I don’t suppose tomato blossoms really have a smell. If they do, it is overwhelmed by smell of tomato foliage, which is still a pleasing scent.

Poor little tomato blossoms. Gardeners watch for them. We laud their appearance and lament their falls. We count the days from blossom to fruit. They are essential to the process of bringing forth tomato fruit into the world and yet, do we ever stop to look at them?

Several years ago, around the time I first started to explore the world of heirloom tomatoes, I was alarmed to find that the blossoms on one of my tomato plants didn’t look quite right. They were too full, too frilly. I fretted a bit, but eventually let it go and hoped for the best. I got perfectly normal tomatoes from the plant so I supposed nothing was wrong. But I did watch my tomato blossoms a little more closely after that. It wasn’t long until I discovered that tomato blossoms can vary as much as their fruit does.

If you have never noticed this about tomato blossoms, I would not be surprised. Besides the whole craving for fresh tomatoes that blinds even the most observant of people, tomato blossoms, for the most part, are shy. While squash and cucumber blossoms flaunt themselves around the garden like a cheerleader in the back of the quarterback’s car, tomato blossoms keep their yellow skirts demurely pointed towards the ground. You have to make an effort to peek under those petals.

I have found that tomato blossoms can be double or single. Have 5 petals or 10 or more. They can have thin frilly petals or just a few broad ones. So far, I have not noticed a pattern to the size and shape of the blossom to the color and taste of the fruit, but to be honest, I have not given the topic too much thought.

Tomatoes are one of the garden’s finest products, and its flowers will never be a startling centerpiece. But sometimes it is nice to take note of the prelude to the culinary symphony.

I suppose that when I say this is my favorite garden decoration, what I actually mean is that it is my favorite non-organic decoration, as my flowers are my favorite organic decoration.

This is the base to an old seventies lamp. Originally, this was part of a pair that I found in the trash. They were painted ebony and gold and were probably some suburban housewives idea of groovy interior decorating. I am guessing that their children who were moving them into a nursing home felt different (rightfully so) and the pair ended up at the curb.

That’s where I came in, tooling around the ‘hood with my little convertible, looking for interesting junk to put into my garden. Even my mother cringed when she saw these two, but I assured her that they would look great. I took a hacksaw to the lamp top and then split the pair and gave one to my neighbor. Mine got painted white, hers got painted in faux verdigris. Over the years, the paint, both the original and the added, peeled off and, year by year, the “statue” has been slowly disintegrating.

I think it adds an air of history, as if my garden that has seen grander days and we are only looking on the tail end of its grandeur (it’s a convenient fantasy for the mess I call a garden).

What is really odd is that this is not the only lamp base I have in my garden. There are actually two or three gems like this hidden around. Whether it be the decaying statue or a metal pedestal or a gaudy green glass bauble, I find that old lamp bases make for amazing garden decor.

The next time you are out on trash day or when you are making the yard sale rounds, take a close look at the junked lamps. Yeah, they suck for interior decorating purposes, but how would they look surrounded by petunias?

What a happy day this is! The State government, despite having such pressing tasks such as saving strippers from their mean ol’ customers and completely ignoring the school funding crisis here in Ohio, has seen fit to vote (once again) on the fitness of the lowly Lycopersicon esculentus in representing the State of Ohio in the official capacity of State Fruit.

This grand title was snatched from the paws of the paw paw plant just a few years ago. Apparently, while the bill was introduced, it never made it to the floor to be voted on.

The office of State Fruit has stood empty for far too long and it is a brilliant move on the part of our politicians to name a fruit that is commonly regarded as a vegetable to fill the position. I am fairly certain that this move will have far reaching effects on the fruit mistaken as vegetable populations.

I ask you… no… plead with you to write your Ohio state representative (Or if you don’t live in Ohio, feel free to write mine) and ask them to get this uber important bill to the floor. Urge your representative to vote yes on this issue. The tomato minority is counting on you!

I Love eBay.

