Garden update: summer 2024

This gardening season has been… strange. You may recall I started the season with sixteen eggplant seedlings. We have no eggplants. Early summer saw an unusually high number of rabbits in our garden; I’m guessing they enjoyed the seedlings. That or the burst of exceedingly warm weather around the same time, followed by a temperature drop, and fairly sparse rain throughout the season killed them off. Given those choices, I’d prefer if the rabbits ate them.

A sunflower plant past the flowering stage surrounded by the lush green of tomato, cucumber, and pumpkin plants.

Fortunately, some of our other plants thrived. Not surprisingly, we have tomatoes again – all volunteers from seeds dropped in previous years – along with small pumpkins (a volunteer from the composter in the keyhole bed), and three varieties of cucumbers that I planted. The strangest of those are the lemon cucumbers, a round yellow variety that have a delightful crunch to them.

A mix of cucumbers and cherry tomatoes from an early harvest. Two of the oblong cucumbers are a mix of orange and green, just barely overripe, while the others are green. The one round lemon cucumber is yellow, just ripe.

This was our first sizable harvest, a few days before we left on a trip to England and Scotland. Cucumbers, like other plants in the squash family, have a tendency to spread their vines under (or over!) other plants, resulting in what I refer to as stealth fruit, which are ones I don’t find until they’re either larger than usual or otherwise overripe. The two cucumbers pictured above with yellowing (orange-ing?) skin are examples of stealth fruit. We made an effort to finish our early harvest before leaving on vacation, knowing that we would likely be coming home to more ripened fruit.

A basket of cucumbers. All of them have yellow or orange skin indicating that they are overripe. Most of the cucumbers are round, about the size of a tennis ball.

We were not wrong. There are a handful of green, of varying shades, cucumbers on the vine; we picked every one that looked ripe or overripe, including a couple lemon cucumbers that had been partially eaten. The eaten ones were left in a garden bed, so someone can finish eating them or the seeds can have a chance of germinating next year. We did find that the skin becomes less edible at this stage, so the lemon cucumbers will likely be peeled before eating. Unfortunately, it didn’t rain much while we were away, so many of the cucumber vines have dried out, which means they’re not likely to produce more flowers or fruit.

A collection of bite-sized tomatoes. Most are red, a mix of round and pear-shaped, with a round yellow tomato sitting in the center.

Of course, we also have an abundance of tomatoes! Amongst the traditional red cherry and yellow pear tomatoes, I found the occasional batch of yellow cherry and red pear, a consequence of growing the two varieties side by side for so many years. We have the usual sprawl of tomato plants, refusing to be contained in their beds and cages, so I expect we’ll miss some during the harvest process and have volunteers again next year. Fortunately, the rain has arrived, which should keep the tomato plants happy for the next few weeks. At some break in the rain, we need to harvest raspberries and strawberries too.

Another exciting spring moment

It’s been a busy week and my brain is working through a plethora of stuff, so this is a short post. I was super excited to notice flowers on the strawberry plants this week!

Two white and yellow strawberry flowers poking out among the strawberry plants and dried leaves.

Or as I prefer to refer to them… future strawberries.

Great, now I’m hungry. And we don’t have any strawberries in the house. I suppose that’s OK, I know storebought won’t taste as good as homegrown ones.

Gardening season begins again!

Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona Aurora, where we lay our scene….

More alike than different, these plants are currently segregated: whites on one side, purple on the other. I know, nothing looks white or purple right now… that doesn’t happen until much later in the season, when the fruit ripens. They won’t even go into the ground for another month, at which point we’ll have to decide whether we really need sixteen plants worth of eggplants, or if I should hand some off to friends.

Oddly, I hadn’t intended to start plants indoors this year. I was taking a cavalier attitude of only using last year’s leftover seeds and free seeds from the library. (Yes, our public library has a seed library!) That worked until I found out about a free seed event near me – the selection was lovely – and I was halfway home before I remembered that eggplants require starting indoors for our climate.

If you’re wondering why there’s loose dirt in the box, that’s because a cat sat in it and knocked some of the starter pots over.

Appreciating the little things

On a recent morning, after feeding the cats, I noticed how dark it was outside, a combination of the early hour and the overcast sky. I turned off the kitchen light and stepped outside, standing just in the entryway – calling the area a “porch” would be too generous – listening to the pitter patter of the much-needed rain.

