The harvest started today in earnest. Not in Ernest, as my Aunt Izzy used to refer to her freezer. But I have put six bags (tidy one-cup servings suitable for my household) of beans in my freezer, and I have not made a dent in the pile of beans in the kitchen.
Worse, I have not made a dent in the bean picking. I had to stop when my big stainless bowls and my pockets were full. I can only freeze in small batches, anyway, so I will be doing 2-4 batches at a time from now till the beans stop for the winter.
I picked the pencil-thin green ones, the wax beans, the hunky green ones, and one side of the flat Italian row. I really must figure out what these beans' proper names are so that I can enjoy the compulsive's five-way taste test come winter. The purple ones aren't ready yet, and it looks as if I might get a few limas and black-eyed peas, the gift of our hot summer. Even the okra is a good ten inches tall (insert uproarious laughter from the Southern contingent accustomed to seeing four-foot tall okra plants) and might give me a few pods this year.
The beets and chard look good, the zucchini and pumpkins are on their way to being appropriately menacing, and all is right in my world. I even see one tiny cherry tomato that is almost red.
Update: up to 28 one-cup servings. Not a bad day's work.
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6 comments:
You remind me how wonderful it was to be able to go out to my mother's garden and eat cherry tomatoes off the stem, warm and juicy.
Beans and gumbo at Karen's house! Last one there don't get no cherry tomato!
(Okra? You grew okra? Are you allowed, by law, to grow that here? But I won't point any fingers, I once had a watermelon patch up here. I had dozens of fist-sized melons, and one good 40 pounder. I sure was good!)
Oops, I meant to write "It sure was good!" but I think my fingers Freudian slipped on the keyboard.
You have garden with food... I have weeds and somewhere in there... there might be food...
sigh.
I am gifted with the ability to see the flowers and vegetables no matter how big the weeds. And they are bigger than the okra!
Harumph. I have just had a very nice cup of coffee with Anonymous, who confessed to the above comment. I will point out that she and her husband weedwhacked the okra into nothingness the year before last when they offered me overflow space in their garden. And it is such a pretty plant!
They actually claim that they don't even like okra, just ate it to keep from offending my mother. How can anyone not like okra?
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