I’ve never been bored a day in my life. I say this with neither pride nor shame. I’m simply stating a fact. Perhaps it’s the Protestant work ethic or my Irish ancestry. At any rate, there is always something to do in a gardener’s world.
Between mugwort and bindweed, countless hours can be spent finding the completely overwhelmed vegetable seedlings or bedding annuals.
The bindweed, aka wild morning glory, may actually be worse then mugwort. It always breaks off just below soil level to rise again in a nanosecond. Plus, it insinuates itself up into a desired plant so that inevitably the flower bud pops off when attempting to untwine it! Such is life.
I seeded tons of cole crops in my greenhouse a few months ago. I love all the coles — kale, cabbage, kohlrabi, broccoli, cauliflower and brussels sprouts. I transplanted all into my garden a few weeks ago. Some I placed directly into a patch of field peas. As they continued to grow, I cut and dropped them to free up the coles. Others went alone into empty beds. Oddly, those alone have been ravaged by both flea beetles and root maggots. The ones in the field peas are perfect and twice as big. There you have it — I have no reason for this phenomenon, but think I’ll repeat it next spring.
I should be able to do this for years since I purchased a 50-pound bag. What was I thinking? I have over 40 pounds in the freezer.
I took a chance a month or so ago and planted out all the dahlias. I was sick of them piled in the unheated spare bedroom. Some had some nice green shoots at the time. They promptly froze the next day but have revived and are now sporting nice solid new growth. One even has the beginning of a bud.
I pulled the rest of last year’s leeks. Isn’t nature grand? I made a nice leek and chicken broth soup. I neglected to buy leek seeds for this year but as luck would have it, I found a small cluster of seeds from last season’s flower that had germinated. I promptly transplanted them and hope for the best.
I love the bridal wreath spirea and weigela combination at the bottom of the Edgartown road as you turn onto State Road towards town. It’s a lovely old-fashioned mix.
There usually is a flock of chickens wandering around the yard and sometimes right on the road. Yikes! Careful, people.
Cosmos has reseeded with abandon all over my vegetable garden. I simply cannot pull them out, so things may get a bit crowded later in the season. I didn’t notice them until after I planted several flats. Figures!
I may have jumped the gun a bit and planted most of the tomatoes. The nights have been chilly and they seem to be languishing. Poor things. I’ve been sprinkling them with liquid fish and seaweed fertilizer to encourage them along.
I’m fascinated with the different methods people use to keep figs over the winter.
Some plant in a protected southern location and wrap in burlap for the coldest months. The urban Italians dig a trench and bury them. I put mine in an unheated building and wrap them in Reemay. They lived, barely, but need some serious help to thrive.
Growing up in Rew, Pa., (often the coldest spot in the nation), I knew no one who had figs. In fact, I only knew them in Fig Newtons.
I often mention Rew, as it does seem like another world. I lived in the gun culture. We had shooting ranges on the property, ate venison often, carried rifles on racks in the rear window of pick-ups. Dad had a sign saying, “Don’t worry about the Dog — Beware of the Owner.” Picture looking down the double barrels. Needless to say, we had NRA memorabilia everywhere.
I may have been dropped into my family from Mars.
That said, I have to go with the gun control folks. The latest shooting in California is yet another reason for sensible background checks to sort out the folks with serious mental issues. I’ll never understand why a responsible sane gun owner could object.