Favorite garden accessories

Remember, I’m not the gardener in this operation. Still, for me?

  1. Loppers: I use mine both in the garden to trim thick-stemmed plants, and around the yard to trim hedges and small limbs of trees or prune shrubs – sometimes even to cut branches into firewood. It’s probably my most used tool, actually.
  2. Nippers: Not just to cut small plants but rope, twine, and zip-ties, too. Usually beats scissors.
  3. Speaking of twine: Jute is a favorite. Whatever you use to tie plants in place or as lines for peas and climbing beans, you’ll rarely find it when you need it.
  4. Wheelbarrow: Not just for dirt, either. Big bags of compost, mulch, or fertilizer can be a bear to tote without this. Rocks, bricks, stones, as well. Hauling things away from the beds, too, can quickly fill one.
  5. A good spade: Meaning one with a handle attached so it won’t pull out – it’s essential in planting season, especially if you don’t have a rototiller. It’s also helpful in uprooting plants at the end of the season. We also have a ton of rocks in the yard, and it gets a workout there.
  6. Trowels: Especially since they’re easily misplaced or lost, if you don’t stick them upright in the ground when you’re done.
  7. A skinny shovel: The usual broad size can be frustrating more times than you’d suspect.
  8. Five-gallon buckets: Even if you don’t collect seaweed for fertilizing and mulching, you will find endless ways to fill one: water, fertilizer, compost, garden produce, firewood tinder.
  9. Bricks: OK, not actually a tool, but they sure come in handy in holding tarps or black plastic weed-cover in place or for propping up plant pots for display. A few concrete blocks are also good to have on hand.
  10. Band-aids: No matter how careful you are, you will get nicked.

So what about you?

No, tomatoes don’t all taste the same

The first year I witnessed the gardener in our household sprout and then transplant a dozen or so varieties of tomatoes, I was perplexed. Foolish me, I thought tomatoes were pretty interchangeable. Not so by the end of summer, when I had discovered how much each variety had its own identity. Some ripened earlier than others, a major consideration in our short growing season. Some were firmer while others were juicier. Each variety matured in its own size and shape. Trying to describe the range of flavors could soon sound like a wine tasting commentary. So far, we’ve had nothing that has delivered a hint of slightly warm asphalt, which seemed to be a plus for one wine critic. We’ll save you our own take.

Also important to us is disease and blight resistance. New England can be a difficult region for tomato growers.

Here’s a sampling of what we’ve cultivated, eaten, and even dried, canned, or bagged frozen.

  1. Goldie: A large, deep orange, slicing beefsteak fruit. “The perfect tomato,” as I blogged back on August 26, 2021, touting it for its starring role on my beloved sandwiches. This heirloom variety is one of the last to blossom and bear harvest for us, but it’s definitely worth the wait.
  2. Pruden’s Purple: Valued as being one of the first large tomatoes to mature (72 days), this firm wonder has a distinctive deep pink, ridged appearance. It also contains few seeds. The flavor is described as nicely balanced between sweet and tart.
  3. Brandywine: A very popular large heirloom, this one generally matures in 80 to 90 days. Many folks consider it the tastiest of the lot. Its leaves resemble potato plants more than tomatoes, and the heavy fruit means the plants need a lot of support.
  4. Yellow Brandywine: A gold-yellow variation created in 1991 from the famed Brandywine heirloom, this beefsteak weighs in at up to two whopping pounds a globe.
  5. Sungold: These tangy sweet golden orange cherry-size tomatoes are among the earliest to arrive for us – within two months, supposedly, though for us that meant early August last year – yet continued to deliver through September. Harvesting at peak can be tricky, though: a shade too early misses the glory, but a shade too late and they start to spoil. Their flavor is described as intense and sugary-sweet, a delightful addition to salads. They form in clusters of ten to 20 tomatoes on a vine. Add to it the red Glacier, another cherry tomato that arrives early and continues valiantly into autumn.
  6. Juliet: This small, elongated, prolific paste tomato has been a true workhorse for us. It freezes well, providing a foundation for soup and sauces throughout the winter. Lately, we’ve augmented this one with Plum Regal, primed for the end of the season; Amish Paste, a larger elongated plum tomato that also works well for soup and sauces; and Roma, an egg-shaped three-incher prized for making paste and sauces.
  7. Opalka: At the larger end of the paste tomatoes, this Polish entry grows up to five feet tall and has irregularly-shaped fruit up to six inches long. Tasters at Fedco Seeds described it as “an oasis of flavor in a desert of tomato hell,” “a pleasing texture and good aftertaste lingers,” “round and mellow flavor… full-bodied.” As I was saying about critical taste analysis?
  8. Cosmonaut Volkov: Back to the one-pounders I love for tomato-and-mayo sandwiches, this slightly flattened beefsteak is named for a Russian astronaut who died returning from space. It can go mushy if overripe, though.
  9. Omar: Or more accurately, Omar’s Lebanese, which was introduced in 1996 via a Lebanese college student named Omar Saab. Typically weighing in at up to 1½ pounds apiece, the fruit sometimes ambitiously reaches three or four pounds. The flavor is described as “multidimensional sweet.”
  10. Copper Beauty: An elongated and very tasty small tomato, this one still has lots of green in its skin when ripe, augmented by orange streaks, along with a dark red interior when sliced.

And we haven’t even touched on some fine “black” tomatoes.

 

As one neighbor says, ‘It’s my least favorite job’

His sympathy was much appreciated while I worked with one around the garden.

So here’s why I hate using a weed whacker.

  1. My shoes and legs or pants get splattered in green juice.
  2. As do my hair, eyes, and lips. (I don’t like slurpies.)
  3. Stems and blades of tall grasses and weeds often twist into a knot around the connection of the driveshaft to trimmer spool. Their tangling soon chokes the high-speed revolutions. Even with a razor blade, they’re hard to extract. I can spend more time clearing this than actually cutting the tall grasses and weeds.
  4. The two plastic trimmer cords – the part that actually cuts the greens – are hard to extend to the desired length or to replace when the spool’s empty. The procedures feel counterintuitive. And they quickly fray in actual usage.
  5. The “trimming” isn’t nearly as precise in its surgery as my wife presumes. It’s more like using a chainsaw than a scalpel.
  6. That means there’s collateral damage. Domestic flowers and vegetable plants are at risk, especially if I bump into something I can’t see behind me. Oops! Sorry.
  7. I have an electric battery-driven version, a huge advance over the gasoline alternative. Just the thought of having to deal with the fuel mixture, rip-cord starter, or other maintenance is enough to put on my to-hate list.
  8. The battery in mine is difficult to remove for recharging. It’s just too tight to get out without an extra set of hands. Help!
  9. It’s top-heavy, meaning that when I’m trying to clear those tangles in No. 3 or am trying to store it in the shed, it wants to roll over inconveniently or just fall over.
  10. They’re noisy, even the electric-battery versions like ours.

Would herbicides, which we don’t use, do the job better? (Satan, get thee behind me.)