We now have three gardens. The failed garden that wasn't such a complete failure, the first raised bed garden for the Italian heirloom tomatoes in an undeniably sunny spot in front of the studio (where the black widow was found), and the second raised bed garden in the surprise!-several-hour-sunny spot along side the back of the house, which turned out to have serious water issues. (who knew a stream ran through it?!)
They are called, in order, the 'failed' garden, the 'tomato' garden, and the 'water' garden.
All is not lost. The Italians are thriving, as you see. Are these gorgeous tomatoes, or what?! This one's called Costoluto Genevese.
This one is Dawson's Black Zebra. Hmmm. Doesn't sound very Italian - that one - does he?
Ah well. This one [above] is Martino's Roma. That's Italian enough for anyone, surely. . . . The aubergines are another story. They weren't looking good, nestled, as they were, in the middle of the tomatoes. Not one of our better ideas. It's what necessitated taking down the fence on which lived the black widow, by the way, and leaving the tomatoes at risk to Lutherish depredations!
The aubergines got moved to the water garden - I figured they could tread water and do better than they were doing (which wasn't good) if they got a bit more sun on what was left of their leaves! Once out in the open, I discovered this guy, pictured below, on one of the leaves, and executed him summarily. Nope, I didn't feel bad about it at all. Especially after I found this, a day or two later: Wee aubergines! Yay!!! I can't believe they set fruit, coming from such a bad neighborhood. But they did, and now so long as they don't drown in the water garden, we may have some rather handsome specimens to adorn the kitchen.
I don't eat the things, m'self. But the king may have other plans for them. . . . . In other veggie news, the red swiss chard is flourishing in the water garden, and you should see the new crop of rocquette I planted there, as well! It doesn't look like much yet, but I have high hopes for this spot. Meanwhile, the swiss chard in the failed garden is rallying, having been left alone for awhile. [Note to self: give these guys a little more time before you start robbing them of their leaves for the salad] The tomato plants are manfully setting fruit even in the absence of sun, and the scarlet runner and purple-podded pole beans are flowering in fits and starts.
Life continues at the greenwood. Thank God.