softneck garlic harvest

Ever since I first stepped into our kitchen, with its rough-hewn wooden beams studded with square hand-forged nails, I’ve had an image in my mind of adorning it with braided strands of fragrant garlic. Today, that cozy fantasy became reality.

This garlic is a softneck variety called Nootka Rose. I chose to grow both softneck and hardneck garlic, and while the hardneck garlic won’t be ready for another few weeks, the Nootka Rose was ready to be harvested about two weeks ago. In my growing zone (US 6a), it’s generally recommended to plant garlic cloves in mid-October. Last year, though, I was in the throes of awaiting nasal surgery, and planting my garlic just wasn’t high on the list of priorities until that was over, so I didn’t end up planting my garlic until mid-December. I might have had bigger heads of garlic if I’d planted earlier, but I’m still very pleased with my harvest. I pulled up the Nootka Rose on a particularly scorching June day, eager to get them out of the ground before another storm came. Bursting into the house with an overflowing armful of garlic, and seeing John’s delight at this abundance we’d grown ourselves, is a memory I’ll hold dear.

I cured the garlic in our mudroom, where we have a dehumidifier running. It was so satisfying to see the outer layers turning to a translucent, papery covering over the tender cloves. And the scent! Walking into the mudroom became an exquisite olfactory pleasure— spicy, rich, a little sharp, with the underlying earthiness of the dirt still clinging to the roots of each head.

My final count was fifty full-sized heads split into three braids, plus a braid of a dozen or so smaller heads whose stems had been bent in heavy rain. I picked these smaller ones early to prevent them from rotting in the ground as they no longer could receive nutrients. They won’t store as long as the others, so I’ll be using them first in my kitchen. I can hardly wait to bake a loaf of crusty bread and tuck minced garlic and butter (Kerrygold— the good stuff) between the slices and bake it again for the most luscious garlic bread. I love knowing that I’ll be reaching for garlic from our garden well into the autumn and winter, a little package of summer sunshine on my shoulders and the deep, quenching nighttime storms cooling the hot earth.

What are you harvesting these days? If you have a favorite garlic-heavy recipe, I’d love to hear about that, too.

longwood gardens

This past weekend, my mom and I visited my aunt in Wilmington, Delaware, and we had a chance to visit Longwood Gardens. We specifically went to see a traditional Irish music group, Poor Man’s Gambit. They were absolutely wonderful, especially after well over a year of not seeing any live music, which lifts my soul like few other experiences. There’s something about Irish traditional music in particular that seems to draw children close to the stage. It was hot and humid, but a throng of kids quickly clambered off their seats at picnic tables to twirl and hop and swing each other around in front of the musicians. Their connection to each melody and their total lack of self-consciousness in letting themselves be moved by it was such a joy to witness.

I’ve only been to Longwood Gardens once before, on a high school trip to look at colleges, and where Longwood was something of an afterthought. It hadn’t occurred to me that some of the areas I was most excited to see, like the rose garden and then wildflower meadow, would be past their prime at the end of June, since they’re still abundant where I live in upstate New York and most are just coming into their full glory in early summer. While I was initially a little disappointed, I soon realized that it gave me the opportunity to get a better look at the exhibits I might usually not spend as much time on, like the conservatory and the waterlily display.

The water lilies were like nothing I’ve ever seen— three feet in diameter, at least, and they’re only half of their final size! I felt a bit like Thumbelina next to them! Apparently it takes several people to haul them out of the pond at the end of the season. As a gardener who primarily grows vegetables and cottage-y flowers, a dinnerplate dahlia is about the biggest single plant I’m used to seeing, and these huge Victoria platter lilies left me in awe. I think it was particularly because the plant’s structure is so visible, you can clearly see all the veins and it made me aware of the amount of living architecture that goes into supporting such a huge leaf.

I was also very taken by this combination of a vibrantly flowered mimosa tree, stretching into the sunlight, and the stunning lavender and green spiderwort gently climbing up in the shade beneath.

Of course, I did manage to find some of the soft, airy, pollinator-friendly flowers that really hold my heart. Drifts of lemon-yellow coreopsis and their deeper golden buds were breathtaking, swaying gently with each welcome breeze. I can’t wait to grow these in my own garden next year. (What’s that? Where will I fit them? Never you mind.)

I’m not sure what these gorgeous leaves are, but I found their deep, rounded veining captivating. This photo is heavily edited, the leaves are in reality green and not rose gold, but I wanted to edit in the photo in a way that gave them a metallic look to really emphasize that incredible structure. It was interesting to find myself drawn to such boldly architectural leaves since I’m usually much more attracted to delicate, feathery foliage like that of cosmos.

Thank you for coming on a little excursion through Longwood Gardens with me! What’s your favorite botanical garden? Do you prefer breezy, cottage-garden foliage, or structured and succulent tropical plants? Let me know in the comments!