If the bees get their act together it will be a bumper blueberry crop. There have never been as many flowers on the blueberry bush.
I missed last year's crop as it ripened while I was still in Cape Town. But the Frenchman collected them all and froze them for me.
They were gorgeous. There is less sun here than on the Brooklyn rooftop by about six hours (only around four hours direct, here, where it was all-day, there), but blueberries are forgiving. But how forgiving?
The blueberry has a friend, a taller, skinnier version (I pruned this one quite hard after fruiting) that I picked up at Union Square for $26. A very good price. The same nursery had one-quart perennials, two for $10. Almost too good to be true.
The first harvest. Fava bean leaves. I picked just the tops off the plants.
They were wilted in last night's soy-dressed noodles. The Frenchman managed to taste them before my roasted chile sauce blew off the top of his head.