I'm not entirely convinced that we're going to have spring this year. I think it's entirely possible that winter will hang around until a feisty hot summer rolls in and shoves it out of the way, in a way that my beloved gentle spring was too polite to do.

Hopefully my dramatic side is just getting the best of me here, but I know I'm not the only one feeling the chill and wishing for some warm spring air that will actually stick around long enough to warm me (and the garden) up.
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So since it's April and my normally bursting-with-blooms garden is still fast asleep, I've been spending more time appreciating the few things in my garden that have actually bloomed despite the wintery weather...
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The daffodils are still going strong, and I'm still sniffing them every time I walk past...
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As is Thomas the kitty, who always seems to be near this particular plant. Probably because it popped up right in the middle of his catnip patch and he's hoping that will pop up soon too.

​Its been a long winter for us all.
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Even for Bolt the Border Collie, who usually likes to spend the nights outside but who lately has started begging to be let in. I don't blame him, we can only handle so much. Especially when one of the four seasons overstays its welcome by infringing on one of the other three. And also, especially when that season isn't one of the pleasant ones.

When Bolt is outside, you can usually find him near that same daffodil clump that Thomas is so fond of...although I think it's less about enjoying the daffodils and more about enjoying harrassing the cat.

Neither one of those animals seems to be interested in the plum tree, though. Even though it's also blooming and amazingly doesn't seem to be any worse for wear after that last batch of frosty weather froze just about everything else solid...including me.

As soon as my fingers unfreeze I'm going to cross them so maybe I'll actually get to enjoy ripe plums this year!

And maybe eventually I'll get to enjoy some other blooms in the garden, too, because surely this long cold winter will eventually give up.

If it doesn't, I'm going to have to file a complaint with Mother Nature...after I figure out how to do that, of course.

I've never been great at legal stuff.

​

Oh well, I guess I'll just go back to gazing at the only other thing in bloom around here--the perky pansies in the kitchen window box.

I am good at doing that!
​

Frozen tomato, anyone?

​No? Well, I don't blame you. They're just not as tasty as the fresh ones. Except I no longer have any fresh ones to offer you, since all my garden fresh produce became frozen garden produce overnight.

Yep. When I woke up early Sunday morning and peeked out the window at the frost encrusted landscape, I knew the inevitable had finally occurred...
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The first killing freeze had arrived, and kill it did.

Life in the garden was no more, and all that remained of my once green and lively vegetable patch was a silvery-brown and lifeless mass of frozen vegetation.

Or so I thought. Looks really can be deceiving, because on further inspection I discovered a few bright spots in this apparently dismal landscape...
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Like this purple broccoli plant. It almost seemed to be reaching upward into the frigid breeze and didn't seem to mind at all the dusting of frost crowning its head.

And the red cabbage also didn't seem fazed by the cold. It appeared to even be enjoying the frosty air and the ice crystals that laced its leaves.


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And the marigolds, though likely to not survive the plummeting temperatures, took the flash freeze in stride.
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And the English lavender withstood the attack like a proper lady would--her head held high and her spine straight, never wavering beneath the pressure of the circumstances.

The epitomy of grace and dignity...reminds me of myself, come to think of it.

Ahem. My delusions may be showing, so I'll distract you by showing you this...
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I wasn't the only one inspecting the garden that morning.
Adrienne was already eagerly making her way down the garden paths in search of anything tasty she could scratch up or pluck out. She was in a perky mood despite the weather...

While Rocky the Rooster had a different attitude altogether. I found him huddled beneath the purple broccoli plant, looking very cold and slightly confused.

I think he's trying to figure out where his other leg went.

All is well, though--he eventually discovered it tucked up in his nice and cozy feathers, and then lowered it down and stuck the other one up there so it could have a turn.

​I don't think winter weather is his favorite thing, and he wasn't alone in that sentiment...
​

Because the eggplant looked exhausted...
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The hot peppers looked kind of chili.

