(Or, What I Learned from Dean Winchester)
This will be spoiler free, I promise.
The episode of Supernatural we watched last night? There was a scene where Dean Winchester enters a room in order to do something, and someone turns to him and says, “It’s too late.” His reply?
“I don’t care.”
And then he goes about his task anyway.
Know what will grow in hot sun even when there’s no rain to be found anywhere?
Weeds.
It’s very hard to pull weeds when you have a bad back and the ground is as hard as rock.
The garden? The garden was one large, choked, mass of crabgrass. Nightshade, something I wish I’d known was lurking in the soil before I planted tomatoes, was springing up everywhere. Small trees were gaining footholds. The other evening Rich was looking out over the garden and said, “That’s the ugliest garden I’ve ever seen.” He was right.
See, I’d given up.
There was no water. I couldn’t compete with the rapid weed growth. I just gave up.
Last night while we were finishing up our DVD viewing a wicked storm moved through. The thunder rocked the house, and the wind was blowing the rain sideways. It was pounding the house, and when it finally ended I got up to go check the rain gauge. I knew it wouldn’t be totally accurate due to the sideways rain, but I wanted a rough estimate.
The rain gauge was filled to the three inch mark.
I looked towards the garden, and I saw every single corn stalk but one lying down. I didn’t have it in me to go look. We went to bed.
When I got up this morning I headed out to check them, and I noticed almost all of them were ripped out at the roots. So that’s that then. Everything is gone. Nothing is able to be salvaged. Not even the corn.
Livvie and I went to play outside when Jonas fell asleep this morning, and Livvie wanted to go see the corn. I walked through the deer fencing with her and looked to my right. I saw this:
What. The fuck. My lettuce had struggled for so long, pale yellow, never growing. Weeds surrounded the lettuce plants, there were many, and I bent over and pulled one out.
The ground gave like someone cutting softened butter.
I stood up, and I thought, “Who the fuck ARE you, and what did you do with my will?”
I bent over and pulled another weed.
And then I stood up and looked, really looked at what was going on around me.
And then I got to work.
I started pulling weeds like crazy. My husband will flip the fuck out, because I’d been almost immobile due to back issues for a few days. I didn’t care. I noticed that with the more work I did the less my back hurt. As a matter of fact, I still haven’t taken my next dose of medication.
I don’t need it. Yet.
I bent and pulled, feeling the earth give way easily, thanking whatever listens for the three + inch rainfall to make this possible. I did not wear gloves. I never wear gloves. I don’t give two shits about my fingernails, and hands are washable. Gloves make it impossible to get a feel for the soil and what you’re handling. Gloves disconnect you from your task.
The cicadas were in an uproar, it’s going to be hot again tomorrow, and about 70% of the weeds I pulled launched random bugs at me. The sun was drenching me from head to foot, and every time a river of sweat tickled I’d use my muddy hands to wipe it away. If the soil were blue I’d look like a Pict at this point.
I got three rows done before Livvie got hot enough to request air conditioning. There are six rows left to do.
The thing is, yeah. It’s too late. The beans are obliterated by bean beetles and frying sunlight. The corn was yanked from the dirt last night. Two tomato plants need pulling. Insects devoured every broccoli plant. The radishes all split. The potatoes were lost long ago. All of my onions died shortly after they went into the ground. The pumpkins are gone.
I don’t care.
I put my heart and body into that garden, and I do myself a disservice to let it go. Sitting here watching, thinking “Oh woe is me?”
Fuck that.
I’d even been making noises about how I was just going to let it go back to grass. Screw it. Plant tomatoes in pots next year and call it good.
Fuck that.
The thing is, the area is ready. Kept maintained, it’s ready for me. Even if all of those plants have been lost, I have more seeds. Beans can still go into the dirt for a late harvest. There are late season plants that can replace the plants that have died. If the weather doesn’t cooperate so be it, but I’m swear fo God fighting this apathy.
I feel better today than I have in weeks.
Fighting back can do that for a person.
Good for you. The jury is still out on our little garden — I figure we are a month or two behind you growing season wise — but it’s good that you have salvaged what you can. Our potatoes are growing like crazy, the green part anyway. I’ll be curious to see what shows up underneath it all. Much of our gardening at this point is still pretty experimental. We’ll face deer by fall.
