FORGET ABOUT IT FISHBACK!New Heights for the Hello Kitty Hive!

My thanks to some new friends over at Hello Kitty Hell for a bit of shameless self-promotion that set the Sacramento Vegetable Gardening hit counter soaring to new heights.

It always pleases me to see ten to 15 people access the blog daily. It means I'm reaching someone. Hopefully, I'm teaching them so new tricks or at least making them laugh. It's all I've got people. You go with what you know.

But -- when the fine folks over at Hello Kitty Hell discovered the Hello Kitty Hive and published this entry? The hit counter hit the roof! Eight thousand hits over the space of 24 hours? Exsqueeze me? Even the blog counter Technorati confirms that I am officially a "big deal" now. The blog that is Sacramento Vegetable Gardening went from the 754,975 thousandth most important blog to a mere 705,867.

My friends -- this is power. Who cares about those other 706 thousand clowns anyway? I bet they don't have a Hello Kitty Beehive. All right Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my closeup!

Let's just say I owe those fine folks at Hello Kitty Hell a bottle or two of Hello Kitty Hive honey, which will hopefully be available next year. I imagine the folks that actually license "Hello Kitty" will jump into the honey line as well. I can't blame them. When you've got a hit like Hello Kitty on your hands -- you take advantage of it.

Not to change the subject (but I am) -- many of you have come to know that the wife that is Venus and I are first-time beekeepers. The scientific term is "newbs." The Latin term is E. Pluribus Newbium. We've never done anything like this before, and each day with the hive is a learning experience.

Unfortunately, it seems there are a few other beekeepers who show absolutely NO SHAME WHATSOEVER in capatalizing on the fortunes of Newbie Beekeepers. Case in point? A Sacramento area beekeeper by the name of Brian Fishback.

I've had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Fishback once or twice before during the monthly meetings of the Sacramento Area Beekeepers Association (we all get together to show off our bee stings and drink wine made from honey). I've actually heard him speak on the subject of bees -- although to be honest -- most of what he told me went straight over ye olde cranium.

But Mr. Fishback knows what us Newbie Beekeepers are going through these days. He knows that we are encountering nightly scenes like this in front of the hive. He knows that Newbie Beekeepers like the wife that is Venus and I are getting stung on a daily basis. And he knows that some of us "Newbs" are having second thoughts about owning a servicing a hive on a daily basis.

Not everyone -- it seems -- can put up with the welts.

What has Mr. Fishback done?

The September edition of the Sacramento Beeline (cute) -- a monthly publication of the Sacramento Area Beekeepers Association -- arrived in my email inbox the other day. It was packed full of useful information regarding all things bees -- and also contained this little advertisement from none other than Mr. Fishback. It reads (and I quote):

"To bee or not to bee, that is the question I ask of thee. If you have purchased bees, equipment, supplies and have discovered that this may not bee the time for you to bee raising bees, I would like to purchase your hives or supplies. Please give me a call: Brian Fishback (916) 709-XXXX.

How utterly quaint of him. Fishback knows the bees have turned on us a bit (all hives do when pollen sources start to dry up in the fall) and is looking to swoop in and captalize on OUR hard work, OUR bee sting welts, OUR hives, OUR summer sweat and hard work, and our FEARS as Newbie Beekeepers.

He knows -- all too well -- that approaching a hive that looks like this one to your right can be a bit -- well -- unsettling to normal folks. And he's right. I still have a hard time approaching the hive when the bees are out in force like this. You can't even see that feeder jar in front, can you? Notice how it's kinda covered with bees? Bees that you need to flick off to retrieve the jar in question so you can refill it?

Not a job for the squeamish -- I'll admit. And I'll also admit that the wife that is Venus has commented on more than one occassion that "maybe beekeeping wasn't such a good idea after all."

And then she saw the ad from Brian Fishback. Suddenly, her views shifted. So did mine.

So -- we have a message for our fellow beekeeper in arms: FORGET ABOUT IT FISHBACK.

How would San Francisco Giants TV Color commentator Mike Krukow put it? Oh yes -- that's right. He'd say something snide like: "Grab some pine, meat."

Thanks, but no thanks, Fishback. We built this City. We're not giving up. There's only one Hello Kitty Hive that we're aware of. And those bees ain't going nowhere.

Shame, Shame, Brian. Back to the bench for you!

Monster Moon & Stars And the Vole Hole Mystery!!!

I'm pleased to report that MELON season is now kicking into high gear in our North Natomas backyard -- but somewhat displeased to also report that Bill & Venus aren't really benefitting all that much.

Now -- to be perfectly honest? We did enjoy this MONSTER Moon & Stars Watermelon this morning for breakfast. I don't know how this melon got into the 25 lb. range. It certainly isn't supposed to get this large. But it did -- it was -- and boy was it ever good.

The cantaloupe harvest -- however -- has a somewhat different story. More on that in a moment. I haven't finished bragging yet about the Moon & Stars.

Venus and I harvested our first whopper of a watermelon two weeks ago. This was also an heirloom variety called a Tom Watson. It promised melons in the 40 lb. range -- and this vine hasn't disappointed. However, we also picked the first melon a tad early. I knew it as soon as I'd split it open. While the center was indeed a nice ruby-red color, it's clear the melon would have benefitted from another week or two on the vine.