Sorry...I couldn't resist. And now I've messed up my rhythm. Ok, let's try this again: The eggplant was exhausted, the hot peppers looked chilly...

The squash blossoms looked slightly shriveled...

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And the roses looked a right bit ragged.

Whew! I made it through.

As will my garden. But right now it's time for it to get some beauty sleep. And let's be honest--we all need to rest every now and then. It's what helps us be our best the rest of the time...
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Even when it's freezing outside!

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"Well we're not ones to go 'round spreading rumors, why really we're just not the gossipy kind. No you'll never hear one of us repeating gossip, so you'd better be sure and listen close the first time."

Anyone else remember Hee Haw?

Anybody? Well, I know you're out there. And I know you recognize those catchy lyrics.

This jingle was one of my favorites from the show, and it comes to mind this morning because of a rumor I've been hearing recently. A rumor that I'm about to repeat, so listen closely:

THE FIRST FALL FROST IS COMING!!

That's right. Some say it's coming this week, some say it'll be here before month's end, and some say it'll never happen at all.

Oh wait--that last someone was just me. I like to be deliberately in denial on occasion...it helps me stay sane.

Or at least I like to think it does. If anybody has proof otherwise, just kindly keep your mouth shut. I'd rather not have my delusion ruined.

I'd also rather not have my garden ruined, but alas, all good things must come to an end.

So. Instead of sitting here crying over something I have no control over (which I'm much too mature to ever do, of course), I've decided to celebrate the end of my garden by capturing it in it's final days of glory...

And speaking of glory, the glorious flowers are still blooming...this lavender and zinnia combo spent the day soaking up the bright fall sunlight almost as if they knew their days would soon come to an end.

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The knockout roses are still knocking it out of the park...

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And the zinnias seem to be reaching farther and farther up as the sun gets lower and lower in the sky.

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The cherry tomato plants are acting like they don't have a care in the world except to keep producing these sweet, juicy nuggets of flavor...

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While the White Queens are desperately trying to produce future heirs so they can secure their hold on the throne...apparently turning yellow helps with that. All that royal protocol is a bit mysterious to me, but I do find it fascinating.

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And I find the Cherokee Purples fascinating too...right now they're slowly transitioning from green to bronze as if they have all the time in the world to do so.

Which they don't, but all my efforts to warn them have failed, probably since I don't speak their language.

​

But the neighboring basil plants have gotten the hint and have shot toward the sky while blooming profusely in a final attempt to reseed themselves for next year.

The smell is phenomenal, by the way. And very invigorating.

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Which brings us to the peppers, which seem to be invigorated too. These heat-loving beauties have taken the weather change in stride, mainly because they absolutely love all these cool nights we've been having.

I have to agree with them. Warm days followed by cool nights are my favorite weather pattern too.

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I think the okra plants are like-minded also, since they've suddenly come alive after spending the summer pretending to be dormant. Now it's like watching a VHS tape stuck on fast-forward--the stalks have kicked into high gear and grown taller than me as the flowers simultaneously burst into glorious bloom only to transform into pointy okra pods almost before my very eyes!

Whew! Okra really is a remarkable plant. And tasty, too.

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And speaking of remarkable and tasty, check out these ebony-hued eggplants dangling tantalizingly on their stems!

They're almost too stunning to pick, but I'm gonna pick 'em anyway. Just like I picked the last of the red cabbage, the Brussels sprouts, and the few remaining cantaloupe. After all, isn't that why I have a garden?

I love admiring the beauty of it all, but tasting the beauty is even better! I've tasted everything pictured in this post--even the flowers! And just so you know, it all tastes as pretty as it looks.

After this frost hits, though, those flowers--and most everything else--will be gone. Another growing season will have gone down in the books, and cold weather will be well on its way.

I realize it's all part of the circle of life, and no matter how sad it is, I'll accept that like the grown-up that I am.

