My, oh my, the garden. I have been so behind lately on writing from picking tomatoes, harvesting green beans, and sitting in awe of sunflowers. I have put up a few quarts of peas, shelling them was the most satisfying ritual, and now that the crop has finished producing and been laid to rest, I miss the tiny discoveries and abundant sound of popping pods. My husband doesn’t even like peas but loved the practice of growing them this year. Now is the time to decide if I want to plant another row for a fall harvest, what do you think?
My German tomato plant has given us perfectly round and red beauties; small, somewhere in between the size of an early girl and a Rosella. They have been perfect for salads. One raised bed is entirely dedicated to tomatoes, most of them volunteers from last year with lots of cherry varieties. I can see them blushing from the bedroom window I look out, and I like them best still warm from the summer sun. The crisper drawer is holding a pile of cucumbers, they really do sneak up on you if you’re not careful. Once they get too yellow-ripe they can always be salvaged as a fresh juice ingredient or thrown to your neighbor’s chickens. That’s only wishful thinking on my end though, chickens aren’t allowed within the city limits in town so I have to go a little further than next door for fresh eggs.
A few discarded pumpkins and gourds from last fall that found their final rest in the garden beds have renewed themselves, and almost taken over the entire yard. I have already reaped a nice sized, bright orange pumpkin which will be roasted and saved for November pies and pumpkin rolls. Chris makes the best pumpkin rolls and gets requests for them every year, but always makes an extra one for just us to keep at home. The other vines are welcoming mysterious little yellow and white shapes that are growing everyday, to be surprised in the garden is one of life’s greatest joys.
There is one watermelon to report on so far, a nice dark green shade and about the size of a softball. The vine is healthy and making space for itself, of course we couldn’t wait so we’ve already devoured the sweetest watermelon from the grocery store, hand picked by Chris with skills I’m not equipped with. I have been told that not everyone puts salt on their watermelon, which saddens me. Of course the sweetness alone is satisfactory, but the addition of a sprinkle (or a little dip) could bring a tear to a glass eye. A salt shaker in the backyard is just as important as an indestructible spade, and a love for dirty hands.
The bean tunnel is a wonderful place to “hang out in.” Although it’s a favorite place for mosquitoes too, it’s worth it. I’ve placed a little table and a chair inside, and have morning coffee on the weekends. If you pair imagination with gardening you can romanticize life, feel as if you are in another place at another time, or create something whimsical that no one else on the block has. Things like this conjure up a feeling, something sought after intentionally and then exist just to be experienced. From one garden box to another, all it takes is simple fencing poles, chicken wire, plastic tubing to reinforce the arch shape, and zip ties. Of course, there are a multitude of ways in which one can experience having morning coffee from the inside of a green tunnel of pole beans; incorporate a bit of string lighting and you can find yourself in a fairy tale-like scene, maybe a place where little mice are catching up on their knitting, where you can stay up late into the night with your nose in a book.
I love the way Glady’s Taber shared her reflections on life at the end of the day. In the summers she would talk about hard work and abundance, dreadful heat, and long days. She wrote about taking a dip in the swimming pond, and sharing the water with frogs, algae, water bugs, turtles and the occasional water snake. She mastered the ability to experience joy outside in every season.
“Midsummer, in fact, is a good time to think about values, for the earth is fulfilling the promise of spring. I reflect that growth comes from the secret life of seed and bulb. And “as ye sow, so shall ye reap” seems a new truth. Some of the hopes I had in the spring did not, of course, come to blossom. Perhaps I did not tend them well enough, or perhaps they were not suitable to the climate of my life. But some hopes came to fruition, some plans were completed, and another season I can begin again!” -Gladys Taber
Thank you again for reading, and as always drop me a line anytime because… I do love to chat!
justicesarah67@yahoo.com
The Mint Patch Monologue 