LETTERS TO KATE
  About the Book
  About the Author
  Excerpts
    November 30, 2002
    December 1, 2002
    December 2, 2002
    December 3, 2002
    December 4, 2002
    December 5, 2002
    December 6, 2002
  Reactions & Reviews
  Ordering Information

TAKING RETIREMENT
  About the Book
  About the Author
  Excerpts
    February 21, 1997
    February 22, 1997
    February 23, 1997
    February 24, 1997
    February 25, 1997
    February 26, 1997
    February 27, 1997
    February 28, 1997
  Reactions & Reviews
  Ordering Information

WEATHERING WINTER
  About the Book
  About the Author
  Excerpts
    Introduction
    December 31, 1994
    January 1, 1995
    January 2, 1995
    January 3, 1995
    January 4, 1995
    January 5, 1995
  Reactions & Reviews
  Ordering Information

MY VEGETABLE LOVE
  About the Book
  About the Author
  Excerpts
    March 16, 1995
    March 17, 1995
    March 18, 1995
    March 19, 1995
    March 20, 1995
    March 21, 1995
    March 22, 1995
    March 23, 1995
  Reactions & Reviews
  Ordering Information

THURSDAY, MARCH 23, 1995

The summer vegetables also have me feeling betwixt and between. The eggplants I started last Friday emerged today, their heads up and seed husks shed. The second batch of patio tomatoes I planted on Sunday were also up, the fabled Brandywines had broken ground, and most of the peppers I planted last Friday were emerging. Such quick germination all around should have been cause for celebration. But I was puzzling over the laggard and spotty germination of the Big Beef tomatoes, only three of the twelve seeds up thus far. In years past, I'd have fretted far longer than the few minutes I fussed over them this morning, even though I didn't need any more than the three already up, except perhaps for a few spares. This morning, instead, I felt impelled to order some of the dark Russian tomatoes that Kate's been talking about--the Black Prince and Black Krim. If I can't get all the certainty I'd like with the All-American award-winning, multiply-disease-resistant Big Beef hybrid tomato, then I might as well live wsome of the uncertainty of those Russian heirloom tomatoes, so I can see if they really do have a "rich, earthy, almost smoky flavor" to go along with the "exotic" color of their skin and interior. Besides, anything that can survive all the uncertainties of Russian life and the harshness of Siberian weather must certainly have enough resistance to stand up against anything it might encounter in the soil and air of an Iowa summer. Or so I hope.
     The hunger for certainty or at least a measure of control. Such irrepressible desires have probably been felt by most vegetable gardeners who have watched their tomato plants succumb to any of the numerous diseases that can suddenly make a plant go limp or its leaves gradually speckle, turn brown, curl up, and die. After it happened to me a couple of times, I started switching over to the disease resistant hybrids. But still found myself having to use some organic fungicides to curtail the diseases. And the tomatoes themselves were never quite so piquant and meaty and juicy as the pre-resistant hybrids and heirlooms. Not even the hybrids with the "old-fashioned" taste. I guess that's when I realized that in gaining control over one thing I'd lost control over another. Somewhat like the experience of going on beta-blockers to control my blood pressure and then losing control of my ability to drink more than two or three glasses of wine. In each case, it seems, survival has come at the expense of something prus. Though I don't have much choice about my blood pressure, I do about my tomatoes. So, in my tomato bed, if not in my body, I'm planning a minor rebellion, a Russian revolution.