So if you need me over the winter, I'll be sitting in front of the TV, watching Hee Haw reruns and singing along with the "Gloom, despair, and agony on me..." gang. Moans and groans and all.

​Because even though I'm an adult, every now and then I like to pout about things I have no control over.

Don't worry about me, though. I'll be ok as soon as the ground thaws out!

Thank the Lord it's finally fall. But would somebody please let summer know? I'm not sure it got the memo.

I spent this past Friday at the farmer's market, chatting with customers, melting in the 92 degree late-summer heat, and anxiously awaiting the certain relief that I just knew would come at 3:02 PM Central Standard Time--the official beginning of fall. You know what I mean...the glaring sunlight would take on a filtered cast, the temperature would plummet into the mid-60's, and the green leaves on the city park trees would immediately turn orange and begin gracefully cascading down around my produce-stuffed booth.

Well, it's Sunday morning, and I'm still waiting.

But I'm at home now--I'm not still sitting at the farmer's market. That would just be odd.

As would be wandering around in the garden snapping pictures of pumpkins while squinting through blurry sweat-stung eyes in the brutal mid-afternoon heat and suffocating humidity, but that's what I did anyway yesterday.

Because it's finally fall.

And I figured I'd better check out my pumpkins...and so should you. But I won't make you suffer through the torturous conditions I had to endure yesterday; I'll just let you sit in the comfort of your lovely air-conditioned home and leisurely scroll through the photos I took.

There's no end to the lengths I'll go to for the people I love.

Your welcome.

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First up is my favorite, the classic Cinderella Pumpkin.

No cottage garden is complete without these beauties vining through the produce patch...or in my case, beneath the fruit trees. And what's wonderful about them is they actually really do transform into magically horse-drawn carriages every time I need to get to the palace for a Royal Ball.

Every single time! It's so handy...and much more fashionable than showing up in a boring old car.

Hmm. I might've could've slept better last night...it's quite possible I'm still dreaming.

Let's just keep going--I'll wake up eventually.

Here's a young Cinderella on the vine. This one decided to lay on its side, and I totally understand. I myself am much more comfortable lying on my side. I sleep much better that way...not that you needed to know that.

But you do need to know this:

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Pumpkin vines never stay where they're supposed to. They're forever creeping and trailing and reaching for whatever patch of bare ground and sunlight they can find. Like this Connecticut Field vine that made its way into the onion patch and then decided to pop out a nice healthy, just-right-for-carving pumpkin.

​And then there's this one:
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This handsome fella is a White Goose Bumps variety that escaped the confines of the garden fence to ramble up and over the blackberry brambles before bursting into this glorious fruitation.

I'm not exactly sure "fruitation" is an actual word, so just be careful if you decide to use the term yourself. Unless you're conversing with me, since clearly I have no qualms about using possibly made-up words in semi-intelligent conversations...or blog posts.

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And speaking of "semi-intelligent", this Ghost pumpkin was smart enough to hide itself in the shadows of the zinnia flowers in order to escape the attack that some of the other less-savvy pumpkins succumbed to...

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And this is the look I got when I asked them to stop eating my pumpkins. This isn't a happy gander...can you see the gleam in his eye?

You should've seen it in person.

Actually, I take that back. It's safer just to see it in digital form. Mostly because he followed that look up with an angry lunge that came dangerously close to my innocent arm, honking some choice words in goose-speak at me, and then rudely turning his back and regally strolling down to the pond, Petunia sashaying alongside him.

He can be a bit moody.

​But I still love him.

A soap opera that's set in a pumpkin patch. Ooh! Wouldn't that make a good TV show?! Maybe I'll try to pitch that idea to a network.

Or maybe I'll just sit back and enjoy the live show that's played out for me everyday here on the homestead. It's probably more exciting that way anyway...I'll just have to make sure I'm sitting in the shade, at least until it cools down around here.

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Seen any Naked Ladies recently?

Wait!  Don't answer that question until I finish talking...​

Whew!  That was a close one.  Okay, the Naked Ladies I'm referring to belong to the plant kingdom​, not the animal kingdom.  And they look like this:

If you've been anywhere near the upper Ozarks lately, then I bet you've seen them.  They're hard to miss, actually.  They pop up out of seemingly nowhere and without missing a beat, hit us with a show-stopping performance like the one above.  The performance is quite quick, though.  The pretty pink flowers tease us with just a peek before fading away into the backdrop, and they perch on top of  long, tall stems with absolutely no leaves on them at all--their naked legs, so to speak.  ​

Hmm.  So much for keeping this post G rated.

Oh well, there's no going back now.  You might as well get the full scoop...
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The name "Naked Ladies" is quite fitting, I think, but these beauties also go by other alias', ​as scantily-clad members of the female persuasion are apt to do. 

Sorry.   I couldn't help myself.   Okay, moving on...

These flowers are also known as Surprise Lilies (due to their sudden, unexpected appearance), or more formally, Belladonna Amaryllis (the plant family they belong to).  They are old-fashioned perennial bulbs that send up cascades of long, slim, green leaves in early spring and then die back and completely disappear by early summer.  Then, months later, they suddenly spring forth in the form of those tall thin stalks topped with purple-ish buds that almost immediately ​​burst into gorgeous trumpet-like blooms that one simply can't ignore. 

​Yep, that's right.  Naked Ladies are hard to ignore, I don't care who you are.  And at this point, I'm talking about any kind of naked lady that comes to mind. 

But for the record, I'm thinking about the ones in my picture.  Those are the prettiest kind, I think, these centuries-old show-offs with their blatantly beautiful blooms.   But here's the kicker--you can look, but don't touch.  These tantalizing teasers are a tiny bit toxic! 

Oh boy​.  Did I basically just say that I think old naked ladies are pretty, but keep your hands off them​?  ​ 

Brother!  I never know what's gonna come out of my mouth next.

B​ut at least it makes life interesting...as do lovely ancient flowers with funny names!​​  

Now, quick!  Go find yourself some Naked Ladies to admire before they're gone.  You have my permission--as long as you keep it PG!




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One of my favorite things about late spring in the garden is the peas.  Sweet, snappy, and oh-so-snacky, fresh peas are an easy, early vegetable that I can't do without.

Until they're gone, at least, and then I somehow manage.​

But that's what is so great about eating from the garden--you get to experience vegetables in their rightful season.  And let me tell you, when peas are in their season, you don't want to miss it. 

Peas are a cool-season vegetable, which means they don't like hot weather.  And that means I have to plant them in late winter​ to give them enough time to produce before summer sets in.

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Within a few weeks they are sprouting up and beginning to vine.  They send out these pretty tendrils to grasp ahold of  whatever support is nearby. 

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Sometimes they get all tangled up in their eagerness, but who hasn't done that?

Eventually they find something to grasp onto, and traditionally it's sticks that gardeners stick in the soil by the plants so the vines twist around the branches.  It's all very picturesque and also incredibly functional.

Wish I'd taken a photo of that.  Oh well, at least I got a photo of this:​

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Because once those vines get a firm hold on the branches, they're soon followed by these delicate white blooms, which emerge from the leaf clusters and gracefully unfurl. 

This is probably my most favorite part...it all seems so elegant, and since peas aren't even close to being known as an elegant vegetable, I feel the need to point this out.

I occasionally am compelled to defend a vegetable with a bad rap.​  

I guess we all fight for something.​

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But all fighting aside, that pretty pea flower eventually makes a peaceful transition into a plump pod filled with smooth, round seeds that are bursting with green, spring flavor. 

I like to eat them straight from the vine as I'm working in the garden. They make a nice crunchy snack, and I tend to get a little snacky while I'm working.

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Especially when I'm working on shelling peas...I really don't like shelling peas.

It's so monotonous and tedious...And I'm so impatient and whiny.

