Muriel Rukeyser
Sometimes the beginning seed comes from the ending plant -- these are Lacinato Kale from last year.
And sometimes it's the promise of moving-around new life (notice how nicely the mama ladybugs placed their children near a buffet?).
We're going to have grapes, and this year, I've committed to regular watering, so they might be bigger than last year's quarter-inch ones.
The rasperries are so beloved that a strict set of protocol has grown up around the picking of them. One picks, then figures out how many people want them, then offers them around, making sure that mama gets some. At least that's the theory. Hopefully the new berries out front will spread out the joy.
I thought I'd have room for a zucchini in this section of the bed, but I had lazily snapped the True Siberian kale off instead of pulling it. Now it's resprouting. How could I rip it out now? We actually had kale for dinner last night.
This may be the truest indicator that spring is really here. Tomatoes. . . yummm. Even now I'm amazed at how much plant comes out of such tiny seeds.
Speaking of dinner last night, yesterday was one of those cheery "make lots of food" days. A new pan of granola:
The artichokes are from the front yard. With pine nuts and parmesan, they ended up stuffing the chicken breasts for the dinner party. They're so young that they were butter-tender.
More seeds and seedlings await downstairs. The fun just never ends. As I was pulling weeds by the garden bed today, and taking them to the chickens, I realized that I'll be doing this next year, and the year after that, and so on, unless something terrifically unexpected happens. That makes me happy. I always thought that you'd (I'd?) have to move to the country to feel linked to any land, but it's apparently the working of the land that causes connection.
3 comments:
Hi Stefaneener, so glad you stopped by and left a comment on my blog! I've really enjoyed reading your posts about your garden. Your love of your garden and connection to place really shines through all your posts. Those lady beetle moms are considerate about laying their eggs near their babies first meals. But those teenage lady beetles have been going off and pupating on stuff I want to harvest... I hope they grow up in a hurry!
Hey, Michelle, I think you and I and countless other urban farmers are leading some big new shift. My children, at least, will never wonder how carrots grow, or where honey comes from, or why plants have flowers.
Your ladybug pictures are so inspiring I'm going to try to take more when the wind stops.
I think that's great that you identified the ladybug eggs and photographed them. Now I know what they look like. Also, I'm thrilled to know that you produced artichokes. My plant has been riddled with aphids and driving me crazy due to its high maintenance. What a delicious treat!
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