Archives for posts with tag: living in the garden

I know I’ve mentioned it many times before but I’m not going to let that stop me: Saying yes to one thing means saying no to others. I repeat it so often because it is still true.

Sometimes, the “no” is explicit—someone asks for something and the request cannot be granted—but it need not be. More often, the time and energy available are consumed by the committed tasks and at the end of the day, there are no resources left for the things not committed to. Stuff just does not happen.

It isn’t hard to guess where I’m going with this. I recently said yes to some work for my former partners. A large chunk of my time is now committed to this worthwhile—and quite enjoyable—project and, as a result, I have less time for other things, most notably this blog. That is why my posts have been few and far between lately.

Now, this is not to say that my blogging is less worthwhile or less enjoyable than the other work. Nothing could be farther from the truth. No, blogging has simply become less urgent; it remains very important to me. I admit to feeling a little discomfort with this—the puritanical worker in me wants to do everything, to get it done, now!—but I know I will catch up. Anyway, it is summer, a time when the pace is slower and more relaxed. For all I know, my readers are on vacation or tending their own gardens.

Nor does my not writing about the garden mean that nothing is happening there. To the contrary, the planters are bursting with growth, especially the east planter with its bounty of root vegetables (most especially, the turnips) and snap peas, while the cucumbers, tomatoes, squash, eggplant, and bell peppers are preparing to carry out their own surge.

The most comforting aspect of the garden is that at this time of year, it practically takes care of itself. It basks in the sun by day, receives gentle watering from the timed hoses or occasional thunderstorm in the evening, and, at intervals, enjoys a little love from Rachel and me. Because in addition to everything else we are doing, we are both still chanting “yes!” to the garden.

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Funny what will happen when you aren’t looking.

Due to a combination of other activities (which used up all of my available time) and inclement weather (which kept me indoors when I was not out running errands), I did not make it into the garden yesterday until after dark.  I made an inspection as best I could (the solar-powered bird lights from Ikea do not cast much light) but was only able to determine that nothing major had occurred in the garden all day.

Or so I thought.  This morning, while making my rounds, I discovered that most of the string beans have sprouted.  And “sprouted” would be an understatement.  Not only have the seeds germinated and the stems pushed their way to the soil surface, but already, the seedlings are three to four inches tall.

String beans produce stocky stems right from the start and most of the stems already support a pair of true leaves.  With only two days of growth, some of them already look larger and hardier than the beets, which have been growing since April.  The seedlings of the Bush II beans are a bright pea-green while the stems of the Amethyst purple pole beans are a ruddy green, a color similar to rhubarb.

The seedlings emerged two days before the early estimate provided on the seed package.  Funny how fast a plant will grow when the conditions are right.

There is always so much to be done—my to-do list is lengthy—but only so many hours in which to do it.  On any given day, I have to make several decisions about what I can accomplish before the sun goes down.  To a few things, I say “Yes”; everything else gets an implicit “No”.

The choice can be difficult, especially when the garden is on the receiving end of one of those nos.  When that happens, I sometimes feel like I’m neglecting the vegetables and that something critical may occur while my attention is elsewhere.  Perhaps hornworms will appear on the tomatoes (Yikes!) or a first eggplant will form (Rejoice!) and I won’t be there to witness it and take appropriate action (removing the offending insects for the former and photographing the blessed fruit for the latter).

So my goal is to avoid missing the garden for more than one day.  Frankly, not much happens in the garden in any particular 24-hour period and often the garden will go for several days with no discernable changes, good or bad.  (Those dreaded hornworms, which can chomp their way through entire tomato plants in a very short time, might be an exception.)  If I have to be away longer, I get someone to look after things.

Ironically, blogging about the garden can be counter-conducive to the actual gardening activities themselves.  Noting the progress (or lack thereof) of the vegetables, taking photographs, writing about it (probably the largest demand on my time), and posting; these things take time.  That’s time that could be spent doing the things that eventually I will be blogging about.  It could easily become a Catch-22:  I can’t write the blog if I don’t do any gardening but if I spend too much time gardening, I can’t write a blog about it.

And, sometimes, it feels preferable to blog about something rather than do it, a la Andy Rooney.  For instance (nasally, whiny voice):  Don’t you just hate it when you have to remove sod?  It has to be the most difficult part of constructing a garden.  And what do you do with all of that sod, anyway?  It’s not like you can sell it or exchange it for other plants.  (With no disrespect to Andy Rooney, who wisely—or luckily—made a long, successful career out of such rants.)

While I’m on the topic of ironies, here’s another one.  At times, I feel reluctant to harvest vegetables when they are at a near-perfect state of ripeness and aesthetic beauty.  They look so nice, the well-formed squash, blossom still attached, or pristine white turnip, peeking out of the ground with a symmetrical plume of succulent greens on top.  It would be a shame to spoil the tableau.  And once harvested, a void remains, a barrenness, an absence of beauty.

But, hey, this is dinner!  I snap a few photos, grab the vegetables and head for the kitchen.

Slightly ahead of schedule, the lettuces have begun to sprout.

It is possible that they started a day or two earlier because, following the advice of Late Bloomer’s friend Farmer Jack (see the excellent “Planting Lettuce – Episode 7”), we had been keeping the lettuce covered with moist towels (actually, we used old napkins).  Also, the seedlings are very small.  Even had the ground not been covered, they would have been hard to spot.

The towel method works well.  We found that we needed to water the lettuce only once per day to keep it sufficiently moist that the soil never went dry.  In addition, by watering with the towel in place, I didn’t have to worry about disturbing the soil and seeds from the force of the water spray.  It’s too bad there is no way to keep the towel in place now that the sprouts are up.

We have also been following Farmer Jack’s admonition to “live in the garden” and visit all of the plants at least twice a day, morning and evening.  With luck, our lettuce (and other vegetables) will prosper as much as his.