But shelling peas is a necessary task, because late spring just wouldn't be late spring without this:

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Creamed peas and new potatoes!  Nothing screams "fresh from the garden" more loudly than this dish.

 Although, come to think of it, I myself have been known to scream quite loudly, especially while shelling peas...but I usually scream different words than that.​ 

We all have our moments.

And thankfully, the only thing I feel like screaming at the moment is, "Pass the peas, please!"

But I should probably use my inside voice at the supper table.​​​​

Well, I have dirt under my fingernails again, so it must be March...or close enough.  On a normal year today would be the first day of March, but since it's Leap Year we're still stuck in February. 

This is important because I usually do my first sowings in the garden on the first day of March.  And I had every intention of sticking to my plan...until I woke up this morning to a beautiful, sunny, spring-like day.  I stepped outside into the bright sunlight, and as the song birds chirped sweetly and the warm gentle breeze drifted past, I distinctly heard the garden calling my name. 

It had a desperate tone to it, too.

Immediately I decided that since it was Leap Day, I'd best honor the occasion (and my garden's plea) by leaping on into planting season...

I dug my shovel into the soil and turned it over--the soil, not the shovel.  Or I guess I turned the shovel over too in order to dump out the soil, but that's beside the point. 

Once I got the soil prepped, it was planting time.

In went the peas, lettuce, kale, spinach, beets, chard, onions, and even some kohlrabi, although to be honest, I'm not exactly sure what it is.  But the picture on the seed packet was too pretty to resist, so in to the soil went the seeds.

That's not the first time I've done something like that.

Results vary. 

On a side note, I've recently discovered stretchy pants...I don't know where they've been all my life.  And I'd like to apologize in advance if I seem to be wearing them a lot in future pictures...they're just so dang comfortable. 

I'm sorry.  But I promise in the future to always wear long tops.  Believe it or not, I do have my pride.

Now back to our topic...

Last but not least, I planted the potatoes.

Just look at the sprouts on these fellas!  I'd kept them stored in the basement over the winter for spring planting, which usually happens for them on St. Patrick's Day.  That's been the traditional potato-planting day in the Ozarks for as far back as anybody can remember, but after one look at these seed potatoes I thought I'd better get them planted. 

They were begging for it.  And I'm pretty sure I heard one or two of them say "thank you" after I covered them with that cool, rich soil.  

But I might have just been hearing things...it seems to have happened a lot today.

Even so, hearing things got me (and my seeds) outside and into the garden, and working in my garden always makes me feel good.  And I need to feel good after dealing with a longer-than-usual February this year.

But really, I guess having this extra twenty-four hours today actually worked out for the best.  After all, if it hadn't been Leap Day, I wouldn't have gotten a "jump" on the gardening season. 

Ha!

Winter isn't usually time of year that we think of popping outside and picking from our gardens, but popping and picking just happens to be exactly what I did the other day--in the middle of January.  With snow still piled on the ground, ice glazing the pond, and temperatures hovering just above freezing, I went out to my garden and gathered some "winter greens". 

You'd think that under these conditions everything out in the garden would be frozen, but nope.  The only frozen thing in the garden was my right hand, but that was only because I had to take my glove off to snap the photos.  And I'd have posted this immediately, but I had to wait 'til my hand unthawed before I could type. 

Sorry for the delay.  But since my extremities are all back in working order now, I see no reason why I should keep this from you any longer...

Ooh, let's start here!  This is one of my Wakefield cabbages that I planted as a seedling back in August.  Since cabbage is a cool-weather lover, I stuck it under a cluster of marigolds so it could have some shade while it waited out the heat of the summer.  When fall rolled around and the marigolds died back, this fella came to life.  It never produced a full head, but that's probably my fault.  I kept picking a leaf here and there for a smoothie or to toss into some slaw, so it couldn't ever really concentrate on its task. 

I pestered it too much...what else is new. 

