The Edible Landscape: Summer's Spreading Bounty

The challenge of my north-sloping back yard, where the path of the sunshine is hindered by a giant Douglas fir tree and some redwoods on the uphill side, is to find enough sunny places to plant summer vegetables and allow them a long enough growing season. There are blackberries and fruit trees in some of the prime sun-kissed spots, which is wonderful and I cherish their bounty.

Compounding the challenge is that I can’t plant the tomatoes and peppers in the same spot each year. They need a fresh bed each spring to prevent diseases from congregating in the soil and sapping their vitality. Some vegetables have no problem with an encore appearance in the same spot year after year–mustards, chards, kales, arugula and even lettuce thrive, flowering and dropping their seeds and popping themselves out of the ground with little help from me. But this is not a good idea for the nightshade family, to which tomatoes, peppers, eggplant and potatoes (some of my favorite foods) belong.

When that summer window of opportunity approaches, I hunt for sunny spots that have not harbored the nightshade gang the previous couple of years. I love tomatoes and usually grow at least seven or eight plants each year–cherry tomatoes, Brandywine and Roma are my staples, but I like to have an early maturing red tomato and some gold colored ones, too, and maybe an esoteric heirloom that I come across.

I’m dealing with the space issue this summer by planting the tomatoes in giant pots filled with nutrient-rich compost and setting them in prime spots, but without subjecting them to the stress of sinking their roots in the same old soil. I luckily happened onto a half-price plastic pot sale at Rite Aid and stocked up on some containers early in the spring. Time will tell whether the tomatoes like this new high-rise arrangement and are as happy this summer as they were last year. I hope so.

And maybe the basils, their companions, will be happy, too, growing in the soil surrounding the pots, with the canopy of tomato plants sheltering them from the hottest rays and providing their delicate leaves some protection from the harsh dry heat.

Here is the basil lineup: ruffled purple basil, such a charming accent to salad greens; Thai basil, essential to summer curries; and lots of Genovese basil for pesto, which I make in small batches with olive oil, garlic and parmesan. I also grow citrusy lime basil, since a favorite summer meal is seared ahi with a double lime pesto (lime basil plus lime juice and olive oil). All of the pestos freeze nicely in meal size portions in ice cube trays. I keep a few trays designated only for pesto, removing the cubes when frozen and storing them in freezer bags.

The other space dilemma is where to plant the squash. The zucchinis are not a big problem–they tend to be adaptable. It’s the sprawling habits of the winter squash that must be considered carefully–to give them the space they need without risking them taking over the whole yard. I might let one run through the raspberry patch–just to see what happens. And one will go in the bare spot where the oak tree was removed out front, taking the risk that it might wander down the wall below to the sidewalk. I’ll put one more in a very hot spot between the fig tree and the newly planted, still quite small olive tree at the far corner of the yard.

Once all the plants are in, well watered and mulched with rice straw, my mind can relax and allow my senses to be filled with the tangy smell of tomato vines with their glistening golden stems, the sight of blossoms becoming fruits, the sound of bees humming throughout the yard as they sample the flowers of borage and spearmint along the paths, the rosemary blossoms along the front wall, and the passion flowers climbing on the back fence.