• My matching set of titanium and gold wedding rings… Bought on eBay
• My ’05 PT Cruiser Convertible… Bought on eBay
• My Doc Martin Boots… Bought on eBay
• My computer I am typing on right now (and the other three in my house)… Bought on eBay

So this morning, when I reviewed the ailing plants that were transplanted from the bad soil and decided that there was no hope in this green earth that they would ever make a recovery, I knew where I needed to go. I had to go to eBay.

Now, just about everybody knows that everything under the sun is sold on eBay. You can buy human souls, Mary bearing toast and giant Cheetoes. I mean what else is eBay for but to buy things you have absolutely no use for.

But when I mention to people that you can buy live plants, 9 out of 10 times I get a quizzical look. “Plants… on eBay… you can do that?” Yeah, they are right there next to the human souls section.

If they don’t react with surprise, they normally have some apprehension on whether or not eBay plants are quality plants.

I personally have never had a problem with my eBay plant purchases. I am careful to check the feedback score and the feedback comments and as long as I find that they are both positive, I find that I get great plants.

The really awesome thing about eBay is that many plant sellers are just small hobbyists selling their extras. Some very unusual and hard to find varieties are very reasonably priced when sold by these people.

With my half of my tomatoes dead in the water (or soil as it may be), I decided to buy a lot of heirloom tomatoes from TomatoGirl. She has an excellent, high feedback score and a to die for selection of heirloom tomatoes. Not to mention that the cost is only about $2.50 per plant and that is even after shipping. I couldn’t buy even the most common heirloom tomato plant for that price at my local nursery.

I ordered a lot of 10 and they should be here by the end of next week. Thank goodness for people who can grow seeds a hell of a lot better than I can and for eBay who makes it easy for me to buy from them.

Peat and Repeat were sitting on a log. Peat falls off. Who’s left? Repeat. Peat and Repeat were sitting on a log. Peat falls off… Okay, so it is not a funny joke even when my kids tell it.

I posted about my soil disaster a few days ago and most people sympathized with me (thank you, I needed that). But a new reader, Ellie, had this to say:

…but isn’t sphagnum moss a Bad Thing on your side of the Atlantic? Over here (UK) we are all supposed to be going peat free, since the moss can’t grow as quickly as we can replace it. We get a lot of peat-free products now that are much more environmentally sound.

This is a good question and the short answer is “no, not really”. *hangs head in slight embarrassment* While I do read about concern over the use of peat moss in more international garden forums, for the most part, here in the US, I hear very little about it.

Half the gardening supplies you can buy are made with the stuff. Soilless mixes, peat pots, peat pellets, soil amendments and probably most nursery plants are packed in some kind of peat based product. If I had to guess, if plants could be considered the body of the gardening industry, than sphagnum peat moss is the lifeblood.

I think the differences in where we (United States) get peat moss as opposed to where the UK and other European countries get theirs. Here in the US, I believe the bulk of the peat moss comes from Canada, eh, where peat moss harvesting is regulated and they strive to keep it sustainable.

In the UK and other European countries, on the other hand, a large portion of the peat bogs were destroyed long before sustainability was a business practice. They are now in a mode of reclamation rather than sustainability. So concern over the use of peat is much more pressing.

For the time being, for me here in the US, I don’t yet see a reason to refrain from using sphagnum peat moss. But that could change. Sustainable in the eyes of commercial enterprises differs greatly from those of normal people.

As the weather is only now just thinking about cooperating and is being quite mopey about it – rain, rain rain – there is really not much to do except read a good book. And if you ever were to ask me what’s a good book to read, I would say it is not a book, but an author you should invest your time in.

I find that there is nothing more entertaining than sitting down with a Terry Pratchett book. For those of you who have discovered the satirical humor of Mr. Pratchett, you know what I am talking about. For those who have not, boy, are you missing out.

Right now, I am reading Nanny Ogg’s Cookbook, which is a peripheral addendum to the DiscWorld series by Mr. Pratchett. Nanny Ogg is a witch in the series and witches have a very particular notion about how the world works. In essence, they believe the world should work as they see fit.

