Bloodless Coup

Seasons

This year I am really feeling the move towards a new season. I'm always glad to see winter go, delighted to see light outside when I get up in the morning, glad not to put on fifteen gazillion layers or wear a tobaggan in the house. This comes, no doubt, from growing up in the subtropics, and living in Brazil. But this spring feels more full of excitement and energy than many a year.

To celebrate, I've been in the garden. I'm not a dainty gardener, but a filthy gardener. I hate using gloves. I'll stick my hand in anything, which probably isn't such a good idea. I come in looking like I've been in a cat fight, with scratches all up and down my arms. Fingernails? Forget it. First of all, I cut them off to nubs (the combined sports of gardening, rock climbing and pottery are all no nails activities). Even so, I manage to embed grime. The closest thing I can think of to my permanent gardener's "outline" I can think of is from when my brother worked at a gas station, and had mechanic's grime. It's not uncommon for people to say to me, "oh, I see you bite your nails too."

In our zone, it's not really safe to put in a garden until May first, and even then I keep out some old bed sheets and blankets in case there is a snap frost, and I have to run out and cover things up. Even so, it's not really warm yet, and some things are having a hard time getting sprouted. I've re-potted all the house plants. Scraped off the scale. Hosed out the whiteflies and all the other baddies that accumulate inside over the 6-7 months of sadness. I've got three trees that are begging for bigger pots, but I'm afraid that if I upgrade, I won't be able to move them anymore, and then they'll either have to stay in (which they don't reallly like year round) or build a greenhouse (where oh where? and won't the assholes next door complain?).

Feeling optimistic nevertheless, I overbought on seeds and seedlings. I have a "thinning" problem. I have trouble being cruel to be kind, and ripping out those little greenies that are trying so hard, but will end up crowding out all the others, and ultimately killing all of each other off. I know for sure I bought too many tomatoes. Especially since I also have three egg cartons full of seeds I started from scratch from the heirlooms I grew in past years.

I suppose I ought to divulge that I live on a small city lot, and that my soil is heavily clay. No lie, I dug some up, and it was gray and creamy, with some orange iron streaks in it. I even took them to the pot shop, and made some little test vases, and fired them at various temperatures. The trash can smoke fire left them yellowish...not really vitrified. I tried them at cone 10-12, and they melted into puddles. The real beauty came out at cone 6, a nice rich, coppery rust color. No suprise of course, given the iron streaks. However, not much good for the garden.

Which brings me to the subject of raised beds. Oh how I love raised beds. The only thing I love more than raised beds, is compost. Did I mention the small city lot? I have three compost piles. It's not really organic, even though I've been gardening sans chemicals for eight years, because I compost non-organic stuff like Chiquita banana peels. It's close though, and I'm also working towards eliminating any remaining lawn. I keep a small stretch for the dogs to poop on, but otherwise it's getting to be more and more beds, and in the flat bits, white clover. Even the strip between the sidewalk and the street has now been converted.

This of course, annoys the asshole neighbors no end. They mow. A lot. And when they mow, they often sweep the lawn of detritus when they finish. Oh, you heard right. Now, they also like to aim their mower right for my car in the driveway, and as their lot is about four feet higher than mine, spray the whole side with grass and crap. Lovely. Let's just say that there's not a lot of aesthetic consonsance happening here. They actually prompted one of their workmen to ask me one time "you mean to tell me you actually plant wild carrots [ed note: Queen Anne's Lace]?

So, what will I prouduce this year, from my clay soil, infested with slugs - and yes, I've done the beer, done the diatomaceous earth, done it all, but they still come? Let's see working in a full circle around the house, I've got (mixing all categories, and not repeating things making several appearances):

Potatoes (small purple), columbine, french hollyhock, kale (two kinds) endive, sansiveris, sweet woodruff, solomon's seal, harry lauder's walking stick, all manner of hostas, lily of the valley, wild clematis, lovage, bee balm, lemon balm, romaine, three kinds of "spring mix" lettuce, arugula, comfrey, tomatoes (eight kinds), bush beans, various and sundry zinnias, cosmos, asters, sunflowers, hollyhocks, four o'clocks, rudbeckia, yucca, daylilies, sedum, one rose, asiatic lilies, pennyroyal and rue (the abortionist's garden), Queen Anne's lace, root fennel, florence fennel, lamb's ear, kerea, peonies (three colors), nasturtiums, echinacea, basil (tons), chives, tarragon, lavender, haricots verts, watermelon, honeydew melon, thyme (three kinds), sage (three kinds), sorrel, catnip, mint (four kinds), cilantro, flat leaf parsley, marjoram, oregano, beets (two kinds), peas, salvia, dill, and more on the porch steps in pots but who is counting?

Goosenecked loosetrife is the bane of my existence. With the loosestrife, I'm like the dad with the furnace in A Christmas Story. The people who lived here before put it in, and it keeps coming back, sprouting up in the midst of everything.

Right now, all the annuals are mostly still sleeping, but a few things are peeking out (the spring lettuce) and I can't stay away. I've got to be out fidgeting. Picking weeds. Breaking the odd clod of soil with my fingertips. It's like having a snoozing baby in the house. You have to keep checking. Just to see if she's awake yet.

Oh, yes, spring. She is waking up!

Posted by binky at May 13, 2006 06:44 PM | TrackBack | Posted to Random Thoughts