Weeding and Dealing
©June 2nd, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
I’d been working for almost three hours in the garden, and came in for lunch about an hour and a half ago. Got caught up with my family, and then checked WP.
Will soon go back out again to plant some roses, lavender, and some little blue flowers whose name I’ve forgotten. Plus, some other plants, whose names I’ve forgotten too, but they yield pretty flowers. (I’d better get better at remembering the names of some of the incidental flowering plants I get, as this is most embarrassing!)
Over the past few weeks, up until yesterday, I weeded and prepared the vegetable beds, added compost and manure, some organic fertilizer and azomite, and planted bush beans, pole beans, beets, carrots cucumbers, peas, tatsoi, lettuce, basil and cilantro. Today, I’ll be planting celery and another variety of cuke, plus some leafy greens.
It’s so beautiful outside today! The sun isn’t vengeful in its heat, and the birds are singing in a mellow, muted way. My flowers look happy. The lemon balm I planted in a sunny-shaded part of the yard last year or the year before is flourishing happily, looking bright and cheerful. The beans and peas are coming up, although it’ll be a couple of months before I can harvest them.
This morning, I planted some Salvia, watered the whole garden, pulled up a ton of weeds, and straightened up the hosta beds at the sidewalk level. It looks so much neater now, but I’ll never be the perfectly-aligned, nicely ironed-out garden-beds-kind of lady. We are essentially improvisers and planners, both, and our garden reflects that.
I feel bad pulling up weeds. I do not use pesticides, because they are basically evil, and destroy the soil. Even as I pull them up, I apologize to them, and admire them, because weeds are so wonderfully persistent. They remind me of little imps of mischief, mimicking the plants around them, so as to blend in.
I love all growing things, and if I were religious, which I’m not, I would bless them in religious terms. As it is, I simply bless them, anyway.
Straightening up my wayward little front yard, which slopes steeply down at a 45 degree angle is quite a task. The bones of my feet, which aren’t as cushioned as they used to be back when I was in my twenties, feel rubbed raw, even though I wear comfortable sneakers. Mind you, I’m not complaining. I view the gradual ageing of my body (and I’m not really old, by any means, but I’ve paid attention to how I’ve felt since I was a young teenager) with a bright interest, noting what needs more attention these days, and what I took for granted. Even physical pain from labour is interesting, because of the satisfaction I feel that it comes from a true and nurturing place.
All bright, green things are lovely. Our world is beautiful and so rich in its infinite variety – and I’ve seen so little of it. I mourn in a quiet way about that, but I know my imagination and the photographs and videos of those who’ve been to distant places will suffice. Besides, too many of us tromping about in places that are better left undisturbed would harm the environment.
And I shall not think about Climate Change at this happy moment.
Back to gardening. Today, the weather agrees with me, and I shall make the most of it!
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