While I was away I had a wonderful friend look after the balcony garden, and she did such a great job. She popped around just before I left and received all the instructions on watering, hand pollinating and general care of the garden. Munching on the few ripe strawberries available from my wintering strawberry pot, we wandered around discussing the ins and outs of each plant. Although, as I informed her, the carrots, most pots of lettuce and silverbeet were still too small for consumption, the lemons, broccoli and snow peas would be in abundance and to harvest as she saw fit.
Thing was, I forgot to tell her how to harvest. I guess I didn't consider it a difficult thing; simply cut and cook. Given the details of the instructions on what to water, how often, and where, she got worried that harvesting was as complex as a neurosurgeon's daily outing. Not wanting to damage my plants she decided to leave them uneaten. So I came home to a burgeoning broccoli complete with edible side shoots just waiting to burst open.
So too there were an abundance of bulging snow peas. Except in the case of the snow peas it was not a feared ineptness at harvesting that left them uneaten. Apparently she couldn't find them! Now I don't think they packed their bags and moved to Mexico, nor were they just a special brand of invisible snow pea. It seemed, for my poor balcony sitter, that they were simply playing an elongated game of hide and seek. Upon my return they jumped out, said surprise!!! and were consequently eaten up (something I'll post about very soon). I just feel bad that my more than competent garden sitter never got to enjoy their sweetness. Is a snow pea really as hard to find as Wally in a Where's Wally book (or Where's Waldo I think it is called for my Northern Hemisphere counterparts.) Here is a picture and I'll leave you to decide. How many snow peas can you see?
Blooming Its Heart Out
5 hours ago