Garden

So You Want to Grow Your Own Quinoa…

November 3, 2017

And Other Merry Tales.

Yep, I grew quinoa this year. Last year it was sweet potatoes. The year before I don’t remember, but I’m sure it was something. I try to grow something bizarre each year. Have yet to find anything great, but it’s something to do.

I didn’t take many pictures this year — but I’ve got a few things worth sharing.

To the best of my recollection, summer 2017 was wet and humid. I didn’t have to water much. While it wasn’t hot-hot (that’s Jenniese for really-hot), I do know I ran the AC more than usual. Maybe I’m just getting old and less apt to suffer the indignities of a sweaty face all day. Don’t know. All I do know is: I have air and why they hell am I so stingy about using it so we can sleep without knifing someone?

Anyway.

This year, I mulched tomatoes with black plastic and they hung in much there better than the last few years. I actually had enough to make salsa and put some away for winter. They got pretty bad by early fall, due — I think — to all the rain, but we just cut the bad spots off and devoured anyway. We just ate the last tomato and I am in deep, deep mourning. RIP tomatoes.

Yes, I have no bananas apples

Severe late season pruning and early hail combined to kill my apple crop this year. I knew even before the start of the season that I would have a very small crop. However, I had literally only five apples still on the tree when I went out to pick them last week. Days later I’m still wondering WTH happened to them? Seriously — did someone come over and pick them in the cover of night? While disappointing, like most things in life, I tend to look at it in terms of pros vs cons.

Pros:

don’t have to pick
don’t have to sort
don’t have to scrub black spots off
don’t have to find a cool place to store them
don’t have to peel, cut, cook
don’t have to make jelly
don’t have to make apple sauce

Cons:

no apple jelly or apple sauce.

Conclusion: oh well.

Current State of Garden Affairs

My kale, brussels sprouts, some cilantro and arugula are still mostly standing in the garden after Thursday’s all-day snow. I also forgot to dig the carrots. Hopefully the ground won’t freeze and…

Spring planted kale after 26 degree freeze.

Leaning towers of Brussels Sprouts. Procrastinating the harvest as long as possible.

Summer planted Red Russian kale. Looking a little sad after the freeze.

Cilantro after 26 degree freeze — Cilantro and arugula after 26 degree freeze. Still hanging on!

OH MY GOSH

I just realized I have not yet planted my garlic for next year. Dammit! Now I REALLY hope the ground doesn’t freeze. Good grief. Looking at the forecast… yuk.

The Great Rosemary Migration

I dug up and moved the rosemary and sage plants just in time before the snow. I was feeling pretty good about everything until literally five minutes ago. The carrots and garlic. Crap.

[Update 11/3: Garlic is now planted, and carrots are now dug, thank goodness because the ground is FROZEN.]

And this morning, I spent about 18 hours threshing the quinoa. Do you thresh quinoa? I have no idea. I spent all damn morning getting the tiny quinoa seeds off the black, brackish stems and then sifting them about a hundred times to get the sticks and leaves out and then rubbing them hard to get the chafe off.

What I have to show for my morning's efforts — What I have to show for my morning’s efforts

I have about 2 cups of quinoa to show for it.

So. How stupid does that sound to you?

Really stupid? Yes. Cuz that how I feel right now. Really stupid.

And I wonder why I don’t blog anymore… This is convicting stuff. It’s like bad therapy.

My Favorite New Garden Gadgets

June 11, 2016

It’s been a while since I splurged on anything “new,” “improved” or “cutting edge” for the garden, finding that the old standby’s, combined with my abs of steel, really do the best job anyway.

I can’t even be sure why I even opened the Gardener’s Edge catalogue; most go straight to recycling these days. Maybe it’s because I knew of the parent company (A.M Leonard) as being one of the best in the biz for quality gardening tools? Don’t know, cuz I can’t remember. Suffice to say that the stuff I did end up buying, I actually love.

Thought I’d just take a minute to show you the haul in case you are in the market for something new and fun for the garden.

First know this: I HATE HOSES.

I actually think I just wrote about this in one of the last posts. –Their kinking and getting caught on stuff? Don’t even get me started on rolling them back up. — Although, we do have these water powered hose reels that usually work pretty well — for a few seasons, anyway — before breaking down. However, like hoses, they too, have their caveats. You will often hear me screaming obscenities from a mile away at the “solution” to my “hose problem” that seems to just create more problems. However… this year I tried a couple new hoses that I am in love with:

XHose Pro

X Hose Pro

While looking for the link to this product, I just saw that this hose does not have good reviews. Most are saying that it doesn’t last long. However, I really like it so far. We’ll just have to see if it lasts. This particular model has a nice, heavy-duty shut off valve and shrinks when the water is turned off. It’s lightweight and doesn’t kink. It’s similar to the “As See on TV” Pocket Hose, but claims to be heavier duty.

