|A lonely specimen.|
I'm pretty sure that my beets hate me. Of the 30 some-odd seeds I planted in the spring, the lonely beet pictured here is one of only five that actually germinated. Whether it was the cool spring weather or the seeds I tried to store over the winter, I'm still not sure.
I tried my best to be patient with them, consulting other gardeners who suggested that I might just try and wait out the cold weather and hope for the best. I was so desperate to see them sprout that I even left some of the weeds to grow until I was 110% certain that they weren't little beets in disguise.
Sigh. So, I've replanted with new seeds. I'm pretending like its all part of a succession planting plan for a fall harvest...
These beets, however, aren't the end of my mid-season woes. Only one of my 35 sunflower seeds germinated; which is probably just as well since I accidentally dug their row right on top of the new fence line, and they would have been in the way of the new posts and heavy, cement-covered boots that so far have defined the process of fence building.
Oh, and the garlic. It seems like no one is going to be getting garlic for their birthday this year after all. You remember how excited I was in April to have transplanted so many into the herb bed? Last week, after months of watching their tops wither and wilt, I finally threw in the towel and re-dug their half of the bed as a holding ground for some perennial flowers and sage. What was left of those 85 transplants you see in the photo below. (Ironically, the few that I did not move from the rhubarb patch are growing fantastically, and I used their scapes in a veal marinade just last week.) Double sigh.
But. It's not all bad. Not at all really. I have more greens than I can keep up with. The snowpeas have all but exploded out of their trellises; I've had to start bringing them with me to work as a snack to keep it flowering. The asparagus all survived and are now showing off their full green ferns, flapping like sails caught in the breeze. And even my tomato plants, however small, are flowering to announce their survival through the soggy cool spring and into the hot summer.
Well, it's best, I think, to end this rant on that happy note. I'm off now to stare at my beet patch. Wish me luck.