from my window | the return of indian pipes

the return of indian pipes... Our woods had been surprisingly absent of Indian Pipes this summer. Maybe they aren't used to the dry weather we've been having. Last year, they were hiding plentifully around every oak, pine and hemlock. I was quite happy to spot this patch yesterday growing behind a big boulder of granite.

Indian Pipes are simply cool to check out. They are so ghostly amid the backdrop of vivid greens and rich browns. Check out their lifecycle. Each stage transforms this plant from a head hanging pipe, to a proud and proper flower, to a stark seed pod. Finally for its closing act, the Indian Pipe turns from milky white to charcoal black. Quite a show.

garden | weekly harvest

yum!... We'll be feasting in style this week after today's harvest. The Tipoff Romanesco broccoli is simply stunning. This is the first year I am growing this variety, so I'm excited to give it a taste. I'd probably grow it again next year for sheer looks alone.

I harvested my first crop of beans. The Black Valentine bush were a plenty. They provided enough for several dinners and some freezing to boot. The Masai Haricot Verts provided a handful, but they've got a little ways to go. The Indy Golds are just starting to change to a greenish yellow.

Pulled up my first Borrenttana Cipollini of the summer. I think I will always grow cipollinis. No other onion roasts up as sweet, and they provide early onion picking for us northern folks.

The Teide Red Summer Crisp isn't quite as red as it should be, but I blame the lurching bean poles that have provided a bit too much shade to the lettuce below. But neighbors of the same variety are shouting from the garden with its purply-red leaves.

I harvested the largest green bell pepper of my gardening career. It was blocky and beautiful. The Carmen peppers are already beckoning to be picked. It'll be hard to keep any left on the plant so they can ripen to a rich red.

The basil that I seeded early last month and took what seemed to be forever and a half to germinate, finally took off and I'm now tossing in Genovese, Sweet Dani, Thai, and Amethyst Improved basil into everything.

I even found some straggler radishes. They weren't at their finest, but they weren't horrible either. I sowed my fall radishes the other week, so I'm excited to see how the Black Round Spanish radishes will grow.

To celebrate the harvest, I tossed together the tomatoes, peppers, onions, herbs, and garlic into a tasty salsa. A definite treat for the tastebuds. The only thing missing were the cucumbers.

wishlist | hand printed burlap pillows

beckoning burlap... I was traipsing around Etsy the other day when I came across these gorgeous hand printed burlap pillows at a shop called My Adobe Cottage. I've been lusting over some vintage floursack pillows for a while, but I can never justify the expense. These cool pillows on the other hand are all around $35/ea. Not too shabby for quality handcrafted work.

I keep having dreams of making something like this myself, but realistically, the odds of getting around to do it are slim to none. Though I am trying to learn the craft of printing by hand. So far it has just been immersed in books about it. Next step is trying to carve my own stamps. I really want to dabble in screenprinting too. I think the last time I screen printed was in my fourth grade art class. If I can get there in skill, I'll finally have an outlet for the textile patterns of my dreams. Until then, I'll gain inspiration from talented handcrafters like My Adobe Cottage.

garden | late blight hits Maine garden

heartbreak once again... Take a good gander at the pretty red fruits above. They may be the only tomatoes I harvest this summer.

My heart sank this morning. Yesterday I heard word that a gardener up in Waldoboro spotted late blight in her garden. As soon as I heard that, my mind immediately went straight to my deck tomatoes. That morning I had spotted a second tomato with a brown, greasy looking patch on it. I thought, no... this couldn't possibly be. Not after last year's loss.

But when I came home this afternoon, my once vivacious, healthy, booming plants had taken a dramatic turn for the worse. Blight. Again. My heart sank. After all, I raised these plants from seed, back in the cold of winter. I cared for them, pruned them, feed them, and kept optimistic that this would be a banner summer for tomatoes... especially after the amazing stretch of weather we've been graced with.

The good news is that I have only spotted signs of blight on my deck tomatoes. Which by the way, have been immediately bagged in plastic and are headed to the dump. My true tomato bounty lies on the opposite side of our house. It's there that I have over 60 tomato plants growing. You name it, I'm growing it. Super Sweet Cherry 100s, Sun Gold, Juliet, Roma, Heinz Paste, Green Zebra, Jet Star, Speckled Roman, and several heirloom mixes.

I'm going to keep cautiously optimistic that we nabbed and bagged the infected plants as soon as we could. I'm hoping that the garden tomatoes will be spared, but I will keep a hawk-eye out for the first signs of blight. I remember how last year's plants went from full and gorgeous to infected and withered in a matter of 3-4 days.

As you can see, right now, these tomatoes are looking quite lovely. If these plants do get hit, I may seriously question whether or not to try tomatoes again next year. Though they have always been a garden staple of mine for over a decade, I tend to have little will control over editing my amount of plants, so my tomato crop usually takes up one-third of my gardens. To continue to occupy this much space with something that I cannot harvest from isn't practical. But I know that my gardens would not be complete without tomatoes. Maybe I'll just do a little patch. Small. Tiny, really.

Please help prevent the spread of this horrid disease. If you spot the signs of blight in your gardens, please take the appropriate precautions to dispose of your infected plants. For more information on spotting blight and what to do if you have infected plants, please check out this information from the University of Maine.

garden | connecting gardens via seed shares

sharing seeds... I would love for my gardens to tell more stories. Does that sound odd? Maybe I should rephrase. It just that when I look at my white phlox, I remember that day five summers ago when I came home from a friend's toting my new addition to my perennial beds. That day was a blast. A quintessential early summer's day. It's like when you hear that certain song come on the radio and you are instantly transported back to a memory. Well, I want that, but with my garden. A garden of meaning, so to speak.

Sometimes the meaning is simply a connection to a person. I think of my friend Sue each time I take a snip of tarragon. It is the seventh generation of cuttings from Sue's original plant that we harvest from today. I love connecting via our gardens.

I truly feel akin to so many of you kind folks who continue to drop on by and share your garden and food stories with me. I just think it would be pretty darn cool to be able to connect our gardens. A kind of a communal seed share. Connect with fellow gardeners and foodies via our plants.

So, with that, I just snipped off all the dried seed pods of my one of my favorite flowers, the Oriental Poppy. Without fail, each late Spring, these poppies have provided mind-bending color enjoyment. A prolific self-seeder, these tiny little seeds happily plant themselves throughout your flower beds. They are also quite cold-tolerant, proving to be a hardy plant for this Zone 5 gardener.

I harvested plenty of these tiny, little seeds and I would love to share them with you. If you'd like to connect my garden with yours, please leave a comment and then drop me an email at allison@atastefulgarden.com with a mailing address. A seed packet of Oriental Poppies will happily be on its way to you. Happy gardening!