A mum, recently planted in a newly dug flower bed between the apple sapling and the rose bush. The mum has some small yellow flowers.

There’s a lot of green in our yard now, more so with the recent rain that has revived the lawn. Amidst that green is this small patch of brown and a growing patch of yellow – a recently cleared flower bed and a single mum. There are multiple little things to appreciate here:

The grass was cleared using my neighbor’s sod remover, which made the task far shorter than if I had been working with just a shovel.

The sod I removed ended up near our back compost pile, mostly yard waste, helping suppress weeds.

The same mum a couple weeks later, full of bright yellow flowers and more buds preparing to open.

The mum itself was a gift from a different neighbor, delivered a couple days after I had cleared the sod. Our front yard is visible from their front window, so hopefully she’s enjoying its growth as much as I am.

If you’re wondering why it’s alone in the flower bed, it’s because we had already purchased bulbs to plant there, which should emerge in the spring. If our timing was good and the winter somewhat mild, the mum may still be there.

As fall arrives, my gardening chores subside.

Somehow it’s mid-September already and, as expected, the temperatures have started dropping as we near the end of a strange growing season. It started off cold and dry, we had a couple weird heat waves (also dry), with most comfortably warm weather in the middle – warm enough to have the air-conditioning on during the day with windows open most nights. Now we’re at the point where the windows can be open during the day, with just a couple cracked open for fresh air at night.

A small pile of white potatoes in various sizes, still bearing dirt from the garden.

We haven’t had a frost yet – probably won’t for another month or so – but the cooler temperatures have slowed down the garden growth. The potato plants began fading last week, so I dug them up this morning. While it’s a small crop, far smaller than the last two year’s potato harvest, the potatoes were a late planting from store-bought potatoes that had sprouted. The Red Alabama okra may be done flowering at this point, and I’m probably safe harvesting every three days instead of every two.

The tomatoes and raspberries, and even the strawberries are still ripening steadily. Our tomato supply has been smaller this year, partially because some of the plants are intertwined with pumpkin vines, which are both overwhelming the tomatoes and can be a bit scratchy when harvesting through. (No, we don’t need to discuss my catnip. Really, it’s fine, it’s a perennial and we’re never running out.)

What was your best garden crop this year?

Things I like about sunflowers

It’s no secret that I like sunflowers, especially in my own garden. They’re one of several plants that encourage me to smile when I look out the window. The sunflowers I planted this season are taller ones, though there’s a scattering of smaller ones planted by squirrels throughout the yard.

Up close and personal with a large sunflower and its' palm-sized leaves

I’d like to say they greet me every morning, but they’re actually facing away from my living room window, searching for that morning sun. That just means I have to step outside for the best vantage point, which is a prime opportunity for walking through the garden and checking on other plants, like the many pumpkins that have already formed and tomatoes that will hopefully ripen soon. I’m a bit dismayed that there are no flowers on the okra plants yet, hopefully that will change soon.

A small sunflower with narrow petals near a potato plant and some catnip

There’s a surprising amount of variety in sunflowers. This little guy, well, is little, and the petals are much narrower than their sunflower cousin in my previous photo. And it’s not just because they’re sharing space with a potato and the largest catnip plant in my garden (which has since been harvested to allow sufficient space for said potato and a couple tomato plants). What is missing, at least in my yard, is some more color variety in my sunflowers – there are some brilliant red ones, so I may look for those seeds next year. I’m sure I’ll still have yellow ones, between the leftover seeds I have and whatever volunteers and squirrel plantings I have.

The epitome of resilience, this sunflower was bent by a storm to the point where most of the leaves are touching the ground, still supporting multiple flowers, only one of which has opened so far.

This sunflower though… it’s the epitome of resilience. This sunflower was bent by a storm to the point where most of the leaves are touching the ground, still supporting multiple flowers, only one of which had opened when I took the photo. I have another sunflower with a stalk that looks like a chair, bent – but not broken – and then growing up from there as if it were undamaged. Short of having stalk gnawed off near the top (yes, I have a couple of those too), sunflowers put forth their best effort to open their blooms to the sun. It amazes me and always makes me smile.

