Garden Tales

While in the garden yesterday, I heard about a hydroponic solution that makes broccoli grown like crazy, and a local college that doesn't hire experienced writers, only those with degrees, and a weed in the nightshade family—I don't recall the name but it's not lambs quarters, that's not edible. Lambs quarters is edible and tastes similar to spinach. There is chickweed and sorrel and many other edible plants that most consider to be weeds, abundant for the taking in the garden. If the garden is properly rendered, weeds can live in peace alongside cultivated plants. Is this also true with people?

I'm going to say no, not if you want to be happy that is. I'm going to say that to have great love, one must let all weeds die away and open the heart to something greater—some beautiful vibrant plant that nourishes consistently. I've realized that my heart is a convenient heart, not a heart that risks great love. Why? Because, I was taught to catch hold of any branch that would hold my weight as I was being washed downstream. A skinny, half-hearted branch will keep you from drowning—it's the sturdy branch that will allow you to climb free of the flood. Of course one will catch hold of anything when in a state of panic. I forgive myself for this.

In the garden, there is no panic. There sometimes is the overwhelm of the gardener; it would be easy to call it quits when the soil is poor. I will not. There is a book Secrets to Great Soil by Elizabeth Stell that looks good. And my friend said to layer leaves and manure—and my neighbor suggested blood meal. I hope this doesn't come from letting blood. Remember those movies from junior high where the villagers let the yak's blood and then drank it. Right there in front of the poor yak. Yesterday I had my blood let by my ex and then he drank it right in front of me. He was smiling the whole while. I will no longer go near his village. Yaks are vulnerable to type of hedonistic behavior.

Anyway, I picked some nice tomatoes and a zucchini yesterday. I think I'll be getting serious soon about turning over the weedy spots and piling on the leaves. I have a friend who could give me leaves come fall, as the garden itself will have few. It is pretty open with the exception of the row of plum trees to the north, which will be ripening soon. What a lark. Fresh plums to dry.

Happy gardening,

Flower

Trouble?

Now this is weird to consider, but when the garden is weedy, I feel like I'm going to get in trouble. Same with a messy house and disorderly bookwork. When I was a child it was dad ordering me to clean up, later the punitive party became God. Today, even the weather might be considered punitive. This seems pathological. Perhaps I should ride some different train of thought. No really, when I stand there looking at the pigweed, surely I'll get in trouble with some environmental agency for propagating a noxious weed—is pigweed noxious? And the bills, I just had a nasty run-in with the bank in regards to a mistake in my checking balance—what can I say? I went a little crazy the week I signed the divorce papers. And as for the weather, it is now rainy and windy—I couldn't possibly…?

My garden is a mess, I'm sorry. My bills are in a pile, sorry, My cat has hairballs, sorry. The car needs to be washed, sorry. I've been eating too much sugar, sorry! Okay, all right already. Last night the wind and rain came in. It had been sputtering distant thunder all day and the clouds were fabulous piles of blue/white cumulus bordering on those dramatic blue/black thunderheads my dad always pointed out. "Look," he'd say, an anvil cloud. And sure enough, there'd be the blacksmith's anvil riding the air currents. In Spokane, as a kid, we'd have heat lightning lighting the horizon and everyone would be restless. The room seemed small and the muggy air was hard to breath. Nothing moved. Sort of like the last few days, with the high heat and humidity in the PNW. The apartment seemed to shrink by 50 percent and the air, my word, it's not heavy—it's my.. Never mind. Sweat poured off me as I stared up at the ceiling in the dark. Moan! I didn't go to sleep until 1:30 in the morning.

When I returned from Spokane the dahlias were in bloom at the community garden. And there's a hollyhock at least 12 feet tall. Really, I'll show you the shot I took aiming up at the sky. Fabulous. And someone has rows of raspberries and the plum trees are so laden, the branches look like they could break. And the blackberries—lush! If every aspect of my life is like my garden, then I'm suffering from malnutrition, at least suffering a loveless life. Everyone says, love yourself, and I do. But what I think I don't know how to do is let someone in who truly loves me in return. I've for some reason picked the narcissistic personality to be my loved one. I love, nothing comes back. Oh it does come back in minuscule amounts, here and then, enough of a carrot to keep me going, I guess. But I'm tired of that, no more dangling carrots for me. I need a real meal. I need a lush garden with 12 foot hollyhocks.

Well, enough of this. I have a grandbaby coming soon and hopefully we'll get to the garden today.

Ciao!

Ciao!

False Solomon’s Seal

I love the biblical name of this plant and it's cousin, Solomon's Seal. It makes me think of a robed character standing in some huge hall stamping edicts with a huge seal. And when this plant is made into an essence and drops are taken, perhaps it quiets the mind, like lavender quiets the mind. When there is so much to do, and many of us feel overly burdened, an essence could help prevent you from taking on too many other people's requests. When life is narrowed to one's own choices, ah, much better. Now that I'm single I don't know how I did everything for him and everything for me too. Actually, I didn't. I set my own things aside. Now, that it's just me, I've had to figure out what it is I love the most and do those things. Really, I'd lost myself for awhile, and now I am found. Isn't that a song? Oh yes, Amazing Grace.

