A NOTE ON BOLTING
“Bolting” refers to when a vegetable or herb plant stops producing leaves and starts growing flowers. Most plants do this in the hot weather and when they have been unattended and lack adequate water.
When bolting starts to happen, the plants are no longer putting the energy into the leaves of the plant and therefore lose their taste (it gets bitter).
I’m not sure why I wanted to torture myself, but I went out to our vegetable garden one afternoon, after many months of neglect.
Our veggie garden is fenced in with pickets recovered from an old fence that used to line the front of our property. It’s located in the far corner of our spacious backyard, close to the pasture and as far as possible from the toxic walnut trees that drip and ooze inky juglone. There’s a gate that (mostly) keeps the chickens out and there’s even a sturdy bench at the end of the garden row — perfect for sitting and admiring. It’s very charming, or rather, it could be.
That day I wasn’t feeling very charmed. I could barely find the flagstone path, and with each step through that weedy jungle, I could smell the peppery odour of creeping Charlie. I sat on the charming bench and did not admire much. Life had been difficult over the last year. It wasn’t so hard when we dreamed, bought, and planted this garden last spring. But now, almost 18 months later, things were out of control; completely overwhelming. This garden was a reflection of the chaos and charmlessness in our lives.
After a while, I realized the honeybees were very active and excited over something. I pulled back the Queen Anne’s lace and saw large, globulous creamy-pinky flowers over where the onions were once planted. And where the leeks were carefully spaced were more orbs, twisted and corkscrewed over each other. I looked back to the Queen Anne’s lace and realized this was where the carrot seeds were scattered, but never thinned.
This tight cluster of lacy, upturned umbrellas was actual carrot blossoms, not Queen Anne’s lace!
Suddenly, my vision narrowed and I scanned the garden for more beautiful blooms. The mounds of oregano had enjoyed not being disturbed and were covered in tiny purple flowers. We hadn’t trimmed the garlic scapes that spring, and now that green bulge had burst into a cluster of shiny purple seeds. Camomile twinkled like little stars all over the walkway, making space with the creeping Charlie. Even the uncut asparagus, which now towered above the weeds like a wispy Christmas tree complete with ornaments, looked beautiful to me.
I snipped a bunch of the bolted vegetables and herbs, grabbed some hops from the pergola and bolted dill flower by the back door, and I got to work. When I was done arranging the flowers, I stood back and looked at this sprawling, gnarled bolt bouquet. It was chaotic but beautiful. It had left behind the carnage of the veggie garden, like ashes from a fire, and risen into this grand arrangement that looked and smelled heavenly. From something so tangled, so useless, something good had finally come.
A couple of things you can do to prevent bolting:
Harvest your veggies and herbs frequently, and as soon as the flowers appear, pinch them off.
Also, keep your plants mulched and well-watered (to cool the soil) helps keep bolting at bay.
