Garden Love

Well. I haven't been posting so much. I've been distracted and driven to distraction by my volatile relationship with Himself. Volatile. That is the word. Ätherisch. Flüchtig. Launisch. Sprunghaft. Verdampfbar. Vergänglich. Unstetig. Unberechenbar. Volatil.

So. I will discuss the garden. I will post photos of it sometime. We hired Dietmar and his friend Bernhard to plow it up and rip those stubborn blackberry roots out of the sunny patch in front. They slowly drove a tractor from about 1948 to us, we could hear it coming from far away. It had a weathered teddy bear tied to the front grill. Most of the garden is in deep shade, the trees desperately need a trim. But the large patch alongside the fence is sunny most of the day. The fellows came and got to work and got the job done, beautifully. Dietmar is a true character who spent some time at sea and wears a cross, an anchor and heart pendants on his chest.

Then Michael and I combed over the chunks of earth left behind, removing roots. The earth is rich and unadulterated. It will nourish everything wonderfully well. I have met toads and frogs there. There may be a fox, too.

Then I had to lay out the garden plot. I wanted nothing in the garden that is at right angles, nothing rectangular. I went into a meditative state and began walking-the-eight on the land. I walked a series of interlocking figure eights on the plot, and tamped the earth down over and over with my feet. It is wonderful to walk there. The bees were happy with the shape of the garden. Me too.

We planted in squash, pumpkins, beans, peppers, tomatoes, marigolds, carrots, white radish, snapdragons (favorite flower of all, mine) bright orange monkey flower, corn, herbs, yarrow, heuchera, lady's mantle, onions, cucumber, sunflowers, lavender, nasturtium, and a couple more things now I forget. I would have loved to order and get a box of seeds from Seed Savers. But we could only use the basics that are available here, for now, since it all costs some money. Next year? Who knows?

Meanwhile, my bees were feeling the strange experience of being between bloomings. All the early summer, late spring things have stopped, and nothing more at present is in flower. This is a problem for them, keen to collect. Normally, the fruit is spaced out in blossoming during this time. Now, everything blooms at once, and all of a sudden, the fields of raps and everything else was already moving to fruit. The hives were full to dripping. I had to remove 25 kilos of honey two weeks ago. They didn't even mind. Bees conglomerated in the garden house, hanging in the windows, attracted by my foolishly-placed empty, honey-smelling frames. They eventually dispersed, but not before I became very excited, thinking I had attracted a lost swarm, and briefly believing myself to have magical, bee-attracting powers.

Now and again it rains. We had begun clearing the paths to the garden house, still chopping blackberry roots out, when he and I had another of our famous eruptions. They always post-date an event which has brought us closer together. This time, it was taking Argentinian tango lessons and beginning to love it. What happens is: I do something that he believes was wrong. If I don't agree and see the error of my ways, then all hell breaks loose, and we go through the drama of breaking up.

After plants have lived through a rough rainstorm, it actually makes them stronger and glossier and healthier, to have their leaves pelted to ribbons, if they had previously been in a state of stasis and dull soil. But everyone knows if storms happen over and over the plant loses its trust in being able to survive. It can't forever weather harsh storms. Eventually, it will die back.

We're not talking. But the garden is still growing. It is the garden we planted together, for our future. It is the garden that felt like a magical place when we found it. A mole has wended its way through the beds, linking the yarrow to the tiny carrot seeds. I walked the Eight there yesterday, along the paths. Right now, it makes me sad, waiting for rain. Waiting for the seeds to sprout.