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What a weird year. As I write this column on Sept. 10, my peas and zucchini are still producing gobs, even though they are usually the first casualties of the fall season. However, the dahlias and marigolds were fried by an August frost that seemed to skip everything else; usually I enjoy those blooms until at least September.

The only outstanding plant I have to report this year is a bicolor tomato named Oaxacan Jewel. A catastrophe killed off all of my tomato starts, and it seemed too late to begin anew so I outfitted the greenhouse with purchases from local greenhouses. However, every time I opened this one kitchen drawer, a packet of Oaxacan Jewel stared up at me.

Sent by a friend who lives in Virginia, I’d figured they were not suitable for Northern climates, but I did not have the heart to throw them away. Then one day I was wandering around the house in a fit of that desperate brand of energy brought on by insomnia, when I spotted the packet again. So, six weeks later than I usually start my greenhouse tomatoes (normally about mid-March), I plunked six seeds into a six pack filled with potting soil (no seed starting medium left to lighten it up). I stuck the meager planting into a bread bag waiting to be recycled, knotted it shut and put the pathetic spectacle on top of the fridge where it is always warmer.

Five days later green was visible. I took off the plastic bag and stuck the six-pack under grow lights. The seedlings were transplanted into the greenhouse on June 15, a full month later than the other tomatoes were set in there. From then on, I treated the Oaxacan Jewel like all the other greenhouse occupants, meaning no special babying for this late starter.

I was disappointed when the large indeterminate vine produced only three tomatoes. There were more blossoms, but nothing like the profusion produced by other varieties. But it turns out I was premature in my disillusionment, because what this plant lacked in quantity it made up for in quality.

Oaxacans are billed as having fruit from six ounces to one pound. Well, one tomato was over two pounds and the remaining two were each over a pound. But while that was thrilling, the real defining feature of this breed was the color. The skins had a base of yellow, with blotches of pink brushed on as if an amateur had been applying makeup. Cut open, the insides were a gorgeous marbling of yellow and a deep pink going to red. Honestly, this is the most gorgeous tomato I have ever grown.

They matured late, no surprise since they got off to such a delayed start. In fact, we just ate the third one last night, enjoying every bit of the rich taste. I will certainly try these again next year, and hope to get more than three. You can find these seeds at Tomato Growers Supply Company.

Of course, mixed with the delight of eating such a wonderful specimen is sadness that this year’s garden is dying so I have a bunch of chores in front of me. The dahlias and tuberous begonias have already been dug up and put up, but here are the other things that need doing in my garden — and probably yours, too.

I need to take down my remaining hanging baskets, not only for looks but because they will last longer if properly stored.

I have several trees that need attending to, and if that is true for you then remember the words of Bob Wheeler, a Forestry Specialist with the Fairbanks office of the UAF Cooperative Extension Service. I quoted them in an early March column, and repeat a portion of them here, directly from an article he wrote for the Master Gardener newsletter.

“For both hardwood trees (such as birch) and evergreen trees (such as white spruce) it is normally recommended that during fall (late August) you begin tapering the water supply to your trees until the hardwood trees have completed fall foliage changes and the leaves from the hardwoods have dropped. Then after the hardwood leaves have dropped you can apply one last deep watering for both the hardwood and evergreen trees before the ground freezes. Traditionally, in Fairbanks, this would most likely be limited to just the last two weeks of September or first week of October. However, times may be changing … {specifically} the amount of fluctuations of temperatures seems to be increasing. … This can create a severe problem for dormant trees that may be induced to begin to break winter dormancy. Because the soil remains frozen while there is an increasing loss of water from the needles in response to thawing conditions, with each freeze-thaw cycle there is an increasing loss of internal water in the tree creating greater internal stress which contributes to … a greater risk of tree winterkill. … To protect your trees, it will be even more important to reduce fall watering in an effort to increase winter hardiness development, but equally important would be the one deep watering recommended after the hardwood leaves have fallen, but the soil has not yet froze.”

I have always been proud of my excellent memory, but I am forced to concede that I cannot remember details of my garden from one year to the next. So, this time of year you will find me out taking pictures of everything and making lists of what seeds and transplants to buy and what to avoid next year.

Per the advice of Michele He’bert, of Cooperative Extension, learned long ago and meticulously followed even now, every fall I cut back my perennials. Then I apply bone meal to them, at the rate of six cups per 100 square feet. Only then do I mulch the perennials, so they are not killed off during freeze/thaw cycles.

While I am doing other chores, I carry a sack so I have no excuse not to pick up the plastic trash (like crushed six-packs) that will never compost into the soil.

While I always think I will do it earlier in the season, it is usually September before I wash all my used transplant containers in a 1:10 solution of bleach to water. I let them air dry and store them in a place that will be accessible when I am starting my earliest seeds in February and March.

When I am completely done harvesting, I drag the organic garden garbage to the compost heap, meaning the left over cabbage leaves and pea vines, and so on.

And, finally, I shut off our exterior faucets, put away the hoses, and start my winter’s rest.

I hope we are all alive and well enough to meet back here in February 2010.

Linden Staciokas has gardened in the Interior for more than two decades. Send gardening questions to her at dorking@acsalaska.net.