This post is a continuation of yesterday's about removing the plastic covering on our unheated greenhouse (see it here). Here is where we begin to congratulate ourselves -- and alternately groan and gnash our teeth. Let's start with the triumphs and tomorrow we'll work our way to the tribulations. On the plus side, the plants in the greenhouse grew and thrived and produced like crazy in the months before the plastic was removed. The moment it was slid back and we could for the first time see the residents of the greenhouse against the mid-spring scenery, was utterly mind-blowing. Suddenly, the blank canvas of the whitish plastic was gone -- standing inside the greenhouse it seemed like the plants were exploding out of the place with a size and vigor I had not gleaned before that moment. The next-door neighbor with whom we garden was standing outside and getting her first look inside from that position. She had the exact same experience: that the plants were simply humongous, that the entire place was utterly crowded and was vividly bursting with greenery. Quite a powerful shift of perspective from both vantage points!
Judging from progress in outdoor gardens, we believe we have a 4-6 (or more) week jump on the season. Inside the greenhouse -- even now that it's uncovered -- it's sometime in July and our first vine ripe tomatoes will be here soon.
The eating had been amazingly delicious -- and plentiful, too. Both of our families had been consuming lots of greenhouse produce every day, and we had to give a lot away before we felt we could get the level of output under control. Mostly of it was 20 different types of greens, with a few herbs tossed in. Gently steamed greens... sauteed in olive oil and garlic... served in soups... tossed with hot pasta... rolled in tortillas... folded into omelets... consumed in dozens of simple -- and simply divine -- salads... and still we had more than could be reasonably consumed. And yet most of them continue to grow and produce (though not as well or tenderly since the outdoor temperatures soared above 90 F, and promised rain kept not arriving until yesterday, and then at only a fraction of what was expected...).
Eating all those many varieties of greens developed around the world picked just moments before they were consumed -- they were a total revelation to everyone who ate them. Where has such deliciousness been hiding from us??! Who knew such quality and variety existed?! Consuming them once or more a day every day made a huge impression on those of us who did. Our gardening partner ran the Boston Marathon, and felt that a large serving of greens before and after each training run made a huge difference for her.
For me, consuming all this vibrant greenery started to fill in some empty spots in my personal foundation that had grown all-too-thin since I had cancer in 1999, and was injured in an automobile accident in 1992. Adding these extra months to the utterly-fresh garden produce season was a huge boon for me. I don't believe I have ever felt nourished quite like this in my entire life.
Just wait until we add all those reds, oranges, yellows, and purples to these greens from the rest of the garden over the next months -- wow! And since we plan on having mature, ready-to-pick garden vegetables standing in the (then re-covered) greenhouse even in the shortest days in December, we will be eating fresh from our own little patch of earth 12 months a year. How many people experience that in the northern US? We can't wait to see what that's like.
Note: the photo at top is of the partly-skinned greenhouse taken from the unskinned end. The brand new retaining wall at right is one of the many projects we were doing at the same time as the greenhouse peeling, the spring planting out, etc. Isn't that wall nice the way it blends in and almost disappears? It's made from interlocking "engineered" stone blocks -- the orange cones are on top to keep everyone off the wall, as tempting as it is to walk on, because the epoxy that stuck the top stones onto the last course was still drying.
Photo: ©2009 Rich Stevenson, Local Color Images
