Hello September

Hello September! School is back in session, the light appears later in the morning and fades earlier in the evening, while an earthy aroma whispers change. I welcome autumn harvests, red apples, blooming chrysanthemums, orange pumpkins, whimsical gourds, and corn shocks all shining under a harvest moon.

The bounty of the garden spills into my kitchen with delectable results...

Summer squash au gratin

Canned whole ‘Roma’ tomatoes 

Fresh salsa

Stuffed peppers

Tomato Bingo Anyone?

The glory days of sunflowers towering over the garden are passing as bulbous heads bowed low salute nature’s change of seasons. The final sunflower has opened her face to the sun and I stand beneath heaving an audible sigh of appreciation.

I am not the only creature that benefitted from all that sunflowers offer; bees, covered in yellow pollen, danced around the spheres sipping and collecting. Butterflies lit on this year’s favorite flower and a goldfinch hung precariously, nearly upside, snatching a not-ready-for-prime-eating seed or two.

I think I will miss the sunflowers most of all. As Vincent Van Gogh remarked, “The sunflower is mine, in a way.” Well it’s mine in a way, too and I have taken over a hundred photos hoping that just one will capture the essence of a sunflower.

Cutting a sunflower head in its crowning golden glory of petals was one of the hardest things I did in my garden this year. I treasured each one and while I love cut flowers, scanning often requires removal of stems. So I float the head in water enjoying it for as long as possible knowing that long after the stems have been cut down I’ll have colored memories.

Come in September.  I'm so glad you're here!

Brandywine Update

I am in love. Last night I feasted on cabbage rolls and fresh-out-of-the-oven Hungarian crusty bread with Paul. While we waited for the rolls to finish cooking, Paul sliced a Brandywine tomato. I took my first bite of the funky shaped, pink tomato. The flavor burst on my tongue, lingering with a satisfying tingle. Never in my life have I tasted a tomato that can only be described as vibrant. Eating tomatoes will never be the same, for I have tasted as close to tomato perfection as possible…at least for now.
I am happy to report that my container grown Brandywine sports a faint blush of pink on the cheek. Renewed hope, that I too will have the delectable tomato just outside my door, brings delight to my gardener heart.

A slice of tomato Nirvana.

Dreaming in Pink

I suppose it’s too late now to research the heirloom tomato, Brandywine, but what the heck…I did it anyhow. This spring I planted one Brandywine tomato in a container that sits in full sun on my patio. As I wait for my first ripe bite, I’ve become curious about the variety and I’m hoping the fruit of the vine holds up to the stellar reports that precede it. I'm having my doubts as I dream of biting into a luscious pink tomato. My first clue that maybe Brandywine’s would be less then pure should have come when every nursery and garden center started selling Brandywine plants.
Come to find out…it’s become such a popular tomato variety that there’s reason to believe that seed saving and sharing has developed sub-strains of Brandywines that may be less flavorful. Well…that’s what I get for waiting too long.

I started reading about heirloom seeds many years ago, but never took the next step, purchasing seed from the Seed Savers Program. When I lived on a farm with acres of tillable garden space, I was too busy raising herbs, flowers, vegetables and kids to delve into heirloom seeds. The PC and its quick research tools were in the future, so I read about heirloom seeds in garden magazines. The photos of black, pink, and orange tomatoes delighted my sense of color and I imagined tomato juice in deep, dark purple, whole pink tomatoes canned and standing on the shelf in the cellar, and slices of orange tomatoes for sandwiches and eating out of hand coming from my rainbow tomato garden.
Fast-forward a few hundred years (just kidding) and I have my first heirloom tomato, only to learn that it may not be the true, authentic, one and only Brandywine. Insert bosom heaving sigh here. My plant in a pot doesn’t look as good as my brother’s. His stands 8 feet tall, covered in green tomatoes getting bigger by the day. In comparison, my plant has about nine tomatoes developing. If I get nine tomatoes off that plant that taste as good as the marching band that goes before claims, I’ll be as happy as a plump, bursting with flavor, pink tomato on a healthy vine in August.

I discovered while researching the history of the Brandywine tomato that Seed Savers acquired the heirloom seed from a fellow in Ohio…Ben Quisenberry Mr. Quisenberry, now deceased, received seeds from Doris Sudduth Hill of Tennessee who claimed the seeds had been in her family for over 80 years. Sometime in the future I’ll do more research on Mr. Quisenberry and his Big Tomato Garden in Syracuse, Ohio. If you’d like in-depth history of the Brandywine tomato, check out Craig LeHoullier’s article on the Victory Seed Company’s website.

Lately, I feel like Linus in the pumpkin patch waiting for the Great Pumpkin to make his appearance with one difference, I’m dreaming in pink and waiting for my Brandywine tomatoes to turn red… I mean pink.

Quick Update: Paul's Brandywines are turning pink.... mine are still

green.