Giving peas a chance. Forecasts of frost tend to make me nervous at this time of year, but we seem to have dodged a bullet earlier this week.
Our half-acre property is well protected not only by Seneca Lake but by being deep within the heart of the city.
Looking ahead, this seems to be the last scare until fall. I'm ready!
And, so is everything else in the garden:
Slow to germinate, the peas are now thriving. The nearby transplanted marigolds are settling in, even though some got a little wind whipped over the weekend. I have five set aside for replacements if needed.
That same wind has been drying out the soil faster than I anticipate, leaving some of the transplanted buttercrunch lettuce looking disheveled. A good, long drink will do them wonders. Gray water to the rescue!
Our half-acre property is well protected not only by Seneca Lake but by being deep within the heart of the city.
Looking ahead, this seems to be the last scare until fall. I'm ready!
And, so is everything else in the garden:
Slow to germinate, the peas are now thriving. The nearby transplanted marigolds are settling in, even though some got a little wind whipped over the weekend. I have five set aside for replacements if needed.
That same wind has been drying out the soil faster than I anticipate, leaving some of the transplanted buttercrunch lettuce looking disheveled. A good, long drink will do them wonders. Gray water to the rescue!
Avoiding the pitfalls. The peach and sour cherry trees have already bloomed and faded — but not before plenty of buzzing buddies made their way from one flower to the next. Some bees seemed so overloaded with pollen I’m surprised they could still fly. As proof of their efforts, tiny pale green marbles are already forming along the branches as the petals blow away.
Berries and black currants have blossomed, too. We should be able to try our first aronia, honey and june berries this year. And the gooseberries are filling out, as well. Odds are we’ll harvest more than three pathetic, but sweet, morsels — as long as we net them to discourage bird and squirrel thieves.
The huckleberries barely squeaked through the winter. We practically needed a magnifying glass to see the spring growth, but it’s there. We’ll keep babying them and see what happens.
The three red raspberries are adjusting to their new home far removed from the black walnuts, which don’t seem to bother the black raspberries one bit. Let’s face it: Black raspberries are practically weeds, so they’re doing just fine.
The fussy blueberries are alive and glossy-leaved — which I’ll take as a sign of health. Only two of the eight are covered with blossoms, but the rest at least aren’t dead.
Berries and black currants have blossomed, too. We should be able to try our first aronia, honey and june berries this year. And the gooseberries are filling out, as well. Odds are we’ll harvest more than three pathetic, but sweet, morsels — as long as we net them to discourage bird and squirrel thieves.
The huckleberries barely squeaked through the winter. We practically needed a magnifying glass to see the spring growth, but it’s there. We’ll keep babying them and see what happens.
The three red raspberries are adjusting to their new home far removed from the black walnuts, which don’t seem to bother the black raspberries one bit. Let’s face it: Black raspberries are practically weeds, so they’re doing just fine.
The fussy blueberries are alive and glossy-leaved — which I’ll take as a sign of health. Only two of the eight are covered with blossoms, but the rest at least aren’t dead.
Grape expectations. Of all our perennials, the grapes demand the most care, and they’re responding in kind. All five are leafing out, forming nascent bunches and already growing canes.
Sound the charge toward summer!
— Mary
Sound the charge toward summer!
— Mary
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