Last weekend marked six weeks before the average last frost date for our area- it came and it went and I didn't get the seeds started. I only feel slightly guilty about it because I'm not convinced that waiting a week or two will hurt anything, given that our springs are getting longer and colder and wetter. The reason I didn't get to the seeds is that Steve guilted me into working on the dining nook, which was actually put off for a good reason: I needed to find the right-sized corbels for the shelf that will run around the top. His timing was perfect, though: the corbels arrived that Friday and I was able to put them up on Saturday. But it turned out that I didn't count how many I'd need correctly, so I'm waiting on the last one to show up so that I can install it and screw down the shelf. Here's my progress so far:
|It wants to be dark brown like the book case|
Once the top shelf is all done I can turn my attention to the skirting on the box bench, for which I've already cut (by hand) the birch plywood. The hard part is going to be mitering the corner cuts, because I've noticed my circular saw doesn't like me anymore and I don't think I can manage to do a miter by hand. Not unless I can muster up some sort of jig or something. I'm still thinking about that.
But back to the garden: I haven't been a total toad: when we had a clear-ish day a week or so ago, I did manage to get outside and get one of the beds weeded, and since there were a good number of volunteer onion starts, I went ahead and transplanted them. I've no idea what variety they were because of my extremely laughable garden record keeping skills, so I'll let them all become onions and eat them, but I won't try to store them or save seed because I don't know how they'll do. They're free onions, that's all I know.
|Mystery Onions and January King Cabbages|
All the seed I ordered this year is for open-pollinated varieties; I gave all my old stuff to my boss because I wanted to start over and he has a lot more room for failure than I do. I will not bore you with the varieties, except for one: my tomato seed. Tomatoes are important to us because of the considerable amount of canned tomatoes and tomato sauce we go through eating pizza at the rate we do, and I discovered last night another very important reason the tomato plants need to rock this year: we're out of home made ketchup. The best tomatoes I grew were the ones my very first year of gardening when I didn't have much time or space for a garden and had thrown some plants purchased at the box store into the garden bed the previous owner had left. They were German Queen, and they produced mightily all summer long. It might have been because the bed was closer to the house and thus nice and toasty, and then again, it might have been just because it's a stalwart variety or just beginner's luck, I don't know. All I know is that I'm anxious to have better luck with tomatoes this year, so I tracked down the German Queen seed from a listed member of the Seed Savers Exchange. Maybe I'll get really lucky and be able to actually save some of the seed. I've read a few different accounts of how to save tomato seed- they evidently need to ferment, which I haven't mastered. Maybe I should let Steve do it.
Speaking of fermenting, I'm reading a book on fermenting foods right now called Wild Fermentation: The Flavor, Nutrition, and Craft of Live-Culture Foods, by Sandor Katz, and once I get it digested, I'll review it (oh you know that pun was intended!) for you. In the meantime, take a look at the book in my What I'm Reading Now section down there to the right. I really enjoyed Tiny Homes and will be leaving it on the coffee table for awhile because it's fun to pick it up and thumb through it. I'm also harboring a tiny glimmer of a hope that Steve will feel inspired by it to buy a few acres way out in the sticks, help me build a cob house on it (or a half-timbered wattle and daub house, but that would take a LOT more money and time), sell this house, and retire early to the country where we can brew beer and have a real honest-to-goodness root cellar. And some chickens. Girl chickens. And our own woodlot with a managed coppice.
Maybe even a pickup truck!
A girl can dream.