Can You Guess?

You're right. It's raining. Today is my day to plant spinach, kale, and foot long green beans. I'm also thinking about the garden decorations I have at my old house: purple globe, table made of drift wood, fossil from beach, sun dial. I also have two beautiful pots from Ah Pots in Seattle. In one I have a fuzzy gray plant, the name escapes me at the moment, the other has a rare fern and some greenery that looks like pearls. I have other garden things, but only have a small plot, 10x20, so they won't fit, but a chair and pots and sundial, etc, I think it'll start looking like a room.

I've always liked the idea of garden rooms. I think the garden can be an extension of the house, especially if you lay out the bauguan, the fung shui floor plan, which extends your house beyond its' bounds. In my condo, my bauguan goes out the door and down the stairs. I have a bit of sea glass on the window sill, which disappears regularly, and then I replace it. I have lots of sea glass.

So today, what does the garden teach, as it grows in the rain, the tomato plants getting greener and sturdier, the beans sprouting beneath the soil, cosmos coming up from last year, the seed having blown in from the neighbors garden. I would say, the garden teaches me continual change. It is changing despite what is happening around it, dirt falling with the curl of a worm

beneath the soil, seeds sprout and disturbing a bit of rock and compost. It's forever changing. Everything is forever changing, that is what we can depend upon. My challenge is to learn to go with the flow. To not be too attached.

Ciao!

Zippy Zucchini

I woke this morning thinking about how completely I embarrassed myself yesterday. Remember, it was a blue day for me, because my soon-to-be ex called to let me know the refinance had gone through, so it wouldn't be long before he could pay me off. So I have to get a lawyer to draw up the papers and soon his daughter will be moving out, so he's free to have romantic partners over—in the house I helped build, etc. etc.. That thought sent me over the edge. It was raining and raining, so no garden to calm me down. I heard that the dirt gives you endorphins, I'm not sure about that one. But being outside is pleasant, mostly—well not so much when it is raining. I tried working on some poems and some art and finally gave up and went to a friend's condo for a glass of wine—where I broke down. I guess being sad over all this will come and go—it's been 9 months since he said he wanted a divorce. The embarrassing part yesterday wasn't breaking down with my friend, it was after leaving there that I ran in to a young man—could be my son—and flirted like zippy zucchini, or is it saucy savory? We'll see just how much I embarrassed myself when I see him at the coffee shop I frequent next week. If he doesn't look at me, or visa-versa, then I'll know.

Anyway, I went on after we chatted on the street and had a salad at the bookstore café and flipped through some magazines that had been left on the table. That's when I got a million ideas for some new paintings—which was good. And I didn't have my journal in my purse as usual. But I did have the back of a pizza coupon. To make a long story short, I flew out of control yesterday because I'm blue. Still. It takes time, this divorce thing, and if I asked the garden what should I do? it might say, lay low, or turn over and go back to sleep, or get all warm and comfy, take a shower, or just hunker down. Which is all sage advice, don't you think?
I did see Mike yesterday, he's my friend's husband who comforted me in my teary moment, and he offered to turn over the rest of the garden plot. Which is good, because my arm is hurting from shoveling and also confirms the title, community garden.

Now for the garden report: Zippy Zucchini is having at it, I'll include a picture--twins. Testy tomatoes are sticking together. You know how close friends can be. Probably read minds. And Broccoli Raab—very busy bolting through the chunky soil. I did add the peat.
I planted beans—haven't seen them yet and there's a row of lettuce that's not doing much. I'd like to get a winter garden in this year—yes, I know I'm jumping ahead—I tend to do that. I do practice being in the moment—but obviously I romp around on the timeline continuum. I just figure a good winter vegetable garden will help with the food budget—with gas so high now--$4.00/gallon here in Bellingham. I was walking with my daughter the other day and we ran into some of her friends, who said they were riding their bikes to work once a week, stopping and buying coffee on the way—which they decided offset their savings on gasoline. Huh! That and bottled water.

So Territorial Seed Company has a winter spinach called Giant Winter that I think I'll order. You seed it in the late summer or fall, and then you have spinach in the early spring. I like chard and kale in the winter. Although I'd probably plant them now and then again in the late summer. My last garden had a ton of kale that just reseeded itself. I loved letting the kale go to seed. Bright yellow flowers in gloomy February. Ah, well, that's enough. Got to get going, the grandbaby is coming today. Oh, and did I say it was raining?

Ciao!