The Season of Summer Squash

July has been the Month of Summer Squash at this household.


From four low, bushy little plants in my backyard, a steady stream of creamy-fleshed, golden-yellow crookneck squash has flowed into my kitchen.


I have made pasta primavera with broccoli and summer squash. Honey-ginger stir-fry with fresh garden peas, green beans and squash. Saffron rice stuffed squash. Vegetable fajitas with squash. Squash quesadillas. A squash-and-potato fritatta.


I am beginning to eye a recipe for squash muffins.

Any pre-gardener who doubts her or she could grow enough fresh produce in a small suburban plot to actually get sick of it has never planted summer squash.

Or, for that matter, Juliet tomatoes.

Around here, August is looking to be the Month of the Juliet Tomatoes.


Why. yes, that is just one tomato plant. Why, yes that tomato plant is taller than I am. Yes, yes it is.

Garden Promise

Future tomato-basil salad.

Ditto.

Future sorrel soup.

Future pumpkin pie.

Future mojitos.

Future watermelon granitas.

Future absinthe. (All right, I'm kidding about that one. Maybe.)

Current side dish.

Wanted: Recipes Using Lemon Balm

Lemon balm is an invasive plant. I knew this when I planted it, which is why I put it in an herb bed that is physically divided from the rest of my yard. What I did not know was just how quickly it would grow. When I planted my little lemon balm seedling two summers ago, it was four inches high. It's gotten a bit bigger:




Now it is attempting to devour my garlic chives.




I see many cups of lemon balm tea in my future . . .

Why I Married Him

Because he's the sort of man who will build me something like this garden fence:

Anti-Rabbit Vegetable Theft Deterrent System 3.0

In addition to putting up with my tendency to apply Moore's law to vegetable plots:

My vegetable garden three summers ago.

All despite the fact that he does not like the taste of brussel sprouts, arugula or peas.

And Then There Was One

Remember how I told you all about the sad plight of my my poor beleaguered apple trees? How, out of four that were planted, three were attacked by both cedar-apple rust and fire blight and barely survived, one was killed by rabbits, and then a Mutant Ninja beaver crawled out of the storm sewer drain in my yard in the middle of the night to assassinate another?

Well, last night's severe thunderstorm with its attendant 70 mile an hour straight line winds took out another:


Perhaps this is a sign I am meant to plant cherries?