or I spend money on something I later find at home, like yet another tape measure or trowel.

Today I reminded myself to appreciate the things of real value,  like a good meal with an ingredient I grew myself from seed, such as this  grilled cheese sandwich with a slice of 'mortgage lifter' tomato between two layers of extra sharp cheddar on wheat  bread.  You can have your BLT-- I'll take a grilled cheddar and heirloom tomato.  And I won't save string, but I might straighten a nail or two.

Morning Glory

Accurately named.

Good Night Irene

  Irene wasn't a hurricane by the time she hit Massachusetts, but she sure left a mess of fallen trees and power outages.  We were lucky at our home and never lost power, but the next street over had trees on the power line and no electricity for five days.  Many in  more rural towns  in nearby Rhode Island are still without power as I write.
 My friend Margie has no cell phone, and lives alone.  I was so worried  about her after two days that I drove the detour-filled ten miles to her house, to find her just finishing a letter to me!  I delivered a fresh tomato and took the circuitous route home with a lightened heart.
 Two trees fell in our yard, both without causing any significant damage.  One just missed the fence, the other just missed the power lines. Here's a picture of the Black Walnut resting on the back fence:

Next door a much bigger tree came up by the roots and fell across the driveway.  Their car was parked about four feet from where it fell.

The lima bean trellis tilted, but didn't fall, and the rebar trellis was solid as a rock.

I've been busy harvesting late crops. Here's a trug full of good stuff:

I'm really happy with the delicata squash (that's the striped things, in case you didn't know) I got ten squash from three plants that were  in less than ideal soil-- next year I'll give them more love and see what I get.

I've brought all the ripening tomatoes (mostly 'Mortgage Lifter' ) inside the house because mice were nibbling them in the garage, where I had laid them out on newspaper.   Although the days are still warm, the nights are now much cooler, and the tomatoes ripen faster indoors where it is warmer at night,  so I pick them as soon as they show any color.   

I went out Tuesday morning and found a big section of the most perfectly ripe tomato gone, and mouse droppings all around the others. At least they were discerning, and did not just ruin them all.

Now the tomatoes are on the sideboard above Sol's bed. He doesn't seem to mind. That ought to keep the mice away.