Weekend Garden Notes

Saturday – Enlarged the Lorelei.  Turning under grass feels a little naughty, like maybe I’m vandalizing something.  First reaction: Looks great.  Second reaction: Is it that much bigger?  Third reaction:  I think I need to add a bit more.  Really.  Just a tad.  that’s all.

Sunday Morning – Transplanted baby peppers and eggplants.  While my hands were in the soil, I prepared a quartet of young plants (tomato, Anaheim pepper, basil, and cilantro) as a gift for friends who invited us to Sunday brunch.  The four have small monetary but big emotional value.  I even said good-bye to them as they sat on our friends’ countertop, wishing them well in their new home. 

(It’s true.  At their times of trauma, such as being transplanted or given away, I talk to plants.  I don’t think they “understand” in the way one human understands another, but I do think a soft voice directed toward the plant makes a difference.  A little loony? Maybe.  I still think it helps.  Don’t start worrying ’till I send a plant a card or letter.)

Sunday early evening – Performed major surgery on Smith.  Poor Smith has been unusually plagued by a type of Pernicious Weed that needs to be excised carefully, vigorously, and by hand.  The vines grow from an extensive underground network of white, cord-like runners that proliferate six to eight inches beneath the surface.  If you leave even a little piece of one, the weed will reestablish itself.  It was like harvesting a pile of tough, little ropes.  Suspect I left some; it’s practically impossible to get them all.  I think I set it back a good ways.  Then planted tomato and pepper plants, cucumber seeds, and along one border, seeds I hope grow into short sunflowers.  Harvested some wild mint, too, also a pernicious weed (not as bad as the other one), but delicious in a mint julep.

About literarylee

I sling words for a living. Always have, always will. Some have been interesting and fun; most not. These days, I write the fun words early in the morning before the adults are up and make me eat my Cream of Wheat.
This entry was posted in Garden: A Love Story and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply