meandering thoughts on gardening
My beets are leafy green arms reaching further out of the ground, stretching toward the sun to allow for the bulbous purple vegetable to round itself; making rings in its inside like the rings inside a tree. My green onions fatten and reach skyward; sharply flavored and crisp in color. My red peppers however are stunted—possible too much rain this season? My cosmos grow ever taller, something akin to a leafy fern or a soft evergreen. I am expectantly looking for buds and yet none thus far.
TSO’s peas and green beans climb and wrap themselves around poles, their fruits hanging down, absolutely begging to be picked and eaten even with dirty, weed-pulling hands. TSO was clever in his planning, placing his carrot seeds in the bottom of his bean pole tee pees; the carrot tops shooting up from the ground reaching out as the beans hang down around them—the very sight is almost as a Christmas tree of beans with its carrot presents wrapped in green hues underneath. It is something I enjoy looking at every time I go down to the garden. TSO also has rows of corn (I believe three types) growing fast in the sun and rain. I am looking forward to the corn gathering even more height so it can become a place for me to hide behind, left to my weed pulling and thoughts. Creeping along are TSO’s tomatoes and spinach, also some squash and melons which TSO transplanted from a friends’ garden. Why can’t the events of life model that of plants?—A slow and meandering pace, with inevitable results.
As I look forward to the changes in the garden I too look forward to the changes that seem to be sprouting up all around us. The first change to take place next weekend is Amos and CJ’s wedding. I am looking forward to it and also have been busy in my duties as DJ. With the help of my roomie J Bean, I have spent the last couple of weeks getting a list of music together and am now at the stage of making huge playlists on my Ipod: dinner music, dancing music, music for an after party. I still can’t believe the time has flown by and we are at the precipice of another wedding. Maybe life is modeled after the events in a garden—moving at a slow and meandering pace, with inevitable results; a Thornton Wilder-ish Our Town.