Another month, another climb up the ladder.
Far below lies Wishetwurra Farm, increasingly shaded, as the sun flees south, falling lower each day.
We’ve not yet had frost. Average Martha’s Vineyard first frost is the third week of October. Our location on the side of a hill means that we frost later than the folks in the flatlands below us.
Wishetwurra Farm is a tired fall garden, in the process of being cleaned up and put to bed for the winter.
Here’s a ground-level view of those oats.
By the greenhouse door, the just-cleaned “root cellar” waits to be filled with carrots.
The carrots will be pulled, tops snapped off, and bedded in sand.
After the carrots come out, the soil in the beds will be lightly stirred, raked smooth, and the garlic will be planted, manured, and heavily mulched with seaweed.
View down the middle.
Marigolds hold on until the very last…
And those peas?
We planted the peas a couple of weeks too late.
They’ve been blooming nicely.
And trying to form pods.
But the days are now too short, the weather too cool, for there to be much of a crop. We planted these in mid-August. We should have put them in around the first of that month. We didn’t remember to. Who can think of pease in the midst of full, hot summer?
Oh well. The pease have put nitrogen in the soil, and the tops will keep winter rains from washing dirt away. There is no loss without gain.
The celeriac is busy getting ready for the “Ugly Vegetable” contest.
In the middle of the summer we chanced on some daikon radish seed.
The final overview, to the South…
Here we see more tired garden.
And a bright red trug.
A traditional trug is an English creation, a shallow basket of wooden slats, with a handle. The old-fashioned version can still be found, but modern variations are made. In Maine they make them with cedar ends and wire mesh bodies. We saw local landscapers using these bright plastic ones, and decided to get a couple, to see if they’ll stand up to the neglect and abuse we give to our tools. So far so good.
Back on earth, peeking through tired leaves, gleams another red, the red of a “Costoluto Genovese” tomato.
Thanks for visiting, and for coming on the tour.