I started rototilling the field this morning, and it started SNOWING!!!
We keep setting dates to plant the garden, but the weather is just not cooperating. We're aiming for next Saturday, April Fool's Day! I hope it won't be me that's fooled again. It's supposed to be freezing or below most nights this week, so we didn't plant anything today. Ben came by and said he'd come next Saturday and help, and I'll have my brother's girls, 5 and 7 years old. It's supposed to be in the 70's. I'll hope!
BG cleaned the basement apartment for company next weekend. A nice couple looking at the area to possibly move here when he retires. They would be a great addition to the area.
BG and I moved the old doors and trash off the downstairs porch and cleaned up the shed storage area to store them. BG has muscles! With her on the other end, we move air conditioners and building materials around to clean up an area that had gotten really messy. I got a workout, she wasn't breathing hard.
I picked all the lettuce yesterday, so the roots will have something to do besides grow. I hope to slow down the plants until I can get them into the ground. I divided the ones that had come up two or more to a place, and filled in the blank space in the planting trays. Busy work to keep me in the sweet smelling, warm greenhouse. Having done the taxes, I can see that it would be much cheaper to buy our veggies at the store.
I remember an essay by playwright Arthur Miller, who mused that there was something in him that demanded that he plant a garden every spring, but not for food, for the planting of it. He bought a farm for his garden.
Maybe I'm that way. I can't imagine not having something to plant in the spring. It represents so much: Hope, Faith, Connections. Like having children, a home by water, a real wood fire in the fireplace, a cold room when I'm sleeping, sunshine to wake me up, dogs, cats, stars in the sky, birdsong. I feel these things viscerally, gut-feel them. I need them. When I'm gone they will go on, eternally, here or on another planet.
We keep setting dates to plant the garden, but the weather is just not cooperating. We're aiming for next Saturday, April Fool's Day! I hope it won't be me that's fooled again. It's supposed to be freezing or below most nights this week, so we didn't plant anything today. Ben came by and said he'd come next Saturday and help, and I'll have my brother's girls, 5 and 7 years old. It's supposed to be in the 70's. I'll hope!
BG cleaned the basement apartment for company next weekend. A nice couple looking at the area to possibly move here when he retires. They would be a great addition to the area.
BG and I moved the old doors and trash off the downstairs porch and cleaned up the shed storage area to store them. BG has muscles! With her on the other end, we move air conditioners and building materials around to clean up an area that had gotten really messy. I got a workout, she wasn't breathing hard.
I picked all the lettuce yesterday, so the roots will have something to do besides grow. I hope to slow down the plants until I can get them into the ground. I divided the ones that had come up two or more to a place, and filled in the blank space in the planting trays. Busy work to keep me in the sweet smelling, warm greenhouse. Having done the taxes, I can see that it would be much cheaper to buy our veggies at the store.
I remember an essay by playwright Arthur Miller, who mused that there was something in him that demanded that he plant a garden every spring, but not for food, for the planting of it. He bought a farm for his garden.
Maybe I'm that way. I can't imagine not having something to plant in the spring. It represents so much: Hope, Faith, Connections. Like having children, a home by water, a real wood fire in the fireplace, a cold room when I'm sleeping, sunshine to wake me up, dogs, cats, stars in the sky, birdsong. I feel these things viscerally, gut-feel them. I need them. When I'm gone they will go on, eternally, here or on another planet.
1 comment:
Every summer we decide to downsize all of the gardens. Every spring we expand. The memory of some gardeners is not very good.
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