So we left them on the vine.

That wait paid off in droves on this Labor Day Monday. The vine connecting to the monster sized Moon & Stars melon had mysteriously died off. I wouldn't find out why until today. But, since the vine had died off weeks earlier, it was time to bring it in and cut it open.

Splitting this monster in two brought the biggest smile to my face -- and the photo will clearly show why. The melon was -- indeed -- at its peak ripeness. It wasn't under-ripe. It wasn't over-ripe. The flesh was sweet, crunchy and refreshing. It's just one of those "melon moments" from the garden. The melon that I had watched grow with anticipation all through the summer delivered a knockout punch of taste.

But the best part is -- there's a lot leftover. And the seeds from this "Monster Melon" will be saved for next season.

When the vine that produced this monster first started to die back two weeks ago -- I was more than concerned. Why that vine? What went wrong? Why didn't the other vines die off? Why just that one vine? Was it chemical? Was it critter? Those answers would come today in the form of a surprise.

We've been picking ripe cantaloupes for the past month, without giving it much thought. Some were on the small side -- but there were also a few "champion" cantaloupes that I've been watching grow with anticipation. The time to pick one of those melons came just this morning -- and boy was I disappointed.

When I felt the undersides of these cantaloupes -- my joy and anticipation vanished. What greeted me was a shock. They were soft. They had rotted through. I had waited too long -- or so I thought.

When I attempted to harvest one of these cantaloupes with the hopes of saving something -- that nice, firm, orange rind suddenly collapsed inward. The melon was GONE -- or as the photo to your left clearly shows -- half gone. What had gone wrong?

The answer lay underneath each cantaloupe in my raised bed. Do you know what I found? A critter hole! A family -- or several families -- of Voles (mice) had not only invaded the raised bed -- they managed to avoid the detection of the four hunter-killer cats that regularly patrol the backyard.

How?

The voles had avoided detection by digging a series of tunnels up from the main home to just underneath the cantaloupe target in question. From the underside -- they managed to easily pierce the cantaloupe and muskmellon rind -- and proceeded to literally clean out the inside of each melon.

From the top view? Everything looked fine and dandy. I saw ripening melons. But underneath? A different story completely. The moles had been hard at work. Telltale holes are everywhere underneath the melon patch -- and it was there where I found the remains of the Moon & Stars vine that produced the giant melon pictured above.

As it turns out -- the moles couldn't pierce the rind of watermelons like the Moon & Stars -- but that didn't matter. They ate away at the root system of the vine instead -- until it eventually died off. Mystery solved. It wasn't chemical. It was critter.

There's not much I can do about this now. The voles are safely ensconced inside of their new, raised bed home. But the protection will not last. Revenge will come in the form of fall when the vines are removed and the voles will be forced to leave the protection of the raised beds to forage for scarce food supplies.

At that point they will come under the watchful eyes and teeth of the four hunter-killer cats that patrol the backyard. Once the cats begin to figure out where the mole families are located -- well -- it's the beginning of the end. A few will survive. They always do.

Will we plant melons again? Do voles like cantaloupe? This is -- by far -- the most awesome year of watermelon and cantaloupe production that I have ever experienced. Never before have Venus or I grown melons this large or this tasty. And the season still isn't quite over. The voles can't split open the melons like they can with the cantaloupe. They can try -- but the rind is just too tough for them.

Moon & Stars is an heirloom variety melon that grows well in just about any set of conditions and will serve you well in your Northern California backyard. Seeds are available from just about any mail-order supplier -- and if you're lucky -- you just might be able to snag a pack from your nearest Home Depot, Lowes or any other big box store. You can also find them at various nurseries such as Capital Nursery and Peaceful Valley Farm and Garden Supply in Nevada City.

As for us? We're already set for next year. The monster melon pictured above produced a bumper crop of large seeds.

The Hello Kitty Bees Turn Aggressive

I can smell it. Can you?

It hits the olfactory senses the hardest in the morning when you step outside after a good night's sleep. You take a deep breath of that crisp morning air. Yep, there's no doubt about it.

The lovely lady known as Summer is waving goodbye. Old man Winter is right around the corner.

You can smell the change in the air.

The bees in our Hello Kitty hive seem to sense this as well. The seasons are a changing. Those wonderful sources of pollen are now a bit harder to find. The production of honey that will keep the hive going through winter is slowing down.

The bees can smell it alright. They're going to protect what they have inside that bright pink hive. The little buggers have gone from "quite indifferent" to our presence to downright nasty and aggressive.

I first noticed this change about two or three weeks ago when I was going about the normal routine of changing out the sugar water feeder. The hive has now settled down to a normal routine of going through one or two pints of sugar water per day. They never gave me trouble for the simple act of picking up an empy jar and returning with a full jar a few minutes later.

That was -- until the other day. When I completed the quite normal task of retrieving the empty pint jar I suddenly found myself in a cloud of angry buggers, angrily buzzing around my head. But that's not all.

One of them landed directly on my temple and stung me. I was shocked as I coughed and ran from the hive at the same time -- doing my best to avoid the bees who were flying after me. This had simply never happened before. I had been stung a couple of times for the act of removing burr comb buildup from inside the hive -- but that's normal. The bees thought we were destroying their home -- and reacted in a way that insects will react to intruders: defend the hive.

