Seattle is the red star. I’m a little NW of that. Being in a somewhat clear area is encouraging but obviously the optimism is only temporary. And “cold unstable air”? At least in the present moment everything is stable, just the tiniest wisp of a breeze. But it’s 45 degrees, man. Not sticking my hands into cold wet soil today.
There are weeds to be pulled, chaos to be pushed back, oregano to be pulled/harvested/burned, and a seedbed to be watered (that I can do) because this is the second day of no rain. Just the seedbed today, just the seedbed…then go back inside to another cup of coffee and a day of writing.
It’s not even May yet…May is usually iffy, June is sometimes iffy, the NW joke is that July 5th is the first day of summer…
Me in the garden the other day, staring down at my “raised” bed:
It’s not clear, I know…I know…let me try to explain…
I pushed half of the soil aside with a rake, then placed small fir branches, then I stepped on them to break them up a bit and pack them in. I then shoveled some duff from under the fir trees into a wheelbarrow and dumped that in. Duff is this stuff under a couple trees, not sure what it is, maybe some sawdust from long ago logging, also what’s sluffed off of a rotten old stump, fir needles, and ?
On top of that went some half finished and finished compost along with some worms, then I pushed the soil back over the top. Then I looked at the other half and realized I was exhausted.
Yes, I’m that old and out of shape. Baby steps all over again. I decided to skip the hügelkultur on the second half of the bed, my bad.
The next day I pushed a small trellis into the middle of the bed and planted peas on one side and sweet peas on the other, without bending over. I made a shallow trench with a piece of bamboo, kinda tossed in the seeds, and pushed the soil with the back of a rake to cover.
I scattered chives seeds around the edge and onion and milkweed seeds over the rest of the bed. And called it done. Putting off watering until later…but about half an hour after I came inside, it started raining. And rained off and on for the rest of the day.
Many thanks from a weary ol’ gardener. But now I water with a watering can every day.
Pleasance (or Pleasuance) – A pleasure ground attached to a castle or mansion, usually outside the fortifications.
It didn’t take much to turn my thoughts to a different kind of inspiration…ahhh youth!…from pleasance to dalliance to romance and more…and of course it’s a rose garden.
When I was young and starting out in gardening, I was so utilitarian. Beds lined up, paths between, all the same size and shape – easy to irrigate. No romance, all practicality.
I’ve never been much of a romantic, now I look back and think, so much wasted time. I’ve lived my life backwards. Now I am more fanciful, as I slow down and smell the roses.
That’s why my main advice to gardeners is to do just that. Sit in your garden and just love it in all its pieces and possibilities. Love the soil and all that lives in it. Love all that lives upon it. Leave your intentions and goals behind for a few minutes and just love what IS. The sun and all that reaches for it. The rain and all that sucks it up through roots and into mouths. The breeze and all that flies and floats and bends.
Next in my exploration of historic/historical/hysterical garden words is mossery. Quite simply, it is a plantation of mosses. I think that describes my yard quite well. During the winter, when the weather is wet and cold, the mosses flourish. Once it warms up and dries out, the mosses die back and grass and small flowers take over. Most of my neighbors have mainly grass that isn’t green 10 months of the year.
I love the moss, so soft and green. We’re at about 50/50 now.
And in other news…other colors have arrived…
From the top: daffodils, hellebore, red flowering currants, primroses.
I just read an article about how AOC was head of a community garden in Queens NY not long after she was elected to Congress (pardon me if the exact timing on this is wrong; it doesn’t really affect the story I’m telling here) and put out a question on social media about how to approach this venture. Guess who responded? Jeremy Corbyn, the British Labour leader. He gave her some good advice too. But there’s even more fun to be had.
In 2016, Corbyn was seemingly unavailable during an important political negotiation with Virgin Trains because he was “making jam”. Once again, my imagination goes wild. How delightful to think of Corbyn and AOC sharing gardening tips…but taking respite from British politics to make jam is just so soothing right now…
Jeremy, I wouldn’t stick your fingers in that…oh the limitations of my AI dabbling…but I can’t stop.
If politicians could share a community garden, maybe world peace wouldn’t be just a pipe dream. Again, the limits of my AI talents…but what a nice thought, at any rate.
