Wet chicory, cold Corbacis
Corbaci peppers are long, skinny and red. They are sweet, but their primary assets are being Turkish and long, skinny and red. They can be curvy and twisty, so they have an artsy side. They are late bloomers, so they need a soil booster at mid-season, but we’re past that now because the first freeze warning of the year is for tonight. Looks like a tough week ahead for Corbacis.
Also, for all the other peppers, basil and flowers, the time has come. A Fish pepper plant suffered through the summer but sprouted fresh growth in September. It volunteered for a transplant project to see how long it can live if I respectfully move it indoors until spring. The living room window pledged to do its part. Fish now sits below overhanging spider plants and beside a geranium. Last time I checked, they were already laughing and telling jokes about the governor.
Murasaki peppers start out dark purple before maturing red. A plant might reach four feet high, spread out a bit and bear dozens four-inch peppers. These plants, like the Corbacis, waited until September to produce much but really appreciated the warm October weather like last week… and now there’s this week… “a change in the weather is known to be extreme,” gardener Bob said.
The next bed over was the first bed in the garden. It originally was cobbled together from leftover wood pieces. They rotted soon enough, and, like all beds in the garden, are now outlined by rocks. We are rich in rocks in our part of the world. In that bed are Italiko Rosso chicory leaves sprouting from a root that was planted 18 months ago. It went through its cycle last year – produced leaves, sent up a tall stalk that flowered, sent seeds asunder and then flopped over. Apparently, the root remained because the same cycle occurred this year. The stalk already came and went, and new leaves sprouted recently only to face the sudden change in weather.
A conscientious gardener at a time like this can put a bucket over the chicory and hope for the best but not over the entire garden.
The forecast calls for maybe four hours below 32° overnight and then bright but tepid sunshine. Frosts can be patchy so maybe tepid sunshine will be enough to save some of the plants for tomorrow, but temps below the freezing mark four nights in a row is a lot to ask of summer vegetables.
For the second summer in a row, the prize-winning tomato plant in the garden was a Dr. Wyche’s Yellow. It really sprang to life after it got too tall and fell over. On its final afternoon before the freeze, it donated a large bowlful of fruit, some of which are still a bit green but hopefully they’ll sunbathe themselves to maturity in the next week or so. They will hang out on a windowsill like seals on a beach. That’s all it takes (maybe).
But wait! There’s more! The Squash Congress for World Unity sent representatives from every which way to the garden this summer, and represented in the final harvest were India, Italy, Ukraine, New Zealand and New Jersey. The world is fortunate to have so many squashes. Growing them is the fun part, and the other fun part is figuring out what to do with them. My rule for cooking is if you don’t know what you’re doing, do it right and then you’ll never go wrong.
It’s a good thing summer squash are easy to freeze. That way you can cook Italy this week; New Zealand can wait.
Who knew in April what would happen in the garden this summer? What lessons will we forget? What will engage our fantasies as the next garden year unfolds? Seed catalogs are coming soon. Will I finally grow skirret? It’s called crummock in Scotland.