September 2011

Dear Pretty Pumpkins,

Please don’t die. We’ve had all our other squash die. Every last one of them. The sugar pumpkin seedlings died before they got established. We bought some more. They died too. We bought acorn squash. One died really early on and the other died when it was half-mature. The butternut squash died.

So you see, you can’t die. You just can’t. We grew other flowers nearby so the bees would come and fertilize your flowers. We’ve given you water and organic fertilizer and even gently moved you around so you got air on all sides and didn’t rot on the bottom. Your stems are over 30 feet long, and I know they have mildew on them, so I know you feel a bit sick. We’re trying our best. The non-poison spray we used didn’t do anything, your stems just kept getting sicker, while your fruit stayed strong.

So please? If not for Keith or for me, then for the blog? Try. Try to live. Stay away from the light.

Here, I mentioned that Keith accidentally purchased 2 acorn squash seedlings. I had never had it before. I guess I never will. Read on.

Here, I braggingly showed you a picture of our little acorn squash doing quite nicely. (The other seedling never really took off.)

I need to let you know that it died. Gone forever. Kaput. Compost. (Com-pissed is more like it. I mean, what the hell?) Some fungus, powdery mildew took over the leaves and stems and so the stem with the squash broke off completely. Look at this picture. Gross.


And so, a lament for our dearly departed Acorn Squash, having perished too early in the twilight of his life (Team Edward!)

Acorn Squash, 4 mos.
Former DaisyPatch Farm resident, Acorn Squash, 4 mos., died September 22, 2011 in his garden bed. No service will be held.Mr. Squash was born May. 10, 2011 to Comstock, Ferre and was moved across the country, living in an Agway for a short period of time before being adopted by the owners of DaisyPatch Farm.
Acorn could accomplish anything he set his mind to do. At a very early age, he grew one leaf, then another, and continued to grow leaves, despite the loss of his infant brother and his cousin, Butternut in a freak dry spell.
Acorn served in the United States Squash Force during operation Zucchini. Mr. Squash spent more than 3 months in New Hampshire. He never married. He is survived by distant cousins, the Giant Pumpkins.
Condolences may posted here under comments.

Man’s heart away from nature becomes hard.  ~Standing Bear

Why did I like this quote? Because really, during a stressful week at the DJ (day job), I find myself sort of day dreaming about weeding. Wait, shall we go back and read that again?…I find myself sort of day dreaming about weeding. You read that right, gentle reader, oh fan of the DaisyPatch, oh gardener with humor. My brain, when at its max, (that must have been the 9000’th time I had to look up, “Possessive its” on Google to see if I had to include the apostrophe. You’d think I would remember by now. I disgust myself.) dreams of crabgrass and chickweed and dandelions.

Let’s (I know the apostrophe goes there!) be honest here. I’m not dreaming about them in a lovely The-Hills-Are-Alive-With-The-Sound-Of-Music sort of way. I dream of ripping-them-out-from-the-roots-and-tossing-them-in-a-pile-where-they-bake-and-wither-in-the-sun-until-I-scoop-them-up-and-throw-them-into-a-mound-of rotting-compost sort of way. You know, garden violence. If you are a gardener, you know of that which I am speaking (writing. blogging. whatever).

Is that so wrong? There could be worse places to work out your aggression. (Like your dog, or the neighbor’s mailbox, or throwing rotten vegetables at the colonial-days-village-thief locked in the stocks in the town square (Man, wouldn’t it be great if they still did that? I would be ALL over that. I wouldn’t have tomato sauce. I’d have saved all 100+ pounds of tomatoes just for the throwin’.)) Where was I? Right. Weeding. I find it to be not only relaxing, but therapeutic. Not Therma-Rest-Pillow therapeutic cuz that is heaven right there, but therapeutic in its own way. Just sitting in the dirt, digging with a (now-gloved) hand, pulling out the unsightly vegetation and leaving behind the pretty, wanted things. I usually don’t listen to music and it takes a while sometimes for my mind to stop racing. (I am usually composing blog posts while I’m out there – you know- the garden is my muse after all.) (That was so extremely corny I am not sure if I will keep it there, but, the more I think about it, the more I lean toward leaving it in because, well, it’s true.) (Another “it’s.” Glad I looked that up again.)

Once the brain settles though, it’s kind of a zone. A good zone. Until my muscles ache so bad the next day that I walk like an arthritic 90-year-old. Then, it sort of sucks. But the zone time – yeah. That is usually good.


Husk Cherries

Lots of Husk Cherries

Garlic Chives and lots of bees

Acorn Squash

Hanging in the sun

DaisyPatch Farm

Well, the pumpkin sex was successful. We can find at least 1 pumpkin on the 25+ foot pumpkin vines. (Oh, did you read that right? Did you read, “25+ foot”?  Yes, yes you did.) Expect more updates as our babies grow.

DaisyPatch Farm

First off, I love that commercial. So funny. Why, you ask, am I starting this DaisyPatch update with a Planet Fitness commercial? Because I, too, have been lifting things up and putting them down. Over 60 pounds of tomatoes to be exact. In one harvest last week, I hauled in 55.2 pounds. In one bag. It probably would have been funny to see. Every few steps I stopped and put the bag down. Then, grunting like a weight lifter, picked up the bag, went a few more steps and put it down again. It’s not like I can’t lift 55 pounds. I can. But this bag was awkward. (Yeah, we’ll go with that.)

Now begins sauce time. And salsa time. And ketchup time. And catsup time (if that’s how you roll). And stuffed tomato time. You get the idea. If you have a favorite recipe for tomatoes, send it to and I will post it and give you credit. 🙂