“In the spring, I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours.” — Mark Twain
Oh so true. Here in the Pacific Northwest (PNW to my homies), February isn’t waiting for March to do some roaring. We just had an “atmospheric river” pass overhead. The Weather Channel, as always, was good for some entertainment. “They” said that this river passing by held the watery equivalent of 10 Mississippi Rivers, so I passed day after dark, dreary day of rain counting the rivers…10 Mississippi, 9 Mississippi, 8 Mississippi, then I lost count.
I was indeed a sissi (sic). Letting rain – at some times barely more than a mist, at other times a solid, steady rainfall – get me down.
“People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.” — Roger Hornsby
Spring training has started! I get to listen to announcers gloat over the cloudless skies and temperatures in the 80s at baseball camp in Arizona. Thanks for punctuating our gloom back here at home.
“I glanced out the window at the signs of spring. The sky was almost blue, the trees were almost budding, the sun was almost bright.” — Millard Kaufman
Yeah…thanks again for sharing, Arizonians.
“When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.” ― Ernest Hemingway
Good ol’ Hemingway, you can always count on him to bring you down if you’re getting too happy. But wait! This reminds me of why spring is such a welcome relief from winter! After the assault of people over the holidays, once again we can find solitude in our gardens!
Happy spring, whenever it arrives! Happy gardening, garden planning, end of winter!
she doesn’t have any indoor space to start plants in February? Plus it’s so cold outside that she’s still not gonna rake it? She can talk about what she wishes she could do re: gardening but that requires copious amounts of alcoholic beverages to overcome the melancholy of endless cold gray days…
Or she could have fun with gardening words and phrases alongside AI images she generates. I came across a webpage of gardening terms from bygone days and decided to play around. Spank me but…AI image generation is fun.
So true to my Twisted roots, give me some slack and don’t be afraid to smile…
My first phrase is privy garden, and the phrase once meant a private garden, usually one reserved for kings and queens. But not being of noble blood, and having lived for decades without indoor plumbing…my Twisted brain took me here:
A garden can provide us with food, beautiful flowers, and herbs for health and added deliciousness, but it can also add stress and even unnecessary competitiveness. We can link our results to our identity more than is healthy.
This is why I find solace in chaos gardening. I do what I can to the best of my knowledge and abilities, working with what I have and what I am. I am content to step back and let nature do its thing. Gardening is self-expression; it brings me peace if I can laugh at my mistakes; it allows me to grow as I watch the plants grow.
These plants and I have a deeply symbiotic relationship. I give them what I can; they return the favor. If our relationship becomes too stressful, we take a step back. Eventually, we come to terms with our differences and remember what it is that gives us joy in our relationship.
Our imperfections, mine and my garden’s, are what make us unique. If I work with nature, with presence and care, both of us will be in some way beautiful. Neither of us are concerned with trying to impress anyone.
As I work with care in the moment, it is the process that brings us joy and peace. The results are beautiful, in their own way. Chaos with a touch of Zen
Weeds…oregano gone wild…daffodils deciding they’d rather come up in the middle of the path this spring…that one big unknown plant taking over the herb bed…that rugosa rose that keeps getting whacked by the string trimmer…the hazelnuts that have never produced nuts…the apple trees that barely produce any tiny apples…
It is too cold to do anything about it, now…
So I glory in the beauty of the clear blue sky…I rejoice that I don’t live in northern Florida, under snow…I bask in the sunshine streaming in my window…I delight as the birds slowly return…I laugh at the squirrels…I wonder how many more rabbits will appear…and how many of the does in my yard are growing fawns inside…
I exercise to tone my body, gaining strength and flexibility slowly…I continue testing seeds (oh joy! my very old basil seeds sprouted exuberantly!)…I wait patiently…
Age has taught me, it’s never too late to do more than you did yesterday…more exercise reps…more house cleaning…more laundry…more writing in my journal…more sleeping…eating more vegetables…
And it’s never too late to do less…less worrying…less eating…smaller portions, fewer carb snacks…less judging…less focusing on imperfections…
As I gaze at my sleeping garden, I love it more, anticipating the return of the color spring green…
As I look within myself, I love myself more, anticipating a year of returning joy outdoors and expanding joy in my heart.
Neither my garden nor I are diminished by our flaws.
