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Month: March 2016

Plants for Sale

March 31, 2016 Food - Uncategorized

Spring has been peeking around the corner, being the shy, coltish type, giving us glimpses of her sunshine beauty, fresh air and songbirds.  Then she tucks away for a quick nap, letting winter drop a foot of fresh, sticky snow.

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But planting waits for no one, and I have been very busy planting seeds.

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I went a little too extreme, planting 17 varieties of tomatoes…which means I accidentally planted 932 tomatoes.

Oops.

I am listing all of the plants you can order, but be aware that although I may have many seedlings, I may not have the kind you want. So please let me know, because I might be sold out.  I am including herbs this year.

Tomatoes:

Amish paste – giant, blocky, Roma type for paste and canning

Pink Accordion – unique, large, pink fruit is ruffled like an accordion; tomato is semi-hollow, so it is excellent for stuffing; flavour is sweet and mild

Black Krim – rich, sweet; heirloom from Russia; dark red-purple, high in 

Snow Fairy – dwarf tomato from Russia; small globe-shaped fruit very early; tart; excellent for patio pots

Gypsy – (limited quantity) deepest, purplest, maroon; medium-sized fruit; perfect for soups

Yellow Pear – golden pear-shaped with mild flavour; plentiful; perfect for preserves or salads

Chocolate Pear – ‘black’ pear-shaped; high yields; rich flavour

Martino’s Roma – high yields of richly flavourful plum tomatoes; compact; 2-3 oz; few seeds

Black Cherry – large, dusky purple, rich flavour; high yields; delicious

A Grappoli D’Iverno – (limited) winter grape of old Italy; keeps on vine; little ‘Roma’s’; delicious

Bonny Best – (limited) medium-sized fruit; round, red, meaty; not your hybrid garbage; flavour!

Blue Beauty – (limited) modest beefsteak-type; 8 oz; so much flavour; keeps well; gorgeous blue colour

Chile Verde – (limited) pointed pepper shape; mellow green skin; strong earthy flavour; green paste tomato

Minibel – bite-sized fruit; sweet; tiny plants perfect for patio; excellent for container gardening

Pink Ponderosa – can reach 2lbs; pink-red beefsteak; thick and delicious; canning

Peppers

Canary Yellow – sweet; bright yellow bell-shape

Corbaci – long, 10″ fruit are twisted, slender; heirloom from Turkey; rich flavour for pickling or frying; productive

Lipstick – 4″, tapered, sweet, thick flesh

Thai red – hot heirloom from Thailand; easy to dry; bright red; pungent heat

Purple jalapeno – deep purple turning to deep red; full jalapeno flavour; great for salsa

Melons

Walthum butternut – good yields; excellent taste; keep for a long time (mine are still good!)

Blacktail watermelon – early; grows well in heat and drought; 8-12lbs; bright red and sweet

Early Fortune cucumber – slicing-type; 7-8″; 2″ in diameter; crisp white flesh; pre-1907

Boston pickling – heirloom variety pre-1880, not a hybrid type; vigorous vine; large yields; crisp and excellent for pickles

Galeus D’Eysines Squash – flattened heirloom squash; 10-15lbs fruit covered in salmon-peach skin covered with large warts; orange flesh is perfect for soups or baking; gorgeous and crazy

Jack Be Little pumpkin – 8oz; flat and ribbed; good flesh; tiny but usable

Golden Jenny melon – 2lbs; early and productive; sweet

Lemon zucchini – shape, size and colour of a lemon; fits in your palm; excellent yields; firm; pretty and delicious

Other

Purple of Sicily cauliflower – brilliant purple head; 2-3lbs; sweet flavour; cooks to bright green

Catskill brussel sprouts – hardy, dwarf plants; uniform sprouts; 1941

Brunswick cabbage – large, drumhead, cold-hardy; fall/winter types; stores well

Glory of Enkhuizen  – pre-1900; medium-large, hard, round heads; excellent keeper; good for kraut and fresh

Red Express cabbage – open-pollinated; compact, extra-early; 2-3lbs; split-resistant oval heads

Early Purple Sprouting broccoli – purple broccoli sprouts in spring; frost hardy

Rapini broccoli – Italian non-heading grown for flavourful asparagus-like shoots and leaves; cook or in salads

Violet de Gournay radish – 10″, deep violet-purple skin with crisp white flesh; cooking, pickling, grated raw; easy to grow; delicious bite

Lettuces – feel free to inquire about a flat of mixed lettuce seedlings as well

Amsterdam prickly spinach – 1806; hardy; pointed leaves; excellent yield; gorgeous flavour

Arugula – easy to grow; grows well after cutting; good tangy flavour

Red romaine – red and green mottled leaves; easy yields; delicious

microgreens – variety of mustard leaves; red orach; red mizuna; tatsoi; corn salad

Herbs

thyme, emily basil, lemongrass, blue hyssop, borage, catnip, blue spice basil, cilantro, rue, lemon basil, cinnamon basil, tarragon, marjoram, rosemary, oregano, parsley, sage, chervil

Tomatillo

Green tomatillo – gorgeous husk-covered fruit; used in salsa verde and amazing in soup; raw tastes like a cross between a tomato and an apple

Contact me if you have any questions! loveandoregano@gmail.com

 

 

 

My Girl

March 30, 2016 Pemberley 1 Comment

She died on a Wednesday.
It had been planned for a week.
The grave would be dug that morning, as we had to rent a jackhammer to break the crust of the frozen earth. The digging would be soft after that. The area chosen behind the garden already had soft, rich, dark soil.
She loved the garden, probably as much as I did. Sneaking in among the purple peas, their fat pods too tempting to not pluck and devour. The tiny tomatoes in jewel tones of ruby red, glittering gold and dusky blue could not be hidden from her. I would scold her for eating them and then laugh as she would drop her head momentarily and then look peek up at me to see if I was watching.
I could never be angry for long. I simply loved her too much.

 

She was on painkillers. We were warned that they were a temporary fix and would only allow her a few days of joy, as the strong medicine would hurt her internally. We agreed that the doctor would come out to us. Less stress that way, and we wanted her last day to be filled with love and comfort.

But a winter storm came. The roads would be treacherous. We had to make a decision. Would we take her in or would we wait a few more days. Could we prolong her leaving us just a little while longer?
The idea of waiting made me feel better. But I could see her sickness. I could see her struggling and she wouldn’t sleep. She knew something. I think.
On her last night, we cooked up her favourite treats. We played fetch for as long as she would play. She stood completely still for half an hour while I brushed her over and over and over, repeating that I loved her.
I tucked her in on our bed, as I had the past 13 years, the purple blanket surrounding her like a cocoon. I scratched her head and willed her to die in her sleep so that I wouldn’t have to bear any guilt of choosing when she was to die. But I wasn’t given that satisfaction.
The next morning she ate, let me brush her a bit more and I clipped on her bright green collar and invited her onto the passenger seat of the van. I snuggled her purple blanket around her and sniffed her black fur one last time. I told her she was a very good girl. That she did her job well, protecting us, loving us and keeping away the chipmunks and deer. I thanked her for being my best friend. I told her not to be scared. I told her that she wouldn’t miss us at all.

And I closed the door.

I went inside and I didn’t look back. I collected her chewed up dog toys, her old bone, her fuzzy bed, still slightly warm from her bony black body. I put them all into a large garbage bag and dropped it into the basement.  I hung up her red sweater on a hook at the front door, where a bright green collar and pink leash would be added two hours later. I washed out her red water bowl and put it away. I took her blankets and washed them with bleach, vacuuming out the dryer afterwards as her fur always clogged the vents. I vacuumed the carpet in the kitchen where she always lay as I made meals.

I went outside and did some chores, the usual daily feeding of the chickens and egg collecting. As I returned to the front door I turned to call out for her to come in. But of course she wasn’t there.

In the afternoon I came down the stairs to let her outside, to go for our daily walk to the mailbox, but she wasn’t in the kitchen waiting for me, her tail thumping the floor.

At bedtime I locked up the house and went upstairs, and  I turned to call her to invite her on the bed. But of course, I’d be going to bed alone.

The house is so empty.

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