Tuesday, June 11, 2013

"We must cultivate our garden."

"Il faut cultiver notre jardin," says Candide at the end of his travels in Voltaire's story.   "We must cultivate our garden."   It's a full-time job.



Summer here is about the garden and travel around Maine and art shows with Ed, the photographer.  We’ll see how it all fits together.

I’ve been working on the spring clean-up, planting, and general garden chores for the last 6 weeks now.   The vegetables are in, the peas are climbing, the beans are up, the asparagus delicious.   The shade garden and perennial beds are weeded, the roses are fertilized and mulched, the raspberries are (mostly) cleaned out.   The parts that get mowed are mowed.   The garden and fields look so neat.   It’s taken the two of us 6 weeks to get to this point.



I know that all this neatness is just an illusion – and temporary.

One day of rain and a couple of days of sun, and all the weeds will be back, the peas will be doing their best to avoid the trellises, and the tomatoes will have suddenly sprawled before I remembered to stake them.   The peonies will bloom and the next downpour will flatten them, at the same time that it knocks over the delphinium stalks and bends their flowers into S curves.  

Bugs I’ve never seen before will materialize and chomp their way through the squash or the eggplants, late blight will blow in from somewhere, and a three day absence will produce what looks like a hayfield instead of a lawn.   The chipmunks will plant sunflower seeds in the middle of the tomatoes.   The bamboo will do its best to jump forward another three feet.  The grapevine will attempt to swallow the deck.

Until August I’ll be racing to catch up, and then, finally, racing to catch up with the sudden bounty of vegetables, tomatoes, apples –  and leaves.

But for right now,  my garden looks very neat.   It’s trying to fool me.