Is it a weed or is it a garden plant? Garlic chives (Allium tuberosum) is among those plants — paulownia tree, Jerusalem artichoke, mint, and anise hyssop are others — that has paraded under either guise.
Garlic chives comes from a good enough family, the onion family. There is one definitely weedy member to this family, wild garlic, but so many of its other kin are valuable garden plants. Star-of-Persia, Read more
Some people, many of them gardeners, believe that the secret to eating a delectable tomato is to grow it yourself. Second best, they say, is farm-fresh. At the risk of committing horticultural sacrilege, I say “not so” in both cases.
Ripeness is, of course, important to great flavor. An unripe tomato tastes no better than cotton soaked in diluted lemon juice, to me at least. But this time of year, ripe tomatoes are to be had everywhere: from backyards, from roadsides, from farm stands, even from supermarkets! And if truth be told, tomatoes picked slightly underripe can still ripen to perfection off the plant, as do bananas, winter apples, avocados, and pears. Read more
I’ve been enjoying tasty nuggets of Sungold tomatoes for a few weeks, and hope very soon to finally settle back to enjoy an abundance of large, juicy, red or orange tomatoes, the varieties at their best sliced and sandwiched,along with congenial companions, between two slices of bread. Those large tomato fruits are late in ripening this year.
The problem, like lots of garden issues, can be blamed on the weather. Ideal temperatures for ripening tomatoes lie between 70 and 75 degrees F. Read more
Miniature vegetables are one size extreme that strikes the vegetable fancier’s imagination — witness all those bags of “mini” carrots lined up on market shelves. Those carrots are just one of many miniature vegetables you can grow yourself. 
According to Truman Capote, people once thought you could judge the rich by the vintage of their wine or the number of their homes, but what truly mattered was the size of their vegetables: they were tiny. Perhaps that’s still a measure of wealth. Read more
Planting a seed is an act of faith. After all, what could seem more far-fetched than dropping a shrivelled, apparently lifeless speck of something into a hole in the ground, then expecting to return and find growing there a lush, green plant brimming with life. A lack of faith — or maybe it’s just impatience — is what drives some gardeners to set out transplants rather than sow seeds. Of course, plants such as tomatoes, peppers, and eggplants won’t ripen their fruits in due time if seeded outdoors when the soil is warm enough for germination.
Conventional garden wisdom holds that sweet corn isn’t worth planting in a backyard garden. The reasons given are that it takes up too much space, that pollination is poor from small, backyard plantings, and that it’is relatively inexpensive and of high quality from markets and farm stands. I take issue with the conventional “wisdom” on all counts.
Like most brief affairs, this one ended without rancor. A friend had introduced me to garlic mustard (Alliaria petiolata), our meeting coming at a time when I could look fondly upon any wild edible plant. That was many years ago, yet after a few years tensions between us escalated.
In retrospect, I can’t really understand the attraction I had for garlic mustard. True, the name was appealing: you would think that any plant combining the flavors of garlic and mustard would have elicited affection that would linger, even grow, over the years.Despite the enticing name, I can now reminisce with a clear mind and remember finding the taste ho-hum at best, biting at worst.
Growing seedlings indoors seems almost like a race. Of course, it has a staggered start, with onions already growing strongly and tomatoes not yet sown. Watering these seedlings is crucial: timely watering keeps them chugging along apace; two or three days of neglect might spell death.
A simple way to automatically water seedlings is to rely on the soil to draw water, as needed, via capillary action. Read more
You’re rummaging in the attic, in your greatgrandma’s steamer trunk, and you come upon a dusty, old packet of garden balsam seeds. An heirloom! This heirloom’s probably more valuable for the picture on the packet than for the seeds, which probably have lost their vitality. You could, though, if you wanted, get your hands on heirloom plants seeds or plants that would grow.
Despite its sinister sound, a “germplasm collection” spells good things for farmers and gardeners alike. Think beyond the flu season and the word germ takes on a broader meaning: a small mass of living substance that can give rise to a whole organism or one of its parts. Think of wheat germ, that nutritious part of a wheat seed that contains the cells — the germ — that develop into a whole new wheat plant.
To us gardeners, a germplasm collection is a collection of plants or seeds. Forty years ago, I started amassing a collection of gooseberry varieties, A collection that swelled to almost fifty of them! Besides offering good eating, that group of plants was at the time one of the largest germplasm collections of gooseberries in the country.
Some of my gooseberry varieties
