Peach Panic

In late July/early August I got buried under 70 pounds of peaches. You read that right. I got nailed with 3-5 pounds of peaches daily. I have made frozen peaches, peach stuff, peach jam, peaches over ice cream, canned peaches, peach hooch (vodka and brandy), peach crisps and peach smoothies. Next year I'm trying peach leather and Jamaican jerked peaches.

I became a peach pusher.

I took peaches to classes. I left unmarked bags of ugly peaches on porches. I became embarrassed explaining to everyone why my peaches are so ugly--Coryneum blight, people. Also called shot hole disease, California blight, peach blight or pustular spot, all caused by the fungus Coryneum carpophilum. 'Elberta' peaches are really bad to get it, and the humidity of the Eastern seaboard never lets up.

Other than the zinnias, the rest of the garden died in this year's heat. Broke my heart. I bled peach puree everywhere.

I stopped pushing peaches and just scrambled to use the damn things. My garage is now an advertisement for Ball canning supplies. I went to the Amish country of Ohio and scanned the Internet, looking for peach tips. MP couldn't find anything in the freezer because it was packed with peaches. I ate peach smoothies for two weeks.

MP dislikes peaches. I began to resent his tastes.

I learned that click bugs really click and that it takes ants 2 days to bury a whole peach.

The canned peaches were terrible--too soft. MP suggested granitas. With a generous shot of dark rum it was awesome. Peach daiquiris were not far behind. The peach hooch was a disaster; it tasted like cough syrup and I could not tell which was the vodka and which was the brandy.

Any post I made from July through August would have read like Dr. Miles Bennell screaming, "Look, you fools, you're in danger! Can't you see?! They're after you! They're after all of us! Our wives, our children, everyone! THEY'RE HERE, ALREADY! YOU'RE NEXT!"

After that, there was really nothing to post about, because when you're surrounded by peaches and it's 95 degrees and you've already spent 4 hours next to the stove, experimenting baking with hamburger buns just sounds like a bad idea.

But I'm excited now. Because it's cooler, because the peaches are all gone. Because I'd like to tell you about my recipes for bread and thin mints and hamburger buns.

Still there are peach mysteries out there. One last peach hung and hung on the tree for days, hard as a Styrofoam ball... and then it was gone. Did one of my young neighbors pilfer it? Doing some work in the flowers up next to the house, I found a pile of 20 peach pits. What stacked them there?

For the moment, the peach tree is still. I eat my toast with peach jam and plan for the holidays.

Hey Aunt Marsha, guess what you're getting for Christmas!

Is That... A Ripe Peach? A Gluten-Free Bun?

For somebody who really hates to travel, I do an awful lot of it.

This latest round wasn't too bad (MP cooked), but there was one really dismal restaurant meal. I ordered from their "gluten-free menu" and got, exactly, a piece grilled salmon, grilled asparagus, and a lemon-half. There was no salt or pepper on the fish or asparagus. No butter or oil. No herbs. Nothing. What I listed is what I got on the plate.

It wasn't about good food; it was about not getting sued. I thought, "Dude, are you even trying in there?"
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All these little peaches out there look like this:

Except for these three. And I have no idea what's up with this.

They're very close to the ground (I totally should have cut that branch this spring but I didn't because I am a wimp)and maybe... Nope. I got nothin', just three mutant peaches. I check out the big one and, alas, it has some end-rot or something. It would never last in this heat. I squoze it a little and... huh?

Ladies and Gentlemen, is this not a ripe peach?

I ate it and it was divine. Ripe peaches in June? Whoever heard of such a thing? Elberta is supposed to be a late-season, August-September peach, and I get mine at the end of July -- except for this, and I don't know what this is.

Gardening is very engaging. Little mysteries everywhere.
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Look at this.

Yes, go ahead. I'll wait.

Do you see that? Do you see that bun? I made that bun! An honest-to-goodness hamburger bun, the likes of which I have not had in seven years! (BTW -- the beer in the back is a Kölsch, which was a great choice with the burger.)

There are still some issue to be worked out, but I am seriously on to something. When I get this ironed out, you can bet I'll post it here!