In our world, we think that witches are involved with all sorts of things wild and green, but in DiscWorld, Nanny Ogg has this to say about witches and gardening:

And I say: the hell with it. Witches know about herbs, because that makes sense, and the good thing about most herbs is that they grow all by themselves. You just go for a walk with your eye to business and there they are (the really useful ones, anyway; the ones you mostly see growing in gardens are only useful for shoving up a chicken’s bottom). But witches don’t garden. Gardening involves digging in cold weather. Where’s the fun in that? And the rest of the time you’re mostly trying to kill something.

Yep, guess I am not a witch (though I think more than a few ex-boyfriends might object to that opinion). I’ll just be happy with being a plain old gardener reading books till the weather decides to cooperate.

It was a cold but brilliant day here in Cleveland. Too cold to do any gardening, but that does not mean that I couldn’t enjoy a bit of the outdoors inside.

I was given two free tickets to the Cleveland Art Museum’s exhibit of Monet in Normandy and so I figured that I should attempt to shove some civility into the four males in my house. I packed my kids and my husband into the car and we headed into the city.

I personally loved the Monet exhibit. Right off the bat was the painting “Garden at Sainte-Adresse” (pictured right). The painting shows a wonderful garden with nasturtiums and gladiolas blooming brilliantly all over. The sun is hard and bright and you can just feel the warmth that the residents are experiencing. I want to live in Monet’s world right now.

The rest of the exhibit was wonderful as well and I was feeling very cultured. My kids were feeling very bored and my husband was feeling very relieved when I said we could go. But I have found that art appreciation is much like a garden. You have to plant a few seeds and hope they grow into something more.

Despite the reaction of my family had to Monet, I was impressed (no pun intended) with the unique way that Monet painted landscape. I once heard that there was a theory that the famous impressionist painters suffered from eye problems. What the world saw as a revolutionary art style was actually how these people saw the world.

I don’t know if this is true. I do know that Monet did have cataract problems later in life and the progressive nature of cataracts was very evident in his work. I can only imagine the nightmare that this was for him. He eventually lost his eyesight and it was only then that he was willing to submit to the surgeons scalpel to regain his sight. I have set my own eyes under the knife, so I know how scary that can be Considering he did it nearly 100 years before me, the man had to be desperate. Even after his surgery, he suffered from rare disorders, xanthopsia and cyanopsia, which further affected his paintings.

Monet was a man who could appreciate the beauty of a garden or a flower and on this cold March day, I am thankful for that. Now, if I could get my kids to appreciate the beauty of Monet, I think that I could perform miracles.

Today I had the happy serendipity to come across the Dahlia Society of Ohio Show and Competition at the Petitti’s in Oakwood.

Now, two things come to my mind when I see the word Society linked with any species of plant or flower. Those two things are snobs and “better gardeners than I ever could be”. I am the first to admit that perhaps the first thought has more to do with the second thought than reality itself, but it still happens. But, the Dahlia Society of Ohio seems to be very aware of this attitude towards flower societies and their website assures me that “We are a very friendly and encouraging group”. Perhaps there is something more to these flower societies that a gardener’s version of a playground “My dad (flower) is better than yours” fight.

Snobs or no, one can’t deny that these people can grow flowers. One look at the long line of perfectly formed dahlia flowers was enough to make me feel very guilty about the dahlia I have growing in my yard right now that is currently laying face down in the dirt because I neglected to stake this year. These specimens on display were enough to remind me that proper care makes for a breath taking flower.

I spoke with Bob Wenning, an amateur novelty dahlia grower, who was also at Petitti’s to enjoy the dahlia show. It turns out that Mr. Wenning comes from a long line of dahlia growers. His father, uncle and his grandfather grew dahlias professionally for the wholesale market until 1958. Mr. Wenning fondly recalled running through huge fields of dahlias when he was a child and it is those memories that has put the love of the dahlia in his heart.

