August in the Garden

Not much big band excitement in the garden these days as we're all buckling down and surviving the hot, dry Austin summer. But there's lots of little happenings that keep me getting out into the back yard.

I Planted some Small Wonder spaghetti squash and some buttercup squash a month ago. I'm going to train the squash vines up a trellis again to save space. Amazing how the little squash tendrils find things to climb on. I saw this the other morning:
The basil plant is a leftover companion from a tomato plant that couldn't take the heat and bit it. I left the basil there because he looked happy. And now the winter squash plant has a big buddy to hold on to, at least until it's tall enough to reach the first rung of the cage.

And speaking of biting it in the heat, the buttercup squash were not doing too well in Austin's afternoon oven, so I went to the garden store yesterday and bought a random amount of 40% shade cloth. Why random? Because I didn't want to leave without shade cloth, but I hadn't really figured out how much I needed or how I would install it. But this is just a practice garden, right? So in the morning humidity, Dan and I came up with this:
The plant supports were leftover from something, hence the asymmetry. But it's getting the job done for the time being. Pretty sure the structure won't stand up to a storm or stiff wind, but with this high pressure system camped over us, I don't think I have to worry about that. Dan's picking up a few more supports at H.D. today so we can protect the other box as well. Then I'll feel better about starting up my new crop of Fall veggies in the next couple weeks.

And speaking of Fall veggies, I planted some pumpkins seeds in early July in an experimental plot in the back of the yard. None of the first seeds sprouted. I don't think they were getting enough water from the sprinklers. So I started a new batch. About half of those have sprouted and for the most part look pretty good.
Dan's not sure they'll get enough sun back there. I'm more concerned about squash vine borer (SVB) attack. Experiment or not, it was disappointing to have those little turd moths ruin my zucchini plants earlier this summer. The white tent behind the back plant is my ghetto attempt at a row cover. One woman at the nursery suggested covering the plants in the evening and at night when the SVB is more active. I'll try covering one mound and spray the other mound with a pepper-based deterrent and see what happens. I don't have row covers for the winter squash so will just try deterrents on those. Perhaps with a little more vigilance, on top of my limited but growing experience, I'll have squash a plenty this fall.

Thirty Pounds of Tomatoes

After reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle last month I was inspired to try canning my own tomato sauce. I bought 30 pounds of tomatoes from my CSA farm and planned a whole day to play in the kitchen. Not to spoil the story, but I have to say, things did not go smoothly. The best I can say is that lessons were learned, and there's something in the freezer that I'll eat in December or January and remember these 100+ degree days of summer....

My first goof was thinking that I had 40 pounds of tomatoes instead of 30. I didn't realize the misstep until much later in the day. Meanwhile, I froze 10 pounds of tomatoes whole. That left 20 pounds of tomatoes for cleaning, peeling, and seeding.

Here's what 20 pounds looks like:
And cleaning, peeling, and seeding takes much more time than you think. The novelty wore off a few hours into the day, but here's a picture when I was still giggly with the spirit of adventure:

So, my next miscalculation was the size of a pot you would need to create 10 quarts of tomato sauce. Fortunately, I was only dealing with 20 lbs instead of the 30 lbs called by the recipe. My biggest pot was only six quarts, and the amount of puree from 20 lbs was barely enough to fit:

Ah well. Sometimes the Universe just helps you out. At this point, I realized that my inexperience/ineptitude in the kitchen, mixed with the threat of botulism, were probably good enough reasons to go with freezing instead of canning. Plus, another benefit of freezing meant that I could throw in leftover veggies from the bottom of my icebox so they wouldn't go bad when I went on my week-long vacation. Problem(s) solved!

So, with my kitchen ship righted and my new course charted, I was ready to create some yummy Italian-style, ad hoc marinara. The reducing started early afternoon .... and took forever.

First, I was just trying to reduce it enough to get all the puree to fit in the pot, and then I remembered that I was supposed to be adding spices! So add them I did. I tried to act quickly to make up for lost time... and ended up adding the spices in the correct proportion to the 30 lb recipe, not the 20.

Well, by 9 at night I just decided to call it. The total quantity of sauce was about 4.5 quarts, about half that being spices. But what the heck. I figure I can always 'dilute' the sauce later with store-bought, canned tomato sauce.

(Yes, indeed. When Perfection went out the door, I had to throw Pride with it.)

It's hard to remember that trees are mortal, too

My 4-story gum bumelia had to be removed this week. After half of it broke off in wind storms and another 1/4 was hacked by the power company, it was time for me to say good-bye.

I had a couple pet names for that tree: the Dr. Seuss tree, the squirrel tree, the tree-that's-going-to-fall-and-take-the-transformer-with-it tree, etc.

It costs a lot of money to have a tree removed. On top of that, I hate to see tall trees go, especially when wildlife enjoys it so much! A squirrel family of five was living out of one of the pockets in the tree last year. Of course, the tree wasn't that wide around, so I had to suspect that if 5 squirrels could fit in one hole (and actually climb through the tree out a hole on the other side!) then there probably wasn't much holding this tree up besides my hopes and prayers.

So, I decided the other day to be proactive and remove it.

Oddly enough. Now that it's gone I don't feel the sense of relief or good judgment that I thought I would. I just see a very smooth, 20-inch diameter wood platter where a 4-story squirrel motel once stood. The non-interrupted flow of energy in the yard feels disquieting.

I also think the grass is going to fry this summer with no shade.

I don't know if it's too late to plant a tree for the season, but I'm going to look this weekend for a future replacement. Now that I don't have to worry about a new tree getting squashed by falling timber, I want to start growing a new squirrel motel as soon as possible.