But in this case? I wasn't attacking. I was merely retrieving the sugar water jar from the feeder at the base of the hive as I'd done daily all summer long. They had never bothered me before. Why now?

The wife that is Venus -- of course -- did not believe me. She's like that you know. She didn't believe me until the very next day when she went out to retrieve the empty feeder and was suddenly caught in a swarm -- and then stung on the arm.

What in the H-E-Double Toothpicks was going on here? Our suddenly passive, likable bee buddies had turned on us. They were angry. They were aggressive. Walking anywhere within a six foot vicinity of the hive entrance suddenly invited an angry buzz of activity.

I guess you can call this the "next step" in the "education" we were receiving as "Newbie Beekeepers." Other beekeepers, like Howard Mann, explained that this aggressive behavior was, in fact, quite normal. Other beekeepers from across the country related similar stories.

As it turns out -- when pollen sources begin to dry up -- bees take up a defensive posture. They're guarding against ants who can smell the honey stores inside the hive. They're guarding against Robber Bees who are also seeking to raid that precious honey.

But that's not all that they're doing. When Venus and I switched to night feedings in an attempt to avoid the inevitable, angry swarms that followed (bees do not fly at night), we encountered this to your left: a mass of bees outside of the hive. They do this every night now.

My friends -- I cannot even begin to tell you how difficult it is now to approach a mass cluster of bees like this -- put your hands within inches of it -- and retrieve the sugar water feeder that is located at the base of the entrance. You can see it to your left -- can't you? That white piece of plastic with a hole in the middle? And -- at the bottom of that hole -- another cluster of bees?

The end of summer and pollen season isn't the only thing that a hive of bees can smell. They can also smell the fear of beekeepers Bill & Venus as they approach the hive nightly to change out the sugar-water feeder. But -- retrieving that empty bottle isn't the hardest part of the job. It really isn't.

No -- the hard part is returning that now-filled jar back to the feeder. Bees feel the slightest vibration. They know when the jar has been retrieved. And they can defintely feel it when the jar is placed back onto the feeder.

That -- my friends -- is the hardest part of the nightly job.

The moment that the sugar water feeder is turned upside down and begins to drip -- the bees in the well of the feeder suddenly erupt into a buzzing frenzy. The thousands of bees on the outside of the hive pick up on the same message -- and start buzzing as well. What had been a fairly quiet hive is now screaming with intensity. It's almost as if the bees in the feeder well are telling their brothers and sisters: "another vat of whiskey has arrived -- belly up to the bar."

And suddenly -- the bees are not only all over the feeder -- but on the jar itself. Understand this much: you've got less than a second or two to not only place that full jar of sugar water on the feeder -- but position it correctly and move away. If you dilly dally? Your hands will be covered with bees.

Can you see them on the jar in the photo to your right? That was taken just seconds after I'd put that full jar back on the feeder and stepped away. Some nights we place the jar on the feeder correctly -- but some nights we don't. And if that jar isn't placed on the feeder correctly? There are no "do overs." It stands where it stands.

There is no tried and true "Bible" for beekeeping. If you ask ten different beekeepers for the same advice, you're likely to get ten completely different answers. Some beekeepers feed the bees year-round. Others cut off sugar water feedings during the fall months. Still others don't feed bees at all -- preferring to let nature "take its course."

My hope is that our hive survives through the quickly approaching winter months so we can prepare for honey production in the spring. But -- one really never knows what will happen in this game. The clusters of bees in the front of the hive during our warm August and September evenings are proof positive that we have a strong hive now.

Will they survive? Venus and I have taken every precaution to protect and nurture them. There are no guarantees in the beekeeping business. While the signs are encouraging now, I've never forgotten the warning that 75% of all new hives fail in the first year.

In this business? Never Say Never.

Clodo the Attaque Cat!

It's a cat's life in the Backyard of Bird.

I mean -- what cat doesn't like birds? Clodomiro is like any other cat. He eats, sleeps and dreams about BIRDS. Does he catch them? Are you kidding? Clodomiro the Chicken Cat? The only way he's going to catch a bird is if one flies directly in his mouth and starts building a nest there.

Here's the Attaque Cat on the job one recent morning -- doing what I'd hoped he'd do -- and that is scare the birds away from the very last peach tree that is still in production. Backyard fruit tree production is starting to slow down a bit now. Fresh fruit season is nearly over I'm sad to say -- although I do get to look forward to quite the substantial pomegranate harvest later this fall.

More on that in a later post.

Not many people understand the name "Clodomiro." It's not even English. Heck -- it's not even Spanish, but is a close derivative there of. Clodomiro is pronounced "Clough-Dough-Meer-Oh." He's named after the title of a song penned by famed Nicaraguan folk artist Carlos Mejia Godoy. The song, CLODOMIRO EL ÑAJO, loosely translated, is about a village idiot who doesn't quite get a message right, causing all sorts of trouble.

Venus and I traveled to the heart of the Sandinista Revolution, Esteli Nicaragua, shortly after we were married for the marriage of her brother. It was an eye-opening experience to say the least. It was the first time I'd been anywhere outside of the United States (Tijuana doesn't count), and it was there that I would discover Tonya and Victoria Beer served in champagne thick bottles, freshly fried potato chips, the legendary Carlos Mejia Godoy and the tune Clodomiro El Ñajo.

