That's not to say I've spent the whole weekend suppressing suicidal impulses or making light of self-harm. If you're doing them right, gardens can supply produce as well as solace; the kind Dow Chemicals hasn't shat all over, too. We picked all the apples from our baby trees; Monty's Surprise (giant green) and Discovery (nice little rose-flushed numbers, sort of pippin-esque). Now everything I cook gets a fucking apple in it because disposing of Nature's largesse in a timely manner is just what a good woman does. Ask virtually any classical philosopher.
Then we picked the second round of Prune Stanley plums; after arguing ungallantly about ladder placement, we devised an improvised pole and wire noose contraption which worked really well.
Have been planting Cavolo Nero kale (because it lasts well into spring and always comes back from caterpillar assault, plus the robust taste and nutrients levels are primo), leeks, Japanese turnips (the diminutive white ones as per the pic to the left there which will hold all through winter and can be used the same way as carrots and spuds when you're sick to death of those), beetroot, spring onions, actual carrots (three varieties but they'll probably end up looking like mandrakes lol) and silver beet (really over silver beet at the moment because it's been growing so well this year which serves me right for actually watering it) for winter.
The scarlet runner beans (> and below right) are good this year after a late start. Been slicing and freezing Costata Romanesco zucchinis like a fucking demon for future stews and casseroles; I find the old Italian ribbed varieties are the best for this because of their superior nonsquishy texture.
Look, grapes! We have a decent vine over a pergola but I've forgotten which variety it is and the bloody birds always jack them anyway before they're ripe enough for us. Since we have a fucking net we should probably remember to use it.
In our surpassing dynamism we also weeded the vegetables and two thirds of the perennial beds, sunk a metal post for the frighteningly enormous and tentacular young Lamarque rose, shifted a metric tonne of unhappily-positioned rodgersias, dahlias, lilies and hostas. Dead-headed a dozen roses. Repotted a brace of delinquent succulents.
Then last night I came inside and braised four nice fresh rabbits that Dick the Hunter kindly dropped around to us and now have a mountain of flaky shredded meat in the fridge waiting to be soup and ragout tomorrow.
Feeling smug about the veg situation, especially the leeks, since I always put them in too late and then bitch about the shit results.
< Rose Chartreuse de Parme which smells as good as it looks. Below left, unknown but gloriously self-red dahlia.
We got up the last of the Pink Fir, Osprey, Red Rascal and Agria potatoes last weekend; Firs are a nice main crop as well as new potato- very clean and quite prolific even if they are a smaller spud. The Agrias were a bit underwhelming. We ended up with a mighty sack full which should last us almost all the way through winter.