It’s been an unusually dry spring here in Maine; the month of May saw rainfall levels that kept pace for Tucson, Arizona of all places. We had dust devils here, not big ones, but still quite unusual. This slowed down growth in the garden, as
Rutabagas that mature in the heat of summer taste less sweet than those that are planted in the summer, but then reach their peak in after the leaves have fallen. Rutabagas also sing. As seen below, they sing a song called The Shaman.
With an eye to the ten-day forecast here in Central Maine, I decided that last night was the last hard frost we’d see. So off came the warm, protective bed of needles I’d placed over beds of garlic and strawberries last November. The needles I