“Puhpul flowers”
“Peas? More peas?”
“Caderperar right dere?”
“Tomayo!” (And a sweet potato volunteer…)
“Uh oh. It get down.” (The arbor fell in a storm.)
“Snail! Hold it? Mama hold it?”
“Carrots ok.” (And more sweet potato volunteers.)
“Lello flowers.” (On a broccoli that never made broccoli but made plenty of greens and is now over six feet tall. This photo is at my eye level and it’s well over my head.)
Now, onto preparing for a little gardener’s airplane party… (“aye-plane!Noise…See it!”)
It’s only 70 today. We’ve already had our first 90 degree day. The lakes are full for the first time since 2007 such that they’re talking about opening the floodgates.
The grackles, mostly, benefit from my feeder. Pecking order became quickly apparent. They’re quite colorful, in their dark way.
The jays, doves, and cardinals come next, in that order. Finally the finches and sparrows on clean-up duty if there’s any left to clean.
I’m warming up as well. Stretching my limbs and strengthening the sedentary after weeks of stillness. My eyes, even, need to stretch having been restricted in their view to the near and dear.
So the beds have some fish fertilizer
The tomatoes were well cared for in my absence.
And the unwanted crepe myrtle is making a stand.
We’d been wondering if our backyard’s central tree (the type of which we’re not fans) had died. Last year it was budding on the heels of the hackberries behind it.
Alas, or at last, life unfurls.
Are there China berry trees that don’t look like China berry trees? If so, this is one.
I’d thought we were done with spring. Weeks hitting 80 and nights no longer cooling. Broccoli bolting and tomatoes past ready.
This week cooled again. Highs in the 60s, lows in the 40s, and everyone out soaking in the final days before the heat truly takes hold.
Each evening I’d lay on a blanket ten feet from the back door while DH or his amazing mother made dinner. Our daughter would ask me to find bugs, so we’d peer through the grass for ants and pill bugs (or rollie pollies, or as she calls them “doodle buhgs.”)
Today marks the last day of bed rest. She and I are outside examining pebbles and spilling water bottles. DH is planting tomatoes (24 transplants this year, and 14 of them kept their labels!)
“The volunteer dill is doing its job,” he announces. He comes over to help me up and the nearly-four of us trek to the dill. Sure enough.
Hello there, handsome.
“Hope you don’t feel like I think you’re doing nothing. You’re doing important work.”
Exactly what I needed to hear today.
I find myself with conscious gratitude surfacing more and more as bed rest continues. Is it the slowing down that allows room for it to grow? Is it the perspective shift front and center bringing gratitude into focus more clearly?
I’m grateful for mother daughter strawberry picnics on blankets with airplanes flying overhead.
I’m thankful for an over-extended partner extending himself even further to keep us all going, garden included.
I’m grateful for our small village who wash dishes or do “splash splash” (bath time) or just sit and talk politics and nonsense with me.
I’m grateful for fresh muffins made while I sleep in and for the financial ability to stomach a pretty decent property tax hike.
I’m grateful for “smoo” (smooth) and “buhpee” (bumpy) pebbles, and the daughter that carries them to my pillow and blanket fort to tell me about them.
And I’m grateful that for another day, our little Blueberry is still growing safe and sound in my belly.
My main duty these days is laying on my side and not doing things. At least two more weeks of cooking are ideal and my body and this baby appear to be plotting their own plan.
A slow soak of sunshine is necessary to keep the stir-crazies at bay, during which I plot my tender snail’s pace loop about the gardens.
Somethings are larger than they appear…
And sometimes I’m glad I have more weeds.
The carrots are looking more carroty.
The garlic are a tangled tussle.
This leek came up all on its own. Having never successfully sown leeks, I can only marvel at its persistence in overcoming my interference.
A kind neighbor gifted us some fig twigs.
And in their ancient wisdom (the seeds are well over five years old and have yet to survive my best attempts) the Alyssum has joined the party.
Not literally, but they are late. I sowed the tomatoes a month ago and ran out of steam/time/hands. “Next weekend,” I promised. It passed. “Next weekend,” I repeated. Again, it passed. A month late now, but they’re sown and heated and moist. Bells and jalapenos, fish and five color, poblano and (if I can find my seeds) gypsies.
The tomatoes are already looking to move. The strawberries, too. I think it’s time to buckle down and build a second grow light.
And sow some peas! I’m ever so excited. I missed the fall window so we haven’t had garden snacks (aka peas) in ages.
Speaking of changing lodging, I do believe the paper whites are moving off of the kitchen window sill and into the out of doors. The neighbors’ bedded ones seemed much happier than mine.
I believe the tomatoes are finally done. Fitting, that they’d last until now, as this is the week I sow next year’s seedlings into the dark promises of starter pots.
After we arrived home most days, we’d go in the front door and straight through the house, climbing out the back door, hand wrapped around finger. I’d think about what needed tending where, but she would make the same loop each time. “Namayos? Namayos!”
Whether they were actually tomatoes, or sometimes reddened jalapenos, she didn’t much mind…until she selected one to sample. Jalapenos always came back out with a hand off to me and a simple “papa’s.” A paste tomato would follow suit. But oh, the Chadwick Cherry tomatoes. Off came the cap with a “yuck! bye bye” and into her mouth it went. “More?” could just be deciphered through a mouthful of tomato.
We were expecting our first freeze Monday night so I had to cut any dreams of vine ripening short. We harvested the final stragglers before I put (nearly all of) the vines out of their long-seasoned misery and into a wheel barrow.
We went out again, albeit without school this week it was mid afternoon, and had a good chat about how tomatoes don’t always grow. She looked to their beds, saw no vines, and went straight to the jalapenos (which I had yet to remove.)
“Namayos?” she inquired.
“Not in the winter, love, but soon,” I replied.
If at first you find only frustration and disappointment…
Dig deeper.
It’s not quite the fifty pounds from a few years back, but for the size of that planting and the size of this one I’d say it’s a tie. 28 pounds of sweet potatoes and I’m pretty sure I missed a few that dove down or escaped under the planks to the edging paths.
And while I felt a month late, apparently I’m 11 days earlier than 2012. Also, note to self: if you want to turn questionably nutritious soil into glorious earth sow sweet potatoes first. Now what to sow tomorrow to keep it lovely until spring?
The roses have buds. Branches glow, casting brisk lines. Cranes blot the sky as the earth sheds the day. The seasons have changed and the world feels crisp, crunchy.
The sog battles the snap underfoot. Giving with one step, resisting the next, I feel the transition dance through my soul.
My timing is off. The beat, I’ve lost. I am not the only one out of sequence.
It’s time I pause to join once again in the rhythm of things.
Here to stay…coming back another day…
With no rain to speak of for a few months it seemed, and then three weeks in a row of serious rain things are a bit…soggy. The mosquitoes aren’t the only happy life forms at the moment though.
The sweet potatoes have blossomed and blossomed again.
And the bee butts are grateful.
The fungal mat is showing its true colors…
Including this interesting specimen who starts out in tiny pillars that open into perfect little raindrop goblets.
As unhappy as my onions are (I’m pretty sure they’re goners) the lemon basil has a mind to go from occasional herb plant to full on ground cover. I may have to help that little broccoli out before its trying to push through a jungle.
More rain expected for the next two days, and it started again yesterday. I do hope everyone stays safe this time.
plumdirt 