Zero-G Hose

I bought this one after getting the X Hose and wanting to pick another one up quickly at True Value. I saw the Zero-G and was intrigued to compare the two. I definitely like this one the best. I don’t have to worry about the hose laying in the sun, nor do I have to concern myself with letting the hose shrink for storage. I’m using it in the garden and it is so lightweight that it doesn’t run the risk of breaking plants off when I’m dragging it around. It is also easy to give it a whip to unhook it from an obstacle. And the best part is winding it back up. I have a hand crank reel in the garden and LOATHE the effort it takes to wheel back up long lengths of hose. With this baby, it’s SO EASY! Thinking of replacing all my main hoses with these.

Root Pouches

I wrote about the Root Pouches in my post about re-planting the pool pots. (I was mistakenly calling them Root Bags, which is what they SHOULD be called. Pouch is just such a gross word…) Time will tell if these were a good investment, so stay tuned. I also bought a couple for my mom, who grows tomatoes on the deck up in Hayward. I thought these would be easier for her to move around (lighter, handles, etc.). They are also quite inexpensive, so that’s another reason I wanted to try them out.

A.M Leonard Deluxe Garden Knife

I LOVE THIS THING! I even — for no good reason — went online and bought a second one (though they were out of the orange handle so I had to order pink…). I think this might be my hoarding complex kicking in? I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get another one if I lost mine and rationalized the purchase by saying I would give it as a gift. But I’ve already foiled that plan by using it, so…

Anyway. This thing is STRONG and SHARP (cut myself) and works as a weed digger/twine cutter/plant chopper/lawn edger/miracle tool. So awesome.

Rubber Garden Tub Trug with Colander Insert

Another AWESOME tool. I fill my trug with water, add the colander, pick my lettuce and greens right into the colander, swoosh it around and carry the colander into the house.The greens are no longer all wilty b;y the time they get to the house. It’s still a mess from drying the greens, but so much LESS of a mess as to already be a beloved tool.

The Garden Stamp (aka Silly Planter Thing):

This one is, in my humble opinion, sort of a silly gimmick. I’m using it though to see if I can plant my greens more densely rather than in rows. In order for it to really work easily, your soil has to be tilled very finely, which I don’t really subscribe to, but I find that if I stomp on the square I can still see the holes well enough to drop the seeds into. The other downside is that the depth of the spikes is too deep for things like carrots and other smaller seed, so I have to be careful when covering the seeds with dirt or they will never sprout. There is another version of this on the market that addresses that concern but I didn’t buy it because it looked even more gimmicky that this one. I’ll update you on my findings in a month or two.

That’s my haul. Let me know if you have any of these things and how you like them in the comments. I’d love to compare notes.

Gardens Will Break Your Heart

June 9, 2016

It’s inevitable really. The only difference is that this year, it came much earlier; a blessing probably, though hard to see it that way right now. It’s possible that many of the plants will recover from what I’ve read on the internet. So I am hopeful!

Seriously: what did we ever do without the internet? While I fantasize about unplugging entirely — forevah! — the truth is, I find it invaluable. The problem is, it allows me to be so damn EFFICIENT and INEFFICIENT all at the same time. So, whatever. I can’t solve that problem for you people today. Sorry.

Anyway, the heavens opened last night and hit us like a banshee with wind and hail. Assuming, you are like me, and love to look at devastating pictures of other people’s tragedies, here you go:

Above is the garlic patch and below is what several of them look like individually, snapped right off.

Above is one of several very sad sunflowers. 🙁

Above are my shallots. 50% of stems are sheered off. Below are a couple close ups of tomato plants. Growl.

Above is my baby sweet potato and its lovingly placed black plastic mulch. Below is the pumpkin and squash patch with similar black plastic mulch. The hours that stuff took to lay down… don’t get me started…

You are welcome. Hope you enjoy thinking, “So glad it’s her and not me.”

Now I have to go tell the eighth Storm Chaser to show up on my doorstep looking for work that I’m all taken care of, thank you very much.