If you like plant essences, you can make your own. A good book is Flower Essence Repertory It explains the emotional qualities the different essenses help to balance and how you can use and make them. I have never made any myself—instead I buy Bach Flower Remedies from the health food store. But I have friends who garden and then from their garden they begin to make essences. It's not a difficult project, but it takes some time. The weaker the solution the stronger the essence becomes. The strongest remedies have no plant cells in them, they are just the plant's essence. It's spirit, you might say.

I believe the plants in the garden come in the same way that essences help a person. They do nothing if there isn't anything to be done. Imagine only what grows well in the garden is what the gardener needs. The plants take on more of the other person's request. Is this too wooie? Well, it's just a thought. There are nature spirits lurking about, well lurking isn't a good word, makes them sound like their loitering. They are probably just standing next to the plum or by the water spigot, watching. They are helpers, I think, so they have to wait to see what needs to be done. Too bad they can't cultivate. Or shoo off the deer.

Did I tell you we saw a herd of elk on the way back from Saulk Mountain. 60 elk. That's life affirming, and much different then overwhelm from too much to do. I was over at the garden yesterday, and most everyone's looking great. The pigweed is still in my garden. And it grows heartily. I must look it up and find out its cure. I'll pass that on soon. And today, it's raining. Can you imagine that? The first day of rain we've had in some time. Hopefully it will wash the rest of the seagull do off my car.

Okay now, must ready myself for writing practice.

Warm regards,
Grace Flower

G. G.

Guilty Gardener. Yes, I was leaving the garden yesterday, feeling good that I'd strung the string and bad that my garden isn't as lovely as the others. I was pushing the grandbaby up 10^th street in the stroller, when I ran into my neighbor and her friend from Victoria. We stopped and chatted, again she commented on my pigweed and lambsquarters and I think convinced me not to worry about the letter and the man, the one who comes with a clip board to record the behavior of community gardeners, giving us grades, A, A, A+, D- --the last one's me, because of the weeds, but my friend was saying again, about the studies the Japanese Doctor who wrote the book One-Straw Revolution, philosophy on gardening with weeds. That in the garden, the exact weeds the soil needs will grow. If the soil is too acid, it will draw weeds that like acid soil, which will use up the bite, if it's too alkaline…etc. And he only weeded small patches around the plants.

Now I think this has other benefits—the deer can't see the plants they want to eat because the weeds are in the way, and so they eat weeds instead. Last year I planted the beans inside the row of Cosmos. I'm doing the same this year. It worked last year, so unless the deer have turned sneaky, then.... Deer don't eat Cosmos. But weirdly, they do eat tomato plants, which I've never seen them do before. My Zebra Stripped Tomato is missing a limb. Aurgh!

Well, well, what else to tell you. I've realized that women, well this one anyway, has much to give to the world and the man who's being such a @$%! to her, is nuts. That's a good realization in the scheme of things. Heartbreak is so hard to get over. I left my boyfriend in high school after he moved to Alaska. I was a bit Lazafaire about it, and my sister, four years younger, was pissed, what did she know? She was mad at me for being mean to Bill. But how could we date, with him in Alaska and me in Washington, and was I to wait until after I graduated to have a boyfriend? No, as it went, I met my high school sweetheart that later became my daughter's father, and my drunken husband. Fate? Who knows these things. But there is a book I'm going to read called SaddleUp Your Own White Horse that I think will be interesting in teaching me how to come back to myself always, to trust my decisions, to not defer to others, etc. So I will quit sulking around the garden being the G.G. thinking someone will come over to me and laugh and say, "So many weeds!"

Ciao!

Are We Really The Gardener?

When reading about The One-Straw Revolution, I got to thinking about how I have viewed gardening all these years. Even with my houseplants, I feel as if I'm living more side-to-side with these beings rather than mastering them; however, I do have to care for them—at least at home. In the wild, the trees grow or not, the weeds grow, and wild flowers, etc. And ecosystem, which maybe is like a home and family. You all work together and the ones that work the best together thrive, the others fail or fall away.

In my garden, I prefer to have the weeds assisting. I don't mind pigweed, although I don't like it going to seed. I believe it is edible too. As a young woman I studied edible plants. Lambs quarters doesn't grow in this garden, and it's a good edible plant. Right now the fireweed is sprouting; I've never eaten the shoots, but they're supposed to be as tasty as asparagus. Of course, there are many berries to eat, and I saw a lot of wild strawberries when I was in the Oregon mountains.

When I lived in the Idaho mountains as a young married woman, my husband and I collected mushrooms and fried them in butter, our favorite being the morel, but the shaggy main was tasty and so was the puff ball. Once I ate too many coral mushrooms and felt a little weird. Some mushrooms have a chemical that is slightly toxic if consumed in any quantity. I've given up mushroom hunting, but would love to participate again. Recently a friend said his mother discovered a bunch of morels and I asked where and he said he couldn't say. That's the way it is with prize mushroom places.

Today I will plant those beets, promise. And perhaps pick some spinach for my dinner. I have some tomatoes coming on. The Green Zebra is very cute.
Ciao!