My thumb is split and splitting more yet. My nails peel and my scalp hurts. My heart is sore, my mind spins, and old fearful aches returned home to roost.
And so I look to others to bloom.
Nasturtiums calling hello.
Volunteer mystery squash shining through.
Snow peas’ purple greeting.
Snap peas white nod has passed.
Red potatoes without red petals.
Blackberries without black blossoms.
A mess of friends of all ilk.
I’ll see if I can’t tend my soil a little more. If I can’t feed my roots a little extra. If I can’t water my leaves a little softer. I’ll see tomorrow.
The pollen burst the day after both cars were washed by big and little hands alike. I couldn’t think of the last time both cars were clean at the same time.
The green and gold rained down.
And then the rains came.
Everything human coated in a gold green tint. The garden, keeping it separated.
I still tend to run light on flowers in the garden. I’m slowly learning when to sow what where. I know each year I can count on one prolific bloomer to feed the early bees and it’s a sunshine-yellow reminder to ignore the boxes we so often try and think within.
I take the leaves for scrambled eggs.
I take the tree for dinner.
I take the side shoots for quesadillas.
And then I give the bees their turn.
And they, in turn, give me next year’s start.
Because this isn’t going to last long enough to make it on a plate…
The kids won’t know what they missed when they get their “dang quesadillas.”
“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!”)
“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.
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.