A scarecrow, in a field of corn, to keep the birds at bay.
A sharecrow, in rows of beans, to feed them come what may.
I’m reading a book. I’ve forgotten the name in my currently foggy (“thick as peanut butter!” / “you mean pea soup!” / “you eat what you like and I’ll eat what I like!” ) brain. It tells of learning of farming from observation, documentation, and old timers.
One old timer the author learned from spoke of feeding the crows when the corn seedlings were small, so they left the sprouts alone until they were big enough that the crows left them be.
An unintentional parallel in my garden, currently.
It’s odd. Interesting. Intriguing. Why can’t we, culturally, meet to chat and see, without coffee, booze, or tea?
Work is currently chats and catch ups and introductions. Fascinating. And caffeinating.
Sunflower underleaf nests for this beneficial…or pest?
“Would you count to twenty and then do the same for the next tall plant and the next one?”
“Right here, mama?”
I hope these little bean flowers make food before the heat causes them to keel over.
Not everything out of place is unwanted in its place.
I don’t label well. What I always do is sow in alphabetical order so I can go back and check varieties later. Sometimes, the order makes its own art.
Lesson learned: if my bean poles are too short, plant them under low tree branches.
Sometimes we’re caught off guard and knocked flat.
Sometimes a storm is just what you need.
Sometimes you aren’t prepared for unprecedented growth.
Sometimes you are.
And sometimes, no matter how hard you fight it, passions persist.