When we adopted this kitten that tripped over his own paws some months later, we knew the perfect name for him. And so it was: Clodomiro.

I playfully named him "Clodo the Attaque Cat," but in all honesty, the only thing he's really adept at attacking is the nearest can of cat food -- or a comfortable spot on the couch. However -- he does do a good job in chasing annoying birds out of the peach tree to your right. And that's exactly what he's supposed to do.

My friends -- I give you the August fruit tree producer in our North Natomas backyard. This is the O'Henry Peach tree. It is the second year for this tree -- and by far the most productive. Unlike June Pride peaches -- which ripen in late June/early July -- the O'Henry doesn't start churning out ripe peaches until mid to late August. But -- once the ball starts rolling -- you begin to understand just why the O'Henry is such a treasured part of backyard orchard culture.

These peaches would make Clodomiro proud.

Now, before you haul off to your nearest nursery and buy the first O'Henry you can get your hands on -- let me deliver this warning. This peach tree is anything BUT a "plant and forget" tree. It requires a lot of special work and care. While it's true that the peaches will appear by the hundreds with just a simple regimen of fertlization and water, it will produce far too many peaches.

In other words, this tree needs to be culled. Not just once. Not just twice but regularly. The 30-to-40 peaches that we've harvested so far this year are probably less than 20% of the fruit that formed on the tree last spring. If I had allowed EVERY peach to stay on the tree -- you would see nothing more than a stump and broken branches. The O'Henry is a classic peach overachiever. It produces far more fruit than the body of the tree can handle.

If you can't bring yourself to remove and throw out anywhere from 60-80% of this tree's production -- it might be wise to invest in another tree.

But -- if you stick with it and cull regularly -- you are rewarded with daily harvests like you see to your left. These are rather smallish peaches for O'Henry production. As the tree begins to gain strength and size, the O'Henry will begin to produce peaches in the softball size range. But that's not the only draw of the O'Henry peach.

People plant and tend the O'Henry for one reason and one reason only: the incredible taste. This is also a "freestone" variety -- which means the pit pops out easily after you cut it open. You need to also exercise a bit of caution while cutting this variety open, however, as they are packed with sweet juices that can literally detonate in your hand once pierced with a knive.

Let me put it this way: If you love a peach juice shower -- you'll love the O'Henry.

The O'Henry peach is also famous for the red streak that you see down the center of the peach to your right. This is a sign that this piece of fruit is at its peak ripeness. If you catch that red streak running from pit to the cover -- you've picked that peach at its absolute zenith. You can't do any better.

Like any tree-ripened peach -- a bite of a tree-ripened O'Henry is a bite of heaven on earth. It is bubble-gum sweet with a firm texture -- and is perfect for eating fresh or peach pies or even peach cobbler. Even thought it is just the second year of production for this one tree -- it has kept us in fresh peaches for three weeks of breakfast fruit and at least two pies for after-dinner dessert.

This is just the start. The O'Henry peach will not reach optimum production until year five or six.

I hope my neighbors like fresh peaches. Or -- perhaps Clodo the Attaque Cat....

The Blog Days of Summer

I'm still trying to get last night's Giants meldown to the Colorado Rockies out of my head.

But that famous call from Duane Kuiper -- "this isn't good folks" -- keeps circling around my brain.

As bad as Giants pitcher Merkin Valdez must have felt last night after giving up that awful Grand Slam to Ryan Spillborghs in the bottom of the 14th inning -- Giants fans feel even worse. It's like a sucker punch to the gut. This one will be hard to recover from.

Damn Giants.

This is indeed the famous "Dog Days of Summer" for Major League Baseball teams. It's when the Contenders separate themselves from the Pretenders. It's when the strong teams make a push. It's when the teams that have teased you all season long sort of fall by the wayside.

It's also a time when the summer garden gives that last big push of produce heading into fall. There's no doubt about it. The days are changing. It's getting dark a little earlier each night. Some of those August mornings have been -- dare I say it? A bit "chilly?"

Change is on the way -- whether you like it or not.

This is also the "Dog Days of Summer" for the backyard garden. Or -- in this particular case -- just dogs.

Case in point -- the bowl full of vine-ripened tomatoes to your immediate left. These look a little like Yellow Pear tomatoes -- except they're not yellow. They're red. They are also about three to four times the size of your standard Yellow Pear, which is a much-loved, cherry heirloom from decades past.

What is this then? To be short, sweet and honest -- I really have no idea. It's some kind of tomato from the garden. What kind? Well -- it's supposed to be a Black Krim. That's what the label at the base of the plant says: Black Krim. But -- after one look at these tomatoes -- this is anything but a Black Krim.

This is -- what we call in the tomato world -- a "cross." It's also a "mistake." It's not what it's supposed to be. Is it a tomato? No doubt. But it's no tomato like I've ever seen before. It's quite unique actually. I'll probably never see anything like this again. I did not plant a "Red Pear" variety tomato. I did not intend to plant one.

But I have one just the same.

How did I get this cross? Good question. This is one of many starter plants grown from seed that I provided to Fred Hoffman -- aka -- Farmer Fred Hoffman of KFBK-KSTE fame. Is it his fault? No, I don't think so. Fred started a number of plants for me this year -- including four or five Black Krim plants. I gave all -- but one -- away to other gardeners. They all have normal, productive, Black Krim plants.