But it worked out great because now I get to keep picking leaves whenever I want instead of trying to use up a whole head of cabbage all at once.

You'd think I planned it that way...

Well here's something I did plan--Red Russian Kale.  Kale is one of the most winter hardy greens there is, and since it's easy to grow and packed with nutrients, you can't go wrong planting these guys.  I make sure to sow my seeds toward the end of summer so they have time to sprout and mature before winter arrives.  Like most of the other winter greens, kale doesn't freeze even when the cold really settles in.  In fact, the leaves only get sweeter and crisper.  Let me tell you, it's really a treat to be able to dig around in the snow-covered garden and find something tasty to eat!

Not far from the kale sits my big ole Curly-leaf Parsley plant, grown from seed last spring.  It grew nicely all season long, and then decided not to quit when the season ended.  The snow slowed it down but really didn't bother it much, aside from browning a few leaves on the fringes.  The texture didn't change, and it still tastes great.  And that means I can still munch on a sprig or two after my meals for safety's sake--in the Middle Ages parsley was considered an antidote to poison, and it is said that kings would included it as an after-dinner snack just in case the cook was feeling disgruntled! 

If it worked for them, it works for me--you can't be too careful these days, even if I am my own cook!

And speaking of cooking, I love cooking with leeks and garlic.  There's just something about the entire onion (or Allium) family that I adore, so I make sure I have them in the garden all year long.  Sweet onions in the spring, garlic and shallots in the summer, green onions in the fall, and leeks in the winter.  Onions have been a homestead staple for generations, and for good reason--there seems to be an onion for every season! 

For a little spice in my salads, I sowed a blend of Asian greens in late July.  Well actually, my ten year-old cousin sowed them for me and did a great job. By early September we had red mustard, mizuna, arugula and more growing like crazy, until the turkey broke through the temporary garden fence and gobbled them down. I thought they were finished--the greens and the turkey--but a few days later I spied the greens sprouting back up from the roots.

And then I did something nice: I decided to pardon the turkey...for now.

Here's one of the prettiest "greens" I have, even though it's purple.  This is actually a Giant Red Mustard plant, except it's more of a "Mini" Red Mustard plant now.  That's because I've picked off too many leaves and tossed them to the chickens.  They can't seem to get enough of this zippy, zesty jewel, and I can't blame them, and I also can't seem to quit picking from this poor plant.

After a few freezes, the outer leaves that were left on this plant have curled back a little, but the inner ones are still bright and crisp.  It kind of makes me wonder if it isn't still growing despite the freezing weather.  I hope it is and so do the chickens. 

Not that they've actually said that.  I'm just assuming.

I really don't know how long these "Winter Greens" will linger, but no matter.  I'll just enjoy them for as long as they're here.   And since I let many of them "self-sow" (produce seeds that fell to the ground around the parent plant), I'm sure I'll have plenty of new plants popping up everywhere in the spring. 

I let a lot "winter greens" self-sow this past year, so hopefully I won't have to do a thing in the spring but pop out to the garden and pick what I want!  Just like I do now, except the weather should be much more pleasant then. 

My right hand will be happy to hear that.

It's early November and we have yet to experience a killing frost.  As a result, our fall garden just keeps right on growing, and we keep right on harvesting wonderful veggies like these...

Crisp, flavorful, tender green beans.  Planted (and harvested) by my very own "Grimy Reaper"...

There he is, reaping away.  He's so much more pleasant to be around than that awful old Grim Reaper, no matter how dirty he gets.  This kid loves to sow and reap, and I've found that a growing a fall garden is the best way for him to experience success in this area.

A while back I discovered that on our homestead, fall seems to be the easiest time of the year for growing a successful garden, and I think it's the tastiest time for the produce, too.  

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love growing spring and summer vegetables and will never give them up.  Ever.  But there's just something special about fall vegetable gardens...

