The Last to Know

April 14, 2011

Dear lovely reader,

I can’t help but feel that I have let you down. I have lied to you, a lie through omission. Though I’ve written about seed sowing and general garden happenings in the communal part of the garden, I have neglected to let you in on an important bit of information: Amelia and I planted our spring garden. It’s been weeks. I know, I know, I should have told you sooner. I meant to, but it was so hard when there were books to read and papers to grade and porches/stoops to sit on and boys on bikes and walks to take and sunshine to be distracted by. 

This is what our plot looks like for the spring. Thanks to my into-organizational-and-record-keeping-stuff-friend Joy for the gardening journal. She says I need colored pencils.

On a cold Thursday evening, Amelia and I met at the garden. It had been grey all day and the sun was setting. Brace yourselves for a rare Kara-Bollinger-garden-sentence: this experience was not fun.  It was cold.  I should have worn gloves. I think my hands lost circulation; this happens to me sometimes.  Because it was cold, we worked quickly, taking less time to give the ground a good hoe-ing and in my case, to take photos of individual seeds in my hand.  I’ll save that photo shoot for warmer weather.

Planted: lettuce, spinach, kale, Swiss chard, carrots, purslane, and peas (I am most definitely forgetting a few things).  Interestingly enough, we had a few things come back–spinach, carrots, and lettuce. These all sprouted up in random places, so we did our best to work around them, though a few carrots didn’t make it. We didn’t even water the seeds after planting them, something that is most definitely on the “what you should do when you make garden” list. Please don’t tell anyone who knows anything about gardening this.

Stick with me, reader, my attitude is about to change.

Yesterday started off blah/anxious. Even though I’d done a lie-on-the-floor-for-10-minutes-and-stop-freaking-out yoga video (seriously…that’s all I did: lie on the floor for 10 minutes and breathe), I was still a little annoyed/blah/however you feel on those weird days. By afternoon, I decided a trip to the garden was in order.

When I got to our plot, I saw what I expected, what I’ve been watching for the last few weeks–little green sprouts popping up in neat rows and half eaten kale (rabbits!). When I started harvesting the lettuce that came back from last year (the only lettuce that is ready right now), I noticed the peas. They were so small and spring-y and happy. I thought about them the rest of the day when I started feeling blah. I thought about them today. You know I am not making this up. Why would anyone make that up?

Before I go, I must confess something else: I’ve recently been told that I am an “ask for permission” person rather than an “ask for forgiveness” person. So, I’m asking your permission as I hold out on you. Other things, things I have not told you about yet, have been planted and are growing in the communal space in the garden. Some of them have been there for weeks, too. I will tell you about them, but not right now. You need a reason to keep reading.

 

 

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