Tomato Craziness

In one of my favorite books about farming, Fields of Plenty, the author visits a farm where the farmer describes things as "out of control." He adds, "No matter how much you plant, it doesn't seem like you can keep up."

That's a bit how I felt when I woke up today. The policy so far is to keep putting out the fires that need it most. In the last three days, well over another 100 tomato plants have grown enough that they were falling over. We got the garden cart cleared out of tools (and a lizard) and I used it to haul six flats of heavy tomatoes from the greenhouse to the field. It was much easier than carrying the flats one by one.

After a full day of work, we have 176 tomatoes in the ground now, and that cleared section is entirely planted. I also planted out some strawflowers and gomphrena.

By comparison: the other side of the road, not yet plowed, tilled, nor planted.

Joe helped some of the time. He put the soil blocks in the holes I made, so I could cover them up. He is my constant, cheerful companion, including this photo, where he's removing his soiled shirt at the end of the day, laughing about how he looks in his new "hat."


After dinner, I took advantage of the later daylight to pot on three flats of flowers. I was astounded to see that tiny flowers with two leaves in a 3/4" soil block had, at times, four or five inches of fine, filament rootlets. I should have potted on a few weeks ago. Sorry, baby plants.

I opened the greenhouse door to leave, and heard the toad hop on the weed barrier floor. I held the door for him and he hopped onto the door frame, and then out into the darkness. I followed my little guest, and couldn't help picking him up, which I had refrained from doing these last days. He was so delicate yet strong, with heaving sides and webbed feet. Beautiful Mr. Toad.

Some other things I like.
The Rhode Island Red hens, along with the white Leghorn and checkered Barred Rock chicks (with a guinea thrown in for good measure). I think the color combination is quite nice.

The dogwoods get more glorious by the day. I had thought their tiny whitish bits were their glory, but I see now that that was simply their buds. Their blooms are huge, white, celebratory.

My purple and green asparagus, planted last year in the trench where we had heeled in our trees, have shot up three feet high.
Some of my brand new raspberry plants have leaves! (As do some blackberries!)

Chunky the pig, hopefully ready for processing in another month or so. Our pigs are happy pigs.