I took these pictures two days ago, because it was beautiful then and I suspected it wouldn’t be  today. I was right. Today it’s windy and cold and I’m afraid for my tomatoes. Here’s the vegetable garden:

The tomatoes are between those poles, though you can’t really see them. The turnip, the tall plant in the left of that front bed, is the only thing that’s blooming–well, that and the strawberries in the same bed. I have tiny green strawberries. I have hopes that I’m trying not to let rise too high.

The herb garden does have blooms in it…damn it. The cabbage, of course. And the Sorrento broccoli. I’m not sure what the idea is there. I ate a small sprout. It was a little bitter. I also had more of the rocket (it seems a better name than arugula) and told Eric to try some, and he agrees it’s quite the flavor. Can I pick a salad in a week? Two? Everything’s just a little too little, but then again I keep taking nibbles anyway.

The peas aren’t flowering yet, but they’re sending climbing tendrils out like mad, clutching at each other when they don’t find the twine. I guided some of them to the right spots. The safflower is coming up…the cilantro is showing its true leaves. I’m impatient, I admit it. But I can see that I’m on the cusp of some good things here.

Incidentally, I decided a couple of days ago that I don’t ever want to buy coriander again. I was making lentil soup and wanted to put coriander in it. I had saved some from when my cilantro plant bolted last year but I never bought an herb grinder, so it sat in the old coriander container all winter. But I really wanted it for this soup, so I pulled out my mortar and pestle and crushed some coriander. It smells strongly of citrus, like lemon Lysol, and it flavored the soup better than any store-bought spice ever did. I knew this in theory, but now I’ve actually tried it, and I can verify that crushing spices by hand is worth it. So another harvest for this year will be the coriander from the many cilantro plants I plan to have throughout the season.

Advertisements