The July Garden

First, you must understand that I have only photographed the nice things that are growing, okay?  I'm going to tell you about the bad parts, but I can't bear to take pictures of them.

bay tree

mint in old pot courtesy of Genevieve

First, the bad:

A number of tomato plants, volunteer and commercially grown, have wilted dramatically in what I assume is blight.  It's definitely not a watering issue.  I have carefully pulled out the offenders as soon as possible and bagged them up for the trash.  The blight spores can fly through the air and poison other tomato plants, so it's important to be a golden-rule gardener.  I also read (too late!) that soil that has been contaminated by blighted tomatoes should not be used to grow tomatoes for two years.  I've been growing tomatoes in the same spots for several years now.  Whoops.

growing. . . for now

Now my pretty little French melon vine has wilted dramatically, too.  No sign of powdery mildew, so apparently, Rebecca says it's probably squash-borers.  I really can't bear to speak about this more - let's change the subject. . . .

to my struggling herbs in their too-wet bed, and my stunted raspberries in their too-shallow bed.  Here's some hope:  I'm going to switch their beds this fall!

And more hope:  the green beans and peppers are growing nicely!  I sprinkled some epsom salts around all the veggies yesterday (thank you, Pinterest).  I've also been grinding up my empty egg shells and sprinkling the powder in the soil for calcium.

My front porch pots are doing famously.

a surprising coleus volunteer in the back - winter savory in the front

The back yard looks like a weedy mess if you're accustomed to manicured suburban lawns, but the front porch pots look beautiful and they supply us with herbs!  Rebecca just gave me the brilliant idea to put a few herb sprigs and a chunk of citrus or cucumber in the water pitcher for a lovely flavored water.  This is winter savory and lime.  We love it, especially the children because they can make it themselves and there's no limit on how much they can drink.

I've been drying sprigs of sage, thanks to my friend A.  She picked up the Middle Eastern custom of swishing a sage sprig in a cup of hot black tea with sugar.  It's divine.

I'm formulating a garden plan for next year:  no tomatoes, to give the soil a chance to recover, but lots of cucumbers and green beans and maybe a squash or two.  Concentrate on herbs, because I really want more sage and tarragon.  And bees - I'd love to add bees.

(linking up with pretty/happy/funny/real and hoping Leila doesn't mind that I was rather casual about the categories)