Monthly Archives: September 2012

Tomato Festival

Persimmon and Early Girl

With all the new varieties Mr. Glad and I are growing this summer, we can have our own Backyard Tomato Tasting Festival.

It’s the best tomato year in at least a decade, partly because we planted more vines, and maybe for some other reasons we are mulling over.

Trays and platters and bowls of tomatoes are crowding the kitchen counters and tables. Time to make soup or just freeze some after I peel and dice them — and take their pictures, of course.

Juliet, SunSugar, Northern Lights

There are some puzzling and disappointing results, like Czech Bush, which was billed by our nursery as being an “orange slicer,” but bears red fruits the size of a large cherry.

Ailsa Craig is in theory interesting, as Tatiana writes on her TOMATObase site, “…a variety of tomato that has been an experimental staple of tomato molecular biology and biotechnology. Originally Ailsa Craig, named for a small rocky island off the coast of England, was grown for greenhouse production of tomatoes in Great Britain. Apparently this crop is particularly important for English breakfasts.”

None of the English or Scottish breakfasts I knew featured tomatoes that small. One seed site predicted 1.5-oz. fruits, another “medium” size, and another 70-90 gm. for Ailsa Craig. I must have read the “medium” word last spring, but now that heirloom tomatoes are so popular, in the future I will do more research, as on Tatiana’s site, and have fewer surprises. And I know now that I want my slicers to be a minimum of 8 oz.

Northern Lights is a pinkish tomato that we expected to be “smallish,” but it was a local news columnist’s “favorite red tomato! Very productive….” The flavor is truly fantastic, but again, they are too small to slice, and too large to pop into the mouth like a cherry tomato — and anyway, we have plenty of cherry tomatoes.

The Brazilian Beauty fruits aren’t large, but the plant is loaded with fruit. I like the unusual flavor, often called “smoky,” and I would like to plant them again, but I’m not sure my husband would go for it. I like having a “black” tomato, and these are nicely shaped and look good arranged on a plate with other varieties.

Brazilian Beauty, Persimmon, and Early Girl

Isn’t that Persimmon gorgeous? It tastes divine, too. I think we will always plant Persimmon tomatoes if we can get them. (In the old days it was Jubilees we adored for orange tomatoes.)

Our one Early Girl plant continues to amaze us – the many fruits are running 8 oz. or more, and are perfect smooth globes with great flavor. The local nursery’s special hybrid is a similarly big, productive and luscious specimen.

Yesterday we made grilled cheese and BLT sandwiches with orange, red and black tomatoes in them. I slice Juliets and Sunsugars in half and throw them into salads, and grab a few as I’m walking past throughout the day.

September is often our biggest tomato month. Even as the nights are getting chillier, and apples are coming on, we are surrounded by these lavish gifts of Summer.

The Earth Is Filled With Thy Creation

It’s the first day of the church year.

I’m reposting from two years ago this icon that celebrates a major focus of the celebration, because I don’t want to miss the joy even if I don’t have time today to consider and write more.

Abundance and a New Year

September 1st marks the start of the church calendar,
and is a good time to remember the goodness of God’s creation.
I love this icon and the way it expresses the superabundance
of life and beauty in this world that is our home.
Lord, thank You for everything. Bless us in the coming year!

 

 You can see more detail on the iconographer Christina De Michele’s website. The icon is a church mural in Riverside, California.

California Hills in August

I’m almost too late to post a poem with this title in a timely manner, not that the hills won’t look pretty much the same for another month or more. This year the grass is especially brown and parched, and we have lots of fires making the sky brown, too.

Over three years ago I posted this poem by Dana Gioia, which was the first time I wrote about him. Just now by putting his name in the search box at the bottom of this blog I discovered that it’s come up repeatedly.

I understand that Gioia has returned to our fair and thirsty state after serving as president of the National Endowment for the Arts for a few years. I wonder if he gets out of town far enough these days to feel the summer as he so aptly conveys it in this poem.


California Hills in August

I can imagine someone who found
these fields unbearable, who climbed
the hillside in the heat, cursing the dust,
cracking the brittle weeds underfoot,
wishing a few more trees for shade.

An Easterner especially, who would scorn
the meagerness of summer, the dry
twisted shapes of black elm,
scrub oak, and chaparral, a landscape
August has already drained of green.

One who would hurry over the clinging
thistle, foxtail, golden poppy,
knowing everything was just a weed,
unable to conceive that these trees
and sparse brown bushes were alive.

And hate the bright stillness of the noon
without wind, without motion,
the only other living thing
a hawk, hungry for prey, suspended
in the blinding, sunlit blue.

And yet how gentle it seems to someone
raised in a landscape short of rain –
the skyline of a hill broken by no more
trees than one can count, the grass,
the empty sky, the wish for water.

-Dana Gioia