“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 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.
And some savory…
And some tart…
And some theset with the sour hidden within…
Do you see it? No?
How about now?
Not anymore. “Tomato? Mmmm…I like tomatoes. I’m chewing. All gone.”
This little plant hitched a ride a long way. From kitchen to compost. Compost to garden bed. Garden bed to front bed in the soil surrounding a (still unhappy) rosemary plant. It grew. And grew. Dodging lawnmower blades and only getting misty watering twice a week, it grew.
Perhaps next year I’ll plant an intentional tomato there.