Archives for posts with tag: impatience

One of the ways I know that spring has arrived is that for the next few weeks, the sun will shine directly through my office windows. With no leaves on the trees to filter it, the bright light makes it difficult to see the screen of my computer but the solar heat on my face feels great.

Another indicator that spring fever has hit is my desire to get out into the garden and start doing something. The draw is getting stronger every day as more snow melts to reveal another task that needs attending to. This was a rough and stormy winter and consequently, the yard is in disarray. Order must be restored! In other words, it is time for spring cleaning.

Most of our work over the next week or two will be in the ornamental gardens. We don’t do a lot of cutting back in the fall—usually, only enough to facilitate leaf removal. In particular, we leave the black-eyed Susans and butterfly bushes in their bare-branched state to provide decoration and keep the garden from looking too empty. It is pretty, especially against the neutral background of winter white (i.e., snow), but as a result, the gardens are filled with dead wood.

To make matters worse, heavy snow came early this year and buried some of the plants we might otherwise have tidied up in the fall. These include the hostas, Siberian and bearded irises, and day lilies. In other years when we have left them, the faded leaves look crumpled and haggard by spring; this year, being crushed by snow for three months has done nothing to improve their appearance.

The first order of business, then, will be to trim everything back to make room for new growth. Clearing away last year’s detritus will also allow the sun’s warmth to activate the bulbs and rhizomes that have been lying dormant since the fall. In fact, small, spiky leaves are already poking up amongst the matted clumps of spent bearded iris leaves and I spy, with my little eye, a crocus peeking out through the cloud of desiccated Russian sage bushes.

I have some reservations about jumping back into it. Yard work is physically demanding and can be overwhelming (it sometimes feels as if the entire world needs tidying up after winter). But I know that it will also be immensely satisfying, a literal cleaning of the slate as we start the new gardening year.

An inescapable consequence of anxiously awaiting something is that the feeling of impatience seems to make everything take longer.  It makes me think of the old Heinz ketchup commercial which used Carly Simon’s song, “Anticipation”, as its theme.  The characters’ thoughts of devouring a hamburger and fries made the ketchup appear to slow to a glacial pace as it oozed from the bottle and onto the food.

We’ve been anxious to start eating tomatoes (fresh ones, not those boiled down to ketchup) and have been avoiding buying them at the farmers’ market each weekend.  It is true that we’ve been enjoying cherry tomatoes for a few weeks already but the full-sized varieties seem to be developing more slowly (despite the vines’ rapid growth) and have only just started to ripen in useful quantities.  Anticipation has been making them late and keeping us waiting.

Only, it turns out that they aren’t late.  At least, not based on the days to maturity listed on the seed packets.  Given the time we sowed the tomato seeds (late March) and when we set out the seedlings (Memorial Day weekend), most of the tomato plants produced mature fruit before, on, or only a few days after the expected date.  The only exception is the Yellow Brandywines, the first of which we picked today.

(Now, I know that the days to maturity are only guidelines and that there is some confusion about when to start counting, the consensus seeming to be the date of setting out.  However, with my literal nature, I tend to take them as gospel.  According to my spreadsheet—yes, I have a spreadsheet—the Yellow Brandywines were expected on August 20.  It is now 16 days later; therefore they are late.)

Similarly, we had all but given up on the eggplants.  The seed package promised ripe eggplants by early August.  I would have been happy with unripe fruit by then or anything by now.  So far, though, we have had only blossoms (beautiful as they are).  But then they surprised us and as of today, two eggplants have set (I think there was one last week that succumbed to blossom end rot before getting very far).  I’m no prophet and I don’t know nature’s ways (that’s a bit of an understatement) but I’m very hopeful about the prospect of fresh eggplants in a few weeks.

Also, after a long wait (more than three weeks by my reckoning) the bell peppers are starting to turn.  At first, there was just a hint of orange, a blush of red.  But then came a burst of color as the rate of enzymatic processes increased exponentially.  They are now mostly orange or red (depending on their variety) with only underlying remnants of green.  Having already waited this long, we will give them another few days to mature fully.

The anticipation should make us enjoy them even more.  Or in other words (to paraphrase from Heinz), the taste will be worth the wait.

This season’s unsung vegetables are the bell peppers and the eggplants.  That’s probably because there has not been much to sing about.  They have been steadily but quietly passing the days in the east planter, fending off intrusions from the nearby basil and enjoying the unobstructed sun they receive from the west (at least until the basil we transplanted there gets much bigger).

But they have not produced much.  Each of the pepper plants carries one ripening fruit and of these, three attained full size a week ago.  Since then, however, they have remained steadfastly green.  Eventually (I hope), they will turn either red or orange (we didn’t note exactly where we placed each variety) signaling that they are ready to be eaten.  Until then, we wait.

The eggplants, wedged tightly between the peppers and the basil, seem to be healthy enough.  The main stems are tall—at least two feet—and their leaves are large, thick and lush.  They remind me of tobacco leaves, another member of the deadly nightshades (family Solanaceae) to which they are closely related.

They have also been producing the most delicate blossoms in an understated shade of purple.  Beautiful as they are, though, it would appear that the pollinators in our neighborhood (bees, mostly) are not impressed by the color choice or do not care for the flavor of the eggplant’s pollen.  Whatever the reason, the flowers have not been successfully pollinated and no eggplants have formed.  So:  more waiting.  Gardening is not for the impatient.

At the other end of the garden, there is more to sing about.  The string beans are nearing maturity and the beets continue to thrive.  The beets have probably been harvestable for weeks (even accounting for this year’s slow growing season) but we’ve been storing them in-situ.  I think that the roots are better off in the ground than they would be in the refrigerator:  The weather has been moderate and the automatic watering ensures that they do not become dry.

In the meantime, the greens have filled out and darkened in color, an indicator of their high concentration of nutrients.  We continue to enjoy them when we do pull a few from the soil.  And we can’t get enough roasted beet roots.  We save them for a relatively cool day when turning on the oven will not heat the house too much.  Then, we savor their deep, earthy flavor with bitter lettuces and a simple vinaigrette.  They’re good enough to make me burst out into song.