And there's a restaurant I know of that needs some recipes, too.

Around the Yard -- Peaches

Stepped out with my coffee one morning to survey the yard and I saw this little guy:

He was so cute, I stalked him.

I have no idea how he got in. I just had a new gate and fence installed for the very purpose of keeping bunnies out. This little guy was not ten feet from my tomato seedlings. This did not amuse me. Taking pictures, I knew at some point he would run, and then I'd find out how he got in.

I got pretty close.

I finally dropped the camera and thought, 'Well you dumb bunny, just how close are you going to let me get?'

Not closer than that. He took off toward the gate. But I guess when you are very young and small you panic easily. He went and donked his wee head on the gate. But on the next try, to my surprise, that little guy squoze between the gate and the gatepost! A two inch gap, maybe? I dashed to the gate behind him to see where he went.

Nowhere, I guess. No bunny in sight.

That a bunny broke into my back yard reminded me that a) it's time to get the tomatoes in the ground, and b) I'd better make sure all the little green peaches are up off the ground. Rabbits will eat little green peaches, and if they know there are green ones, they will hang out looking for ripe ones (says my inner Farmer MacGregor, anyway).

When we got back from Paradise, I thinned the peaches (left). Today, I thinned them some more (right). All told I think I thinned five pounds of green peaches. It was a great fruit set this year, and I'm very excited.

I'm really bad to thin peaches. I'm too tender-hearted. All those beautiful clusters of three and four and five peaches look like a turn of the century postcard! But I must be firm. Two reasons: thinning the peaches in the long run gives you bigger peaches and helps keep the tree producing year after year without skipping.

And here's the second reason:

Do you see that, that crescent-shaped mark on the peach? That's from a plum curculio. These little bugs look for the surface where two peaches touch and enter one of the peaches at that site. It's protected there; predators can't see the mark. Thinning peaches so they're 6-8 inches apart puts a crimp in plum curculio style -- no cozy, inside surfaces.

I have a feeling that part of the reason a few peaches have been dropping is not just that the tree is unloading. I think the curculios have been busy. Well, I can get busy, too.

It's not like we're suffering here. Plenty of peaches. Still, you know, there's the oriental fruit moths. And then the mockingbirds -- first year I covered the tree with netting, but this year it's so big I'm not sure I can.

Harper Lee tells us it's a sin to kill a mockingbird, but I sure would thwack one with a peach-pit if it ever went after my peaches. It's the way they do it; they use their beaks like a knife and spoil the peach and move on to the next one.

Now if mockingbirds ate plum curculios, that would be different...

More of Spring (and some Peachy Drama)

Because Spring happens fast, and you don't want to miss it!

This is Persian speedwell, sometimes called Bird's Eye. They're weeds. Each one is no bigger than your pinky nail, but a whole carpet of them is truly spectacular.

Hyacinths, in an in-your-face pink!

Bradford pears. A whole street full of them looks like snowfall. The "pears" are more like crabapples; they taste terrible, but the birds love them.

Star magnolias don't get nearly as big as the great magnolia trees of the South. They make me think of water lilies.

This is also a kind of magnolia called a tulip tree.

A flowering plum. In Japan these flower so early that they're often flowering in the snow. If you see a painted scroll with a gnarled, flowering tree covered in snow, it's either an almond or a plum -- not a cherry tree.

And speaking of flowering fruit trees...

Of course it wouldn't be Spring without a little Peach Drama. The tree was looking really good -- really good -- and then the temperature dropped. MP and I managed to get the plastic over it for a night, much as I did during last year's cold snap, but this time I am so glad MP was around. The tree has grown significantly, and there's no way I could have done it along. As it was, we had to attach another piece of plastic just to get the thing covered to the ground.

But... I can't tell how well it worked. The weather got so rainy and nasty, the tree stopped blooming. The flowers out now look kind of ratty and spent, but there are still buds waiting to pop. Did I lose many flowers? Did I hurt the tree? No clue until it sets peaches. I cannot imagine doing this for my livelihood -- the suspense would kill me.

