September Straw Bale Garden Update

It has been such a lovely day. I spent over four hours out in the garden. On these nice mornings, I find it almost impossible to drag myself back indoors.

At first, the day was thick with fog. It was heavy enough that it made me want to adjust my vision. The girls and I were watching and listening to the birds. We have such a great variety of them dancing around. Their beautiful blues, whites, browns, reds, blacks, yellows, purples, and greys make a fun contrast to the bright white and red berries now draping from bushes and vines that have grown up into the trees. I simply cannot get enough of their happy chatter.

The girls ate breakfast out on the patio. Shelly sat near me, as watchful as I. Giraffe bounced in and out of her chair. She inspected every new bug or chased down each sound she noticed. (She doesn't like to have insects come near her, even though she enjoys looking at them.) Both girls inspected the new flowers that have brightened the bushes. We've not seen these before. I learned today that they are called Goldenrod.

This home is perfectly situated for Hubs and me. I absolutely adore lighthouses. He adores planes. We didn't know when we chose to build in this neighborhood that there are two lighthouses we pass on the way in. One is part of a minigolf course. The other is in a backyard visible to the road. Our home is also in the path where small planes take off from the local airport. Perfect, no? When I realized this, I told Hubs that if I had ever doubted that the Lord had put us here (I didn't), the planes and lighthouses would have instantly confirmed that this is where we are meant to be. <3

I digress. Back to this morning. The kids went inside the house and did their schoolwork for the day. (I love how swiftly they move through it!) I stayed outside on the other side of the screen door (I am still their mom, after all!) and enjoyed the birds and animals a while longer, snacking on some Yellow Pear tomatoes. Delicious!

Giraffe finished her schoolwork and came back out to play on the swing; alternately swinging and flitting around me like the little butterfly she is. Her happy chit-chat scared away the birds, but it always brings a smile to my heart. :)

I moved over to prune the cantaloupes. I found a nice, ripe one smelling sweet in its crochet sling.

By then, Shell had also finished her schoolwork. I had her bring out a plate and a knife. The three of us sat under the cantaloup arch. I cut the melon and the girls ate it fresh, right there in the garden. *happy sigh*

After that, I enrolled Shell to help me finish pruning her cantaloupes. We took out all vines that were either dead or were not bearing fruit. The arch looked positively naked! lol It still does!

I was pruning below and she above when, fffffWUMP!!! Out of nowhere, a huge spider landed on the front of my shoulder!!! All I could see was its massive legs and abdomen! I screamed!

My kids jumped around exclaiming, "WHAT? What, Mom? What? Are you alright!?"

Honestly, I felt quite silly and a bit sad when I realized that the massive spider that had just received a frantic swatting was, in fact, a praying mantis! Oh, no! We love these guys, and this one was especially beloved. Shelly had discovered him living in the cantaloupes earlier this week. He seemed quite at home in our garden, content to eat bugs and wait on the arrival of a murderous girlfriend.

The girls and I, worried that I may have killed him, fussed over the poor thing. I apologized to him and the kids repeatedly. He was lying on the ground in shock.

Shell has a heart for all creatures. She tenderly lifted him into her hand and carried him the next arch over to recover on one of the giant leaves of the butternut squash plant. We have kept a gentle eye on him all day. I am pleased to report that he came to, and has moved around the garden to stalk bugs.

Being September already, the plants are winding down along with the year. Bees arrive later every day. I like to imagine that they remain nestled in their hives, waiting for the cool temperatures to rise. Fog or mist more frequently hangs in the air and stunning diamond droplets of dew kiss the leaves and petals all around. Young squirrels dart furtively through the trees, waiting for us to come inside so they can forage.

The dawn sunlight peeks over the neighboring trees and houses at a slightly different angle now; setting the arches and panels of our garden aglow, yet casting a chill shadow over the patio near the door where I sit. Sun warms my legs and feet; shade covers the rest of my body.

Purple Dragon Carrots came up small but incredibly tasty. Next year I won't make the mistake of planting them in a container. Watermelon Radishes I thought needed more time sprouted flowers and start to bolt. Their white-wrapped fuschia bulbs tasted slightly bitter because I waited too long. Nature's massive heartbeat, so like the comforting thud of my dad's, has begun to slow. Everything around is ready to move on but I, it seems.

We have stripped away the cucumber vines. Absent their buds and leaves, the annoying but pretty cucumber beetles find less reason to hang out. Solitary Butternut and Spaghetti Squash vines remain, each nurturing a final fruit. I have decided to cook them in some special way.

Tomatoes are yawning. I pruned a lot of excessive foliage; preparing for the day when they need to be removed. It seemed timely given the cooler nights. It is interesting how you can practically feel it in your body; the way they go from booming reds, oranges, and yellows to almost struggling to ripen. There will be no new bread-sized tomatoes. The ones that remain will pink up smaller than those we picked before. They will be cool to the touch. This is when tomatoes lose their appeal to me.

Yes, the garden is almost done for the year. I suppose I could be considered almost hopelessly romantic about the entire thing. I breathe more deeply, feel more peaceful, and live my life intrinsically connected to what is happening outside my back door.

There is a rhythm to everything in nature. Spring first teases of new life with buds, sprouts, and the courting calls of birds. Summer buzzes in at a breakneck speed. Cicadas' shrill vibrations ring in the trees. Bees zing around plants; at first light with their busywork pollinating countless blooms. Before long they labor more slowly, looping and dropping under heavy loads of pollen. I chuckle to myself, "Go back to the hive! You can barely fly!" They never do. Blossoms of all sizes beckon them: nature's variegated boastings of extravagant growth. Autumn then cheers us with brightly colored berries in the bushes as birds begin to slip away. Leaves turn bright and flutter to the ground in an effort to distract us from the coming winter. And come winter does, bringing with it the desiderium of seasons gone by.

