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| White fence, Wilmot; Charley Freiberg photo |
The planting didn’t all get finished – I’ve still three more
beds to weed and manure, and I’m still slowly putting in bean seed, though I
have to wonder why, with the ground and nights, especially, still too cold –
the earthworms I’ve uncovered while working are still very sluggish. I think
that if I don’t plant now, I’ll either still be planting in July or we won’t
have beans at all unless there’s a very long warm fall, and who can count on
that? So the tomatoes are still indoors, the bean seed is still mostly not
planted, and there’s basil and calendula and California poppy seeds still to be
sown, a back-up packet of parsnips awaiting earth, and gladiola bulbs to go
into the ground.
But my peas are up, and also the fava beans, which oddly
like cold ground and cool air, which is probably why they’re so popular in
England, where they’re call broad beans. Also up are about half the potatoes, and
the onion sets and shallots are looking fine. The beets and carrots are misting
their beds a light green in their tiny up-ness. No sign of parsnips yet but
they’re like that – fickle, unpredictable, slow to germinate, sometimes never do,
but if you ever get any – and then give them the cold shoulder – wondrously sweet
and worth the trouble.
Some brave squashes that I planted under cloches are well up
and now have to brave the cool air, having outgrown their covers rapidly.
Nearby, a pair of birds is building a nest in the falling-apart bird house
attached to the garden arch; and I was thrilled to be buzzed by Buzzy Boy, our
cranky hummingbird, who is back from winter migration and in fine fettle. He’s
already chased me home from the garden several nights I was out too late
according to his strict rules about what it’s ok for me to be doing, and when.
The rhubarb has already flowered, and as I look out into the
garden past the rain (and more rain, and more rain, and more rain…) I can see
that the marjoram is crowding out the iris, the mint has moved about 3 feet
south of where I put it, and the bee balm seems to be doing well – and it’s
migrating, too. There are also some Jerusalem artichokes that have moved themselves
several beds away from their original home. No matter – things will find their
home place, if they’re given time and space. Though I keep telling the grass
and other weeds that inside the
garden fence is not their home place,
no matter what they think.
I discovered a couple of handsome snakes hanging out in the
garden and hope they find the slugs I’ve also found. Both snakes were nestled
under the waiting bales of hay I spread on top of thick layers of newspaper and
cardboard in the garden paths as I attempt to wrest this garden plot away from
its heritage as a cow pasture, and kill off the evil grass that runs rampant even
under all that padding. Both snakes slid off haughtily when I disturbed them.
Perhaps they’re the reason that the furry people have been capturing mice
indoors again this past week, after a hiatus of several weeks once the weather
turned --- well, let’s just say it’s now milder than winter weather. Catman and
the Beast have been chasing mice around my kitchen and dining room every night
now for the last three or four days, and Catman, at least, has gulped several
down whole. Yum.
I haven’t had sight of Bear ever since the birds ate the last
of the sunflower seed a month ago, but I did follow a young moose about two
miles down Rt 4A near midnight one night last week. It was standing in the
middle of my lane, and looked to be maybe a yearling. I didn’t see any other moose,
and this one hadn’t a clue what to do, faced with a large humming thing with
bright eyes. So we sat and watched each other for about 5 minutes, and when it
became clear Moosie wasn’t going to move, I crept slowly up on it and tried to
go around. Then we began that dance that we do with strangers in the grocery
aisle or post office – I went left, Moosie followed; I went right, Moosie
followed. Eventually Moosie headed down the road in the direction I was going,
so I let it get far ahead, hoping it would move out into the woods. When I
could barely, barely see it in my high beams, I slowly crept forward and –
voila! When I arrived, there stood Moosie, still in the middle of my lane.
We danced this way for several miles; I tried a short blatt
of the horn, which startled Moosie but didn’t cause her to move off the road.
Eventually, I saw headlights approaching from the opposite direction, so I
madly flashed mine, and both cars stopped and waited for Moosie to decide what
to do, which, basically, was to stand in the road and look curiously from one
to the other of us and not give up an inch. Then we both slowly, slowly crept
closer to Moosie; and Moosie switched lanes and began the trot back in the
direction we’d come from. I snuck by, wishing the driver of the other car, and
Moosie, good luck and safe travels.
I have no idea what the proper protocol is for going past a
moose in the road; I’ve never had the problem before, older mooses usually move
off-road once they see that the noisy tin can won’t go away. I suspect it would
be bad form and possibly quite dangerous to try to creep past a full-grown
moose – you don’t want one of those big dudes deciding to climb over your car.
Moosie was only horse-sized rather than full-moose size, but even so – I need a
different strategy. Rt 4A is a place where moose are abundant, and the hours I
keep seem to be active ones for the Moose Nation.
My indoor plants, which look forward to spending the summer
outdoors, have been whining loudly at me whenever I venture near them. I’ve
been telling them for a month that they can go outside soon, but I don’t think
40-degree night-time weather is friendly weather for a potted bay tree and a
potted kaffir lime tree. I even promised the passionflower vine that it could
take over the wart railings this summer, and it’s amazing how dramatically a
passion flower can mope when it’s bored. The bay is just stoic, but the kaffir
lime whacks me with its long and very sharp thorns every chance it gets. Whose
idea was it to give a tree that bears delicious fruit long sharp thorns?
I still hope it’ll get a little warmer – not too warm, those
90-degree days were a bit much. Just in case those two wicked hot days were all
the summer we’re going to see this year, I haven’t put the winter boots and
scarf and hat and mittens away yet. In fact, I wore all but the boots to work
twice last week, and they were very comfortable.
Better safe than sorry, I say; it is New England, after all.
Besides, those boots make a good doorstop.
For the blog:
herondragonwrites.blogspot.com June
5, 2017
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