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2021 Hand-knit Tomato Trellis

Another spring, another hand-knit tomato trellis. It certainly is a California rainbow over the garden plot! Unlike past tomato trellises, this one is made of bulky acrylic yarn, knit on US 19 knitting needles. It's super easy to make. Cast on 82 stitches -- or more if you want and your needles are long enough. Knit it in stockinette stitch: knit the first row, purl the second, and repeat until the piece is as long as you like.  On the last row, bind off four stitches, then drop a stitch. Repeat this, keeping the first stitch that you bind off after a dropped stitch loose, until you come to the end of row. Thread yarn through the last stitch and weave in the end. Voilá, a tomato trellis. I experimented with dropping off more than a single stitch, but it seemed to make the trellis too loose.  I also stitched on fabric casings for the poles that support the trellis.  There are about four, evenly spaced casings. It makes it easier and more stable to string up the trellis. The sides we
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Tomatomania! rocks!

I annually write the date for Tomatomania! in my calendar. Something always comes up that keeps me from going. But this year was different. Karen and I drove over to Tapia Brothers and checked out the riches. According to the website, Tomatomania! is what the New York Times calls "the tomato freaks' Woodstock." It started in the early 90s at Hortus, a trend-setting nursery in Pasadena, CA, which regretfully closed in 2001, with classes, sales, "tomato tasting and impromptu social gatherings at nurseries and garden destinations across the state." So instead of buying our usual pony pack of tomato plants from a standard chain nursery, we wandered the aisles looking at the wild and wonderful heirlooms -- Mortgage Lifters, Black Krims, Cherokee Purples, yellow ones, striped ones, deep purple nearly black ones.   We selected three indeterminate tomatoes and a couple of determinate ones. By the end of the weekend, we had the tomato trellis hung and the tomatoes plant

Heirloom recipes for garden harvest

Gardeners are always talking about heirloom plants: grown year after year by generation after generation from seeds taken from each year's harvest . I think heirloom recipes are just as important and just as much fun. The first bite of my mother's strawberry shortcake recipe, takes me back years to the lingering light of a summer day in northeastern Oklahoma with the family around the dining room table enjoying strawberries with whipped cream and flaky, barely sweet biscuits.  So, in that spirit, I'm offering some heirloom recipes. Some are made from plants we grow at Fink Farms, and some not.  Some are old recipes from friends and family. Some are simply good recipes enjoyed summer after summer.  Green Tomato Pie by Jo Ann (Floerke) Morrison (1931-1996) This recipe was contributed by my friend Cliff Morrison, whose mother made this pie. 1 cup brown sugar ¼ c white sugar 4 tablespoons flour 3 tablespoons butter 6 to 8 small green tomatoes, thinly sliced 1 lemon, quartered 1

Determinate vs indeterminate: why does it matter?

When Karen and I planted our 2020 garden, we made the one mistake you never want to make with tomatoes: we didn't check whether the plants we bought were determinant or indeterminate. Our assumption that the cherry tomato plants would be small (small tomatoes means small plant, right?) and the romas would be big, was 180 degrees wrong. The Great Green Goddess of Gardening was on our side, however. Karen has been able to stake up the indeterminate cherry tomatoes -- and the determinate romas have plenty of string fencing to grow on. I've been asked to write more about the differences between indeterminate and determinant tomato plants. Since I clearly needed to review, I'm glad to do so. In simple terms, determinate plants are like bushes or shrubs; indeterminate plants are like trees. Determinate plants are genetically set to grow to a certain size and stop. Indeterminate plants will keep producing stems, leaves and fruit as long as they get enough water, light and warmth.

Learning to Prune -- At Last!

Four years ago, we grew the Godzilla of tomato vines. We couldn’t stake it up high enough or fast enough to keep up with its growth. It was a productive plant and produced fabulous tomatoes. But its branches were so thick we could barely reach in to grab the ripe ones without destroying the green ones. And we won’t even discuss the ones that were out reach inside the dark maw of this behemoth. I swore after trying to tame that plant, I would learn to prune. And now, nearly two months after planting our pony packs of cherry and Roma tomatoes, we’ve done it! We’ve pruned! Probably not enough and probably too late, but at long last I think I understand what needs to be removed: the suckers, the sprouting leaves that grow in the crotches (axils, if you want to be technical) between the leaves and the main stem. I started pinching and clipping unsure if I was getting a sucker, a branch or a flower bud. But the more hands on time I spent with the plant, the clearer the suckers were to me.

Bug Hotels: Hospitality for Gardens

The first time I ever saw a bug hotel was in the yard of my nephew's house.  His wife, Kay, is one of the best urban homesteaders I've ever met. Her bug hotel was about the size of a Victorian doll house, had a moss roof and was work of art. I was enchanted. A bug house (or hotel) provides winter habitat for beneficial insects who, in turn, swarm awake in the spring, lay eggs and sweep your organic garden clear of aphids and mites. That's the theory anyway. "I first learned about bug/pollinator houses when taking a hike at a preserve, " Kay said. "They had a huge bug house on display.  It was really like a functional piece of artwork." Although she always wanted to create one, it wasn't until some neighbors started complaining about carpenter bees and discussing sprays to kill them that she decided to get to work. Other neighbors, who were advocates for pollinators and native plants and had made their farm a pollinator haven, served as inspiration. W

Growing Lavender

Every time I go to Fink Farms, I pause at the lavender bush by the garden gate. First, I take a deep breath to inhale the scent. Then I take a good look at all the activity in and around the bush. The scent pushes the world back six feet, sets me back on my feet, centered and ready to go again.  The sights – gold and black bees hovering over purple blossoms, the winking of white butterfly wings in the sage branches, and even humming birds pausing overhead -- remind me this isn’t just a plant, it’s a universe. A good match California’s climate matches lavender’s native Mediterranean roots. The bright sun and dry summers make lavender a natural for California gardens. There are more than 45 species of lavender with more than 450 varieties, so it’s easy to find one that suits your garden’s specific characteristics. Colors range from white to pink to all variations of purple. The scent and the flowers draw in bees and butterflies. But it repels many pests such as fleas, mosquitos and fli