And I? I look covetously out the window, dreaming again of summer and bees and the next verdant garden to come.

End of Season :)

     Our summer gardening season has come to an end, just as quickly as it began. 

As August progressed, and we continued to reap veggies and fruits from our garden time took her toll on our little backyard haven. Bugs abounded, and became more than just a nuisance. Giraffe was getting bitten upwards of twenty times every time we went outside. The pumpkin plant took over the yard, and under the massive umbrellas of its leaves millions of six legged, two winged creatures thrived and multiplied. 

The cucumber was the first to go. Our pumpkin plant choked it out. When it was clearly no longer going to produce, husband pulled it out of the bale for me. We found one final cucumber, about eleven inches long, and relished eating it. :) In all, though we would have loved to have more cucumbers we were greatly satisfied with the 9.5" to 11.75" size we saw in the cucumbers we did harvest. 

Then something else happened. My tomato plants fell over! The beefsteak and the heirloom tomatoes which were booming like you've never seen - healthy, beautiful tomatoes - fell right over, cages and all. The bales were composing so well that they simply could not take the weight of the fruiting plants.

Ahh... so this is why they say to stake and wire the straw bales at the beginning of the season. This is why I do not really find pictures of tomatoes in bales growing through cages. Natch. Never mind. The tomatoes on the porch fell over and continued to grow. These will also. 

Then my cherry tomatoes began to taste really bad. I mean really, really bad. I have no clue what happened here. They were still producing in great quantities and great size, but they tasted like dirt. In fact, they tasted dirtier than dirt. I figured that was as good a sign as any that time was up, so I went ahead and pulled those myself. 

Next my broccoli bolted. Yup, you read that right. It up and bolted! lol You can see here that the new, large broccoli heads that I was waiting to get 'just so' burst into flowers right before my eyes. I hit Google to see why this would be. It turns out that when we hit our hot streak, the soil overheated so the plant took that as a chemical cue to flower and go to seed. Who knew? 

Then another tragedy struck. This one felt malicious, and caught us off-guard. Our pumpkin plant, which had produced nine pumpkins total (six of which made it to fully ripe), suddenly began to die. When we moved closer to examine it, we could see that some unscrupulous person had come into the yard and pulled it completely out of the bale. :( :( :( 

This felt so unkind and thoughtless! I do not know if it was some random neighborhood child. We do not live near anyone specific, but people and children from the neighborhood behind us sometimes cross through our yard. I also wondered if it was the mean lady who lives behind the fence. In the first two years we lived her, she deliberately mowed down every plant I planted in MY yard. The truth is, I honestly do not know who did it. I just know that it made Giraffe cry. 

You can see in the same picture what I meant by the tomatoes fell over... they genuinely fell over onto the ground. lol Staking never was an option for us, as we had promised the homeowner's association that our garden would be temporary, and we'd remove it at the end of the year. 

These various things indicated to us that the end of season was, indeed, upon us. Choked out cucumber, bolted broccoli, pumpkins ripped out and left to die, tomatoes on the ground... yeah, it was pretty much over. Husband took an hour or so and ripped out the plants - allowing me to harvest the last of the tomatoes so they could ripen in the house. In spite of the many swarms of bugs now living in the composting straw, and even a bumblebee nest in the tomato bale, he worked hard and got them torn apart. We took the torn up straw and used it for mulch at the back of the yard against the treeline. At one point, hubs found a mouse! It did not squeak, but I pretty much did! lol

The very last thing we harvested was the celery we had left to grow in the shade up by the house. I had mistakenly forgotten to blanch the celery plant, so it was a bit bitter to the taste. You can see it was HUGE!

I cannot tell you the sheer number of slugs and pill bugs we found in this thing, either! I am not even kidding. Giraffe was excited, too. lol She got containers and was gathering bugs and slugs like nobody's business. She is back in home school, and one lesson suggested that the student might enjoy making and tending a bug zoo. Which, incidentally, is exactly what it sounds like. Various containers filled with backyard bugs that will inevitably meet their demise inside my house. haha Giraffe looooves bugs, and our yard has certainly had more variety this year than ever!

So anyway, that is how our season ended as quickly as it began. Four bales placed into the yard and treated with care and even affection. Four bales ungraciously ripped of their guts as plants were pulled, and then hand-shredded into mulch. Four black spots on the lawn, laid bare and waiting for new grass seed to be scattered, and grow. 

It was a beautiful summer. Our garden was such a source of delight for us. More than that, it was an ongoing science lesson for my children. :) We made friends with bees, where we were once so afraid. We learned deeply about each of our plants, and how they grow and produce. We harvested cucumbers that were just shy of a foot long, where once was a three-leaf plant. :) We successfully raised six small pumpkins. We nearly drowned in tomatoes, albeit mostly very small ones at the end. We had a head of broccoli and decided we like it better steamed than fresh. :) We had our own celery, and decided next year we probably would not do the celery or the yard-encompassing pumpkins again.

Finally, our little watermelon seeds grew. :) We have one single plant left of our garden, and from it a vine with a few small watermelon flowers peeking out. 

Husband kept the half-bale of straw the plant is growing out of, and set it atop the now-vacated planter on the patio. The planter which held and sustained twenty-six fully grown beefsteak tomato plants through a period of several months, and brought us such lovely tomatoes once we got the knack of watering them correctly. :) The sheer amount of bugs at the end made us say things like "We will NOT be doing this again next year!" Not two weeks later, I am already thinking fondly of the experience we had and saying to myself,

"Maybe... just maybe..."