I know how you feel, though. A grasshopper plague of biblical proportions devastated my mom’s garden last year. It was awful.
The grasshoppers are here. That’s what narfed up the broccoli. I hate them.
My potatoes looked beautiful too. Huge and green. NOTHING beneath the dirt. The last big rain we had, over a month ago, destroyed those.
Good for you.
I feel you on the apathy. I was just chastising myself for that very thing yesterday.
Our issue is that we’ve had rain and I have beautiful plants. No fruit. No veggies. Nothing is actually growing on those beautiful plants. Oh they flower but nothing comes of it. We have no bees here anymore. I’ve actually only seen 4 since April. No pollinators. I’ve tried self-pollinating them with a small paintbrush but I don’t think it did any good. I’ve had a fair amount of tomatoes, but ZERO zuchini or squash and I’ve only found 1 cucumber. Nothing is happening with the gourds or the pumpkins either. Just plants.
Between the zero bees, the devastated Gulf, and all the polluted water tables around here…well, it’s enough to make you give up. or in.
I applaud that you got your things to grow. And that you aren’t giving up. You go girl. I’m looking forward to seeing how your late beans do. I’ll be wishing you more rain…just softer rain.
I’m a fair weather gardener. Once the temps cross the 80 degree mark, I pretty much give up until autumn. But I recommend one tool for you, if your back permits the use: a scuffle hoe. It takes the weeds off at ground level. Yes, some will come back and you must hoe regularly but it’s much faster than pulling. Also, you don’t have to wait for rain to assist you.
Woohoo! I so feel you. The strawberries, the raspberries, the tomatoes, the peppers…I planted all of them this year. My first attempt at edibles in years, and they were all dying. We got our rain night before last, and yesterday our tomatoes looked almost ok. More rain last night, and today the tomatoes are downright perky.
I hope your back continues to feel good. Perhaps the muscles will cooperate and not punish you too much for having the guts to do what you wanted to do.
I’ve got a tomato growing. It’s the size of my thumb. Next year, I may be more proactive and set up a proper area for the garden.
But I want to plant plenty of squash and zucchini, along with peppers and tomatoes.
Gosh folks. Thanks.
I’m tired.
@Naomi- I looked up the scuffle hoe. It’s very cool. I will be keeping it in mind. Thanks!
Wow go Julie! Now I must go look up nightshade as I do not know what that is, although the name is familiar.
I’m pretty sure “nightshade” is the name of the main character in Julie’s Paranormal Gratuitous Sexual Romance novel she’s working on, >i>The Blood-Covered Heaving Bosom of the Undead Temptress.
Ok, that made me laugh out loud.
That’ll be the day.
Gardening brings out the hippie in me. Your post reminds me of a big reason I garden: connecting with the earth. Flowers, no flowers, fruit, no fruit – it doesn’t matter. When you put your hands in the earth it has a profound effect, if you let it.
My 8×4 raised bed is all the space my backyard can afford for a garden (the rest is doggie territory), but it’s enough. Right now my Dahlias are all dying out from the heat, but I still pull the weeds, I still trim what needs trimmed. Even in death, I can respect the plants and the small bit of land that gave them life.
Good on ya, Julie.
Michelle nailed it. I have three 8×4 raised beds, as well as three stacked potato boxes and a livestock feeder that beans are slowly growing up out of, and they are in the front (well, side, actually) yard. I have to walk by them any time I go out to go anywhere, and then again when I come home, and I never can pass by without stopping to see what is going on, maybe yank out a weed or two, or scowl at whatever looks amiss. Yesterday afternoon I was out there raking up willow tree refuse from the big winds we had a couple days in a row (what a mess!), and the sumac tree in the corner of the yard is blooming. I stood underneath it and listened to the low hum of just a ton of bees doing their thing amidst the blossoms. I LOVED it. That’s the kind of thing I like about the whole experience of growing stuff. I supposed I’d care more about the yield if/when my ability to feed the family is relying on it, but for now I am content to just experiment and learn. I enjoy it.