I keep thinking of a quote or a line from something: "There's a madman in the garden murmuring bits of truth, but if you would hear him you must first get down on your knees." An allusion to the Agony in the Garden? I don't recall. But I do think Spring is like that -- little quiet bits of glory everywhere, but if you want to see them, you must get down on your knees on the wet earth and look.

It's worth it.

Happy Spring! Some Colorful Daffodils

My last few posts, while culinarily worthy, have been photographically bland. I mean, chicken stock? Clam chowder? There's not a lot of zing in that.

I thought maybe you'd like some zing.

Despite the fact that you can't eat them, I love daffodils. This is my yard.











There's no way I can capture the exuberance, the scent, the joy of daffodils, but I tried.

These clumps of flowers, all facing the sunshine, remind me of young girls at a party. I think if you listen closely, you can hear them giggle.

This little guy is no bigger than a quarter. He's called 'Minnow."

Get out and enjoy the spring you have!

Signs of Spring!

On March 1 I spotted my first flower! It's a crocus. Nothing fancy, just some bulbs I got a the hardware store. I confess, my first thought was not, "Oh Joy! A Flower!" but more along the lines of, "What the hell is THAT?"

It's been a long winter, friends.

The peach tree is still closed tightly -- and this is good, because the temperatures will be cold enough these next few nights to potentially damage any flower/leaf buds that are too exposed. This is how I lost 2/3 of last year's crop. But I'm not bitter... Somewhere I had read about how in northern states farmers will occasionally pile snow up around the trunks of orchard trees when they know the temperatures are going to drop again, and this is what I did. I don't think I can do 2 AM tarp covering/snow-poking anymore.

But when I downloaded the pictures, I found on the camera a picture which I did not take:

MP was poking about in the garage and got around to assembling his new BBQ smoker. Apparently he was proud of his new baby and wanted to record the moment. It looks very... pod-like. And shiny.

Crocus and smokers -- I ask you, can spring be far behind?

Urban Garden Tour

A cashier at Meijers once told me that the Fourth of July is the “Wednesday of Summer.” I hold onto that thought, first because it is true, and second to remind myself that sages exist in undreamed of places. — Naked Latte: Conversations Overheard

Is it tacky to quote from your own novel? Hope not. But what’s really unforgivable is that it’s the 4th of July weekend and I haven’t said anything about my garden this year! So let’s get down to it:

Tomatoes – Let’s get this out of the way, okay? I thought I would be clever this year and scatter the spent grass clippings through the garden to keep the weeds down. Instead, I think I gave the tomatoes cucumber mosaic virus (CMV). They look horrible. MP’s roma tomato (for salsa) isn’t too bad — it’s got fruit that should be ready in the next two weeks — and the sungold is chugging along okay, but the Paul Robesons will be lucky to get any fruit at all. CMV is carried by about 800 different plants, so undoubtedly I brought it in with the spent grass clippings. MP pointed out, “If it’s carried in 800 plants, it’s not really a cucumber virus, is it?” He’s right, too — the cucumbers don’t have it at all. The tomato that looks best? A feral sungold that sprouted from last year’s seed in the compost pile.


Kale – I think I may have hit my kale stride. It looks pretty good and tastes great. Needs to be spread out more, though. That’s my fault for crowding them. Believe it or not, this weekend it’s time to replant the kale for the winter season. This stuff has been growing since February. Cabbage loopers provide an extra protein boost!

Lettuce – I’m so proud of my lettuce. It looks like lettuce! Pretty green bibb lettuce for nice salads. I’d love to tell you how fascinating it tastes but… It’s lettuce. Green. Leafy. And that’s about it. I’m actually growing some stuff in a container, but this horrible little hornworm devoured it, so it’s recuperating (the hornworm, however, will not recuperate.


Cucumber – a strange cucumber malaise made me think that I would have no cucumbers at all this year. They just wouldn’t grow. Only one out of six lived, so I planted two in pots and watched them carefully… and then one died. So I have a largish one and a smaller one, and this may actually be enough. Moderation is important when dealing with curcubits, as we shall see… The reason this image looks so green is that the light is green under all those leaves.

