I live in Florida in U.S.A. In Florida it is summertime and has been since mid-April. Daytime highs (Farenheit) in mid-to-high 80's, overnight lows mid-60's to mid 70's. Leafy cool season crops, save the fall-planted collards that continue to struggle against the near-tropical sun (it's rollin' around Hebbin all day right up there close enough to touch, y'all) are gone, long gone. My late planting of my beloved "Little Marvel" "English" peas is thriving, in full inflorescence and due for its first picking tomorrow, but I know that the peas will be drab and bland simulacrae of their lovingly sweet and flavorful Autumn and Spring brethren. That it is summertime, there is no doubt. The peppers, eggplant, cowpeas, okra, lima beans, summer squash and cukes are thriving. So are my indeterminate tomatoes, including those that had been so brutally retarded by the Garlic Millstone of
2010. The Millstone, btw, is in the fridge en route to the compost. I shall cultivate garlic no more forever. For the semi/il-literate, that's a paraphrase. Google "chief Joseph" or "trail of tears" and all shall be revealed. This year, influenced partly by the unceasing hyperbole issuing from the multitude of politically correct "Save the World" Luddites and Universal Paranoiacs (who, I suspect do not actually garden but just write about it), as well as, partly by the fact that the damned things were just sitting there at Sherwood's, looking all sweet and pretty at a substantially reduced price, I forewent my trusty tried-and-true utterly reliable friend, the former "Burpee's" Big Boy inderminates, in favor of the highly-pimped and faddish "Brandywine" heirloom variety. Mistake. These sonsofbitches have been sitting there, eating my dirt, ever since overnight lows were reliably above 50 degrees (Farenheit, remember?). I could look in my diary for an exact date but really don't care. Neither do you. How did I know that? Those suckers have been in full inflorescence and eating my high-dollar organic amendments since early April. This is nearly mid-May (I was married to "April" and she did; boy, did she. Read for comprehension and you'll get it.): By now, I should be eating tomato sandwiches, provided that I could persuade my mate to leave some fruit on the vines to ripen instead of frying-stewing-pickling them as greenies. But, no-o-o-o: These suckers surely are pretty but they ain't making no 'maters! What blossoms the grasshoppers don't cut off simply fall off. Which leads to further commentary regarding the efficacy of neem oil against the feeding habits of grasshoppers (NOT!) as reported by delusional gardeners and by purveyors of neem oil. In fact, IME, the primary benefit of neem oil seems to be the lining of the pockets of neem oil merchants; but, I digress... At any rate, as of -->today- posted
13 years ago