Vegetable plants produce best when they're not stressed out.  (As do I, but I'm learning not every conversation has to be about me...dang it.)  The less-intense sunlight and more temperate weather that signal the arrival of autumn create an ideal situation for growing many vegetables.

Also, most garden pests have completed their life-cycle, so they're not around to thwart my efforts.  And as a much-thwarted gardener, I'll shout a hallelujah to that!

As a bonus, the occasional fall cold snaps bring about bursts of flavor in the fruits that are not present in any other season.  The cold actually helps convert the natural starches to sugar, so the vegetables taste sweeter, crisper, and fresher...or more fresh.  Or just fresh.  Oh good grief, I get hung up on the dumbest things!  

But I occasionally do something smart--like taking advantage of this time of year.  Beginning around about the end of August we start sowing for the fall harvest.  We tend to plant varieties that can handle cool weather and that produce quickly, since we never know when the first frost will hit.  Here are the main vegetables we chose for our fall garden this year:

Black Beauty Zucchini, for its good old-fashioned, clean flavor and fast maturity.

Top Crop Green Beans, for great taste and high yields.

Asian Greens, 'cause I like a little spice and texture in my fall salads.  (And the chickens do too.)

Armenian Cucumbers, because I had the seeds and was curious.  Turns out, they taste great, and we love their look--shrively, bumpy, prickly.  Right up our alley...our dark, spooky, Reaper-filled alley. 

I must still in be in the Halloween mood.  Give me a minute, it'll pass.

Okay, I'm better.  These are my Green Envy Tomatoes, which I grew because I like the name.  And I may have been on a Dateline NBC overload when I planted them.  I kept imagining Keith Morrison, in his goose bump-worthy voice, slowly and dramatically reading the name on the seed packet.

Thankfully, our tomato patch was crime-free...virtually.  The only offense committed was done by the turkey, who decided the bite-sized fruits were there just for him.   But I'll get my revenge--Thanksgiving is drawing near.  (Cue the evil grin and the bone-chilling laugh.)

Boy, I really am still stuck on Halloween. 

My apologies. Shall we finish our tour?  Maybe it'll get my overactive imagination out of the graveyard.

Connecticut Field Pumpkins should lighten the mood--we planted them just for the fun of it.  These fellas won't reach maturity before the frost gets them, but their big shady leaves help keep the weeds down, and the chickens enjoy pecking at the unripened pumpkins--it keeps them busy.  We all need something to do, right?

Well, now you know what the Grimy Reaper and I'll be doing--munching on all these garden goodies 'til they meet their demise at the hands of another fictional figure:  Jack Frost, this time.  He'll sneak up on us soon, but he won't end our fun.  We'll just go play in the greenhouse, where the winter garden is just sprouting up.  That's what I like about homestead life--when one thing ends, another begins. 

And I am such a sucker for new beginnings!  (And the Dateline Mystery of the Week.)

The beginning of month on the homestead brought not only the first of July, but also the firsts of the garden harvest.  Considering how late I was in getting my garden planted, I was taken by surprise by this discovery.  Although given all the rain we've had, in hindsight, I should have been expecting it. But I'll say it again:  Thinking ahead is not my strength.  And also, it's much more fun to be surprised--at least when we're talking about homegrown produce. 

So despite having made other plans this past week, most of it was spent gathering, clipping, picking, and snacking.  The snacking part is my favorite, by the way.  There's simply no way to describe the satisfaction I gain from popping a juicy ripe berry or a plump sun-warmed cherry tomato in my mouth while I'm harvesting away.  Trust me,  it's a fantastic experience.  

And I'm proud to say that even though my hands (and my mouth) were full, I managed to snap a few photos.  So even though you didn't get your taste buds tickled like I did, you can still feast your eyes on the firsts of the summer harvest!

I was just beginning my morning walk last Wednesday when I spotted some curious objects dangling from the heirloom bean plants.  On closer inspection,  I realize it was Royalty Purple beans! These pretty pods are easy to spot due to their color, and they sure stand out among the mass of green leaves filling the bean patch.  

