Volunteers

Volunteers in the garden are a crap shoot. One year we had a fabulously funky squash that we nursed along until the bitter end. It was a combination pumpkin, patty pan squash thing, the shape of a flying saucer, that was mostly seeds. This year we have a bed full of volunteers: a tomato, cantaloupe, zinnias, and a white periwinkle. The flowers are beautiful, the tomato lush and green of a determinate variety, and the cantaloupe taking over, full of fruit. At the far end of this bed are the Swiss Chard plants I seeded way back last August still producing gigantic leaves. I etched Scott's name into this elevated melon with a kitchen knife to see if it could be done and to honor it's protected status. Scott put it on the stool to keep it safe. Way cool, the etching works! Gotta grow some personalized pumpkins next.

Garden update

Finally, I have squash plants. My first go round I used old seed. They germinated the most pathetic, sad, little miniature versions of real zucchini. This is proof that the young should produce. There's vigor in youth. So I bought new seed and ka-ching! they germinated within a week. I am so not out of the woods on this squash thing. There are squash borers out there gunnin' for my plants. I've launched a pre-emptive assault including Neem oil, toilet paper rolls and aluminum foil. It's complicated but I'm hoping to confuse them and thereby delay the inevitable.
Dare I say it? Our tomatoes are setting fruit. Tomatoes are mystical. I have no answers. The mythology that surrounds the care and keeping of them makes me act like a fool. I resisted planting tomatoes this year because of the crash and burn event of last year's crop. Scott prevailed. We have many plants now.
I germinated basil and parsley from seed, neglected them for 24 hours, and they sizzled in the heat of late May. I'm giving them another go.
Bottom line is we are potato rich which caused Katie to complain that we eat potatoes every night. True. But there is hope in the garden.