Guilty.

 I’ve been light on the blog posts lastly, but here’s one of the reasons why:

 This is our vegetable garden.

Look over the stone wall; there’s a third plot slightly visible, and I’m not even going to show you the upper field that is need of weeding something fierce.  As anyone can figure, spring is a time that keeps us busy from sun up to sun down.  Our seedlings are still growing, but other things need to be planted.  We have potatoes and onions waiting for us and this year we need to replace all the strawberry plants.  We entering “round one” of spring planting; which is nothing compared to “round two”.  So, I’m still, but I’m outside when I can be and I promise to keep you in the loop when I can sit myself down in front of the computer. 

Seasonal labor

 

Here we go again – the season of back aches, filthy fingernails, sore muscles, rusty knees, tired arms and dirt.  Not to mention weeds, lots and lots of weeds.  Yet again, I swear I’ll get the better of them this year, I swear I will. 

You’ll see.

I promise.

Geez, who am I kidding.  I'll start off strong and then fade faster than cheap jeans in hot water. 

darn it.....I hate being truthful with myself.

That's It?

Forget the hail tapping on my window and the rolling grey clouds clapping thunder, I’m thinking spring!  This little baby just popped its head up over the weekend.  I seeded it, along with 50 others, last week.  We’ve got tomatoes growing, and all different kinds.  It’s a small compensation for Christophe's comment, “You seeded 50, that’s it?”

“Just for now,” I smirked.  “The rest of the plants will be started in the greenhouse later this month.”  (Back at you; head whip and cocky grin.  Why?  Because he’ll be planting them and then we’ll see about that “only 50” comment.)

Ratatouille

Eggplant

So the question is, what do I do with all those tomatoes?  We can a lot, but one of my favorite summer dishes is ratatouille.  We have everything needed in the garden: sweet onions, zucchini, eggplant, and of course, tomatoes.  It was the first dish Christophe ever made me, and I swear to this day, no one makes it better.  When he told me he was making ratatouille that first time, I didn’t understand at all; it’s that whole accent thing.  He repeated the word over and over again, and then I finally had a light bulb moment and got it. (However, understand Jewelia Rowbear for Julia Roberts took a good hour.)

And, I have to be honest, before that moment, I never ate ratatouille before.  Growing up, we had more zucchini than we knew what to do with – zucchini bread, zucchini and tomato casserole, zucchini chocolate chip cookies, and zucchini chocolate cake – but we never ate eggplant.  I think if I was handed it as a child I wouldn’t have known what to do with it.  I grew up in a typical Mid-Western family; we had green beans, corn, and of course, zucchini.  In the winter, we ate potatoes.  Its funny how all that has evolved; I’m in a Mediterranean environment.  It’s super-hot, we eat late, and eggplant (2 varieties) is an everyday summer food.  Ratatouille anywhere else just wouldn’t be the same.  Yes, part of it is the vegetables are fresh from the garden, but the other part of it is location; the vegetables scream “Mediterranean” and not “Mid-West”.  I do miss a good ear of sweet corn freshly husked, boiled, and buttered, but I have an appreciation for new local comfort foods, that like that ear of corn, reflect the place and the people who live there. 

Night Watch

The garden at night.

The drought has taken its toll on quite a few things: trees are suffering, there are water restrictions, and even the animals are acting a bit odd.  The blue jays that attacked our fig tree have now striped it bare and we have discovered a new problem: foxes, or at least we think they are foxes.

For the last few weeks we have found an animal has dug up part of the garden.  It’s not attacking the vegetables, but it’s digging in the dirt leaving giant holes and unearthing the plants.  We think it’s burrowing for worms or any other form of nutrition.  At first we thought it was cat, but the damage was far too extensive.  Then the idea of a boar developed, but it couldn’t have been one both since the damage was not nearly enough and the potatoes have been left untouched (boars like potatoes).  It’s most likely not a dog, so all fingers started pointing towards a fox.  We’ve already lost a few plants to the digging, and unearthing the plants each morning that have been buried is time consuming, so we’ve had to act defensively.  Each night around midnight we go out to the garden and wait.  It sits at the edge of the property next to small cliff that plunges into a forest below which harbors anything from deer to boars to foxes.  We wait for any sound from the darkness and when it happens, we go on the attack, hurling rocks into the tree tops above so the sound amplifies and frightens the animal.  After a small barrage, we stop and hear it scurrying away.  It works, but it’s not a permanent fix; if we don’t go out to defend the garden each night the animal comes back.  It’s changing our night rituals and stretching out long days even longer.

I admit venturing into the garden so late at night with an active imagination is not always fun.  Sometimes, I’ve darted back to the house after the barrage in fears of the animal taking advantage of my turned back and wanting revenge.  I lock the door after me, happy to be in a well light kitchen and knowing that animals, without opposable thumbs, can’t turn knobs, rendering me safe from their grasps.

Gardening has taken a very odd turn.  I’m losing sleep over a pumpkin and dream about animals that can unlock doors.  The growing season can be quite long, so I’m impatiently waiting for its end when everything can be gathered from the garden and my nights can spent indoors where they are supposed to be.  For now, all I can think is, “That pumpkin better be damn good.”