In many ways, this was a disappointing summer for gardening. The
sun and heat of late May transitioned to one of the
rainiest, cloudiest summers on record. Our vegetable garden site has become shadier over the years as the birch trees around the perimeter of our backyard have grown. And I've been busy with other activities and not spending the time I should to feed the plants and the soil and to hunt the slugs. The latter
loved this summer -- between the constant moisture and my lack of vigilance, they had a long party.
At one point in August I almost gave up on getting much out of the garden. I was even buying lettuce at the farmer's market because my leafy greens weren't large enough to harvest yet and I'd already thinned as much as I could for baby green salads.
But being a gardener is partly about being an optimist, and I stuck it out. I visited the
Alaska Botanical Gardens and took inspiration for next year in their edible landscape plantings. I read
The Conscious Gardener by Alaskan Ellen Van deVisse, and tried to pick more slugs while not thinking of them with vengeance. I also took note of what veggies had done well -- red cabbages for the fall and winter, a beautiful red sorrel that dresses up every salad, and abundant nasturtiums.
But the real surprise and joy are the apples. I received this tree at least five years ago in a tree adoption lottery used to be held in Anchorage every spring. The little tree produced a few apples the first couple of years, then maybe a dozen, and two dozen last year. This spring on the
Veggie Roll I learned that I should remove some of the spring buds to get bigger apples. I finally got around to doing that in late June and was surprised at the number of buds. Surely they wouldn't all develop into fruit. But they did. The final tally -- 103 apples!
Most of these fit within the hole formed by touching my thumb to my middle finger. They're beautiful sitting in a red bamboo bowl on the counter. The slightly tart flavor will be perfect for applesauce, one of the tastes of fall from my upstate New York childhood. These little red-golden globes may be the shiny lining in the garden in this wet summer.