It's gonna be a big quieter around here for a bit. My dogs get to go on an extended camping adventure. Oh, and that guy who is driving them around is adventuring too. I'm absolutely done with car trips for a while, and I'm fine with staying home. Now if I can just make staying home and working worthwhile.
I did work today, just not the kind that pays me money. I pretended that I was still strong and capable of being a full-time Park ranger. Two days in a row of extended gardening. Watch out. I might actually feel like a normal adult if this keeps up. Or I could end up going to bed early and dragging my tail tomorrow. Honestly, that is just as likely.
There were still great swathes of space in the new raised gardens waiting for more vegetables and fruits. I am taking a risk that planting last year's seeds won't be a big waste of my time. I had a dozen or so seed packets that were still half full, and I just couldn't bring myself to throw them out just because they come with an expiration date. So I sowed them thickly in the ground. In went all the rest of the carrot seeds, bunches of okra seeds, more peas, a line of green beans, acorn squash, and a tiny hopeful mound of watermelon. I covered the morning-sun-only spot with all sorts of greens (arugula, spinach, lettuces, kales, and chards) with no regard to spacing or how many plants I'll have to thin in a few weeks. That's always the hard part for me. Seeing a grouping of tiny sprouts, knowing that I'm supposed to pick some to discard so the others will be stronger. I can't let go of those little green leaves. I want them all to grow and thrive, and I just hate telling some of them that I don't want to keep them. Am I the only one with this problem?
While most plants made it into the ground yesterday before the gang left, there were still a few that were my responsibility to place. I changed my mind at least ten times on where I wanted the deep crimson peony, but when I discovered late yesterday that the mystery plant in the corner of the yard was another peony, I knew definitively where mine needed to go. I sunk the new one eight feet down from the first, tucked in the corner by the garden fence, with a line of mixed gladiolus bulbs between them. I was probably digging for an hour, with a hand-spade. I have no talent for real shovel work, and I was too afraid of stabbing through yet another irrigation line (you wouldn't believe how many the man has pierced putting the yard together this year). It's a good thing I was careful. Before I reached the bottom of the necessary hole, I had gently uncovered about five inches of the water pipe. I was so glad to have that flower planted and the ability to go inside and cool off. Only a few big digs left for me this season.
The whole time I sat on the ground, digging, I had company. Little Barley next door really likes coming over to play with Bump, Elsa, and Murray, and he told me how lonely he was without them nearby to talk to. He peeked under the fence at me, sniffed, and sighed. He promised that he would be good and not eat my tender plants if I'd let him come over. Alas, it was not to be. But I recognize that his offer is there, if I'd just set him free from his yard.
No comments:
Post a Comment