Plumgranny(Queen Anne’s Pocket-Melon) – I grow these for amusement, as they have no culinary value. They smell good. They remind my grandmother of her childhood in Appalachia, so I send her a few. On the plus side, with the tomatoes being so puny, the plumgrannies have room to spread out and they look great. Lots of flowers, but I’m not seeing any little green melons yet.


Butternut Squash – These would probably be doing better if they weren’t overrun by the other squashes. I have pruned back the zucchini and they are doing a little better, but ultimately, I don’t think I’d buy the Burpee’s Butterbush again; if it’s going to survive in the garden, it needs a lot of chutzpah. Still, we’ll probably get a few tiny ones for late-summer risotto. Their flavor is really good.

Pipan(Patty-Pan) Squash – Last year we really got into grilling these, so I planted some, and now they are fighting with the zucchini to see which will rule the garden. They look like alien artifacts, vegetal gifts from extra-terrestrial visitors. Actually, all the squashes are so fascinating I think they’re worthy of their own post. We had so many this past week I gave some away to a friend to who promised to take them to a party with him as a conversation piece to pick up women. Good Luck, kid!

Zucchini – We like zucchini. We like to grill it. This is good, because now we are up to our eyebrows in it. “Don’t plant too many!” MP warned me. “They say one is enough!” I planted three hills… with three plants each, but some died early… so I replanted them… They’re fine now. What’s your address? Do you like zucchini? Because MP shot down the “Let’s brew zucchini beer!” suggestion real quick and now I’m stuck for ideas.


Beans – Alas, the beans have disease issues, too, as evidenced by their quilted-looking leaves. It has not seemed to inhibit their will to produce, however; this year I’ve grown some of the longest beans ever. These are pole beans (as opposed to bush beans), which I like for their flavor and the fact that they take up less horizontal space.

Zinnias – I grew these from seed saved from last year. Need I say more?


Peaches – Yes, I know. You have been waiting for this information breathlessly. The good news: No signs of oriental fruit moths this year! I got on the spray schedule early and have stuck to it. At this point we are about 20 days from harvest. Some peaches have begun to blush, and I won’t be spraying them with bentonite clay again. The bad news: some peaches have also begun to split, probably due to uneven watering, though I don’t know. Alas, bacterial spot is a problem of Elberta peaches, and the leaf-drop can look quite alarming. Water conditions aren’t helping. All told I’ve lost ½ to ¾ of the crop from the freeze and the initial drop of peaches. The soil around here is terrible; I need to fertilize next year earlier and more heavily.


That said, I still will have some delicious peaches and enough to make a few cobblers and cakes with. Don’t know if I’ll be canning any PeachStuff this year. I have this completely unfounded fear that the neighborhood kids will come and steal my peaches, but MP pointed out that most kids don’t even know what a peach looks like. That and… well, my peaches are ugly and covered with weird white crap. Steal them? Probably not.

MP’s Pet Pepper (The Drama Queen) – Yes! This plant is dying! Right before our eyes! Every day! Why don’t we feed it? Why don’t we water it? Don’t we love it? And so on. Dramatic Vegetables can be highly entertaining. It doesn’t help that it’s up on the porch in the 100 degree heat, but really, peppers are sooo excitable. Lack of water is making these jalapenos hot as hell.


This is the season I like best, every morning going out with my knife (to fend off the zucchini) and my trug (to haul everything back to the house) and seeing what is new. The bees are extremely happy. I never worry that they will sting me, only that one might run me over. Sure enough, this morning I bent down at the wrong moment and got thwacked upside the head.

Summer is alive. 'Tis the season to get messy in it.

Star of Bethlehem

According to the USDA I grew up in Zone 5. Not that they track me personally; I’ve just always been fascinated by their brightly banded map, and wherever I go I ultimately want to know if lemon trees are possible (not hardy below Zone 9-10) and daffodils work (doesn’t get cold enough above Zone 8).

In practical terms this means because I didn’t grow up here, there’s stuff out in my yard I’ve never seen before.


