And the beans are, indeed, up. I don't hoe them, however. This pale beauty is only one of the rows of large Italian pole beans that constitute my main bean interest. Although I believe I sound like I've become slightly unhinged, there are few tastes that I find as thoroughly satisfying as this bean. Hot, cold, dressed and plain, I love these beans. While I've done everything I know to safeguard them, with bird protection and iron-based snail poison, I'm not confident enough to have planted them all. I kept back some of my stock to fill in any nibbled beyond survival.
The yellow wax bush beans are also emerging, but I didn't get any good pictures of them. Imagine a triple row of them in front of the six sweet peppers I broke down and bought and put in early, just because I was feeling optimistic. (Also because I started no plants of my own this year.)
Everywhere I look, things are stretching out to the lengthening days. We've had what I consider "farmers' rain," that is steady rain at night, followed by clearing days that resolve into very warm afternoons. The garden approves.
Every day for the past four days, the police have called me. Not because of any plant-based violations, but because the bees are swarming and I'm a point person for picking them up. So far, I've gotten another beekeeper to get each one, but I went and set up a new hive just in case they call again. I need to make an equipment order so that I can manage four hives. I wonder if any of the kids at the local high school would like to work on hives with me? I should ask. . .
The Katy apricots are largeish, but few. The tree is showing some alarming signs -- whole twigs wilting with no apparent reason. I hear that apricots are short-lived trees here, susceptible to many diseases.
The transplanted persimmon is showing good health. Maybe next year it will bear?
One of the two Early Girls I bought with the peppers. The other one is going to the front yard bed, along with a "help yourself!" sign. I'm looking forward to painting that.
Both front yard Blenheims are loaded with baby 'cots. I have high hopes. Apricot everything!
Everywhere I go in the garden, I hear hurry, hurry. . . it's time to get things done. Maybe I will, and maybe I won't. It's good to know that some things are managing without me very well.