So what gives then?

It's highly possible that the seed for this "Red Pear" variety got into the packet of Black Krim seeds at the source. In this case, I ordered my Black Krim seeds from Totally Tomatoes. Now -- before I blame them let me state this: I ordered a number of tomato seed varieties from Totally Tomatoes last fall. In almost every single case -- they have developed into healthy, strong, productive tomato plants.

So -- yes -- I will order from them again.

So -- where did it come from then?

I'm not sure. I'll probably never know. My guess is -- and this is just a guess mind you -- that the seed that resulted in this mistake came from the source -- Totally Tomatoes. If all of the Black Krim plants provided by Fred had turned into this strange Red Cherry variety -- then I might be casting a glance of doubt in his direction. But -- this is the only Black Krim tomato plant that is not producing Black Krim tomatoes.

Therefore -- I blame the source.

Finally -- and most importantly -- how do they taste? Well -- that's the dirty rotten secret. Honestly? It's not very good. In fact -- it's probably the worst vine-ripened tomato I've ever tasted. It's not terrible mind you. But it's nothing like the lip-smacking taste you get from a time-treasured heirloom plant -- or even a standard hybrid sadly enough.

Dog Days of Summer? Meet the Dog from the 2009 Bird Tomato Garden: The Mysterious -- and not really all that tasty -- Red Pear.

Melons R Us

It's melon season in the Sacramento Valley -- did you know that?

You can tell by the roadside stands that are popping up here and there right off freeway exits. I've got one at Elkhorn and Highway 99. Chances are -- wherever you are in the San Joaquin Valley -- you've got your own.

And one of the biggest items on display? None other than red, ripe, tasty watermelons.

Watermelon season has arrived in abundance. Not only at the roadside stands -- but also in our North Natomas Back 40.

To be honest -- I've been growing melons for years. Well -- let's be honest now shall we? I've been "attempting" to grow watermelons for years. Oh sure -- the vines will grow like nobody's business. But the fruit that comes off those vines has been less than -- well -- exciting.

Let's just say that I've cornered the market on growing "personal serving size" melons. In other words -- every attempt at growing watermelons or cantaloupe has resulted in softball sized fruit.

I knew I was doing something wrong -- but what?

Help arrived in the form of some friendly watering advice from none other than Fred Hoffman -- aka -- Farmer Fred Hoffman of KFBK/KSTE gardening fame. Thanks to his timely advice -- I am no longer watering melon plants five or six days out of the week for five minutes at a time. Instead -- the water schedule is down for just TWO DAYS per week -- with each session lasting 20-25 minutes for each watering day (depending on the heat factor for any given week).

To be honest? It's worked wonders. The vines pictured above are the result of that watering pattern and some experimental fertilization. And -- this year -- rather than just plant one variety of watermelon or cataloupe -- I decided -- why not six? And that's what I have in the garden this year. A hodge-podge of melon plants producing all shapes and sizes of melons.

One of those plants -- the Moon and Stars pictured to your right -- is producing some rather monster like results. I'm told a Moon and Stars should be producing a "personal serving size" melon. The picture of the melon to your right? It was taken a week ago. It's still growing. It's twice that size now. It will be anything but a "personal sized melon," unless that person is the Incredible Hulk.

The instructions tell Venus and I that the Moon and Stars melon -- which is an heirloom melon I might add -- has bright yellow spots over a green rind (thus the name Moon and Stars). Furthermore -- I've learned through research that the melons will be ripe for the picking when the actual MOON part of the melon (a much larger bright yellow spot) appears.

As of this time -- no bright yellow moons have appeared on the Moon and Stars melons that are growing in the backyard. I just recently learned that there are several different varieties of the Moon and Stars melon -- and some don't develop moons. Great. So how does one tell when they are ripe?

Good question. Still trying to figure that one out. Get back to you when I do.

As I mentioned previously -- Venus and I planted a number of varieties this year. On the watermelon end of the spectrum -- we chose three different types. One of which I've already mentioned (Moon and Stars) -- and the other two were Tom Watson (an heirloom variety) and Sweet Diane (which I grew in last year's garden). In the area of cantaloupe -- we planted "cantaloupe" (surprise!) and Muskmellon. What's a muskmellon? Well -- it looks and tastes just like...........a cantaloupe.

Fortunately -- you can tell when both varieties are ripe as they turn from a light or dark green to a pleasing orange or yellow. They also tend to "disconnect" themselves from the vine they are on -- or perhaps that's just garden critters at work. Venus and I harvested our very first muskmellons and cantaloupes this past weekend. No -- they are not the size that I wanted -- but there are many more in the garden that are.

The taste so far? In a word? Outstanding. But what vine harvested fruit isn't? Vine-harvested fruit is much like a tree-ripened peach. The sugar content is at its optimum level -- ready for consumption -- and a bite of heaven on earth.

Venus and I will be sampling a LOT of melons over the next couple of weeks in the garden -- including some of the largest watermelons I have ever grown. That's right! I'm proud to announce (brag) that I am actually growing WATERMELON sized watermelons in ye olde backyard. I'm not sure of the exact variety yet -- but I suspect that these are from the Tom Watson plants. They look nothing like the Sweet Diane melons that I grew last year and are growing again in the backyard this year (the rind is much lighter).

