Fall's Fading Blooms--September Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day.

Ah, September. This morning truly felt like fall--slightly chilly, a bit overcast, less humidity. Perhaps the fact that I walked into at least half-a-dozen spider webs cemented that fall-feeling. As soon as the temperatures cool and the days begin to shorten, the spiders throw a convention at our house, inviting friends to spin their webs conveniently along the path I take to the big kitchen garden. 

Have you ever picked a spider web from your eye lashes? No? Well, let me assure you--it's an experience you'll never forget.

{Shiver.}

I might admit to a touch of arachnophobia, but don't tell anyone. I'll lose credibility as an organic gardener. In fact, this is the time of year that the neighbors think I'm looney. I'll walk through the gardens, waving a stick in front of my face, desperate to avoid repeating that web-in-the-eyelash experience.

I know, poor spiders. They work so hard building their webs, and then a wimpy gardening girl goes and swishes a stick through their home.

Last week, though, I fought my fear and battled a writing spider to save two swallowtail butterflies. Normally, I really admire writing spiders--they're not only creepily gorgeous, but their webs are works of art. This one, though, ticked me off. It built its web in my lantana, where dozens of butterflies converge for high energy sips of nectar. As I walked to the bus stop to meet Mikey, I saw two swallowtail butterflies struggling in the web.

No! My poor butterflies!

Taking an envelope from the mailbox, I scooped one butterfly free from the web, while the ginormous spider hung but an inch from my hand, wrapping up the second butterfly. The first flew free, but try as I might--I couldn't rescue the second.

 

And when I looked more closely, I found a butterfly graveyard in my lantana--dozens of butterfly wings lay on the lower leaves.

OK, it's nature, and I shouldn't intervene--but somehow, I just HAD to rescue the butterflies from that crafty spider. Finding so many butterfly victims made me sad.

But fall always tends to make me a tad melancholy. The faded blooms, the disappearance of summer produce, the kids back in school, and our hectic schedules...

Fortunately, our fall seedlings bring a sense of excitement and rejuvenation, just as the rest of the garden looks so tired.

 
As I walked through the garden today to play along with May Dreams Gardens' Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day, I felt a little more peaceful about the impending arrival of fall. 

The snail flower vine, one of my favorite heirloom flowers, bloomed for the first time this season. I love this plant and its history.

The fraise ds bois continues to charm with its tiny blooms, and thankfully we're still enjoying its incredibly sweet fruit.

The soft pinks of the aged oakleaf hydrangea blooms will soon be complimented with the stunning red foliage. How can you not love oakleaf hydrangeas? 
 

The caryopteris still draws bees like mad... 

...and the few late 'Provence' lavender blooms are like bee-candy.

The toad lilies brighten our shady back garden, although I think they'd appreciate a bit more light. They're stretching and searching for the sun, trying to find it around the neighboring plants.

The dwarf gardenias surprised me this year. After an amazing show in the spring, they decided to host a repeat performance in September. Our front entrance way smells delicious. 

Fortunately, many plants loved by pollinators continue to produce and bloom in our gardens. Perennial hibiscus...

...phlox...

...buddelia...

...and even the marigolds in the kitchen garden are working hard this month. I'm hoping this Gulf Fritillary butterfly finds one of the 18 passionflower vines I planted this summer. I'd love to play host to Gulf Fritillary larva.

Although the nectar sources are still plentiful, I always supplement with feeders for the hummingbirds, especially as fall nears. 

Really, is there anything more lovely than watching hummingbirds? With three feeders outside the office window in the front gardens, I admit that I'm easily distracted, watching their swooping and hovering.

A happy fall event--plant sales! Soon, it will be time for my favorite plant sale at Hatcher Gardens. This sale, though, was too good to pass up: two tropical hibiscus for $5! Yes, it was at a big box store, but honestly--who cares? They're pretty, and they'll become organic, living in our gardens. (Of course, they'll spend the winter in the greenhouse.)
 

I'll also move the hanging baskets of fuchsia into the greenhouse, once the temperatures threaten to drop. In our area, our first freeze is expected near the end of October.

We've successfully overwintered the mandevilla for the past two years. But for now, it continues to bright the pool gardens.
 

The viburnum, which bloomed extravagantly all spring, is at it again--huge, lovely, cheerful blooms began appearing last week, and the bushes are filled with buds.

The Pee Gee hydrangea continues to show off, but it's slowly quieting down as the weather cools.

