Rain, peas, Gaga

Too much rain, if you ask me.  I know, I know.  I know all about it.  But this last couple weeks, too much.  Moving on.

Worms rock.  We should remember to crush up the eggshells before we put them in the bin.  When I harvest, the worms are all hiding in the shells and they get smashed to smithereens.  Sorry worms.

This is where all that pesky bolting parsley was.  Gay Riley cleaned it right out and is slaving turning it into salad.  That spinach is there in that basket because it was bolting too.  Hey, everybody, how about a nice big salad on this cold, rainy day?  

The new peas I got this year (Dwarf Grey from I don't know because I used them all) rock my world.  

See those pinkish purplish flowers?  Sweet.  My english pea seeds from last year on the other hand, are producing these super short super slow vines with wrinkly brown tops.  They are bummed out.  Did I get the seed wet last spring?  Did I plant them too early and they got rotty?  Is there something in that end of the bed?

And, we couldn't figure out for our lives how to tie up the peas this year so Jeff came up with this plan of stringing wire the whole length of the beds about two feet up from rebar in the four corners, to keep the individual bamboos from tipping in as the weight of the peas on the twine grew.  The result is that there is so much going on and I tie the stupid peas up all the dang time.  He predicted this, but I refuse to use that plastic netting that we have all tangled in the garage because then you can't compost the vines when they're done.  But I saw this in our photos from last year:

See that tall structure there on the end?  That's the way we're doing em next year, with the favas somehow interspersed or interplanted and also radishes.  Can I also just say how much more amazing everything looked last year and that these pictures were taken June 6, and this year the favas are about eight inches tall and full of slug holes and the tomatoes are less than half as big?  And the garlic?  Are you kidding?  Rain?  Are you?

But we did grow some big lettuce.

And I am ripping this garlic out while it's still green and pickling some asparagus.  Then I'm going to plant all lettuces and arugula.  Screw the simultaneously dying and flowering (what could be more tragic than that) watermelon plant on my kitchen counter.  I don't like watermelon, do you?  

Noooo.  I oney yike wain.