Those three pretty eggplants have a little brother that will be ready by the weekend. I've never had success with eggplants in the past, so I'm happy to see them. I don't know if it's the hot weather, the fact that I planted them in the shade underneath some pole beans, or a combination of both. Whatever it is, I would like to repeat it.
Well, on second thought, I don't think I want to repeat this weather, actually. It's playing havoc on the rest of the garden. It's a little scary to me that I caught myself thinking this afternoon, "Gosh, it's not bad out today," and then looked at my car thermometer which said it was 102. I feel like the proverbial boiling frog.
Starting with the beans, mine are taller than Sweet Husband and gorgeous, but they won't set any pods. Similarly, my tomatoes are abundant, but all green. Research reveals the most likely culprit is the heat, or at least, that's what I'm telling myself.
The ladies are also suffering. Thankfully, they're all still with us, but the egg laying has tapered off to almost nothing. We had to go buy a dozen tonight, and the store shelves, where the local eggs typically are, were completely bare.
They had put up a little note explaining that chickens don't lay when it's ungodly hot. When I read it, I exclaimed out loud, "Ergh, no local eggs!" And a lady standing next to me kindly explained, "They don't lay in the heat." I chuckled and said, "I know. I have chickens, and that's why I'm here trying to buy eggs."
I ended up being stuck with "Pete's Eggs". I'm sure Pete is a nice fellow, but his eggs are white and thin-shelled looking--nothing like my speckled, brown beauties. I haven't cracked one open yet, but I'm already disappointed in them.
To end my whining though, one thing we are rich in is peppers. The fridge is full of them pickled, and the dehydrator is--right at this moment--humming away on my kitchen counter.
We're also making a point to remember to pick our hops this year. We've had them growing on our back fence for two or three years now, but, because they're out-of-sight, we seem to always forget they're there. WIth Sweet Husband getting back into brewing, I like the idea of making a Christmas-gifty-beer out of all Hacienda-grown hops.