An overdue mulching

I never got around to refreshing my mulch last year; my last mulch delivery was in May 2021 (as mentioned here). It looked great at the time, but mulch gradually decomposes (that’s kind of the point) and needs to be replaced. I had another 8 cubic yards of mulch delivered last weekend and, while I’m definitely making a dent, between my hip issues and air quality concerns (due to wildfires in Canada), I’m having to take it a little slower than last time. Admittedly, I’ve had the mulch for less than a week at this point; this is what it looked like Saturday afternoon, after filling just one bucket:

8 yards of mulch a day after delivery

Sunday morning, I switched to using a wagon to haul mulch to a few spots in the backyard. I could tell I had made a dent on the pile when I headed in for a shower and work on Monday:

8 yards of mulch minus a chunk a couple days after delivery

I’m deliberately not cleaning up the scattered mulch that I missed while shoveling; it gives me an idea of how much progress I’ve made. Of course, so do the results, like our herb garden out front after I finished placing mulch Wednesday morning:

fresh mulch around the star-shaped herb garden

I’m mostly done with the front at this point, leaving some sizable areas in the back and along the edges of the house still to do. All in all, it’s good progress.

Birds hidden in a field of dandelions

We’ve had a decent mix of sun and rain here recently, causing an explosive growth of grass and the plants mixed in, particularly the dandelions. This first photo shows the dandelions and clover in my lawn shortly before the most recent mowing.

Dandelions growing tall in my mix of clover and grass.

This second photo shows similar growth in a friend’s lawn, which was mostly a field of dandelions at that point.

Dandelions growing tall in a friend's yard.

If you’ve never seen a Canada goose, I should inform you that they usually stand between a foot and two feet tall. I was amused when I realized that there were three Canada geese in the nearby field where I took the next photo; I think two of them were sitting down.

Canada geese resting in the tall dandelions in a nearby area.

If you’ve never encountered a Canada goose, this is an appropriate distance – far away – as they’re not friendly and can be quite aggressive at times. I periodically see them on my walks around town, and occasionally have to alter my route because of them.

Summer, is this our final fling?

In true Midwest fashion, the weather has been all over the place this past month. We’re past our first and second frost, and my maple tree stands bare, yet I was able to pick a fresh strawberry yesterday afternoon. I haven’t drained my rain barrels yet, and there are a few branches still to trim before the final brush pickup of the season.

Sunrise over the bare branches of an autumn maple tree.

Today’s high was 76 (around 24 if you think in Celsius), and I took probably the last opportunity to walk out to the mailbox barefoot for this season… tomorrow’s forecast is promising a high of 40 (4.4 Celsius), followed by comparably cold weather into the foreseeable future. We have not, however, had snow yet, and I recall that my first Thanksgiving weekend in Illinois was sweatshirt weather, so it really could go either way at this point.

Either way, we are seeing beautiful sunrises and sunsets this time of year (OK, only one of us usually sees the sunrise), and look forward to those cold days in winter when we look out at the pawprints in the snow.

Reaping the temporary benefits of climate change

According to historical climate data, the average high near me in October is 62; the average low is 43. The temperature has reached the low 70s every day this week, though it’s dropping to a high of 56 on Friday. This can, without a doubt, be referred to as “unseasonably warm”, as I continue to walk outside barefoot to retrieve the mail, and had to open windows in the afternoons to keep the house from overheating.

Last lingering blooms on a sunflower in October

Unlike the people on the Gulf coast of Florida who have many months of recovery from Hurricane Ian, or the east coast of Canada recovering from Hurricane Fiona, here in Illinois, at least for now, I’m able to appreciate the strange weather shift as my garden lingers into the fall. One last sunflower stalk remains with a handful of blooms, and my last okra flowers appeared within the last two weeks. I’ll need to harvest those last okra before the frost hits, probably this weekend, and the tomatoes are becoming easier to find as the plants die off. Eventually – probably in a week or so – I’ll be able to harvest my sweet potatoes.

New flowers on strawberry plants in October

These last strawberry flowers – in October! – are destined to disappoint; they’re not likely to become fruit as the temperature drops. We should have a few more days of harvesting raspberries and golden raspberries though. And by harvesting, I really mean standing outside and eating them straight off the brambles.

Golden raspberries on brambles in October