He told me that “There is a satisfaction about growing dahlias. They are different from any other flower.”

Mr. Wenning also gave me some tips about growing dahlias. “75% of growing dahlias is good soil”, he said. He also said that plenty of water, good drainage and plenty of fertilizer are the keys to dahlias that look as beautiful as the ones that were on display.

A pamphlet from the Dahlia Society of Ohio also recommends a technique called “disbudding” to help encourage more and bigger blooms from a dahlia plant. Disbudding involves pinching off very specific areas of growth in order to encourage better and bigger blooms.

If you are interested, I took pictures of all of the first place flowers and you can view them here. They are quiet spectacular.

This also reminds me that I have to get out in the yard and dig up my dahlia tubers here soon. They are a pain to take care of, but as you can see from the pictures, they are well worth the extra effort they require.

When I was younger and was sans offspring, I did quiet a bit of world traveling, backpacker style. It was an enjoyable past time and one that I hope that I can return to sometime in the future.

My thoughts often return to this wish when the weather gets colder, simply because I don’t have my beloved gardening to distract me. I fantasize about running away to far away locals where I don’t speak the language and there is a good chance I don’t read it either.

Then a child screams and another screams back and I am forced to leave exotic fantasies in order to break up warring factions of siblings. I realize at these times that I have a few years to yet before I can go gallivanting around the world again.

But it would be nice to be able to do so vicariously through a friend.

Lately, a lot of press has been thrown around about garden gnomes pulling up roots, so to speak, and going on whirlwind adventures. It is not always clear whether these adventures are voluntary or not, but so far no gnome kidnapping charges have been filed.

Traveling garden gnomes… I am thinking that this is a good patch for my travel fixation. Pawn off a gnome on a childless friend who still has the freedom to wander the world and force them to report back regularly. Sounds good to me.

The problem is that I, personally, would not want to lug around a bulky, ceramic garden gnome. These days, with the way security is at US airports, you could have some pretty uncomfortable questions to answer when they found that in your bag. I would hate to find out that I was responsible for a friend getting strip searched. Unless the TSA agent was cute, then I wouldn’t feel as bad. But still.

But never fear, I have found a solution to my traveling gnome conundrum. Gnomads.

These pint size garden gnomes travel well and they have their own websites where their traveling companions can post all of their antics and activities. With this, I would just have to sit back and watch the fun as it happens.

Then again, I wonder how hard it would be to convince a friend that one of my kids are actually oversized garden gnomes. They say travel is good for kids. I think it is also pretty mentally healthy for parents when kids travel with someone else.

In case you don’t keep up on international fluff news (you know, the happy stuff that doesn’t involve people shooting at each other or blowing each other up), you may not know that Japan just breathed a huge sigh of relief because an heir to the Japanese Imperial Throne was born on September 6th.

While this may seem like a trivial thing in today’s modern era, where kings and emperors are just so passe, but in this case it is a big deal.

This is the first male heir born in over forty years to an imperial line that has been in place for over 1,500 years. The historian in me is thrilled, the feminist in me is a bit disappointed. The Japanese imperial line was almost faced with accepting the first female heir to the throne. Que Sera, Sera.

An interesting little factoid is that this little bundle of joy was born to the Chrysanthemum Throne three days before Kiku-no Sekku, the Chrysanthemum Festival. Chrysanthemums are also the national flower of Japan. I’d say that this is a sign or there is one heck of an insistent PR department driving the marketing and sexual relations of the Imperial family.

In Japan and many other parts of Asia, chrysanthemums are viewed as sacred plants. I, in my own garden, also view them as sacred plants. They are my Fall saviors. I have to admit at this late stage of summer, if it weren’t for the exuberance of mums, my yard would look a bit bereft. I am thanking the powers that be that I have mums to make my Autumn look that much prettier.

So, in light of all of this, all I can say is “Long live the Chrysanthemum Throne!” and long may my chrysanthemums bloom in my garden, hopefully for as long as the Chrysanthemum Throne reigns.