By writing about her harvest, Becky inspired me to write about my lack thereof. Some things, like elderberries and rosemary, take care of themselves. Other things need to be, well, planted--which I am reluctant to do because I know they will also need to be watered and weeded.
Our CSA, Port Hudson Organics, is done for the season. The drought seems to be over as well (here). So what excuse do I have for not planting?
The thought of weeding this plot---only one of four of my pre-stroke gardens---is so daunting that I'm tempted to mend clothes, finish Dave's socks, clean the refrigerator with my tongue---anything, rather than begin. I need new garden gloves, I say, and wake up early to go to the Farmer's Market rather than plant. But I miss my garden, and this fall might be the time to buy those gloves.
Here you can barely see one of the stepping stones painted by my son and lovingly placed at the intersection of four brick paths. You have to be extremely vigilant to garden in Louisiana because if you turn your back your watermelon seedlings are likely to be strangled by, well, by that vine you see creeping all over the bricks. I did more than just turn my back---I took a few months off.
My friend Kris came down and helped me clean out the back garden after my stroke (or weeded it and planted some squash seeds while I watched helplessly from a patio chair), but I didn't take care of it---it turned out to be a lower priority than sleeping, trying to knit, and burning myself flipping pancakes.
On a happier noter, the rosemary's burgeoning! Roasted potatoes, anyone?
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