I didn’t do everything on my garden to-do list today, but I did some. I weeded part of the driveway beds–the weeds that were actually starting to flower, anyway–and I tied up the tomatoes, and I dumped dirt over the potatoes–I still don’t really understand this part, and I suspect I’m going to get a poor crop because of it–and I picked the last of the peas. And a few other things.


There’s my first ripe zucchini of the season, in its Crayola-yellow, six-ounce glory. I picked the basil because I noticed most of the plants were trying to flower–those are the tops–and the onions because I knew I wanted to cook the zucchini with onions as well as basil and at this point everything else was coming out of the garden anyway. I had a delicious dinner (blogged here and here–my God, how interesting can one dinner be?), munching on the carrots while I made it.

And the peas? I don’t know about the peas. I left them too long. I knew I had, and when I went out there today I saw without surprise that the plants are starting to brown. (I did see one last intrepid white blossom. Poor thing.) I picked every pod I saw, including some brown ones and some tiny ones with only one or two peas in them. What do I do with them? They’re probably not very good; I noticed the best-tasting ones last time were the smaller, less ripe ones. I hadn’t intended to save these for seed, but perhaps I will. Or perhaps I’ll let them all dry and have a glorious split-pea soup–I think I can do that, can’t I? What about the ones that were just ripe, will those work? I don’t know. But I wasn’t heavily invested in the peas to begin with, so I can wait and see without too heavy a heart.