If I ever had a doubt that spring was a time of renewal and reemergence of life, this one is showing me full on exactly what it means.
My hands are in shreds, but the gardening is going exceptionally well. We planned to split an experimental section of last year’s transplanted wild garlic and, if it did well, to move more. The garlic was growing too close together to encourage large bulbs to form. The plan changed and now well over half has been moved. Already it is over a foot tall, with this weird mix of spring that is more like summer (and now back to near winter).
Due to an unfortunate incident with the first batch of cut potatoes, we cut and cured a new batch. They’ve been planted in the “UFO landing site” along with two whole bags of white and yellow onions.
In the fenced area of the garden, sugar snap peas and pod peas are taking over the Fukuoka bed that we lined with dead wood and organic material and covered in dirt last year. The dirt in that space, in fact in the whole area, is working up surprisingly well, though that particular bed is one of the nicest areas of the garden. Where the rows had a bit of space left, we filled in with icicle and globe radishes.
Next to the pea bed, tomatoes will go when the weather warms. Next to that, cool weather crops of spinach, collards and beets already in. The old herb bed has some perennials and the containers are already growing the chives that never sprouted last year.
In the unfenced area, strawberries and dahlias. Asparagus on the end will be joined by tomatoes and peppers later. Next to the garlic, leeks, onion seed, garlic chives and more chives.
Usually the monsoon rains start early and don’t let up until it is almost summer. This rare dry spell is allowing us to work–and not knee-deep in mud. The ditches are in place and ready to siphon off the water to come.
I feel bad for it all when I murder the worms in their dark homes with the blade of my shovel. When I watch the ants frantically try to recover their eggs under the heat of the sun and I know I’m the cause. The pond across the road dried and the hundreds of tadpoles went with the water, all the children gone, rotting in a pile and the smell of their bodies hangs in the road. It saddens me. I worked so hard to save their kin last year. But you can’t fight the cycles of nature. You can’t save every living thing. There isn’t time, enough energy or even a good reason to try. Something else is in charge of that. Please, let something else be in charge of that.