Chard, oh Swiss Chard, I have such a love-hate relationship with you. On the love side, you were one of the first vegetables I grew as a ten year old, and my father loved to eat you. Your cheerful acceptance of so many different weathers makes you a stalwart garden performer. You come in pretty colors.
But . . . your oxalic acid content makes my teeth squeak. I don't like you as much as my true love (Kale, oh kale, sing to me of garlic and olive oil, and fish sauce and vinegar, and nuts and goat cheese, sigh), and really, you get too big too fast. No one else here likes you much at all.
Unless you count them.
Every year, beets, spinach, and chard are preyed on by leaf miners. It wasn't until last year, of course, that I identified these little white things as the precursors to those nasty leaf-ruining tunnels.
Now that I know what they are, though, I feel compelled to try to stay on top of them. In other years, I'd pull the chard, call it a day, and be done with all beet-green relatives until the next cold weather.
Harvest Monday - April 24, 2107
1 hour ago