A few years back I was mowing and found flowers where I had never planted any. The leaves looked like garlic chives, but longer and fallen over, with small white flowers, a few to each cluster. It was quite pretty, actually, and I wondered who would randomly plant stuff in the middle of a yard out by the curb.

I mowed around it, went back, and dug it up. This was harder than I thought, because the bulbs it grew from (again, like garlic chives or spring onions) were easily 6-8 inches down, and I mangled several before I got enough to transplant into my flower bed. I had no idea what it was. I assumed it was some sort of wild allium (garlic/onion type plant) or bulb. It’s grown up very nicely, and this year I took some pictures.

Gardeners probably seem rather solid and boring (old people with stone figurines growing way too many zucchini), but the truth is, we’re risk-takers. Who do you think invented zucchini bread? Crazy stuff. Seeing only pictures in a catalog, we decode a few bits of information (like zone hardiness, shade tolerance, and mature height), calculate whether or not we have room (and if it’s something we want, we always do), and send away for little bare-rooted sticks or knobby tubers or packets of seeds that look like alien gallstones. We stick these things in the dirt. We wait. A risky business.

Sometimes it pays off. When MP first saw the peach tree, he looked at me and asked, “Which end is up?” Six years and 30 pounds of peaches later, I apparently guessed right. Then sometimes things don’t go well, and one must rectify the mistakes. This happens to both my mother and her mother — a lot.

Currently my mother is ripping up sweet woodruff (“They said it was a groundcover. No lie!”) while my grandmother has spent 20+ years going at the lily of the valley (“It grows up places I never put it!”). Neither one has made much headway. Interestingly enough, my mother cannot get lily of the valley to grow — and she lives in the woods. What both my mother and grandmother agree upon is that STAR OF BETHLEHEM MUST DIE.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because it grows everywhere! All the time!” my mother answered.

Grandma was more specific. “Because it gets yecchy.”

Okay… Over time they revealed that star of bethlehem, while pretty, is invasive, crowding out everything growing around it. After blooming, the grassy leaves get rather slimy and can’t be pulled out. It’s pretty for 2 weeks and annoying for 4 months.


I year or so ago I was at a plant sale hosted by a gardener friend of mine, and in her flower bed I saw the unknown little thing I’d rescued from my yard. “How cute!” I exclaimed, “Would you sell me some?”

“Oh God, that. No. You don’t want it.”

“But I already have some and I like it. What–?”

“Kill it.”

“But I like it! What is it?”

“Star of bethlehem.”

I had nursed a viper in my bosom! (Is that not one of the most wacked out sayings imaginable? No wonder it fell out of favor somewhere about 1910…) However, the truth is… I’ve never had a problem with it. It’s at the edge of the flowerbed, and though I occasionally mow over it in the summer, it always comes back in the spring. Look at it — isn’t it cheerful? Don’t the little while flowers look so happy to greet the springtime? Doesn’t its green center look like a Jell-O mold? I still don’t know how it got out in my yard. Maybe some disgusted person flung it there. Maybe a bird carried it off a compost pile. Nature’s mysteries abound.


“You watch it,” my mother warned me, “You’ll be sorry.” But she’s been saying that to me for decades now about this or that, and I’m still here. A lot depends on soil type and micro-climate, so maybe where I have it now it will remain in control. It marks a point in the springtime when the daffodils are gone but the azaleas aren’t quite ready to show. I’d hate to lose it.

Sometimes you have to take risks.

Hanami, Cherry-blossom Viewing

In the previous post I mentioned the Japanese concept of hanami, or cherry-blossom viewing. If you've never seen a flowering cherry tree then you must surely wonder what the big deal is.

Yesterday I went out and had my own blossom-viewing party. This is the result (click on any of the images to see it in a larger view).



These are lovely photos, but I'm not sure photos can really capture the experience of a sunny crisp day, Spring awakening, tiny petals falling in the wind...


If you'd like to see some images from Japan, try Tokyo Times or Kirai.





It is a very short moment in Spring -- a few days at most -- and this is why it is so beautiful. Like Life, the flowers of the cherry tree are precious because they are fleeting.



Okay, that's enough introspection. Go outside and play in the dirt.