Repotting Giant Pots with Root Bags

May 18, 2016

May is literally flying by in a haze of deep freezes, wind, rain and more wind. When I wake up to low 40 degree temps, I can’t help but think back to the early days of gardening when I was wooed by a gorgeous weekend in early May and planted my whole garden — only to watch it struggle through the rest of the month. Meanwhile, my experienced friends would wait until the end of the month to plant and I’d watch as their gardens sped pass mine. Now, I’m that experienced person.

This year.

(Last year I planted in early May.)

This year, however, I was not to be fooled. Last weekend, as we sped out of town toward Madison for Morgan’s graduation I was feeling pretty smug that I didn’t have to cover all that much up. The forecast called for a “freeze warning.” Not a “frost warning,” mind you; a freeze. So I moved all the pots (that I was able to move) indoors and left. Nothing in the garden was at risk because I was smart this year and only planted the early spring crops: spinach, carrots, beets, potatoes, onions, peas and a few hardy greens like arugula and kale. Of course there were some perennial things like asparagus and rhubarb and lemon balm, but they would be fine.

Or not.

My personal weather station recorded a low on early Saturday morning of 26.6 degrees. The asparagus was devastated. The lemon balm and rhubarb look like they were burned, but will make it. I can’t blame myself for this, happily. It’s their own fault if they don’t know what May is like in Minnesota.

Not so with the coleus in the giant pots by the pool — my actual subject today, though you can’t tell with this preamble. I covered them well with old bath towels to no avail. They will need to be replanted.

Such is life in Minnesota. I bounced right back because I have been able to assuage my loss with feelings of superiority that I didn’t plant everything like so many sad gardening rookies. Welcome to the big leagues newbs. Someday you’ll be as wise as me.

So anyway. These giants pots.

These. Giant. Pots.

I hate them and I love them so. I have dreams of … I actually don’t have dreams about them. I just wish I could either grow amazing plants that live forever in them or throw them away. But they won’t burn, so they can’t be hauled away — like so many other things — to Dave’s giant burn pile.

Speaking of the burn pile, does anyone want the kitchenette from our small pop-up camper? It’s got this great little sink and working 2-burner propane stove. In the flurry of getting ready for Charlie’s graduation party, it was hauled to the burn pile despite my cries of protest yesterday. I’m still in shock.

And I would be remiss to point out that this ridiculous thing somehow did NOT make it into the burn pile.

Anyway, the pots: I’m stuck with them forever. I could fit two adult humans inside these pots, no problem. If I ever want to kill someone and hide the body, these would do the trick. In fact, next time you are here, just think about that: ARE there perhaps four dead bodies hiding at the bottom of my darling and gigantic pots?

It would be possible, is all I’m saying. I find photos do not do their gigantitude justice, so I’m trying to give you a mental picture.

You are welcome.

These. pots…

…Have been a gigantic pain in the ass since day one. I lusted after them after seeing them somewhere and hunted them down online in the early days of the internet. Oh the things I would grow! Pine trees! (nope. they died.) Ornamental grasses! (nope. they died) Perennial flowering shrubs (nope. they died.) Asparagus ferns! (These actually lived a few years).

The money I’ve spent… The DIRT required… The hoses required to reach the far corner of the pool.

On further thought, maybe I just don’t like pots of any kind. Does anyone else this time of year, as they drag the hoses around the yard, think fondly of January? Does anyone else, when the hose gets caught on the chair, and you patiently put the hose down, walk back, unhook the hose, walk back, pick up the hose, and try to resume watering but there is no water, then look back and see the kink in the hose by the place it was hooked, then fling the @#$%$ hose back down and look up into the sky and scream “FOR THE LOVE…” and try SO HARD not to take the Lord’s name in vain because… that would be wrong and then think “MY GOD MY GOD why have you forsaken me?!” and instantly feel ashamed because, “What the hell? What does poor God have to do with this and for crying out loud, how blasphemous can you get? That’s what Jesus said as he died on the cross. How dare I even think such a thing when thinking about a @#$# kinked hose…”

It’s true people. These are the things that go through my mind when I’m not listening to an audio book. I really and truly need to find a new audio book.

So anyway. Watering pots is a gigantic pain. And these gigantic pots are no exception. But planting them. My gosh… planting them. Or really, UNplanting them… Words simply cannot express to you how utterly taxing this job is. I mean, I know I’m getting old. My body hurts all the time, but. These. Pots…

Last year they performed horribly. I had the brilliant notion of planting mint in them. Mint, along with an asparagus fern — since my last run with asparagus ferns lasted almost three years. And mint! You can’t kill mint, right?

