One benefit of growing up in flyover country: we were all totally aware of where food came from. In Iowa, the ads during the nightly local news are dominated by pesticides, and the weather is delivered with the proper urgency required for viewers whose livelihoods depend on it.
My mom always had a vegetable garden, as did her mom, and hers, and on up the Mormon survival food chain. Mom let me grow radishes, which were excellent dipped in late-summer salt (with a touch of dirt). I’ve waxed turmeric about my growin’ skillz on these pages for years. Needless to yammer, I’ve been pretty vigilant about Lucy knowing her way around a tuber, as it were. Let’s see how we did this year, shall we?
in April we started seedlings: tomato, carrots, basil and chives
her pinkies were exceptionally suited to the task; those seeds are TINY
we left them in her playroom window in Venice for six weeks
just before transplanting
even a good soil mix can’t fix the problems of growing on a desert beach
however, by August, the Brandywines were yummy…
…as were the carrots
Verdict? Next year, we’re using raised gardens in planter boxes. The soil by the beach in LA is only suitable for lemon trees and bananas.
Next up, the farm in upstate NY:
in June, Lucy picked the spot…
…and I mulched, knowing we’d be gone for four months
summer renters, like this playwriting group from NYC, sent pictures…
…until Lucy literally saw the fruit of our labor – albeit beleaguered by frost – over Thanksgiving
Wait, did I just write one of those blogs that grandmothers write?