Fall Potatoes

We planted potatoes this fall as an experiment. And look how happy the plants are! Much happier, I should say, than they were during the summer. Summers in the District of Columbia are typically so hot and humid, especially July and August.

In truth, potatoes are a cool weather plant, unlike their cousins, tomatoes and peppers. Most other plants love this time of year: the Swiss chard, for instance, have never looked better. The rhubarb are in the pink of health. The sorrel, the thyme, the rosemary--they are all flush with vigor and vitality.

I wish I could give our garden more weather like this. There is an added benefit to the garden: the pests and diseases that might otherwise bother our crops are in full retreat. Of course the potatoes will not stand up to a hard freeze. We are hoping they will last long enough to at least make some small potatoes that we can cook for dinner.

This week I was weeding in the potato bed--yanking all that chickweed that also loves these cool temperatures so much--and came across several seed potatoes that are sprouting, but so far have not broken the surface. It will be fun to watch their progress.

Brain Freeze

Sunflowers, cosmos, zinnia--all are standing tall and proud, giving the garden an air of youth and vigor. Everyone comments on how good the garden looks at the moment. But I know better.

The squash and cucumber plants need to be pulled to make way for an attempt at fall potatoes. The turnips are beyond ready for harvest. The kohlrabi are giving up the ghost. I've planted a few seed trays of fall crops--cabbages, kale, lettuce, broccoli. But I haven't managed them very well. Half won't make it. Meanwhile, there are so many other things to plant that I haven't even begun to think of. And before I can get to that, a big bowl of cucumbers waiting to be pickled stares at me from the kitchen counter. I am staying up past my bedtime to can a bumper crop of Roma tomatoes.

I should be mowing the grass (we've had a drought, so not too much growth there) and beds are long past due for a good weeding. I am not so much avoiding all this work as just plodding along, somewhat stunned by the turning of the seasons and with it a long list of new things to do. It seems like deja vu all over again.

Even in our kitchen garden one mile from the White House in the District of Columbia, the toil never ends. If you start as we did back in February, the life of the garden seems interminable. I am developing a greater appreciation for all the work our forefathers faced just getting by from one day to the next. We are greatly satisfied to be feeding ourselves from our own small plot of land. But you know what? It's a lot of work....