Major projects in our life are done and half the summer is
gone, whew. I am happy to be back. One of the consequences of being diverted
from home is how the garden has become. Though nothing like the old days of
gardening for us, I cherish this little 3x5 plot.
That being said, I am not the real gardener. The seeds and
roots of former species dominate what is to happen here, especially when I have
been unable to attend to it. The beautiful yucca have struggled with the road
fill that we hesitantly call the soil. This year they flourished with bounties
of the milk white blossoms glowing in the morning sun.
The six tomato plants that I hopefully spaced among the rush
of growth also struggle but are now producing sweet red globes with very tough
skin. There are perennial flowers here too that I just can’t take out: golden lilies,
Japanese Iris, purple bush spears, Russian heather. How dare I try to plant a
vegetable among these. And there are herbs – oregano that always goes to
flower, but is so beautiful in bloom, the many descendants of last year’s one volunteer dill plant, and challenged
basil next to dominant mint. All of these huddle together as the magnificent
assertive Morning Glories pop up all over the garden grabbing on to any stem,
stick, or fence to secure it’s hold.
This is not the garden I wanted, but I have to say that
everyone out here elbowing its way to the sun, forcing every scrap of nutrient from
damaged soil has certainly aroused great respect from me for the powerful drive
to live.
We have begun to frequent the outdoor markets for actual preservable
produce. Fruits and vegetables parading through summer demanding action every
two weeks (at their peak, they say) while the rush to gather jars and lids and
freezer bags becomes a priority of our time. I love this stuff, really. And so
do others that we meet at the market, like Marjorie, of Stone Cloud Gardens and
the many products she prepares for us.
Marjorie shared a concern we have that our grandchildren do
not really know where or how our food becomes, that each kernel in an ear of sweet
corn has the potential to grow into a plant that produces three or four more
ears each. Now there’s an exponential
math exercise. Go ahead count the kernels on your next sweet and buttery ear of
corn. That number will be the number of potential plants if they were put in
the ground and not in your mouth. And if you multiply that number by . . . well
you get the idea. Someone is working hard on our behalf to enjoy these great
wonders, some farmer, or some disciplined gardener refusing to wimp out to the
domination of plants in an eclectic garden.
Enjoy the wonders, my friends. And if you want to take on
some fun reading this summer try my little memoir, A Homestead Decade, How CrunchyGranola Changed My Life
Amazon e-book, cheap,$2,99.
