The accidental tomatoes of wrath

August 15: A stem. Some bits of green skin. A blob of juice. LEFT ON MY FRONT STEPS, like a cruel taunt. I am growing the accidental tomatoes of wrath.

August 16: Tonight we ate what may well end up constituting the season's entire accidental tomato crop: one single cherry tomato, plucked when still orange and ripened on a window sill, then cut into three meager servings.

August 17: This photo is not a deep fake. It is an actual squirrel eating one of my actual unripened accidental tomatoes. I've seen things, man. I've seen things.

Seriously, though, it is working out to pick them as they just start to turn orange, and then let them ripen on a window sill. I'll probably get the equivalent of a whopping pint of tomatoes that way, by season's end.

At least the front yard looks nice.

Crazy tomato lady

This anemone (front right, when you're facing the house)  is lovely.

My crepe myrtle is also lovely, and it's a shame I find this color too red. Interestingly, the smaller one, closer to the house, scarcely bloomed this year.

Delightful delphinium, with adorable anemone in background.

The lilac has started its second bloom of the year [and update from early October: still blooming! Not nearly as prolific as spring though.]

The state of zinnias and tomatoes. I know what you are thinking: what are those shiny bits? Our neighbor heard tin foil repels squirrels. What do I have to lose, I figure?

A few monarch butterflies have visited the zinnias.

I will acknowledge that the tin foil bits make my tomatoes look like they've visited the salon for some highlights. But if it keeps them safe, it's all worth it.

And hark! What's that we see tucked in there? Woohoo!

Hawk

Woah.

Harvesting peppers and seeds

Our shishito peppers have ripened and we have made our first harvest. We have found them good charred in a frying pan over high heat, with canola oil. [Update from September: when they turn red, you can also char them and then blend them up with stock and spices and ripe tomatoes, for a spicy soup.]

And you have to love the twirly appendage on that one.

This butterfly is a silver-spotted skipper.

The sweet peas are looking very done and messy, but we have harvested some of their seed pods, when they get kind of brown and dry.

Finally the pinkish tinge on the hydrangea buds.

Sweet pea seeds

 Very promising! How long does one leave them on the vine, I wonder? At what point are they too irresistible to the squirrels?

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood

These are starting to look overgrown.

I believe it was a strong storm that tore the sweet peas from the post.

Mystery vine

Look! The portulaca grown from "let's see what happen" seeds sown last fall! (And note that the parsley next to it also fell into that category)

Mini-greenhouses and vertical gardens

I have had these two browser windows open forever, as if I would be spontaneously motivated to enact their ideas.

I have not been.

But I like the ideas, so I am recording them here in case someday I have motivation and time and ingenuity and whatnot.

Garden cloches (mini-greenhouses):
https://www.gardenista.com/posts/the-beauty-of-the-garden-cloche/

Vertical gardens:
https://www.ftd.com/blog/design/think-vertical-ideas-for-the-vertical-garden

High point of the action

On the one hand, the plants are busting out all over the place. The sweet peas reached the top of the lamppost. The zinnias are a mile high. There are about 20 freaking accidental tomatoes getting bigger daily, and some sort of accidental vine, too. Pumpkin? Watermelon? Other sort of melon?

On the other hand, attacks on the plants come from all fronts. The deer. The recent lack of rain. Even a goldfinch. A goldfinch! I ask you how I am supposed to choose between my love of flowers and my love of pretty birds.

In short, the action in the garden has reached fever pitch. And we are getting close to making major and majorly exciting changes in the back yard - more on that soon.

An Eastern Tiger Swallowtail butterfly visited our zinnias on July 10. I read later that butterflies love zinnias.

Emma was enchanted by the butterfly.

Just recording what's going down with the anemones, lavender, and delphinium on July 11. I should not have cut back that lavender so severely after last season. The one I didn't cut back is the size of Cleveland now.

It's not easy to see, but only abominable deer could nip off my sweet peas at this height.

The Larkspur at their peak on July 11. Lovely.

This was July 11 - they're even taller today!

Surprising success stories: portulaca (middle) didn't even exist a few weeks ago; must have gotten a late start from seeds last fall. And the parsley has returned, triumphant!

Tomatoes on July 11. Heaven help me, I'm rooting for 'em.

The olive-colored blur in the upper middle of this shot is a female goldfinch, photographed through the dining room window. It was plucking off leaves of our zinnias.

This is what the zinnias looked like after the goldfinch attack!

General state of play on July 18. The zinnias have gotten kind of ridiculously tall.

Remember the gypsophila? Pity it, nestled at the base of humongous zinnias and accidental tomato plants. Next year I need to not plant stuff around this and see what happens.

Here's the hen-and-chick's swan song bloom. It's not even pretty, really.

The OTHER sweet peas are finally blooming. But this lamppost was largely a bust,

I am pretty sure a baby baptisia is growing in the uphill shadow of this rock.

This is the baby in question.

Our furthest-developed shishito pepper! Apparently they grow 2-4" long.

Yeah, these raspberry limeade zinnias stole my heart.

Sweet peas on July 18 - where do they go from here?

Accidental tomatoes on July 18, unstoppable....so far. NOBODY TELL THE VILE SQUIRRELS.