My garden is making progress toward filling our plates and bowls with the bounty of produce. I admit to some trepidation at having announced to the world that I am attempting a garden. I could fail utterly, though I am feeling more and more confident that we will actually be able to consume what’s growing there—maybe even share!
My eggplant is doing well. It had been chewed on by some creature, but seems to have thrived despite that. A few of the eggplant seedlings have survived, but remain in their humble egg carton. My one disappointment is that one of my sweet one hundreds is looking quite “peak-ed,” and we’ll have to replace it with a more hearty plant. And the sweet one hundreds are my favorite!
I provided something on which the peas and cucumbers can climb, so they’re happy campers. (They're hiding behind the bichon frise marker that Sam's girlfriend gave me for Mother's Day.) In addition to the red bell pepper, I planted a miniature sweet pepper. At the end of the garden, I planted some too-mature basil, which isn’t really doing all that well. And, in fact, I think I’m due for a pesto, so will just harvest those leaves and plant something else in their place.
The most exciting thing in the garden, however, is the seedlings, which have sprouted. The radishes came up with lightening speed. I’ve already thinned them once and should do it again, though I probably won't. The lettuce is doing very nicely. The carrots—for which I had lost all hope, thinking I had washed the seeds away when watering—have finally peeked out of the ground. And the herb barrel looks wonderful and has been picked at many times. That includes oregano, basil, chive, two kinds of parsley, cilantro, mint and thyme.
Milo has not handled the concept of “fence” well. He comes to the fence when I’m inside the garden area and puts his paw through a hole in an effort, I think, to squeeze his body through. He will adjust. Or not. But either way, I’ve learned my fence lesson.
When son Sam was here one day, he found a “peeper” in the yard, which is, no doubt, happy to stay around—though so small we’ll probably never see it again. And while he was here, a cedar wax-wing flew into a mirror that lives outside to capture the occasional practice golf swing. (It has since been turned around to prevent a repeat.) He rescued the poor thing, put him up off the ground (and away from curious felines) and gave him some water. And after 10 or 15 minutes, he very suddenly flew away. I was thrilled as I had pictured him rudely thrown into the garbage can when he didn’t survive.
The back yard and garden are full of living things—plants, animals, insects that eat the eggplant, and insects that aid the eggplant. What a wondrous thing it is.