I picked all the purple beans I saw and then headed to the other bean aisles, where I found more ripe beans--and this time they were speckled!  These were the Dragon Tongue and Tongues of Fire beans, characterized by occasional bright pink and purple splashes of color along the pods.  They're very exciting to look at, but they're also packed with that good old-fashioned green bean flavor.  I speak from experience, because I cooked some up for supper that evening!

A little further down the path beyond the beans is the Zinnia patch, and the next day they began to bloom.  It made me so happy I did a little dance--salsa style, of course, since Zinnias hail from Mexico.  The bright pops of color really energize the garden, and they also draw in those wonderful pollinating insects.  Zinnias are perfect for cutting, too.  The more you cut, the more they bloom, and that makes them ideal for my stand at the farmer's market. 

P.S.  That's the Royalty Purple bean plants at the left of the photo, and not only are the bean pods purple, the plant stems and flowers are too!  And to the right of the Zinnias are my Blue Basil blooms, which I plan to use in my new line of teas later this summer.  Obviously there's a lot going on in this photo!

As I was wandering along clipping the Zinnias that morning, I heard a familiar clucking.  I glanced toward the sound and sure enough, there was my little Isbar hen taking her chicks on their first adventure away from the coop.  I watched them for a bit as I worked, enjoying the show.  The mama hen was teaching them how to peck and scratch in the soil, and they'd get so excited when they'd uncover a creepy crawly critter.  I tell you what, shows like this are so much more appealing to me than most of what's on television these days--Antiques Roadshow not included!

Friday morning brought another first:  An Evening Sun sunflower had unfurled its petals and was angling toward the rays of sunshine peeking through the clouds.  Sunflowers are always stunning, but I just adore the color of these fiery beauties.  They sure brighten up the tomato patch! 

It was a beautiful sight, and it just happened to be growing near yet another (and incredibly exciting) first:

 The first of the ripe blackberries!  Yippee!!

I almost couldn't contain myself. I actually got a bit lightheaded and could've sworn there was a marching band parading around between my ears playing (of all things), The Battle Hymn of the Republic.   This reaction may seem slightly strange to some, but unfortunately I'm used to it.  And since braving the wild blackberry patch and returning to civilization unscathed is considered a victory around here, it sort of made sense. 

I said "sort of", just to be clear. 

And brave the patch I did.  I picked all the juicy ripe berries I could find, and then I ran straight into the house and whipped up one of these...

A wild blackberry cobbler made from my own special recipe.  It was so good, I ate the entire thing myself. 

I'm not kidding.  Okay, I gave Will a bite.  But I'm faster than he is with a fork so I got most of it.

I have no excuse for my actions, so I'm not even going to try to make one up.  But what I did make up was another cobbler for him and my husband, and a few more to take to the market that evening. 

Thankfully, the market cobblers didn't sell, and we got to eat them for breakfast Saturday morning.  I say "thankfully" because I really don't like parting with my blackberries.  I don't know why I decided it was a good idea to try to sell some.  I think I was on a roll (and a sugar high), and was just feeling generous.  Believe me, it will never happen again.  Just to prove my point, I even made a vow: 

No Wild Blackberries Will Ever Leave This Homestead Again As Long As I'm Alive. 

I enjoy theatrics; I bet you noticed.  But it's pretty good, right?  Or maybe just ridiculous.  But let's go with good, just for kicks.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not entirely opposed to sharing a bite of  blackberry cobbler with any of you.  All this means is that officially in order for me to uphold my vow, the blackberries (especially in cobbler form) legally cannot leave my property.  But here's the fun part:  If you'd like to try a bite of my special wild blackberry cobbler you'll just have to come to me.  That sound alright?

Well let me tell you, it would be worth the trip!  Just let me know ahead of time so I can get myself psyched up to share.  After all, I do have a greedy side...but it comes and goes so odds are you'll be safe!