The garden has its beds, and I have started to (trans)plant. Before I started, for the record, it looked like this.
But the real stuff is happening in the greenhouse. May 26 shot:
At left the tomatoes. They had almost no transplant shock, which I attribute to the crossword puzzle pots. Middle, chiles; left zucchini. When I went to water today, I beheld junior zucchini, busily zucchining (or whatever it is that these veggies do).
The zucc in the middle is as long as my finger; if you look carefully there is another on the plant above. In fact two, and in fact again, all the plants have fruited. In May! This may be SOP for Iowa, but not for Alaska. I attribute it to the fact I started these guys early and moved them to individual big pots. Since my window space is limited, I can't do that for everyone.
Meanwhile, after a week of incessant transplanting, my garden looks like a trauma ward. Like Louie in Casablanca, my plants are shocked. Shocked! I keep my fingers crossed. It happens every year and I forget it the next. I water, but I have not yet resorted to the Dark Side of the Force. Obi-Farm approves.
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