Hope Springs
Hope. I think that is what I feel whenever I plant my Summer garden. It is so small this year, compared to the previous ones. But, my abilities and stamina have shrunk, so it is in proportion to them.
T brought up all the seedlings from the basement and we set to work this morning, me mostly supervising. We only did the herbs. The tomatoes will wait another week and the new flowers still longer, maybe when T gets out of school after Memorial Day. I simply cannot do all the planting alone anymore. I had to admit this to myself and it was a hard hour for me, but I came to terms with it.
So, I dictated to T where to put the herbs. The dill. Lavender. Spearmint. Peppermint. Basil. The chives are already thriving on their own. Instead of my usual ten herbs, I chose five. Well...okay...seven. I also planted some catnip for Mabel and some Lemon Balm. I almost skipped the lemon balm because it is a greedy little herb. It will try to take over the other's space. This is why I never plant rosemary anymore. It just churned over all the other herbs. Instead, I found a quiet, out of the way place for Mabel's catnip. I will watch and see if she discovers it on her own. If not, I can always lead her there. And I put the lemon balm in another quiet spot where it can spread out and not impinge on its sisters.
Afterwards, I was exhausted, but happy. Planting makes me so content. It means that another growing season is here. Another Summer where I will (hopefully) get to sit outside and watch T mow the lawn and come out and water my plants if it doesn't rain enough. We have several tomato plants just waiting to be placed into the ground. T will plant those next week. We have wild, volunteer roma tomatoes that grow every year against our back fence. They are for the birds and a popular Summer hang out for them.
The other flowers that I have chosen are big and bawdy. I have giant sunflowers and large golden daisies. I do new flowers every year, although we are so lucky to have a slew of great flowers already that come back every year, thanks to the previous owners of our home, who were prodigious gardeners.
We have rose bushes. Fussy things, but I adore them. They take work and this can be frustrating. They are notoriously picky about liking their roots to be covered with grass clippings at all times and a fertilizer of alfalfa pellets and Alaskan fish emulsion. Plus, they like a good pruning. If this is not done, they don't produce well and look like sulky flower babies, their coloring anemic and tinged with brown. So, I indulge them.
And talk to them. I tell them that they are the prettiest flower in the land and there is no equal to them. They, being terrifically vain, reward me with bright pink and yellow blooms. Sometimes a stray white rose will show up to the party or maybe a few reds. Their scent is so alluring that I am convinced that the fae dance to it in the wee hours of the morning.
We have lilac bushes all over. During a bad drought several years ago, we lost three of them and I mourned them. I had realized too late that they were starving for water because they don't show it as other plants do. They are like stoic old ladies who insist on doing their own marketing and then one day you realize that they aren't around anymore and you miss their little mincing steps. Now, I am careful to give them good drinks if Mother Nature fails to do so.
Lilies of the Valley. Don't tell...but they just might be my favorite. They bloom right outside our back door and on late Spring and early Summer evenings, their aroma can make my throat close with happiness. Lilies of the Valley just do their thing. They are fiercely independent and do not like being fussed over. If they don't get water, they dig their little roots in and deal with it. They only ask one thing: not to be picked. They thrive in the dirt and die on the table. So, I leave them be but thank them with my whole heart.
Calla lillies. We have a few of these growing every year against our back fence, along with some stray poppies and simple round wild daisies. They are bright orange and tangingly gorgeous.
Bleeding hearts. Bachelors Buttons. A small patch of wild tiny purple and white violets. Forget-Me-Nots. I celebrate them all.
We have a few sprigs of Sakurasou that bloom against all odds every year on the side of our home. T brought one flower home from a trip to Japan and we planted it, figuring it would die in the cold Winters of the prairie, but it defies the odds and returns every year and has even procreated two more blooms. It is such a bright, gaudy shade of pink that it hurts your eyes. I have no idea how it lives so well. It supposedly needs the sun, but this side of our house only gets a brief morning peek of it. Still, it shows up every year. Defiant and proud.
I get such happiness from all of my plants. My trees. I know it sounds silly, but I feel them growing under my hands. When I stand next to them, I feel their quiver of life, their need and desire to live.
Maybe I identify too much. Whatever. They are mine and they bring me joy.
