Garden Update: Triumphs, Troubles, and Tomatoes

As you can see, the garden is absolutely booming.

The tomatoes have decided that this is their year, and honestly, I am just trying to keep up. I have several varieties growing, each with its own personality.

My grape tomato plant is loaded with fruit. Every time I walk by, I seem to find another cluster forming. If all of them ripen, I may never have to buy tomatoes again.

Then there is my Arkansas tomato. It was sold as a determinate variety, which means it is supposed to grow to a certain size, set its fruit, and more or less be done. Instead, it appears to have missed that memo entirely and decided to behave like an indeterminate tomato. Indeterminate tomatoes just keep growing, vining, and producing until frost finally puts an end to their ambitions. As a result, I am having to get a little creative with my trellising situation.

I am also growing Black Cherry tomatoes this year, and they are absolutely divine. The flavor is rich, sweet, and unlike anything a grocery store tomato could ever hope to be.

Then there is the Genovese tomato. I am still waiting patiently for the first one to ripen, but I have high hopes. Every gardener knows that anticipation is part of the harvest.

One of my favorite surprises this year has been fennel. This is my first time growing it, and I am thoroughly impressed. What I love most is that you can harvest the delicate fronds while the bulb continues to develop. It feels like getting two crops from the same plant. The fronds have a light, fresh licorice flavor that has been wonderful in the kitchen.

The herb garden is thriving as well. Basil, sage, purple sage, lovage, parsley, lemon balm, rosemary, and cilantro are all growing beautifully. There is something deeply satisfying about stepping outside and gathering fresh herbs just before dinner.

And then there is my beloved Swiss chard. I simply cannot get enough of it. It produces faithfully, handles the Texas heat better than most greens, and keeps finding its way into soups, sautés, and whatever else I happen to be cooking.

The hummingbird feeders are up and waiting. Last year they were absolutely swarmed with visitors, so I was surprised when spring came and went without seeing a single hummingbird. Today, however, I finally spotted the first one of the season. It felt like welcoming back an old friend. Hopefully word will spread, and the rest of the tiny aerial acrobats will follow soon.

Not everything in the garden is cooperating, though.

Last year I had okra coming out of my ears. This year, I cannot seem to get a single okra seed to sprout. Gardening has a way of keeping us humble. Just when you think you have something figured out, nature changes the rules. I planted another round of seeds today, so we will see what happens.

One casualty of the season deserves honorable mention.

I left for a week-long work trip and returned to discover that the squash vine borers had officially won the battle. My tromboncino squash, which had been growing beautifully, never stood a chance while I was away. By the time I got home, the damage was extensive, and despite my best efforts, there was no resurrecting it from the devastation.

If you are a gardener, you know that moment. You walk out expecting to admire your plants and instead find yourself conducting a postmortem. Last year it was something else. This year it was squash vine borers. Nature has a way of reminding us that we are participants in the process, not the ones in control of it.

That is gardening in a nutshell. One year you are overwhelmed with abundance. The next year you are staring at bare soil wondering what went wrong. Every season teaches something new, and every garden tells a different story.

For now, I am enjoying the tomatoes, harvesting herbs by the handful, watching the fennel grow, and celebrating the return of the hummingbirds. The tromboncino may be gone, but the garden marches on.

After all, every year is a new adventure.