All well and good for the first 2 months. And it’s pretty much true you can’t kill mint. But just so you know: mint can kill asparagus fern. And mint doesn’t really look all that good after it flowers. The pots were truly awful by July. At the end of the season I decided to start over. Again.

I thought a blog post was in order, given that I couldn’t remove the plants from the dirt and had to use a power saw to get through the roots. I’m not kidding. I thought asparagus fern roots were bad. Nothing prepared me for asparagus fern AND mint roots. But I never got around to it. And let it be said here: the pot from last summer in the photo above that I took before sawing the plants out looks a lot better than I remember it looking. I think they must have “come back” a little in the cooler weather of fall…

Fast forward to this week, as I’m dealing with the aftermath of those root balls. Last fall, knowing I would need more dirt than a human mind can conceive of, to refill these pots, I sawed them into chunks and piled them back into the pots. I’m not so dementia-ridden that I had forgotten what I would face as I replanted them this spring, but the back-breaking reality was a shock.

I’ve tried all sorts of strategies to reduce the amount dirt needed in these damn pots. This year I started with an upside-down 30″ pot in the bottom. Then I filled up the empty space with styrofoam peanuts.

Next, I set the brand-new-maybe-this-will-change-my-life Root Bag on top of the pot and peanuts.

I sawed up pieces of last year’s soil/roots and jammed them down the outsides of the root bag and then topped it off with potting soil. I can’t believe I didn’t take pictures but here is what it looked like last fall. I tried saving the ferns, but let me tell you, they are not faring too well in the cage battle with the mint.

Battle of the Mint and asparagus fern — the mint is thriving, the asparagus ferns, not so much.

Anyway, the idea is that I will pull out the Root Bags at the end of the season and put them in the garage or greenhouse and maybe-just-maybe the new Muhly grass will live. This will prevent me from having to make room for these gigantic pots in the garage in order to save what is planted in them. Yes, yes, I could also just use the 30″ plastic pots in a similar fashion (and I have), but aren’t these Root Bags so cool?? (I got a bunch more fun stuff this year that I’ll highlight in another post.)

The photo below shows where I was at after stuffing all the old dirt down the sides, and filling the Root Bag with potting soil –a lot of potting soil, as the Root Bags are 15 gallons each. Have I clearly conveyed yet just how big these pots are?

It was here that I ran out of potting soil and had to stop. After buying two 55 quart bags of potting soil at Costco for $10 each — thinking that would be enough — I simply could not spend four times that amount for way smaller bags of potting soil elsewhere. (And since I ran out of dirt after doing only two of the pots, that is also why I only lost four coleus plants instead of eight in the subsequent deep freeze of May 15th.)

Planting the rest of the pots was completed yesterday and, in total, took four full bags of 55 quart potting soil — even with the pots already half filled with foam peanuts. I still want to put some type of mulch over the top to hide the rim of the Root Bag, but this will suffice for now.

We’ll see how they do. I hate to say I’m hopeful, because that would be the definition of insanity, but then, why not. We live in Minnesota. We are all insane.

Spring Gardening is Endless

April 25, 2016

One of the things I remember most about becoming a mom was the slow-dawning realization of what a good job my own mom did. Maybe I’m in the minority here, but there has rarely been a stage that I’ve gone through with my kids and not looked back on my own growing up years and wished I could be as supportive and unconditional as my own mom.

Yes, well, there was that time we were driving her crazy when my dad was out of town that she told us that he wasn’t our “real” dad — which quite upset my brother at the time. While my mom will never forgive herself, I still think of it as one of the funniest things she has over done. Anyway: if that single misstep is considered bad parenting, then Morgan and Charlie are going to have a whole lot of ammo on me. I am only coming to realize now, after the damage has been done, that children don’t necessarily thrive on a steady diet of sarcasm.

Would I go back and do it over you ask?

No. I’m just making a point.

Why this recollective intro to a post on Spring Gardening you ask?

Because.

Because in just the past year or two, spring gardening has become a fast-track lesson in aging —and I’m only 50! Again, I think of my mom and dad. They are living up in Hayward, doing the yard, chain-sawing trees, hauling branches, transplanting shrubs, cleaning the boat. You know, just doing the day in, day out kind of stuff, and again, I find myself wondering: how the hell do they do it? They’ve got a quarter of a century on me and I feel like I might not make it until tomorrow. Glycosamine be damned. That stuff doesn’t do anything.

