Wee things

The temperature has gone beyond 80 degrees F in our cold frame and spinach, lettuce, and radish have all shown themselves, though not their true green leaves as yet. Word picture: spinach is skinny-leafed, radish is round-leafed, lettuce is little-leafed. What the camera sees -- they're the green things.

Lettuce pray

The Nelson garden got a jump on the season with a new cold frame on our south-facing second-floor deck. Bill made the box out of lots of leftover materials, including leftover insulation. We started lettuce, spinach, and radishes and installed a thermometer (the one new item) to keep track of the temperature inside the frame. It snowed last night over the frame, and the temp went down to 40 degrees inside. No one is awake yet.

True love and home grown

tomatoes. Neither can be bought, but both carefully cultivated. Being blessed enough to have the former, I began this year's crop of the latter today, on my birthday. Another year of Mrs. Benson, Old Flame, Peacevine cherry, Wayahead, Brandywine, Lillian. Every tomato name tells a story. Among the new ones I am trying this year is Wins All (photo, and seeds, from Totally Tomatoes), which got its name in a 1925 contest. Ponderosa Pink is a parent. Meantime, it's gray and raining on the frozen ground. Dream on.

Beautiful and poisonous

The garden died in the season's first hard freeze last night. One thing that stands out in my late garden when all else grows weary is monkshood, a late bloomer, and I love late bloomers. This year I had several strong stems of this regal blue flower. Someone asked me about it and I had forgotten that it's poisonous. I won't harvest it, but I will enjoy as this tall delphinium-leafed specimen makes a last stand in the late autumn, after everything else has packed up its summer glory. I wonder if there is a connection between being a monk and being sinister. Could make a good sequel to The Da Vinci Code --- Monkshood, or, Intrigue in the Garden.

How life works in the garden

Picking green beans a little past their slender prime this morning, I had to give a wide berth to a humungous spider. Humunguous enough to see greenish-yellow stripes on its underside, and fine hairs on its long legs. A small yellow jacket got too close and landed in the web. The spider was on it in a flash, throwing out silk and rapidly rolling its helpless prey. Done. The yellow jacket wiggled a little in its spidery straitjacket. Then the webmaster approached and bit, letting out venom to paralyze the prey. Spiders, it seems, grow more common at the end of season. I should be grateful for their help in keeping down the insect population. In looking to understand what I saw, I read that spiders are nature's physicists in how accurately they construct their webs. This science major was an argiope (rhymes with calliope) spider.