RAIN

It’s raining again.  Our garden is far past the stage where we prayed to the rain gods for a good soaking to hasten the growth of tomato and cucumber vines.  Today there is a small lake on the patio and the ground looks like an over-saturated sponge begging to be wrung out.

It seemed like spring would never get here as we impatiently awaited that magic moment when the ground warms up and the threat of frost passes.  Finally, time to sow!  It felt great to get back in the garden under a warm sun and to smell the rich soil as we tilled.  That dirt got caked under our fingernails as my husband Paul and I eagerly planted perfect little rows of 3-inch seedlings of tomatoes, cukes and zucchini which we got from the Italian nursery in our town.

We thought there would be plenty of room for the plants as they grew, but soon they began to crowd each other out as they stretched toward the sun.  Tomatoes quickly overtook sage as they jockeyed for position in our tiny garden.

Cucumbers sucked up the sun and took over the spot where we had planted delphiniums, and the cukes did it so effectively that it prevented subsequent blooms of the electric blue flowers.

  

And the zucchini . . . ah, the zucchini.  Now there’s a challenging vegetable.  Early on in summer the little plant exploded into a starburst of gargantuan leaves at the ends of thick, sturdy stems.

Huge, yellow flowers bloomed every morning and closed by mid-afternoon.  We just knew we’d be getting tons of squashes – I mean, look at the size of those leaves!  But after a dutiful month of watching it grow, daily inspections revealed that most of the flowers were males – the ones that DON’T produce squash.  Undaunted, we kept a constant vigil.  Then one day in July, there it was – a beautiful, colossal zucchini, resting on the ground under all those leaves.

This pattern would repeat itself throughout the summer:  nothing . . . nothing . . . then boom – gigantic zucchini – as if some garden fairies had come in during the night and plunked the fleshy gourd at the base of the plant.

This year our garden provided us with an abundance of fragrant herbs, sweet, juicy rasperberries, and vegetables including tomatoes (4 varieties), peppers (4 varieties), Swiss chard, zucchini, and cucumbers.

        

Those vegetables made many colorful salads, our bushy basil plants turned into delicious pesto, and the raspberries made delicious tarts.  I experimented with new recipes too:  Swiss chard ravioli made with ricotta cheese, wonton wrappers and fresh herbs from the garden; yummy baked, stuffed zucchini; gorgeous yellow tomato soup.  (I will devote an upcoming post to recipes.)  You can't beat food shopping in your own backyard, and fresh, juicy just-picked veggies are a completely different beast from store-bought.

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My favorite time of day for being in the garden is the morning.  Neighborhood kids haven't swarmed into the park behind our house yet, so it is peaceful and quiet with only the sounds of chattering mockingbirds, breezes rustling in trees, and music from my wind chimes.  It is amazing how these sounds of nature drown out the noise of the city.  Our garden is a perfect setting for daydreaming and easing into the day with that first cup of coffee.

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Remember that scene in Wizard of Oz where Dorothy opens the door after her house lands and the film goes from black and white to brilliant colors as she steps into Oz?  Well, that’s what our garden resembled this year as we were treated to a profusion of stunning, colorful flowers and their intoxicating scents:  hibiscus, daylillies, roses, bleeding hearts, delphinium, petunias, daisies, lavender and rose of Sharon.

      

    

      

We were visited by many guests in our garden this year, and they mesmerized and entertained us on hot summer days.

     

       

But now it is raining.  Vegetable vines are spent, and the strong, green stalks and leaves have dried up and turned yellow, then brown.  There are a few stragglers clinging to life; smaller, more wrinkled versions of their bounteous cousins that weighed down the branches in August.  I savor these late tomatoes and cukes; they are still flavorful, but I hate to see their numbers dwindle as the days get shorter.

Finally, the rain stops.  The water in the garden is receding.  Soon the rain will be replaced by a protective blanket of snow in my sleeping garden.  On dreary days like today it lifts my spirits to look back on the myriad colors and life that make up our own personal Oz.

During the winter I will occasionally take a peek at our garden.  It saddens me to see everything looking so dead, but I know that before all the snow is gone, chives and tulips will begin poking out of the ground.  Soon after, the planting ritual will play out again, and before you know it, I'll be blissfully sitting in my garden, sipping my morning coffee.