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| Late lamented nectarine tree. Hope we get a volunteer or two from the seeds the squirrels bury. We miss the beautiful clouds of pink flowers and fragrant fruit, juicy ambrosia. |
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How very red, round and lovely. We love tomatoes for their flavor.
Some look like hearts (the organ) some brownish or purplish (Black Krim).
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In the back garden on P St, since some of the nectarine orchard died back, sunlight has flooded into our sunken garden, making an ideal place for growing tomatoes. My mother and aunt start tomato seedlings in March. Such a tender miracle to see the seedlings hatch out of their wee husks. We optimistically plant out the little things mid-May. Bury most of the stem to encourage strong roots. The transplants never look like much in the soil. So very tiny. Each set off with a ring of crushed white egg shells. We hope that they make gains between rainstorms and marauding bunnies. If the current year is like the year before, soon the fill form a near impenetrable jungle.
As they grow, we tie off the vines to long stick with bits of rag cloth. My mother has a bundle of cloth strips labeled "best ribbons." She washes them after each season, dries them in the sun and saves them for next time. She also washes the poles for disease prevention purposes.
My mother's chief garden joy is wall-to-wall tomatoes. I like a variety and can not say no to flowers and elements of intrigue. Over the years, I added wild ginger and tiger lilies from a friend's mother, ferns and phlox from my mom, beloved hostas from many sources, a hydrangea from husband's work, lady statue that was a prop in a clothing store, trumpet vines that took 7 years to settle in and no time to run rampant. A curly willow branch from a dumpster-dived wedding arrangement is a 2-story tree.
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My grounds keeping tends to embrace the jungle aspect. Joyous trumpet vine with a side of phlox in long narrow side garden.
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