I do intend to keep an eye on that catnip, though. I want to see Mabel's eyes when she finds it......
T brought up all the seedlings from the basement and we set to work this morning, me mostly supervising. We only did the herbs. The tomatoes will wait another week and the new flowers still longer, maybe when T gets out of school after Memorial Day. I simply cannot do all the planting alone anymore. I had to admit this to myself and it was a hard hour for me, but I came to terms with it.
So, I dictated to T where to put the herbs. The dill. Lavender. Spearmint. Peppermint. Basil. The chives are already thriving on their own. Instead of my usual ten herbs, I chose five. Well...okay...seven. I also planted some catnip for Mabel and some Lemon Balm. I almost skipped the lemon balm because it is a greedy little herb. It will try to take over the other's space. This is why I never plant rosemary anymore. It just churned over all the other herbs. Instead, I found a quiet, out of the way place for Mabel's catnip. I will watch and see if she discovers it on her own. If not, I can always lead her there. And I put the lemon balm in another quiet spot where it can spread out and not impinge on its sisters.
Afterwards, I was exhausted, but happy. Planting makes me so content. It means that another growing season is here. Another Summer where I will (hopefully) get to sit outside and watch T mow the lawn and come out and water my plants if it doesn't rain enough. We have several tomato plants just waiting to be placed into the ground. T will plant those next week. We have wild, volunteer roma tomatoes that grow every year against our back fence. They are for the birds and a popular Summer hang out for them.
The other flowers that I have chosen are big and bawdy. I have giant sunflowers and large golden daisies. I do new flowers every year, although we are so lucky to have a slew of great flowers already that come back every year, thanks to the previous owners of our home, who were prodigious gardeners.
We have rose bushes. Fussy things, but I adore them. They take work and this can be frustrating. They are notoriously picky about liking their roots to be covered with grass clippings at all times and a fertilizer of alfalfa pellets and Alaskan fish emulsion. Plus, they like a good pruning. If this is not done, they don't produce well and look like sulky flower babies, their coloring anemic and tinged with brown. So, I indulge them.
And talk to them. I tell them that they are the prettiest flower in the land and there is no equal to them. They, being terrifically vain, reward me with bright pink and yellow blooms. Sometimes a stray white rose will show up to the party or maybe a few reds. Their scent is so alluring that I am convinced that the fae dance to it in the wee hours of the morning.
We have lilac bushes all over. During a bad drought several years ago, we lost three of them and I mourned them. I had realized too late that they were starving for water because they don't show it as other plants do. They are like stoic old ladies who insist on doing their own marketing and then one day you realize that they aren't around anymore and you miss their little mincing steps. Now, I am careful to give them good drinks if Mother Nature fails to do so.
Lilies of the Valley. Don't tell...but they just might be my favorite. They bloom right outside our back door and on late Spring and early Summer evenings, their aroma can make my throat close with happiness. Lilies of the Valley just do their thing. They are fiercely independent and do not like being fussed over. If they don't get water, they dig their little roots in and deal with it. They only ask one thing: not to be picked. They thrive in the dirt and die on the table. So, I leave them be but thank them with my whole heart.
Calla lillies. We have a few of these growing every year against our back fence, along with some stray poppies and simple round wild daisies. They are bright orange and tangingly gorgeous.
Bleeding hearts. Bachelors Buttons. A small patch of wild tiny purple and white violets. Forget-Me-Nots. I celebrate them all.
We have a few sprigs of Sakurasou that bloom against all odds every year on the side of our home. T brought one flower home from a trip to Japan and we planted it, figuring it would die in the cold Winters of the prairie, but it defies the odds and returns every year and has even procreated two more blooms. It is such a bright, gaudy shade of pink that it hurts your eyes. I have no idea how it lives so well. It supposedly needs the sun, but this side of our house only gets a brief morning peek of it. Still, it shows up every year. Defiant and proud.
I get such happiness from all of my plants. My trees. I know it sounds silly, but I feel them growing under my hands. When I stand next to them, I feel their quiver of life, their need and desire to live.
Maybe I identify too much. Whatever. They are mine and they bring me joy.
I do intend to keep an eye on that catnip, though. I want to see Mabel's eyes when she finds it......
Comments
Post a Comment