The most surprising discovery so far of this year's melon garden? Melons don't need to be started months ahead of schedule like tomato or pepper plants. A lot of our plants came from directly placing seed in the ground when the weather warmed up last May. Sure -- we did have a couple of starter plants that we added to the seed mix -- but you can never tell what plant is what now. They've all grown together!

Our biggest challenge so far this year? Keeping the cats OUT of the melon bed! There's nothing more upsetting than discovering that some cat has dug up half of your newly emerged starter plants -- plants that came from the seed YOU planted a week or two earlier.

But -- we got our revenge. More on that -- in a later post.....

An Ode to the Beefsteak Tomato

It isn't pink. It's not yellow. It certainly isn't orange.

It doesn't rival the taste of a Brandywine. It doesn't provide the tastebud heaven that is the Black Cherry.

It's not warped like an heirloom. It doesn't come in different shapes and sizes like the Cosmonaut Volkov, Marianna's Peace or Druzba. You won't find it growing at a crazy 90 degree angle like a Zapotec Pleated

It just is. It's round. It's red. It doesn't crack. It's a tomato's tomato. It is your standard, non-fancy, hard-working, Beefsteak tomato. What type of Beefsteak you ask?

Nothing. Just Beefsteak.

Venus and I have the Beefsteak growing in the far right-hand corner of an 8X8 foot raised bed that is on the opposite side of the yard containing our six main 4X8 planter beds. We thought long and hard about what should go in this location, before the answer hit us like a bolt from the blue: "Why not another planter bed?" Boom! Done!

I'll be honest, there's nothing fancy about this tomato. It has a wonderful flavor to it -- but what vine-ripened tomato isn't wonderful tasting? It grows perfectly smooth round, red tomatoes. So -- how is this any different from a hybrid like Better Boy?

It's somewhat different in that this is an open-pollinated Beefsteak tomato. Unlike hybrids, which will fruit one main crop and then just sort of sit there and look pretty for another month or two, the Beefsteak keeps on truckin.' And, unlike a hybrid, this Beefsteak can be seeded and saved for next year's crop.

As you can tell -- this plant is simply loaded with bear. New fruit -- meanwhile -- continues to form at the bottom -- middle and top of this continiously growing plant. It's a simple tomato really. No cracks. No funny lines. No whoppers. No small fries.

It's just your standard tomato.

What's special about the Beefsteak then? Why write such prose? To some tomato afficiandos -- the world starts and ends with the Beefsteak tomato. My father-in-law is one such person. Oh sure -- he enjoys the colors that the tomato garden produces. But he dreams about tomato sandwiches and burgers topped with round, red, vine-ripened slices of the standard Beefsteak tomato. It's what he had as a boy. It's what he grew on "the ranch" in San Jose for years.

This is for you Gale Stromberg.

What else is amazing about this tomato? The cost. Quite simply, it cost us next to nothing to grow -- other than our time -- water and efforts. The seeds for this wonderful variety were discovered two years ago in a Dollar Store not all that far away from our North Natomas home.

It was there that Venus and I stumbled upon a garden rack of seeds -- ten packets for one dollar. We bought all we could -- including the packet of seeds contained the Beefsteak Tomato. That one dime will equal into about fifty-to-sixty pounds of production by the time this growing season is over.

Call it one of our "better" investments.

Forced Child Labor!

Oh Mr. WalMart Recruiter???? I'm ready for my high-paying Executive Position now!!! What's that? Can I force people to work long hours for little pay?

Err.....Perhaps.....

Yes, the grand ol' tomato harvest continues at the Bird Heirloom Tomato Farm in North Natomas. But, to be brutally honest, what more can I say about heirloom tomatoes on this blog without boring you to tears? What will the title of the blog posting be? LARGE HEIRLOOM TOMATO HARVEST # 442! Suffice to say, the picture to your immediate left will prove that our harvests continue -- and in large numbers. Suffice to say -- the wife that is Venus and I are getting "pickled" on Heirloom Tomato Martinis. And -- suffice to say -- we have enough canned salsa and tomato sauce to last until 2050.

There -- I've bored you to tears already. You're probably itching to switch over to Hank Shaw's blog because you know that he shot Bambi and Bambi's entire family over the weekend -- and want to see what venison jerkey looks like. I can't blame you -- although I will admit that I'm not wild about venison jerkey. However -- wild game turkey is quite another matter.

We had a rather interesting weekend here to say the least. The State Legislature is officially out of session. What does that mean? It means that the Senator that I work for is not in the office. He's in the district instead. What does that mean? It means personal staff at the State Capitol can take a few well-deserved days off. I took advantage of the opportunity -- and I'm coming off a non-relaxing four-day weekend.

Four day weekends mean PROJECTS in big, bold, beautiful letters at our North Natomas home. I've been itching to get some ground cover in and around the main planter beds -- but never seemed to have the time or the right opportunity. Both arrived this past weekend.

I've got to remind myself to STOP using Redmond's Building Supply in North Highlands. They are the people who I normally turn too when ordering large amounts of landscaping bark or soil. But they also inevitably screw up the order. Case in point? I ordered seven yards of bark. Six yards of bark arrived -- AND -- at a higher price than what I had been quoted over the phone. Arguing with these people is akin to masturbating with a cheese grater. They don't seem to understand the difference between six yards of bark and seven yards -- therefore Venus and I will give our landscaping business to someone who understands that two-plus-two equals four.

