In the Garden at Dawn…..

I am not much of a gardener, but each year attempt something to cover a nice, fertile space that has, over the years, transformed from a driveway to a garden.

This year I planted only Brandywine tomatoes and Cinderella pumpkins….not knowing that Brandywine gives HUGE tomatoes but not many of them.  It’s a bust for canning, this species of tomato,  best for sliced tomato sandwiches with mayonaisse and a good, thick peasant bread. 

I had no idea how much realestate pumpkins took, as I have never been able to harvest even one.  Looks like this year I will have four, from two plants.  Considering the spread of the vines, and the invasiveness of these two, well, the Brandywines have been looped around with Cinderella, and they have grown so heavy I have had to fashion slings for them.  They insist on growing four feet above the ground, and using the trellis for the cucumbers.

I am posting some pix of both….two weeks ago of each, and of today.  And today, I will harvest that huge tomato that I have coddled into existence.  That is my garden glove under its butt so the wire doesn’t molest its tender fruit.

Spring has been good, not hot like last year, but since the first day of Summer, it has been broiling.  This weekend expected 93-95 degrees, and this is usual now with the weather. We have to get through July and August before any cool down, and I am praying for September.

To make it more bearable, my dear husband made a wonderful outdoors shower today, right across the tomatoes, and sheltered by the ordamental ginger.  I can go out there at any hour and strip, unseen by mortals except the birds, and cool off.  We had a few pools years ago, but they were impossible to maintain.  Our goose ended up using them, and he didn’t share well.  So, the shower, where the water can replenish the tomatoes if I direct it right, is the answer.

Lady Nyo

 

 

In the Garden at Dawn

 

Dawn moon appears

Low in the eastern sky,

Like an idiot’s grin

From cheek to cheek,

A glow so intense

It startles the eye.

 

 

My hands deep in soil

Planting tender shoots of life

With reverence that feeds the soul

As seedlings feed flesh later to come.

 

There is God in this black soil,

Earthworms and tiny bits of life

Independent of will or wishes.

 

Moonbeams spill on this tilled earth

Like a benediction or blessing,

And bathes plants and planter with expectation,

Promise.