Ancient (Garden) History

I'm not writing this from the table on my back deck ... but I could be. It's where I spend a lot of time—sometimes reading, most times doing nothing. Just sitting there, being human.

I'm able to do this (i.e. nothing), because I know what the yard looked like before I moved in 8 years ago, and what I'm really doing (besides nothing) is just kinda savoring what's become of that gloomy dirt/weed patch. Something green and vital. Something that hums.

Yes, yes, I've done a lot of work. But now the garden runs itself, I swear. I am particularly proud of how much the bees love it in there. Those guys work hard—it feels good to make them happy. Also? There's still an excitement every time something comes into bloom. That's fun.

I don't think modern folks feel much of a bond with where they live. We travel too much, and we move all the time. But I was thinking today, when I came across a couple ancient house pics on my hard drive, that propagating my garden—it's how I've connected with my land, primordially speaking. Cool, huh?

Circa 2006, when pulling weeds was my life.

Spring 2007, when my mommy came to visit and helped me plant some starts.

Spring 2014—a horticultural bonanza.

What To Do With Vodka

The weather got its act together sometime yesterday afternoon. Auspiciously—because tomorrow is July.

Like we need any reason beyond bright yellow sunshine to buy vodka, but here's why I need a bottle of Monopolowa, STAT: I made rose-petal simple syrup. What I did was I walked into my backyard and clipped some hot-pink rose flowers that were wildly in bloom. "Foraging" is what the kids are calling it these days. I tore the petals and placed them in a pot with equal parts water and sugar (a cup of each, I reckon)—simmering them for a few, letting them sit for a few, and straining.

My big plan now is: Combine with vodka and soda water, and drink. The end. Wanna come over and have one with me?

Spring To Do List

1. Keep my seedlings alive until it's time to stuff them in the ground. The sitch is tenuous—a touch of mildew, mold, or blight and it's all over.

2. Adventure more. South? North? I care not.

3. Eat sandwiches and beer in the sun in the park.

4. Skate all the razor scooter parks while the children are still locked away in school.

5. Procure a butter dish. A small thing, sure—except I eat toast in no small amount and want, or actually NEED velvety room-temp butter to spread on said toast. You can't just have a stick of butter wrapped in its original wax paper sitting on the counter, though. That's crazy talk.

6. Take longer walks neath the flowered drooping trees.

What To Do Right Now

I heard something about "springing forward" when I was really tired and I couldn't comprehend what exactly that meant for me and my three bedroom clocks—none of which tell time quite right. Then the sun came out and all the dogwood blossoms popped overnight. Bless your heart, Portland.

I was wondering if you ever think about growing peas or kale? Lettuce, maybe? The reason I ask is because if so, then you should plant them NOW. It's simple. You barely need to lift a finger, much less a shovel. Requirements entail a couple seed packets and a plot of land. Some rich mushroom compost to swirl into the soil. Some rain. And some time.

These cool-season green crops are the easiest of the easy when it comes to yard gardening, and so you could very possibly be blowing it if you're not tending to at least a container or two of them. Also? Green stuff is good for you, and if you grow it, you will eat it. Funny how that works. See, I never buy lettuce because I forget about it until it turns into a brown mass in the bottom of my crisper. But if you grow your salad in a tidy row, you will be inspired to wander out and pull a few sprigs to put on your cheese sandwich or whatever. The rest will stay in the ground where it belongs, just, you know, photosynthesizing.

Seed packets? $1.50. No excuses. Buy and plant now, before it's too late!

My lettuce seedlings require the protection of chicken wire on account of the neighborhood cats mistaking the garden bed for a giant luscious litter box. I suspect the cats in your neighborhood will be equally as confused on this topic, just FYI.

I save my egg shells, crush them, and sprinkle them in the garden beds because they are filled with rich calcium goodness.