Wednesday, September 7, 2022

When beans are not just beans....

 September 7, 2022


I’m not sure why it is, but today’s date, September 7, is the date I always associate with the day of returning to school. Hereabouts in my neck of the woods, elementary and high schools commence their fall terms after their summer breaks the day after Labour Day. This year, the kids went back yesterday, and for the first time, our dogs didn’t cause a ruckus when the bus arrived. Which means either that I did a good job of repositioning that chair last night—or they’ve moved the bus stop.

There will be a day this week when I will know if it’s the latter.

Despite that fact that fall commences this year on Thursday, September 22nd, for all intents and purposes summer is over. And while this week we’re in for some heat, next week, according to the weather network, we’ll have more moderate temps with the actual and “feels like” all in the seventies.

Our veggie garden has begun to fade slightly. Our beans weren’t nearly as good this year as they were last; I did get three packages into the freezer so far, and we did enjoy a couple of meals of them, besides. I maintain that the major difference this year over last was David’s inclusion of yellow beans in the mix. Actually, the yellow beans harvested outnumbered the green two to one.

I knew my opinion confused him because he couldn’t hide that look. Anyone who’s been with someone for a long time knows that look. As if suddenly, they’re faced with a complete stranger who also speaks a foreign language. His response was to state what he believed to be the truth: that I loved yellow beans.

Funny, though, how when I asked, he couldn’t recall a single time when I had served them as a veggie at the table, at least not in recent years. I did once serve them—the canned variety—in our younger days because he’d asked for them from time to time. But if he didn’t ask, I didn’t get. And I suppose that was remiss of me, because the truth is he loves them, and I can’t stand them.

When I reminded him of all this, he seemed relieved. Then he told me that they really hadn’t been that good the few times we had them this summer, and he was happy that he wouldn’t have to plant them next year.

And yes, he’s already making plans for next year. Jenny has convinced him that his gardens need to be a bit deeper. And she’s told him we need to replace all the soil. The soil in them has lasted several years, but boxed gardens aren’t like the real thing in the ground. When you plant your garden in the ground, after the harvest, you don’t need to pull our all of your dead plants, like you do with the boxed gardens. During winter, you can strew all sorts of things like coffee grounds, pulverized eggshell, or simple compost on your garden. Then, in the spring, you turn the soil with a tiller, and plant anew. Thus, every few years it seems wise to replace the soil in the boxed gardens.

There is one more thing they’re planning to do next year: there is an area in our upper yard that is fairly flat, where we had a garden, back before we lost our Anthony. It worked out quite well that year. These days, of course, that’s a part of the yard I can’t easily visit because it’s a steep climb. I was trying to recall why we didn’t use that area for a second year. I don’t think it was because of poor produce. It likely was a combination of things, not the least of which was the climb and the difficulty getting down to the ground and back up again.

The one thing David has been frustrated with in regard to his boxed gardens has been his lack of success growing any kind of squash. Our daughter thinks the problem was simple lack of depth, so they’re planning, next year, to turn some sod at the top of the yard to make a squash garden.

I’ll just need to remind them that if they are planting just one small garden for squash it ought to be just one variety from that plant family.

I still recall the time my mother planted watermelon for the first time. She put them too close to the cucumbers. Now, those cucumbers turned out pretty good, but those watermelons were the worst I’d ever tasted.

I think the term for what happened in that case is cross-pollination. And that’s something one should avoid.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury


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