Great Pumpkins

I delivered most of the pumpkins I grew this year to the food bank this week. I didn't track the total weight of the pumpkins, but the two deliveries combined, minus some poundage for a few other fruits and vegetables, was 137 pounds. A decent haul.

Pumpkins in many shapes and sizes. The flat ones in front are
Rouge vif d'Emtampes. The two little white ones are Lumina,
grown from 2004 seed that traveled across three states.
The gray ones, which are actually blue-gray but the sunlight
is too bright, are Jarrahdale. The one in back is a Howden.  

From left, Howden, Jarrahdale, Rouge vif d'Emtampes, Lumina.

I had a lot of success with pumpkins in 2012.

Some Decent Poundage

I delivered 64 pounds of produce to the food bank today. The majority of weight came from pumpkins, which I have started to part with. I harvested a bunch a few weeks back to cure and admire. Some of the full-size ones are quite heavy. Some of the food bank families have up to a dozen kids, so one big pumpkin, quartered and roasted, doesn't even feed them all. I plan to post some photos of my pumpkins, but I'm pre-occupied with melons right now.

I also had a large bag of pears taken from my backyard that I delivered to the food bank. I have a small pear tree and small apple tree. Last year, I got about two pears and three apples. I did a good job of pruning this winter, and now the trees are covered with bumper crops of each.

And, of course, everything is coming ripe at once: melons, pears, apples, tomatoes, winter squash, pumpkins, onions. It's a drag because six weeks ago, I was salivating over the notion of fresh melons and onions, and now I have so many, it's almost a burden. Most of the onions end up as topping for frozen pizza.

Four of a kind: melons clockwise from left, Tigger, Prescott Fond Blanc,
Korean Star and Charentais. The Tigger is much bigger than average,
the Korean Star is smaller than average. The larger Korean Stars
already have been harvested and eaten The Charentais is about
average size, this one being about the size of a large softball.

I ate part of my first Charentais melon today. Of all the orange-fleshed melon I've tried, I like Charentais the best. I shared my first Prescott Fond Blanc melon with my family over the weekend, another orange-fleshed, French heirloom (apparently, the French like melons). Although it was perfectly ripe and fragrant, the taste was so, so. Prescott is a great stealth melon, though. Even people who know vegetables were stumped. The same goes for Korean Star melons: A cucumber? A squash? Not worth your time thieves. I haven't lost a single melon this year.

My brother's cat, Diablo, visited my garden plots over the weekend.
He likes to go for walkies like a dog. He got overheated on this
near 90-degree day, so my brother gave him a shower under one
of the water spigots. Then he took a nap in the shade of a sunflower. 

Another Failure

My watermelon patch is a bust. I have written in the past about the painstakingly time I spent babying along watermelon starts from seed. Several died quickly upon being transplanted to the ground, but I finally got eight plants of two varieties to set fruit. Each plant set one melon. They grew for a while, then stopped. Stunted and immature. I'm yanking them in a day or two. 

The watermelon patch more than 70 days after transplanting
melon starts. Pretty lame.

A Cream of Saskatchewan watermelon about the size of a softball.
It should be the size of a volleyball.

A Golden Midget watermelon about the size of a softball. I don't
know what a mature size is for this variety. I was looking forward
to finding out this year. Depressed, I fed it to the raccoons.

The problem with the backyard raised beds is that the big-A maple tree nearby has sent out long roots that send smaller roots underneath the raised beds. The smaller roots climb up through the soil. Even after tilling the beds this spring, by now, the soil is a hard mat of tree roots. They suck out the moisture and nutrients. I fertilized the watermelons more than anything else this year, but to no avail. Alas. 

I dug out the soil in one bed this week and put down fabric that hopefully will limit the tree root system. I plan on growing some winter crops. If it works out, I will do the same to the other beds in the spring. If it doesn't work out, there is not much point growing vegetables in the raised beds. The results have been poor for most of the crops I have tried. My corn this year, for example ... forget about it.

Not Impressed

I harvested my first two Tigger melons today. As the monarchs say, "We are not amused."

I knew going in Tiggers would be small, the largest ones about the size of a baseball, the smallest about the size of a golf ball. What I didn't know is they have a large seed cavity relative to their size. Translation: There is not much edible melon by volume. 

What's the point? After cleaning out the seed cavity and cutting off
the rind, there is not much fruit left to eat on a ripe Tigger melon.

Three Tigger melons on one plant. My plants produced
four or five fruits each.

Tiggers in their unripe stage are a mottled green that turns orange on ripening. The ripe stage, however, is squishy-soft to the touch and doesn't seem to have much flavor despite a nice melon aroma. Translation: I'm not growing these things again.

I blew it this year by being cute with my Lambkin melons, using cross-pollinated seed instead of certified seed. I only had three starts. One of them died a slug-ridden death. The other two produced one large melon and two smaller ones. The big melon looks just like its ancestor, a Piel de Sapo, the largest melon I've grown to date. But the cross-pollination stripped out the hybridization that produces smaller melons in bumper quantities. If I had planted four or five regular Lambkin starts when I planted the other melons, I'm guessing I would have 12 to 15 excellent melons.

On the bright side, my Charentais plants are pumping out full-sized melons that are larger than a softball. From four plants I have 11 full-size melons nearing harvest. I snagged No. 12 today.

Spudnik

I started harvesting my potatoes last week. I grew one row of mixed potatoes at my garden plot. These weren't the only potatoes I grew this year because there is always room for another potato plant or two in other spots. I grew some in my backyard raised beds, but they were woefully unproductive.

I purchased registered potato seed in 2009 and have been saving seed from that stock ever since. The varieties I am harvesting this year are:

• Bintje: yellow skin/yellow flesh
• Desiree: pink skin/yellow flesh
• Rio Colorado: red skin/white flesh

A plate of egg-sized potatoes: Rio Colorado (red), Desiree (pink)
and Bintje (yellow).

I have had some problems with scab. It is more prevalent on individual plants than in general areas. In other words, one plant can have several scabbed over potatoes, whereas a plant right next to it will be fine. Even watering and slightly acidic soil will minimize scab. I usually water through the first hot spell or two, then stop watering completely. I did a lot of mulching of my potatoes this year, which helped minimize the number of potatoes "greened up" with solanine.

To Infinity and Beyond

The potato has come a long way since being turned into a crisp in New York in 1853. Innovative for its time, the Saratoga Chip was low technology compared with growing potatoes in space. During a 1995 mission, astronauts aboard the U.S. space shuttle Columbia grew the first vegetables in space. They used leaves from Norland potatoes to successfully grow tubers. Growing produce in a microgravity environment is a crucial step toward prolonged space travel because the process is capable of providing food and oxygen.