As some of the blooms wind down, our shiitakes are just beginning to pop. The amazingly wet summer, such a rarity in South Carolina, bodes well for a great mushroom harvest. The first shiitake of the fall rests on our counter, awaiting a chef's inspiration.

 
The poor, neglected herb garden is a tangle of blooms and scent. Tomorrow, I must, must harvest herbs to dry for the winter. I've been remiss in tending these babies, but they seem to like the lack of attention. The mints, of course, don't need much help--except the wisdom to keep them contained in pots. I love mint blossoms--they're so cheerful.

While a few scraggly tomato vines and pepper plants remain in the big kitchen garden and potager, the edible beds need to be cleaned up and readied for the fall veggies. However, the beans continue to produce like mad, much to the agony of the kids. (We've eaten a lot of beans recently.) Scarlet runner beans' blooms provide a darling addition to the vertical garden...

...while the purple blossoms of Rattlesnake pole beans also provide a bit of beauty.

I adore Asiatic dayflower, but I wish it would stay out of the kitchen garden beds. While I appreciate this adorable wildflower, it's quite invasive in our forest--and in our compost pile! Still, it IS awfully pretty.

While there are still quite a few blooms in our gardens, the true stars of the September garden are the Japanese anemones. What began as five plants purchased three years ago became a forest of bright pink and yellow cheerfulness. It's constantly bobbing and swaying, filled with pollinators feasting gluttonously.

Japanese anemones are truly the best part of our fall garden.

What's blooming in your garden? Will you plant a fall kitchen garden, or will you take a rest for the winter?

Happy Bloom Day!

XOXO ~

Julie

Fabulous Fraise des Bois.

Today, as I compiled a list of the garden and greenhouse chores to be done—pronto--I realized that it's already time to sow some seeds for next spring. It sounds crazy, I know. But somehow, it's already October. When did that happen? My favorite garden delight needs extra time to germinate and grow into lush plants so that we can enjoy its fruits next year.

My favorite garden delight? 

Fraise des bois.

Honestly, isn't it a delight to say the name? Fraise des bois. Just saying the words makes me feel worldly and culinarily chic, even if I'm schlepping around in my Bradley University sweatshirt.

Allow me my fantasy.

If you've visited here before, you've heard me extoll the virtues of fraise des bois. Peter laughs at my insistence at using the French phrase because, after all, they're just “strawberries of the woods.” In Switzerland, they're commonplace.

In our area, strawberries of the forest—at least, in our yard—are inedible. Trust me. We've tried them more than once, each time hoping for a bit of sweetness.

We always wind up with a mouthful of bitter, hard berries.

Unlike our nasty wild strawberries, fraise des bois are tiny delicacies. Imagine the sweetest strawberry, just picked from the field. Now, multiply that deliciousness by 10, and you'll understand my love affair with fraise des bois.

Not only are the fruits unpretentious bursts of tasty bliss, but the plants are workhorses in our shady garden.

Fraise des bois graces containers, borders perennial beds, lines the new shade garden I'm creating. With evergreen leaves, it provides a lush ground cover filled with tiny gems in red and yellow. 

Fraise des bois are well mannered. While traditional garden strawberries are quick to bully their way through beds, spilling over borders and crowding companion plants, fraise des bois are refined. They politely remain where planted, spreading by seed rather than runners, forming thicker clumps each year without invading the garden.

I like polite plants.

Even more, I like plants that flower continuously and produce delicious fruit from spring until the first hard freeze. And I love plants that tolerate shade and remain evergreen, at least in our zone 7b garden.

Noted as hardy in zones 4-7, fraise des bois is considered challenging to germinate. Although it does require a bit of time to germinate, typically sprouts appear in approximately two weeks. By starting the plants in the fall, I'm assured they will produce at least a small crop of fruit the first year in the garden.

A tradition...kids paint pots the first week of summer vacation. 

Kristen's fraise des bois is still going strong on October 10.

To enjoy fraise des bois, you need to grow your own. Honestly. Please dedicate at least a container to these garden gems, because you won't find them in stores. The fruit is highly perishable and must be used immediately after harvesting.

That is, use immediately if any berries remain after your short walk from garden to kitchen. The smell will tease you, tempting you to eat every last berry yourself.

Sharing is highly overrated, right?

Fraise des bois is a garden delight on its own—there's no recipe that can compete with the simple pleasure of fraise des bois, perhaps with a tad of crème fraiche or vanilla ice cream.

After all, simple is chic.