But -- enough said. The bark arrived -- and so did some rather unexpected help in the form of a three day visit from one of Venus' closest childhood friends and a later classmate at UC Berkeley. Audrey is married to Pete Morris -- and both Audrey and Pete have quite the family in two young boys.

That includes a 9-year old boy named Tony who found that gigantic load of bark in the front yard to be quite interesting.

As it turns out -- Tony loves wheelbarrows.

Can you see where this is going? Oh Mr. WalMart Recruiter -- are you listening???

If you're about to ask that I have absolutely no shame at all in putting a 9-year old boy to work in MY backyard on HIS summer vacation no less -- the answer is an unqualifiable YES! There! I'll admit it! I have no shame! I also have a backyard gardening area filled with six yards of pristine -- raked out -- bark. I'm telling you -- it just brings a tear to my eye.

Little Tony took to that gigantic load of landscaping bark like a fish takes to water. As it turns out -- the kid really did love wheelbarrows. He loved every minute of shoveling bark. He loved every minute of moving said bark to the FURTHEST part of the Back 40 backyard. And he loved dumping that bark in the exact spot I told him.

"So," I told Venus. "This is why people have kids."

Now -- to be honest -- there were several times during the day when I told the kid that he was "overdoing it" and to slow down or just take a break. In response, Tony would give me this hurtful look -- shrug and walk away. He would then complain to his mother -- Audrey -- "Bill is making me take a break -- can I ride my bike now?"

Oh -- to have the energy of a nine-year old boy again. By the time the day ended -- Bill Bird was nursing numerous aches and sores. Pete Morris -- Tony's father -- was also treating various aches and pains with Tecate Therapy (so was I as a matter of fact). And Tony? Well, after he had finished dumping the last load of bark and spreading the last load of bark -- he was doing wind sprints on his bike.

That's the problem with youth. It's wasted on the young.

But -- the education wasn't over. It was just beginning. Tony's mother informed me that her son had also spied the Mantis Rototiller in the GarageMahal. "I've seen those on TV," Tony told his mom. "Do you think Bill will let me use it?"

Would I let him use it on MY garden? This kid was from heaven.

And so -- the very next day -- not only did I drag the Mantis from the garage -- I let Tony "walk it" over to the garden bed in question while it was running. This was big stuff for a 9-year old kid. I've been told that he gets to brag to his classmates that HE got to use a Mantis Rototiller during his summer vacation and I have to post the photos to prove it.

I am only too happy to oblige. There is the kid tearing up the potato bed with the Mantis Rototiller. And that rather svelte gentleman watching over Tony in the background? That's not Mel Gibson -- but rather MOI.

The backyard garden full of bark will allow Venus and I to actually access the garden area this winter when rains turn our hardened Natomas clay soil into a mucky quicksand. The freshly tilled and amended bed will allow Venus to plant and harvest yet another whopper of a potato crop just in time for Thanksgiving.

Tony meanwhile -- gets to brag to his classmates about hauling bark and using the legendary Mantis Rototiller. Plus -- he's got the photos -- and a cool $5 bill in payment to show for all that hard work.

Bill -- meanwhile -- is still in Tecate Therapy.

Slough WHO?

It's early Sunday morning. I should be listening to Farmer Fred on his ye olde radio programme. Instead, both the wife and I are now planning a busy day of canning efforts BECAUSE we listened to Farmer Fred!

Gee, thanks Fred. I think.

I wanted to introduce you to a staple food item that has become a regular around the Bird household in the past two weeks. There's that wonderful item to your left -- and yes -- that sweet, lucious, golden corn was part of last night's dinner. Yet another heapin' helpin' of that summertime favorite called "corn-on-the-cob."

Who needs Slough House corn when you've got North Natomas?

This is our second year for corn-growing efforts in the quarter-acre backyard we call the "Back 40." But -- like many endeavours this year -- we have corn coming out of our EARS. Last year's corn patch was quickly overwhelmed by the sunflowers that Venus had planted as "companions."

Bad move. Sunflowers take over everything and destroy all.

This year? We kept the corn out of the raised beds -- away from the sunflowers -- and put it in the "test bed." And, I suppose you could call the "test bed" the "raving success bed" now because it's starting to produce right along with the raised beds. The corn -- tomatoes -- squash -- pumpkins -- baby corn and other produce is doing just fine. They seem to like this amended North Natomas junket soil. So be it. The test bed lives -- thanks to the Mantis Rototiller and a whole lot of steer manure compost.

This is probably the sixth or seventh meal where the wife that is Venus and I have enjoyed corn on the cob. There will probably be at least another five to six meals to enjoy -- and then the second crop of sweet white corn will be due in. And -- if that's not enough -- a mixed crop of yellow and white sweet corn will follow about a month later.

I love corn almost as much as I love heirloom tomatoes. Almost.

Not every ear is perfect mind you. That's the "thing" with home-grown corn. You're not going to get store-bought perfection. Even with most supermarkets -- you're going to encounter a bad ear or two. It just happens. And we've had our share of flops mind you.

