Saving The Tomatoes
It snowed Thursday night. We knew cold was coming, though we were not expecting SNOW. In September! During the day, I had harvested all my herbs and peppers and transplanted basil, thyme, and parsley plants into pots which I carried indoors for the winter. And the jalepeño plant. I don’t expect it to continue producing through the winter, but it is such a beautiful plant.
But my tomatoes! I have another tomato jungle this year, two raised beds full of towering plants heavy with gorgeous green tomatoes still on the vine. I could have picked them green, or pulled the whole plants to hang, but I really didn’t want to do either, since these autumn cold snaps are briefly brutal and then the temperatures head back into the 70’s for weeks until Real Winter hits.
So, Thursday evening, I covered my tomatoes, as the forecast was calling for rain and mid-30-degree lows. Eli meowed at the door at ten or eleven that night, and I opened my door to a snowstorm. I was concerned about my tomatoes, but not worried – it was just barely freezing, the plants were covered, and generally, it’s not coldest while it’s snowing – it’s coldest once it stops snowing.
It snowed through much of Friday, but was obviously going to clear off by sundown, which was when the real tomato-killing cold would arrive. Friday afternoon, Mike and I piled up some granite boulders and built a bonfire around them, to heat the rocks.
At dusk, just as the snow was tapering off and the cloud cover was dissipating, we moved the hot rocks (wearing heavy leather gloves) under the tarp and into the tomato garden, and placed them between the raised beds. I tucked the tomatoes in for the night and hoped for the best!
The next morning, I walked up to the garden at dawn. The temperature outside was 28°F.
Frost coated the grass, and the tarp itself.
I wanted to measure the temperature inside the tomato tent but didn’t dare disturb it so early, so I just slid my hand inside – and it was noticeably warmer. Around 9:30am, the sun was bright and the air temperature had warmed well above freezing, so we unveiled the tomatoes.
LIFE! Success!! They survived beautifully. It’s back in the 70’s this week, so my zillion remaining green tomatoes will have a good chance at ripening, after all.
28º Morning
Chicken Bits
Some chicken questions from my last post ~
What breed are they?
Silver Laced Wyandottes. Gold Laced Wyandottes are spectacular beauties, as well ~ I saw one in California this summer. Here’s a bit about them.
Do they enjoy all types of fruit?
So far, yes…. they’ve been offered cantaloupe, cucumbers, a few soggy tomatoes, and watermelon – and devour everything. They can clean a halved cucumber so that only the skin remains – not one speck of flesh left behind. How do they do this with only beaks??
How do you tell the black and white hens apart?
I can’t – not from afar! But Imogen likes to perch on my arms, and Sally is the most vocal. I’m hoping they’ll develop (and keep) distinguishing features once they finish growing. I can tell a dozen “identical” black cows apart; we’ll see if this ability carries to chickens.
. . .
Happy Equinox! Around here, the Autumn Equinox signals the final sprint to finish as many outdoor projects as possible before winter arrives – we’re packing in as much manual labor as we can into every day until the snow flies. While I’m out getting buff in the beautiful (but far too brief) fall weather, I’m having a huge sale in the Shop: 20% off everything. I’ll be retiring some of my older designs and products – once they’re gone, they’ll probably stay gone for good. If you’ve had your eye on anything, now’s the time! Just enter FALL during checkout for 20% off your entire order.
Happiness Is… Chickens With A Watermelon
Thanks for all the telepathic and virtual hugs over the last weeks.
My heart is with those who shared their own losses. It’s the hardest thing.
Chickens help.
Give chickens a watermelon, and they will give you smiles.
The four black and whites were baby chicks this spring – they’ve grown up!
I’ve named them Imogen, Francesca, Diane, and Sally after four of my favorite B&W photographers.
Snake, handsome devil, also enjoyed the watermelon.
You can see his foot is much improved.
All gobbled up.
Forever Cowgirl
I’ve cried every day for the past eighteen days.
Some days it doesn’t last long; maybe 45 seconds.
Some days it goes on for hours.
Joslyn was in my book –
I wrote about feeding bum lambs with her in one of the first chapters.
When the book came out, she was off somewhere –
she was often off doing something amazing,
like apprenticing with a farrier and forging custom horseshoes.
On her way back in mid-November,
she stopped at a World Market to do some Christmas shopping
and saw my book on a display table.
She said it didn’t even register that it was my book,
that she was drawn to the picture and “Wyoming” in the subtitle,
and she picked it up and flipped to a random page and started reading.
She opened right to the passage I had written about her.
She told me she started tripping,
quickly looked back at the cover and it fully registered,
then started crying in the store
and bought half a dozen copies for gifts.
I’ve always loved that story –
to me, it’s not coincidence, but connection.
Part of what has made me so angry and sad these past weeks
is that it already feels like there is such an imbalance
between good vs shit where humanity is concerned
and she was so good.
So full of grace and genuine kindness.
She didn’t hold people’s flaws against them.
In this respect, I am a kindergartener
and she had a PhD.
But I will keep that part of her alive
by trying to make it a bigger part of me.
There’s that ubiquitous question:
If you could have anything, what would you wish for?
If we’re really honest, and really selfish,
wouldn’t our answers all be the same?
It’s not money.
It’s not world peace.
It’s having one more hour with those who have died.
MY NEW BOOK!
More, Elsewhere
- No Tweets Available