N'est-ce pas?

XO ~

Julie

P.S. I think Sammy ate too many fraise des bois...poor, lazy, chubby kitty.

Invasion of the Giant Cucumbers.

July in the South Carolina vegetable garden—particularly if you've been traveling for two weeks—is not the happiest place. Although our son's girlfriend diligently fed the animals and watered the gardens, some tasks—like weeding and cutting out dead foliage—had to wait until I returned.

After petting the pups and checking on the chickens, the first place I headed when we arrived home was to the large veggie garden to check on its progress.

Big mistake.

Tomato vines sporting nasty black spots.

Lettuce, underplanted in the tomato beds, now bolting and leggy.

Beans trellising up neighboring raspberry bushes.

And cucumber vines spilling over their bed, oblivious to the trellises, sprawling throughout the garden and blanketing the herb beds, the kids' raised bed, and the path through the garden.

I searched desperately for my inner Zen.

When that didn't work, Peter turned me around, and we headed back toward the house. After all, attacking an unruly garden while in the throes of jet lag isn't a smart strategy.

(Honestly, my tired brain screamed, “Rip it all out!” I'm glad I waited a bit.)

Truly, though, even with the ugliness of the garden, the harvest is pretty amazing.

Especially the cucumbers.

We arrived home to a produce-drawer full of cucumbers harvested by our house-sitter.

Exciting! Honestly, last year, our cucumbers flopped.

The next day, I harvested these:

And yesterday, as I cut back vines and attempted to whip the garden back into shape, I found these:

Holy cucumbers.

I love cucumbers. The kids actually eat cucumbers without complaint, too, which is miraculous. And I especially adore the fact that my calorie counter shows that a cup of cucumbers equals 16 calories. 

I could eat 75 cups of cucumbers to reach my daily calorie intake!

That's a LOT of cucumbers.

Hoping to add a little variety to my diet, I enlisted my friends over at the Garden Delights Facebook page for recipe ideas.

“Pickles,” of course, topped the list of recommendations.

I've promised Mikey that we'd attempt to make pickles, since he is a pickle fiend. I've never canned, but 2012 will be the year I learn to can.

Thankfully, our local farmers' market received a grant this year to teach canning. I'm planning to head there Saturday for my introduction to canning.

I'm ridiculously excited!

Until then, though, my friend Janet at The Queen of Seaford sent me the following recipe that I'm excited to try. Shrimp and cucumbers? How can you go wrong? What a perfect, light, cool summer dish. I believe this will be lunch today...

Cucumber and Shrimp Salad

One can (4.5 oz) shrimp, drained

2 medium cucumbers, thinly sliced

1/4 vinegar (can substitute rice or white wine vinegar)

1 tablespoon sugar

1 teaspoon soy sauce

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds  (Heat sesame seed in ungreased skillet over medium heat for about 2 minutes until golden.)

Place shrimp and cucumbers in a bowl. Mix vinegar, sugar, soy sauce, and salt.... pour over cucumbers and shrimp. Cover and refrigerate at least one hour.

Remove to a lettuce lined bowl with slotted spoon. Sprinkle with sesame seeds and serve.

Tonight, though, I'm planning a family-favorite: chicken souvlaki with tzatziki sauce. It's so simple—and everyone likes it. (Well, the kids at least like the chicken. They'll have to eat their quota of cucumbers sliced instead of in the sauce.)

Chicken Souvlaki with Tzatziki Sauce

1 lb. chicken breast, cut into 1-inch cubes

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

1 tbsp. sea salt

1 tbsp. finely chopped fresh rosemary

In a large bowl, combine olive oil, sea salt, and rosemary. Add chicken and toss to thoroughly coat. Refrigerate for at least one hour.

For tzatziki sauce:

½ large cucumber, seeded and diced.

½ cup plain yogurt

1 tbsp. lemon juice

¼ tsp. salt

1 garlic clove, minced

Prepare tzatziki sauce while chicken is marinating. Combine cucumber, yogurt, lemon juice, salt, and garlic, stirring well. Set aside.

Place marinated chicken cubes on skewers, grill for approximately 5 minutes per side or until thoroughly cooked. Serve with the tzatziki sauce and pita bread.

And wine. The wine gives you strength to face the tasks in the garden.

I'm a little afraid to go back into the garden today for fear that I'll add to the cucumber collection—although I do plan to call our local food back to see if they can use some surplus cucumbers. (Do you know about ampleharvest.org? It's a great tool to help you find a local organization that can benefit from your surplus garden goodies.)

