And if it all goes up in a flash of smoke and lighting so be it, my arugula and I will be vaporized in the same mushroom cloud and our atoms will settle down somewhere else on this earth to reseed and rebuild some kind of a garden somewhere.
Premier kale, lacinato kale, dwarf blue kale, champion collards, rocket arugula, bibb lettuce, spinach - I’ve got them all started in little containers filled with moist, rich garden soil, their little seed bodies poised to rise up and flourish.
I’m not really very good at this, the results of my previous attempts at gardening have been disasters. I did once grow swiss chard, however, and a bog filter full of water cress. Everything else I’ve ever planted died out or never sprouted.
But I’m going at this with a fresh attitude. I can do this. Love the little sprouts, nourish and fed them is my strategy. They are my friends. I just hope the cats don’t dig them up for fun or the squirrels nip them in the bud. Greens should grow well in this cool Spring weather.
And I hope to plant corn in the planting box and flowers alongside the road and re-seed the bog filter with tiny granular watercress seeds.
Mostly just wildflowers grow in my yard, self propagated. Indian blankets take over the place or Texas sunflowers go wild. Lantana and evening primrose show up. Bluebonnets, of course, and dandelions, bee balm, the small purple flowers of the wild petunia and the thistle and the velvet weed all appear at their leisure if there is enough rain to support their roots. And then the bees and the butterflies come and frolic among the flowers like little fairy people. I love that.
And the mountain laurels (see above) that planted themselves front and center, right next to the Monterey oak as if they were a couple open their purple blooms. That’s after the groundcovers have mostly come and gone: the vetch and the cleavers and the sweet clover and the lawn flower.
The truth is I’m less inclined to plant a garden and tend it than I am to just let whatever pops up, pop up and have it’s day. That really is intriguing. But growing something to eat is intriguing too and tasty and healthy so I will attempt to put off my hunter/gatherer ways and become a farmer.
I wish you well, dear reader, I wish you a bountiful garden of whatever it is that you plant. Tomatoes and corn, perhaps, kindness and consciousness, perhaps. All good crops. Whatever we plant hopefully it will grow and whatever we don’t plant hopefully it will be a surprise and a delight.
An evening primrose that bloomed in my front yard last year. It was just for me. And whoever else happened to see it.
podcast music from 00:23:29 • A Cerulean State - And It All Came To A Halt
While the powers that be calculate the pros and cons of nuclear war i'm going to grow a garden