Why has my gardening blog gone dry? Is there nothing happening in the garden in september?
The garden has been stolen from me...
Cold wind is blowing... the old walnut in the meadow has gone yellow. The branches look darker, almost black, by contrast.
How much of a garden life is in the present, day to day activity, and how much is in the expectation of a thousand tomorrows?
I will not be here, one year from now. The garden was stolen from me. We are not to be joined any more... I will be leaving... soon, so much sooner than I thought. The link was broken, and I am a leaf in the wind. All the plans, all the dreams have been crushed and made dust.
I will be leaving next June.
The garden that I dreamed will never be, and the garden that is here, now, does not feel mine any more... so I think, a garden does live in the tomorrow... it would be to painful now, going out, being there alive and whole now, and think... "A year from now... no more...". Better to cease that link now, while the cold wind blows...
If I have to leave my garden, I wish I could leave now... in this dying autumn day. Not in spring... not in summer, with the flower buds growing, and the life sap running. Oh my dear Garden.
The one thing I cherish, the one meagre consolation, now that the garden was cut lose from my heart is that for the first time in 15 years I can see the fierce beauty of a windstorm... without fear.
Oh my dear Garden...
Please keep in touch with me through my other blog...
http://theponyproject.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
The weather has turned cool and autumn is here. The kitchen garden has a devastated look about it, except for those beds that have already been cleaned and turned, and new things planted. Also the tomatoes are looking at their very best. Planted late, too late, they are in full production now - many green ones will not be ripe in time, obviously. Of the three varieties we have planted "Benaris" is a complete winner. A tall, vigourously growing cherry tomato, sweet as syrup. "Dasher" is insipid by comparison, which is a scandal,considering that being an F1 hybrid the price of the seeds is considerably superior. "Hoffman Rentita", a bush tomato, is neither here nor there. Clearly a very productive variety, but not as tasty as we could wish. May be the weather here is not hot enough to allow larger tomatoes to ripe properly.
The provencal pumpkins needed the provencal sun, clearly, and it is doubtful if they will manage to complete their job. They are large and beautiful, but stubbornly green. Powdery mildew has devasted the foliage, so their future is not bright.I had so lovingly planned a winter of pumkin pies, pumpkin soups, roasted pumpkins, pumpkin tortelli and ravioli... Alas, it was not meant to be. Next year I will humbly plant some local variety, and spray diligently with soap and bicarbonate. It is said to discourage powdery mildew. The zucchini went down in glory to the same disease, in glory, because they produced so much that I will be happy beyond words not to see another zucchino for at least 8 months. We still have a full basket of them to eat... help!
The runner beans have been good and steady, if not spectacular in taste. I will have to think if I want to plant the same again. They already gave me a nice pocket of seeds, and tomorrow their little patch will be cleaned and hoed. The beautiful Basella rubra, loftily named "The Spinach of Malabar" shared their wigwam, and is looking lovely now that some sun is actually reaching it. I lifted one of the four plants, tobring in for winter. It IS a perennial, in theory. I wonder if it is possible to keep small plants from one year to the other. I have as yet no fresh seeds from this year plants.
The chilly peppers did amazingly well, despite being smothered by the pumpkins. I have a whole basket of them to dry for the winter. The few leeks that I have planted in may are smallish but look very inviteng. Their inevitable doom will soon come,in the shape of a leeks-and-bacon pie.
The garden needs going over as well. Not planted for autumn, it is looking rather squalid right now, despite the hydrangeas late blooming and the steady performance of my lovely sunflowers. Too much is missing, but I could not plan and sow all the necessary things this year, with all that needed to be done. Next year, I will do better!
Some plants must be moved, some will be planted in the new spaces that I will dig in the next weeks. All sorts of things are growing on in their small pots, bulbs are coming in from the GC and from catalogue orders, seeds are accumulating on my desk from exchanges with other gardeners. Some will be sown now, some in autumn. The porch is being made ready to shelter seedlings and potted plants.
I fear the long winter to come and yet I rejoice in the tidying up and digging of the garden at the end of summer. There is a sense of cleanliness, a promising hint of things to come that is almost as exciting as the feeling of spring. I know the long sleep of winter is between us and the flowers of april, but the heart does not. The freshly dug earth is ready for the new beginning.
The provencal pumpkins needed the provencal sun, clearly, and it is doubtful if they will manage to complete their job. They are large and beautiful, but stubbornly green. Powdery mildew has devasted the foliage, so their future is not bright.I had so lovingly planned a winter of pumkin pies, pumpkin soups, roasted pumpkins, pumpkin tortelli and ravioli... Alas, it was not meant to be. Next year I will humbly plant some local variety, and spray diligently with soap and bicarbonate. It is said to discourage powdery mildew. The zucchini went down in glory to the same disease, in glory, because they produced so much that I will be happy beyond words not to see another zucchino for at least 8 months. We still have a full basket of them to eat... help!
The runner beans have been good and steady, if not spectacular in taste. I will have to think if I want to plant the same again. They already gave me a nice pocket of seeds, and tomorrow their little patch will be cleaned and hoed. The beautiful Basella rubra, loftily named "The Spinach of Malabar" shared their wigwam, and is looking lovely now that some sun is actually reaching it. I lifted one of the four plants, tobring in for winter. It IS a perennial, in theory. I wonder if it is possible to keep small plants from one year to the other. I have as yet no fresh seeds from this year plants.
The chilly peppers did amazingly well, despite being smothered by the pumpkins. I have a whole basket of them to dry for the winter. The few leeks that I have planted in may are smallish but look very inviteng. Their inevitable doom will soon come,in the shape of a leeks-and-bacon pie.
The garden needs going over as well. Not planted for autumn, it is looking rather squalid right now, despite the hydrangeas late blooming and the steady performance of my lovely sunflowers. Too much is missing, but I could not plan and sow all the necessary things this year, with all that needed to be done. Next year, I will do better!
Some plants must be moved, some will be planted in the new spaces that I will dig in the next weeks. All sorts of things are growing on in their small pots, bulbs are coming in from the GC and from catalogue orders, seeds are accumulating on my desk from exchanges with other gardeners. Some will be sown now, some in autumn. The porch is being made ready to shelter seedlings and potted plants.
I fear the long winter to come and yet I rejoice in the tidying up and digging of the garden at the end of summer. There is a sense of cleanliness, a promising hint of things to come that is almost as exciting as the feeling of spring. I know the long sleep of winter is between us and the flowers of april, but the heart does not. The freshly dug earth is ready for the new beginning.
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