Wednesday, March 18, 2009

nary a green bean

I have a desperate secret...I am a chronic pea planter.

Yesterday, the wind got hold of me, the sunshine dragged me by the ears while the wheel hoe flirted with my desires. All sources combined strategies and set my body in motion to plant too early, too much and for no good reason really! I'm selling. Can't take the garden with me! But by golly, can't take the gardener out of me either...what's a girl to do? Plant peas, of course. I mean- the still perfectly good fences are up from last year, I rotated the crop to the opposite side...and stuck little seeds in the ground and covered them by kicking the soil over them (lazy farmer method), is there no help for me at all?

It's really the lettuce's fault. Had it not grown, had it just remained in seed form, never germinating- the nursery is nice yes- but! I innocently started the whole shebang in February- no reason to think it would really grow...but, alas- not much thought goes into my planting. I pretty much just hope and hope and hope some more!

One more tiny confession...I worked the ground between the fences and added...more lettuce seeds! Someone stop me please- before it's too late, before I end up selling a farm with a huge market garden to boot! The zeal I feel from my planting escapades is getting out of hand truly, though I vow not to plant a single solitary tomato...or pepper...or nary a green bean. That would just be silly...but oh my! The dill that will surely volunteer again would go so well with green beans, and the basil I accidentally scattered in the raised bed by the summer kitchen- how lonely it might become if their were no tomatoes about...

It is a very good thing my children don't take to laundry chores, they might find the cosmos, zinnias and marigold seed packets in my pockets(I scattered minuscule amounts amid the pea beds...) and verify me unhinged and unreliable when it comes to leaving the soil alone.

Thank goodness and all that is holy in my broken down Betsy Ferguson, that'd be my little ol' tractor- she is unable at this time to turn the soil. (Although I did buy the parts to fix her leaky radiator hose...and I'm fixen to travel to local farm store for the hydraulic fluid needed to replace the old juice.) I am only fixing the old Ferguson to brush hog. Period. No, I mean it...only to mow and keep this place looking top level best. I will not drag the plow behind her, never- not once. And if you believe that...could you please come and make a believer out of me too?! Or perhaps you might be in the market for a certain Golden Gate bridge?

Please pray for me if you will, because already just this morning- I caught sight of the little Edelweiss flowers waving to me, throwing off their sweet scent, enticing me to work the soil around them so that the hostas coming through might have a bit more leg room. And the darned phlox just about tripped me with it's urgent message of "Look here! Bare soil! How about some pansies just in case we can't cover it all?!"

Oh Great Spirit, give me rest
lay aside this dirty test-
In my soul I feel a need
to plant, and plant and plant the seed.
Take the hoe from my hand
deliver me from this lusty land
Where everything my thumb doth touch
turns to greenish green and is lush too much.
Give me wine and let me drink-
(tis much better than when I think)
of planting the seeds and dragging the plow-
Thank goodness the tractor is crippled for now...


Li'l Em said...

The constructive progress of working with dirt can so easily outweigh the sense of accomplishment in other arenas. I find even just work on fences or fixing drains outdoors to be satisfying, when I know I should be doing other things.

I think it's fair to blame the lettuce. It tends to instigate trouble. See Peter Rabbit for further examples.

Jayne said...

LOLOL... OK, slowly unfurl your fist and put the nice seeds down.... that's right. Good job. :c)

truewonder said...

I read Em's comment last night...while eating chilli, not pretty at all, but I'm still completely tickled. "See Peter Rabbit..." Oh my, what wit, but now I have that awful chilli memory and my nostrils are not ever gonna be the same.
And then Jayne there, hardy and har har too,I am putting my seeds down-now onto small plant plugs, in cloche closure, oh dear... No sense of smell to speak of anymore, but good morning!! I say while vibrantly smiling!

bam said...

love this, love l'il em. love the prayer. love the can't stop lettuce. did you read--this is hot off the press, i know because i was working the story, and the story ran right around me, snuck into the new york times, stead of in my lap--anyway, seems the FIRST Lady is putting spade to earth tomorrow and planting the first vegetable garden at the WHIte House since ol eleanor roosevelt in 1943. i love that you can't stop. it's like you and words. you make magic together, so why in the world would a little for sale sign put a pause to that. hey T lemme know if i don't have your right email. trying to connect you with a dear brother of mine in maine, who'd love to welcome you to the what-do-they-call-it state. can't remember the nickname. but anyway, he's hoping to welcome you in true maine style. and besides you might get to meet that baby girl before i do....she's coming any week.....

troutbirder said...

Been there. Done that. It's some form of mental aberation. I feel the power of it beginning to overtake me usually about the middle of February.

truewonder said...

Sister, I am not one with the TV or paper or even radio, shame on me! This is good to know,I like Michelle- like her all out love, loud and bold and now- down in the dirt. First Lady/Fine Lady- indeed.
And TB, now sir- I don't know you all that well, but I've come to believe your will is aligned so well in spirit, adventure! That even frozen Feb. could not out wrestle you when it comes to gardening or anything grand. (Especially in the off course mode...)

Anonymous said...

The weather was so nice last week, I had to get out and work up some of my flower beds :) I picked an excellent week for a mini vacation from work. Glad to know I'm not the only one.
Love, Rhi

Tera said...

Your gardening is a gift for your farm's next owner. My patch of land is exactly the size of two flower boxes that are sitting fallow on my condo deck as the el train roars by. But still, you'd be surprised how many herbs a determined girl can pack into a planter. I've considered tomatoes, but think the wily city squirrels would get to them before me.

truewonder said...

Whoa, I almost missed your comment, thanks for visiting...the el right out behind you? Oh my, I don't know if I could bear the stimulation of so many trains and people and noise and...must be pretty exciting though. Out here, it's coyote calling and spring peepers...ahhhhh!