I spent ~~the weekend~~ Saturday in the garden. (I just remembered that it rained all Sunday.) And I can barely walk or raise my arms above my head. My first task was to split the Rhubarb. I meant to do it when the shoots were just starting to come up, but I forgot all about it until I pulled out my notes from last year and saw, written at the top: REMEMBER TO SPLIT RHUBARB IN EARLY APRIL.

I missed that boat, so I just did it anyway and am hoping for the best.

Of course I Googled it. Online it says “Splitting Rhubarb couldn’t be easier.”

LIE.

I quickly got my heart rate up to anaerobic levels and kept it there for the duration of the digging. I have an Apple watch and have been confounded trying to meet my Move goal. The Stand goal is easy; you just have to stand up and walk around once every hour. Exercise is easy, as long as you remember to “start” it before a walk, run or bike ride. But Move? I can’t seem to hit it even when I walk 20,000 steps in a day.

Never mind.

I hit the elusive Move goal by 10am on Saturday digging that damned Rhubarb. Not sure what the metric is — pulse? stroke? — I’m simply pointing it out because it was a big deal in my small world.

The first Rhubarb plant (I have 2) I diligently dug all the way out and split and replanted after amending the soil.

The second plant, nearing complete exhaustion, I got lazy and just hacked off about half of the plant and left the rest in the ground. To make myself feel better, I’ve rationalized this action by considering it my Rhubarb Control Experiment.

The good news is, I’ve got lots of Rhubarb plants to give away if you live near me.

In other garden news we had our first harvest of Asparagus on Sunday. I spread compost and planted peas, lettuce, arugula, potatoes and onions. I didn’t get to the spinach, carrots or beets yet but hope to do that in-between the downpours this week. And just because I condensed that into a single sentence should not detract from the awfulness of bending, kneeling, sitting and standing back up that is required. Seriously — these grannies that they show on rolling carts in the garden catalogs? Sign me up. I am not ashamed.

Who else out there is gardening. Share your stories man. I want to hear them.

Gardening in November… Wait. What?

November 11, 2015

It is almost the middle of November and some people in these parts are still harvesting tomatoes. Not me. We had a pretty good freeze about a month ago — but even a friend 3 miles away still has flowers blooming on her steps. Cwazy. But even for me, the garden in November lingers on.

Anything you get at this point is just pure bonus prize. Weeds in the path are arugula and cilantro plants. A rogue mustard plant found near the compost pile became an amazing stir-fry. I don’t know if it is because I know it could all be gone tomorrow, but everything tastes better this time of year and brings more delight than even the first spring harvest. Case-in-point: Three months ago I would have yanked it out and tossed it on the compost pile without a second thought. “Dam weed…”

With the lingering gorgeous weather, garden clean-up gets put off a little longer. The Halloween Storm of 1991 just doesn’t have the same teeth in my psyche as it used to, so I’m not all freaking out about having everything “put to bed” yet. Plus, there is something about cutting things off that are still alive. Sort of. Sort of alive. You know? I mean, Dave wants to cut everything back — even the show-stopping feather grass. What kind of sadist does that?

He would tell you, “the kind of sadist who doesn’t want to do it in the spring.” Meh. It’s the small things in life. And when I’m sitting on the pot in the bathroom, I want to gaze to my left out the window and see that beautiful majesty rippling in the breeze. Cut ’em off an die.

For the record, I do allow him to cut the: black eye susans, hostas, wild sage, karl foerster grass and EVEN THE HYDRANGEAS, so don’t get all high and mighty with me. I want the FEATHER GRASS LEFT UP. Period.

So anyway, I was finally out in the garden yesterday, cleaning stuff up, planting the garlic and shallots for next year… and it was kinda fun. Lots of little delightful surprises. Like finding carrots that Lola somehow missed. For you newbs, Lola is the vegetable-eating dog & annihilator-of-the-garden.

She can find carrots underground. Honest to God, I think she could be trained to find truffles. But SOMEhow she missed my last planting of carrots.

Maybe it was the monster beets that they were growing next to that threw her off the trail. It’s possible. These beets are formidable. Anyone want some beets? I hate beets.

Here’s another surprise delivered by the carrots: they actually taste good.

These are the very same seeds I planted in early May for summer harvest. The very same that grew great healthy tops and tasted like crap. Awful. Woody. Gorgeous, terrible carrots. I left them in the ground and let Lola have-at them. I didn’t even care that she dug up and ate every one.

