October garden ghosts
Suddenly, tonight, the sky turned all shades of rose and
aqua and orange and pink and dark blue; the air was also infused with orange
and pink; and a double rainbow stretched brilliantly across the sky. Just a
little earlier, the sun was out and I sat for an hour on the porch, reading the
newspaper, then clipped a bouquet of bright orange calendula. Before that, it
was grey and cold, and I spent several hours in the garden, picking fava beans,
and a small summer squash, catnip to dry for the catboys, a few gladiolas I’d
missed the first time through the garden, and herbs. It rained a little, it
shone a little, it blew a little, it was too cool, it was too warm. I piled
spent plants in the compost bins.
There was a very slow and sleepy bee in one of the calendula flowers.
I cut the asparagus fronds and made piles. I weeded a little. I wondered where the garden gnomes were and what they were doing. Apparently, making a rainbow!
Today I drained and hung up one garden hose: two more to go. I gathered some tomato cages to store in the shed; I emptied one watering can and left it to dry, near the garden shed door where the garden tchatckes are slowly gathering before they go in for the winter.
This is a carrot flower: unusual, because carrots are biennials
I pulled the flowering carrot, and pulled the rest of the carrots in that bed. I pulled two leeks to go into soup this weekend. I pulled off one sweater as I warmed up yanking peppermint that’s trying to invade other garden beds. I put a few cast iron fences around the perimeter of several asparagus beds.
This fall --- is it fall? There are anemones and roses and coneflowers and velvet plant still blooming; there are green beans and cucumbers still forming; there are fall raspberries ripening and attracting the slow wasps and bees. There are weeds that need pulling, and there is dill sprouting from seeds long since scattered. The okra is still blooming. The cilantro is still flowering. The birds are very busy in the garden, and someones are making holes here and there in the garden beds. The garden gnomes have stopped moving the whiskey bottle around.
I’ve moved the porch furniture so it’s in the sun for part of the day, and the gladiola bulbs are drying on the porch table. Soon I’ll cut off the leaves, pull off the old shrunken bulbs, and store the newly-formed bulbs in a net bag in the cellar. I’ll add compost and moodoo to the empty garden beds, and plant garlic, which I’ll tuck under deep layers of hay to keep it safe until next spring makes it sprout. It will grow roots, and slumber, tucked into its garden bed under its blanket of hay.
Another October flower
At night, the cats and I make nests in the bed blankets. I’ve put on thick flannel sheets, and piled on soft blankets; Rasta Furian makes bread and snuggles against my legs. I pull the blankets high around my ears and read until the bed warms up enough to sleep. We dose; we drowse; we dream of soft warm cuddles . My human body wants to hibernate; I’m sleepy and slow during the daytime. My mind is often somewhere with the bears as they get ready to cuddle into their winter nests. We gather what we need for winter. We lift our heads and smell the scent of autumn, the scent that stirs the deep parts of our souls.
A Week or So Later
It’s still October, and today it’s raining. I’m grateful for
the rain; two days ago I put compost on the asparagus beds and wood chips on
their paths, pulled more weeks and picked up several piles of weeds I’ve been
making over the past couple of weeks, and moved them to the compost bins. I’m
still picking summer squash and green beans and fava beans, but the summer
squash has suffered a frost, so I’ll be pulling it up soon. I also dragged and hung the remaining two hoses.
I’ve harvested a lot of carrots, but there is still a row, along the leeks, that I think I’m going to leave in to overwinter and see what happens. The Artist told me she’s done that in past years, and it worked well. I’ll put down some straw, and pull them in spring when I pull the parsnips that I always leave to overwinter and get sweeter. There’s still another couple of rows of carrots in one of the beds that I want to put garlic in this year, so soon I’ll be pulling those, and unfortunately also the morning glories that are still in bloom and romping merrily all over them. The bees will be cranky, but there are still lots of calendula and nasturtiums, borage and another patch of self-sown morning glories, thyme flowers and several roses, Lady’s Thumb and Coral Bells, all in bloom to keep the bees and other pollinators that are still flying happy.
October roses
Two days ago I moved 9 bags of compost and shavings, and then I finished building the new bed that travels the remaining distance behind the fence and the field, uniting this year’s earlier new bed and 3 old beds that span that space. That meant I moved fourteen 30lb. cement blocks to make the edges. Yesterday I got my new Covid vaccine. Today I can’t tell what part of my whole-body hurt is due to one or the other, except the really sore spot on my arm that can only be from the vaccine.
So, like I said, I’m grateful for the rain, because there are at least 6 more bags of compost and shavings, 20 more heavy cement blocks, and a couple of straw bales that need my attention. Today, and I hope tomorrow, I have a good excuse to stay indoors and take naps and read. With the cats. We’re currently reading Farley Mowatt’s Never Cry Wolf, and the cats are fascinated. How I missed this story when I was younger is a total mystery.
Fall anemones - my favorite!
Those of you who are wondering about my F’ing FL friend? She just informed me that I give her IBS every single time I contact her. She has to take an extra IBS pill and then go sit on the toilet in great pain for the next four days. She didn’t mention the pain in the butt she gives me…. But I have the solution: no more sending letters and postcards or anything that isn’t absolutely necessary for my ability to do my part of taking care of her business. I doubt she’ll get it, but it might be time for her to learn that actions – and refusing to act – have consequences.
Unknown big-leafed plant
HA! Why she’d get it when no one in politics does kind of begs the question, doesn’t it?
For the blog, 10/21/23: herondragonwrites.blogspot.com
All photos Deb Marshall
Birdhouse with morning glories...
