Vegetable penitentiary.
There is a reason! Look at the picture of mediocre quality, but of telling content:

Yes, a full-grown deer peacefully resting by the yurt. Now I could claim it was he who ate the 3 zucchini we have already harvested, so "me" wouldn't be as disappointed as s/he might be. Fortunately the three zucchini plants I have are intruders in the herb garden, close to the patio. This, presumably, deterred the deer. Oh, eventually he got up and most gracefully jumped over the fence and slowly disappeared. Nothing like the traumatized dog we had for a couple of days a while back. Poor thing.

Gotta run.

Lemon cucumbers.
I picked these (and more) cukes this morning. The squash canopy in my veggie pen is so thick that I miss them. And it's difficult to move about because I fear damaging the vines (earlier I posted a picture of the pen). So, maybe I planted too many plants. The cucumber row has 11 plants; the squash row has ten plants (three varieties). The vines are climbing so fast I have a hard time disentangling them from the chain link fence, made worse by the lower two feet or so, which are covered by chicken wire. This is to keep out the local bunnies (we have many many).

While I intend to pick these when they reach the size of the small ones pictured here, I had missed them earlier. Who knows how many more I missed this morning.

Artichoke.
This is the artichoke I harvested today. I wish I knew more about crops that ripen out of season. In my experience as a youngster on the 38th parallel in the middle of the Mediterranean, artichoke tubers (I don't know the technical term--parts of the previous season's roots) were planted at the end of summer, and harvested in winter. The artichoke I planted a few years ago (bought at a nursery) keeps producing fruit in the middle of summer. I reduce the size of the plant each year, and stop watering it at the end of the summer. I'd like to know more about this.

Tomatoes.
More questions about tomatoes.

I have been meticulously clipping the things I've heard called "suckers," sprigs that come out of the interstice of stem and branch. So, first of all, is this always indicated?

Second, my involuntary experiment. I accidentally removed the topmost sprig (if that's the right word) of the plant, not a sucker! That was two or more weeks ago. The plant is growing, but not at the top. The picture shows broad low branches and no tip. So, how does this work?

Green beans (bush); tomatoes.
Continuing with the beans, here is the other problem: curled leaves. I am thinking some kind of insect infestation, because it's only a few plants that have curled leaves. I can't see any insects, but I'll look again. The small plant in the foreground seems stunted and has leaves that seem curled. These leaves contrast with those of the plant behind it.

Another puzzler, for me, at least, is the uneven twins, triplets, etc.--seeds planted at the same time that grow at extremely different rates. Yes, I planted these seeds at the same time and I have a giant and two runts. Why? How come?

Kale; green beans (bush).
Having discharged my inaugural duties (honorably enough, I hope) yesterday, now it's time for some real gardening stuff.

As usual this morning I paid a visit to my veggies. The kale spoke to me loudest. Here is a partial of my kale plantation (two of four containers shown)

I planted these when the weather was cool, and they have given us plenty of good side dishes. But why are the leaves so small? What vermin or varmint chews at it diligently? Why can't I see it? Yes, these pots are in the greenhouse, where it's hot (not a good choice)--they are there because they get irrigated by drip lines... (good enough reason?).

A side thought about kale. It's the vegetable that proves I'm consistent when I say I don't like my veggies overcooked. Say what? Yes, it's the exception that confirms the rule! I steam those suckers into submission for 30 minutes or more. Then I chop them into small shreds. Then I prepare some caramelized onions (ok, it's Nancy does that--I haven't mastered it yet), add some slivers of portobello mushroom, salt, pepper, and sautee the whole thing in olive oil (and sometimes some butter) for another five or ten minutes. Then I add some verdicchio wine (other white wines will do), cover the pan, and keeping the flame very low, I let the dish materialize. This is how I turn chewy wax paper into food.

Then the beans cried for help, for two reasons, the first of which I picture  here.

What hurt these leaves? Might the culprit be the hail that occasionally accompanies the monsoon rains common here this time of year? Don't know. Only a few of the plants are so damaged, including one in the greenhouse, which exculpates the hail. I haven't googled this yet; maybe I should ...
This is all for today. Gotta run.

Still just starting.
Still today, July 28, 2014. Invigorated and encouraged by the First Comment, here is a picture of Nancy's yurt. In our yard, just east of the herb garden...