The Tiny Fruits of My Labor

September is the month of harvest, though that is perhaps too strong a word for what I do on my balcony. Without much premeditation, my garden has become quite fruit-forward­ — I have figs, woodland strawberries, lemons, and olives (yes, also a fruit) — and their production is comically small, both in terms of size and quantity. That’s small-space container gardening for you!

It doesn’t bother me much. I abandoned long ago the delusion that I could grow enough food on my tiny balcony to make a dent in our grocery bill. I’m excited if I get just one fruit, which I pick and eat right away, a precious luxury. Last year, one single lemon on my tree turned yellow, and its juice tasted brighter and lemony-er than any lemon I could buy at the store.

While the timing of my lemons ripening will be a complete surprise, the figs and olives are reliably ready in September. I harvest other things this month, too, like herbs and even seeds.  

The first year I had my olive tree, it had quite a few olives, but all but six had been infected by olive fruit fly. The second year, I was set to have a glut, but tragically and brutally, rats ate every last one. This year, traumatized, my tree has literally produced six olives in total. So it looks like I’m destined once again to brine and cure six olives (see the link for a step-by-step guide to this ridiculous endeavor).

A note here that my olives are still green and firm; for softer, darker olives, I would have to wait until they start to change color in October or November, which is the more traditional harvest time. But green table olives (which I enjoy, flavor-wise) are picked in September. I’m going this route, before any other critter gets to them.

My fig tree is a bit embarrassing, aesthetically; its branches are scrawny and its leaves don’t develop properly. I have yet to identify the problem; as far as I know, it has everything a little fig could ever want: plenty of sun, free-draining soil, a right-sized pot, and the occasional treat (not too often!) of special fruit tree food. This September, it has produced three small figs. But I tell you, with no exaggeration: they are the most delicious figs I’ve ever tasted. They’re deep red inside, jammy and sweet, with just a hint of acid — that perfect, figgy combination of rich and fresh. This is why I can’t give up on my sad fig. 

My itty-bitty woodland strawberries produced a few fruits earlier this month as well. They’re pretty sour, but it doesn’t matter; the plants are healthy and the berries are so cute, like strawberries for dolls. I’ve grown woodland strawberries for years because their shallow roots and petite size make them one of the easiest native plants to grow in containers. 

Plus, they’re incredibly easy to propagate. Strawberries send out runners, which are long stems attached to the “mother” plant with little baby plants on the ends. To create a new plant, simply pin the baby down to some soil with a U-shaped garden staple or piece of wire. Wait a month or two for it to establish roots before cutting the stem. Voilà! New strawberry!   

As my various herbs start to look tired in their pots, I cut them back and dry the stems, leaves, and flowers for culinary use throughout the winter, or until I run out. If you have extra trimmed material for perennials like mint, rosemary, or sage, use it to make more free plants from cuttings. September is a great time to do this, if you’re worried about your potted Mediterranean herbs surviving the winter. I’ve written guides to taking cuttings of perennials and keeping them alive through the cold months. 

One last special thing I recently harvested, for the first time, were the seeds of my Aquilegia formosa, or western columbine, another native plant I’ve had success growing in a pot. When we got home from Puglia in late August, the seed heads had gone to town, and I simply shook the seeds into a little envelope to sow early next spring. I don’t have space for more Aquilegia, but the one I have is coming up on three years old, so it’s time to think about a successor. 

I like to remind people that two thirds of September is still summer, especially here in the Bay Area where we have hot falls. The sun is warm, the California fuchsia is in bloom, and the bees and hummingbirds are flitting about. I consider October 1st to be gardening New Year, a time to reset and prepare for the year ahead. That would make September gardening Christmas, and with its many gifts of fruits, flowers, and beautiful weather, I think that’s pretty apt!