So, what did you learn in your garden this year? Here’s my list:

1. Red plastic mulch is alright, but it’s a pain to put down. Entertain the neighbors and decide to do it on a windy day.

2. Green plastic tomato supports were great in May, but burly ‘maters popped off their arms and made them look like weaklings by August.

3. If you plant several kinds of sauce tomatoes and they all grow, you’ll be standing in the kitchen at midnight making tomato sauce several nights a week in September.

4. Potato beetles suck.

5. If you want cucumbers, you actually have to get around to planting them, not just buying seeds and saying “I should get the cukes planted today” until fall.

6. Oregano is wonderful on homemade pizza. I need to grow much more of it.

7. You can grow peaches in Minnesota. At least this year.

8. Planting beans and peas is a nice way to feed the local wildlife.

9. Pollinators like honeybees need all they help they can get.

10. One of the most satisfying things I can think of is sitting down to dinner and counting up the ingredients that came from your garden.

I’ve tried bush beans. I’ve tried pole beans. This year, I decided to mix things up and plant dry beans, Tiger’s Eye dry beans to be exact.

Green, leafy and about a foot tall, the plant looked like any other green bean variety. As the pods swelled and lengthened, amber-colored jewels formed inside. I planted only three short rows, and to my surprise, I actually harvested enough beans to chef up a decent burrito (about 1 cup).

I haven’t had time to cook them yet, but according to Seed Savers, Tiger’s Eye beans have a “wonderfully rich flavor and smooth texture, great for chili or refried beans.”

For those curious gardeners who want to try their hand at dried beans next year, check out Seed Savers Eating Bean Sampler. I got mine last week, and the beans inside sure are pretty. I hope they taste as good as they look.

What are your favorite heirloom beans? How do you like them prepared? Have you found a local source you could recommend?

Every year I have more seeds, seedlings and volunteer sprouts than usable garden space. Some simply don’t get planted while others become experiments in patio container gardening. I like to think of it as “Research for Readers” (and apartment dwelling friends). But to be perfectly honest, I am dying to get my hands dirty by mid-march. Planting in patio pots prevents me from digging in the garden too early. (Not to mention, our patio tile is super fugly and I try to distract guest from the Menards 69¢ special with planters full of edibles and blooms).

Luckily, I’ve had more successes than disappointments. Greens, peppers and herbs — my biggest surprise last year was a tower of snap peas (Greengirl + Twine = Danger). I thought the fragile sprouts would shrivel in the slightest breeze, but the shoots quickly intertwined and were soon hardy enough to withstand a thunderstorm (Another advantage to planting in patio pots: A responsible gardener can move her plants out of unseasonable weather).

This year, I planted my snap pea tower in mid-April. The sprouts were a little sluggish at first, but they quickly climbed the twine.

Snap peas on May 17 (left) and snap peas in May 28 (right)

Then, this weekend I had my very first snap pea blooms!

Birthdays, anniversaries, and Hallmark holidays, spring is a very busy time for the Chismar family and a very exhausting time for this greengirl. As my social calendar fills up, everything else is put on hold. The dishes pile up. The cat hair collects under the couch. The fridge is bare and the garden sits empty. The BF made a great trellis for my snap peas, but I had no time to plant, only enough time to admire his handiwork and sigh.

Then last night, Brian shooed me out of the kitchen with a glass of wine, “Put down that kale. I’ll make dinner. You go plant.”

I happily threw on an old pair of jeans and a pair of garden gloves. Dusk had descended upon the SLP, but I still had an hour before total darkness. I refilled my glass and got to work.

I must admit nothing pacifies my inner perfectionist like a glass or two of vino. Often I’m overwhelmed by my garden to-dos, but last night was all about planting my snap peas and sipping my Grenache.

Are my rows too close together? Will the squirrels eat my seeds in the morning? Hey, where’s my spade? Who cares! Just keep the wine flowing — I still have time to plant some spinach!

This morning I expected to find disaster. Instead, I found my spade behind the compost bin.

To finish the job, I laced the trellis with twine. Now, it’s all up to the snap peas.

When do you retire your snap peas?

Mine continue to sprout new growth, but the old growth is getting rather brown and crispy. Pea pods are still growing, but each new pod is smaller than the one before.

Will my snap peas make it though the summer? Do they grow bitter in hot weather like other cool season crops?

Or should I dig them up and replant in the late summer/early fall?