Beautiful disorder.

I remember worrying about tidy rows. Organized rotations. The choreography of organic vegetable gardening.

I know, now, that milkweed and potatoes can be friends with a volunteer squash sidling up.

Or that an asparagus crown doesn’t mind a four-year-old beet over its head with a pin cushion to the side and lettuce and onions all down the bed.

One more week and the garden isn’t mine. I picked a lot of carrots today.

I am crossing my fingers the seeds from the brassicae will be ready by Monday. I will gather them however they are and find out in a few months if they were ready.

I need to research asparagus crowns. Mine started as seeds in the laundry room years ago and I don’t want to upset them through my ignorance during their removal and transport.

Anyone remember when I planted the potatoes, by chance? I think, sadly, they still have a month to go but perhaps you know differently.

Advertisements

Hours ending.

The softness of the soil entrapped in a milkweed’s grasp. The moments between dog barks, airplanes, and old cars driven by young people insistently down the road. The expansion from seed tray to 4″ pots. The addition of seed trays. The tender trust in Echinacea stems.

There’s so much nutrition in the garden before anything ever touches our tongues.

“Hey honey… is there anything sown in the back left bed because…” Sprint outside.