Last night's corn for example? The first ear? Heaven on earth! Crunchy! Sweet! Every bite a joy! Bursting with nature's goodness. But the second ear? Not as crunchy. Not as sweet. You might even say it was a "tad gummy." I probably left that ear on the stalk for a little too long. Had I harvested it three days earlier, it probably would have been pretty darn good!

Corn on the cob anyone?

The North Natomas "Volunteer"

Weird and Strange things are taking place in the Backyard of Bird this summer gardening season.

I've alluded to them in a few other posts. Some "mysteries" are unfolding before our very eyes and -- quite frankly -- they are hard to explain.

Case in point -- that tomato plant to your left.

It shouldn't be there. It shouldn't be growing. Yet -- as the photo clearly shows -- not only is it THERE -- it's also growing like nobody's business.

My friends -- this is what we call a "Tomato Volunteer." This isn't the first year for them, by the way. The've popped up in my raised beds from the past -- most likely from cherry tomatoes that dropped to the ground for one reason or another (I didn't get to them or some bird got to them first).

But this is the first volunteer to pop out of the clay muck soil that makes up much of the backyard. And -- not just pop up -- but grow like it's got the best soil conditions in the universe. That's why I say -- this should not be happening. Venus and I are blessed with the worst soil known to mankind.

The Sacramento River -- long ago -- overran its banks into the Natomas basin. Whatever good, loamy topsoil we had in the Natomas basin was long ago stolen by river flooding and washed south into the Delta. You've heard about the good soil in the Delta? Well it's MINE! And I want it BACK!

Of course, I'm not getting it back. Which means I'm stuck with the worst clay hardpan known to mankind. It's as hard as a rock during the summer, and turns into a muddy, quicksandish SLOP during the winter. What is it good for? NOTHING! It's a "good for nothing soil!" You wouldn't even want to suffer the indignity of being BURIED in this soil. Nothing -- I mean NOTHING -- grows well in this hardpan except for WEEDS.

But now I have this. This thing. This plant. This tomato plant volunteer that not only sprung up in the worst soil known to mankind -- HECK -- IT LOVES THE STUFF. Clay hardpan? WHO CARES? This plant appears ready to grow in a vat of wet or hard cement, which is exactly what I got.

I spotted this thing last May and was actually quite amused. I wondered how long the poor thing would probably last. It had the worst soil and NO water source whatsoever. I gave it a lifespan of two weeks at the most.

What is it now? August? Near August? This FREAK of nature lives. Not only does it live -- it's got tomatoes all over it.

How? What? When? Where? Who? I feel like I'm in damn journalism school all over again!

But -- even more intriguing -- is this plant may have a rather *sordid* history behind it. I'm not sure yet. This could be one of several tomato varieties that I grew last year. Why? I had a late run of Blossom End Rot (BER) last August. A lot of the soiled and spoiled tomatoes got tossed into the exact area of where this plant rooted, and is now growing like gangbusters. It's most certainly one of those tomato varieties.

But which one? I can't tell yet -- although you can clearly see to your left that one of these tomatoes is now ripening. I'll have a pretty good idea in a couple of weeks just exactly what this plant is -- and I'm hoping that it's the plant I'm thinking of -- because it deserves to be saved.

There's a story behind this tomato. It's not a good story mind you. Even worse -- it's a BAD STORY. A true story? Yes, indeed. But a bad story just the same. Should this variety turn out to be the variety that I strongly suspect -- well -- it already has a name.

EVIL SEED

Yeah -- that's right: Evil Seed. The story behind this tomato? It's almost as good as the tomato itself. While it certainly does have another name -- I'll never know for sure what it is. Therefore -- because it's murky history and its cheating ways -- it gets a new name. Time will tell.

Through observation -- I can tell you what it's not. It's not a Brandywine. It's not a Pruden's Purple. Both of those are potato-leafed heirloom plants. This is not a potato-leaf -- so rule those two out. It's not a paste variety either, because the tomatoes on this plant are round. So, cross out the three paste tomatoes I had growing in the garden last year.

And then -- there's also the distinct possibility that some wayward bird flew into my backyard earlier this spring and made that special kind of "deposit" that only birds can make. This is unlikely, but you can't rule it out either.

I'm hoping for "Evil Seed." Stay tuned. Time will tell. Seeds -- and the story that goes with them -- will also be offered to interested growers -- PROVIDED -- this is THAT tomato.

What a story indeed.

UPDATE: SATURDAY, AUGUST 1ST:

Upon returning home tonight after a day full of activities, it became apparent that the one tomato nearing harvest? Well, it had fully colored up. It was time. And Venus and I both thought: "no time like the present."

Unfortunately -- from the moment I touched it -- I knew something was wrong. It was soft. TOO SOFT. Unfortunately, it must've split about a week ago (I didn't see the split), and some sort of white fungus was growing in the cracks where it had split open.

It was spoiled. Yes -- spoiled. But not spoiled enough. As Venus and I stared at this tomato -- we both knew in an instant. This was no cross. This is THAT tomato!!! It was black in color and the same shape and size as the mystery black tomatoes I grew last summer.

Make no doubt about it. The EVIL SEED lives. Although the tomato was too far gone for eating purposes -- it was fine for seeding. And we did just that. And this was one SEEDY tomato. Evil Seed indeed. It's living up to its name!

Seeds will be offered to a few lucky folks later this winter. I know I won't have nearly enough for demand -- but I'll do my best.