Do you have any favorite cucumber recipes? If you do...PLEASE share!

Otherwise, I might start a national “sneak-a-cucumber-on-your-neighbors'-porch day,” much like National Zucchini Day.

I think it's a good tradition, don't you?

Happy harvesting!

XO ~

Julie

Edible Dreams.

 For the past week, I've dreamt of gardens.

 

Elaborate gardens, formal gardens, lush mountain paradises, quirky artists' gardens, community gardens. A few of those dreams left me in a cold sweat, panicked about our own gardens—and the impending Carolina Farm Stewardship Association's Upstate Farm Tour that will feature our edible gardens this weekend.

After spending four days touring magnificent gardens during the Garden Bloggers' Fling in Asheville, I'm feeling a bit anxious about our gardens. First of all—we're not a farm. We live in a subdivision with a Homeowners' Association, on less than an acre. One of the reasons, though, that we're included on the farm tour is to show how a typical family living in suburbia can grow healthy, organic food in the backyard—or front yard. Or balcony. Or in containers. My goal is that everyone who visits us during the farm tour will be inspired to grow something edible this summer. (Or, perhaps Chicken Mama will convince them to add pet chickens to their lives.)

Still, while I know that the farm tour doesn't focus on pristine flower beds (ignore the weeds, please) or perfectly mulched paths (they aren't), I can't help but judge our gardens based on the four days of gorgeous landscapes I experienced in Asheville.

We don't have the staff of Biltmore to tame unruly perennials or to design perfect kitchen gardens. But then again, neither does Sunny Point Café.

One of my favorite stops on our tour, Sunny Point Café is the epitome of the farm-to-table movement—or, in its case, back lot garden-to-table.

As our group traipsed across the street from our bus to the Café, I barely contained my excitement. I knew of Sunny Point Café from reading reviews of area local food establishments, and a restaurant that fed guests from its own kitchen garden was high on my list of places to visit. Kindred spirits awaited, and I readied my Nikon to capture the café's organic spirit.

What the--? Full. My DS card was full.

Panic! What could I delete? How long did we have at this garden? Would I miss the experience by spending valuable minutes sorting through hundreds of images, deciding what to save and what to trash?

Then, a miracle—Family Dollar beckoned across the street, a glimmering ray of hope.

I sprinted away from the Bloggers, dodged traffic, and burst into the store like the madwoman I am. The lovely cashier led me to the aisle, where ONE DS card hung, as if fate decided to kindly throw me a bone for my poor planning.

Eight dollars later—and swearing that I will always carry a backup card everywhere I go—I rejoined the group.

And found an edible paradise.

OK, so maybe I'm overly excited about peas and kale.

Honestly, though, I was as delighted to talk with Melissa Metz, the garden manager, about the varieties of potatoes and peas she grows as many gardeners are to discuss the latest introductions of hybrid roses. We spent time chatting about the irrigation system, the compost, and a variety of purple peas she grew. 

(Purple peas? I've grown purple beans, but never purple peas. Must. Add.)

One of my challenges with our edible gardens is to make them not only functional but also aesthetically pleasing. Sunny Point Café's whimsical garden art added an attractive, warm, inviting atmosphere to the kitchen garden. Bright signage...

...cozy seating areas...

...and a friendly scarecrow-like mascot greeted garden guests.

Not only does Sunny Point Café provide homegrown produce for its guests, it also adopts environmentally friendly principles as part of its business model.

While we sampled biscotti and lemonade from the Café, I wished Sunny Point was our lunch destination. Although we didn't eat a meal at the Café, the snacks certainly enticed for a return visit. These are folks I'd love to break bread with while talking about heirloom tomatoes, fraise des bois, and crop rotation. 

Sexy stuff.

Still, Sunny Point Café served as an ideal, attainable garden. 

It's large--but not unmanageable. It's attractive without excessive fluff. It's inviting, warm, and the kind of place you'd like to settle in for a bit with a glass of lemonade to talk with other geeky edible gardeners who understand why it's so important to grow 80 varieties of heirloom tomatoes.

After all, not all gardeners want to debate the merits of the Florida Weave versus tomato cages.

Thinking about Sunny Point Café's garden, I checked on our own larger veggie garden tonight.

I have two more days to prepare for the Farm Tour.

I think we'll be ready.

(Just please, ignore the weeds.)

XO ~

Julie