I re-planted the same seeds with no expectations in late July next to a new planting of beets. I kind of forgot about them and dug them up yesterday. They taste amazing. Like candy. I am never — not ever — planting carrots in the spring again.

hahaha. Like I’ll ever remember that…

Other surprises: this crazy green cauliflower. Same story as the carrots. I started some early from seed — my flagships — and they were awful. They barely made a head and shot straight to seed. Meanwhile, I direct-seeded 4 plants when I did my late planting of kale. I never expected them to do anything. After the first frost there was a teeny, tiny floret on the largest plant. Apparently, they continued to grow for the past couple months. And now they are spectacular.

Bonus: they TASTE GOOD! I know that sounds weird, but the earlier plantings were awful, just like the carrots.

I like to roast cauliflower. I toss it with a little olive oil and lots of salt and pepper and cook it at 425 for about 30 minutes, turning them once. It is AMAZING how much they shrink. (I swear to goodness I did not eat any before I took the last picture. Go ahead, count them:

Let’s see, what else…

Oh yea, I planted the garlic and shallots.

I struggle with shallots because I just don’t see that they taste that different, but pound for pound it’s like you are growing gold, based on what they charge in the store, so I continue to grow a crop. Garlic is a no brainer. Fresh garden garlic is awesome to cook with. I planted a whole bed with just garlic this year since I wish I had a little more to share with, oh you know, the UPS man.

You separate the cloves, then plant them about an inch below the surface, pointy side up. I’ll add a layer of hay once the ground is mostly frozen since I have lost crops in the coldest winters.

Finally, the best for last: my BRUSSELS SPROUTS! They are epic.

Tall, healthy and they actually have real-live sprouts on the stalk, unlike last year’s that were tall, stately, healthy and naked. No sprouts at all. No idea why. But that’s all in the past. I have 5 stalks of these babies. Sorry UPS man, these are all for me.

I admit these are pretty crappy pictures. But they will have to suffice. Enjoy what’s rest of your fall!

Mid July Garden Update: Garlic & Shallot Harvest

July 15, 2015

Not much to complain about in the garden. No storms have ruined anything (yet).* We’ve had lots of rain; plenty of sun.

Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Because: you know it will.

As you might remember, I declared that I would finally harvest the garlic on time this year. And I did. But I also learned something interesting: I’m not so sure that my problems with the garlic in past years was due entirely to my timing. I had assumed, based on the appearance of the bulbs (sort of rotten looking and very wet, despite dry soil) that I simply waited too long. This year, I knew I hadn’t waited too long and the first bulbs I dug looked yellowed and rotten. On about the fourth bulb, I also saw a small brownish-orange worm on the bulb.

This is what an unhealthy bulb looks like. At first you can't really see anything specific, but it's yellowed and sort of rotten looking — This is what an unhealthy bulb looks like. At first you can’t really see anything specific, but it’s yellowed and sort of rotten looking

Hello internet.

Diagnosis: wire worms. They burrow into the bulb and create little holes that create rot. The good news is that there were only a handful of affected bulbs. The rest were all bright white and firm.

I do think that I also waited too long to harvest in prior years. This year, I dug them when only a couple of the lower leaves were yellowed. Each leaf on the stem creates a layer of paper wrapper around the head and cloves. Having enough is what helps the garlic to keep longer.

Only the bottom two leaves are yellow, but this is what I looked like when I harvested and I do believe it was the right time.

I then put them on my wire rack [an old “ground-level” bird feeder — which only ever fed the squirrels and the dogs] and put them in the shade to begin the curing process. I am moving them to the garage when rain is in the forecast, but man are they STRONG! yowza. This will go on for about a week and then they’ll go to the lower garage — hopefully less pungent by then.

Garlic curing in its shady spot under the birch tree

The shallots are way more forgiving.

usually I wait for the shallots to yellow and die back a bit before harvesting, but I wanted to clear the whole bed (these grew with the garlic) and the shallots were already too big, so I dug them all up — Usually I wait for the shallots to yellow and die back a bit before harvesting, but I wanted to clear the whole bed (these grew with the garlic) and the shallots were already too big, so I dug them all up

I dug them up at the same time because… well because they are fricken’ enormous. Where have you ever seen shallots this big? How does that work in a recipe when they say “4 shallots”? Can you imagine what my food would taste like if I used “4” of these shallots?

They will stay here for a day or two (unless it rains) and then move to the lower garage

Shallots you can just pull and leave in the sun for a few days. Then move to the cooler lower garage. Then give away. Because I can’t stand peeling shallots.

Here’s the rest of the garden with captions to explain anything of interest: