I spent much of this evening outside watching Zoe ride around in her “shiny new car,” (its like a year and half old and she still calls it new) and conversing with the neighbors.
With it being the longest day of the year, we took full advantage of the sun. We traded stories of summer camp, and local fishing spots, and who’s got what growing in their garden (I traded two of my Cherokee Purple tomatoes for a few yellow crookneck squash), and spinklers, and weather.
In my mind, I still don’t think it’s summer. I mean, I haven’t even started the squash yet. Or transplanted the hyssop or fleabane. I was so fixated on trying to making my tomato plants healthy that everything else seemed to go by the wayside. I never did plant the amount of peppers I wanted too. Sure, there is still time, but most of the space is now dedicated to melons and pumpkins. So where will I put them? Beats me.
As you can see, most of the tomato plants have been pulled. Tossed to the compost pile. I threw some grass clippings in last week and hopefully I can get around to purchasing some cotton burr compost to throw in as well and get everything tilled under. This was the problem with the tomatoes this year. I didn’t build up the soil.
Can you believe it? I still have gladiolas growing. I know, weird right? This just adds to the confusion in the garden. I see gladiolas and think it’s still late spring.