Garden Notes ...

Nearing the end of her life, my Mom's garden and compost pile were something to behold. She took such good care of the soil that it felt like damp sponge when we walked on it. In the Spring, the flowers and vegetables would rocket skyward.

July 21, 1995

Ben and I planted bare-root tomatoes at the side of the house, and even though we’ve planted tomatoes on the same spot for nearly eight years, they look pretty good. I think it’s time to rotate, though. I planted two fig trees there this year. Four little figs are forming. I had a beautiful clump of squash growing on the corner of that garden until some wild animal came in the night and nibbled away all the youngest and greenest leaves and quite a few of the blossoms. I think it was a wood chuck. It also ate most of the pole beans that had begun to climb in the other garden. This morning, I bought 4 lbs of dried blood and scattered it around all the plants in hopes that all the wild rabbits would have nightmares when they smelled it and leave our plants alone.

I am in my blue phase. I love blue and white dishes, blue clothes, blue and purple flowers. The dark blue lobelia in front is a perfect color. I am also in a garden phase. I keep thinking of Grantma Groen and wishing I could walk around her garden again. I would learn something. I am remembering many of the plants she had there and wanting to duplicate them in my own yard. I am haunting the garden section of Borders book store and would like to buy three $30 books and one $50 book. So far, I’ve resisted. Perennials are so expensive in the nurseries here that I am in complete sympathy with Grantma’s theft. I would love to dig them in the wild but conservationists have made even that a guilt trip for me. I want to learn more about propagating plants and building soil. My compost pile is almost as interesting as the wildflower garden. I look at it every morning and imagine the wonders it will produce in the garden next year.