Weeding & Feeding

I'd planned on rest and relax on Sunday. 

But Sunday morning was gloriously beautiful, and when I stepped outside with my coffee, my thought was that I ought to plant the tomatoes I'd bought on Friday before I started relaxing.  I came inside to put on my shoes, collect my gardening gear, and mix up some fertilizer.  While doing this, I remembered other little jobs that needed doing, and so instead of walking across the road with a trowel and a pack of tomatoes as I'd envisioned over the coffee, I drove across the road on the lawnmower, pulling a wagon-load of tools and supplies. 

I planted the tomatoes, ran the tiller, fertilized, staked the sweet peas, mowed the grass around the garden.  As I was doing this, Nephew Bradley - the same Nephew Bradley who had enjoyed planting tomatoes two days ago - showed up on his bicycle.  He stopped at the fence.  "S'up, Bradley?" I asked him. 

He shrugged. 

"Sunday afternoon?"

"Yeah," he said.  He lingered on his bike, toeing the gravel with his shoe.  I just knew he was going to ask if I needed help, and I was already making a mental list of things for him to do.  "Well, I'll see you later," he said abruptly, and rode on down the driveway to Nanny's house.  Phooey. I kept working, thinking there was a chance I'd snag him on his way back.

A few minutes later, he rode past me again.  "Bye!" he called, without even stopping.

A little while later he was back at the fence, straddling his bike.  "I'm bored," he said when I looked up.

Hah!  I had him!  I stood up, shaded my eyes with my hand, and gave him a thoughtful look, as if I was trying to come up with a good idea for him.  "Well, do you want some work?" I asked, expecting him to jump at the chance.

"NO!" he said without hesitation. 

I laughed, thinking he was just teasing.  I looked down to adjust the velcro straps on my gardening gloves, planning to offer to "let" him run the tiller, but when I looked up again, he was GONE.  I looked down the road and saw him sailing down the hill on his bike, standing on the pedals as if he'd been pumping hell for leather to get away.  Hmph.  I went back to work. 

Nearly five hours later, I gave out, without even having finished everything I wanted to do. 

Squash and Peppers

I made a run to the greenhouse today for squash seeds.  I ended up buying all sorts of seeds - greens for this fall, giant pumpkins, and such - some of which may never get planted.  Pepper plants, a few herbs, and another pack of tomatoes - "Super Fantastic," or so they say - hitched a ride home with me.  I wanted to buy tomato cages, but the good ones were nearly $10 apiece, and I need about 50.  Do the math.  I could hire somebody to stand out there and hold them up for that.

The early garden needs plowing/weeding.  If I can get the little black tiller cranked, we may have a go at it this afternoon.   

First Tomato Planting

Nanny bought tomato plants yesterday, and per the almanac's recommendation, we set them - about 40 plants - in the ground today.  Nephew Bradley had the bad fortune of showing up just as we were preparing to dig the holes, and we drafted him on sight.  It turned out that, once we got the holes dug and starting the planting phase, Bradley liked the work. We may make a gardener of him, yet.

I prepared hills for squash, but when we dug through the seed supply, we couldn't find any yellow squash seeds, so I'll have to make a run to the seed store tomorrow. 

We sowed the first row of the garden in flower seeds - sunflowers (big and dwarf), zinnias, and marigolds. 

Nanny got out Pop-Pop's "bicycle-on-a-stick" planter and put down two rows of green pole beans.  Tomorrow, we're planting peas and okra.

I'm stiff as a poker, already.

Gardening for Real

I've already had a few turns around the garden this year, but the season officially opened today, for today I broke out the red straw gardening hat. 

The cabbages, broccoli, and brussels sprouts that I planted last month have just been sitting there, doing nothing.  I've been intending to fertilize them for days, but never had my supplies and tools handy.  Today, when I got home from work, I rode my bike to Pop-Pop's, both to air up the bike tires and to look in the shed for the fertilizer.  Going down the driveway, I noticed freshly-tilled soil in the big garden; Mr. Charles had been there today with his tractor, and it's ready for planting.  "Looks like I need to buy some tomatoes tomorrow," I said to Pop-Pop as I rode up to the shed, where he was working on a lawnmower. 

Nanny was there, too, handing him some tools.  "The almanac says to plant above-ground crops on - shoot, what day was that?"  She grabbed the almanac and handed it to me.  I didn't have my glasses and couldn't see the tiny print without laying the book on the floor and standing on a chair to read it.  Pop-Pop handed me his glasses, but they made me dizzy.  Nanny handed me hers; they worked fairly well when I held the book 3 inches from my nose.  "It says the 15th through the 17th," I told them.  "I'll get the plants and some seeds tomorrow, and we'll poke them in the ground the day after."

I aired up the bike tires, found the fertilizer, and pedaled back up the driveway to my house to find a bucket and some water.  I mixed up the fertilizer in the bucket and hauled it to the garden.  The ground around the plants was pretty hard, so I came back to the house for a hoe, my gloves, and my hat.  Now, it's gardening time. 

Peas Are Up

The sugar snap peas and the broad beans I planted a couple of weeks ago are up.  It's about danged time - seems like I planted them ages ago.  We went out of town from the 23rd to the 31st, and the first thing I did when we got home was run to the early garden to see what had happened while I was gone.  Thankfully, the cabbage, onions, broccoli and brussels sprouts were still standing (no rabbits, yet - knock on wood), but only 2 of the bean seeds had sprouted, and none of the peas.  I was beginning to worry.  It looks like only  half of the broad beans are up.  Tonight's rain may encourage the stragglers.

The radishes are coming along, and I thinned them a little more today.  The lettuce is showing itself, but isn't nearly big enough to eat.  There's no sign of the larkspur, evil stuff.

I was pleased to find that the rosemary has over-wintered.  I intentionally left last year's fall leaves and dried weed stems around it, hoping they'd protect it.  Before we left on our trip, I pulled back the weeds and leaves and found dry rosemary stems, but no sign of life.  Today, it has new green needles.  I was also pleasantly surprised to find a very nice clump of green parsley among the dead weeds.  I should've picked some to use for supper.  Just now, as I have the thought to go back for some, the rain begins.

High-Tech Gardening

Pop-Pop bought himself a trail camera - you know, one of those motion-detecting things that hunters use to spy on their hunting spots when they're not around. He had my brother-in-law strap it to a tree near the south end of the big garden. He said he's going to use it to find out what all is eating our garden, once we have stuff in it to eat. He said the flash might even run off some animals before they make it to the garden. It's been out there for two or three days, already.

Yesterday, while we were at his house, he said he was having trouble viewing the pictures. The camera doesn't have a viewing screen. It stores the pictures on an SD card, but neither his computer nor his printer has an SD card slot. My husband came home and got our laptop, which does have an SD card slot, and took it back to Pop-Pop's so we could view the pictures.

The camera had taken pictures of my brother-in-law as he was affixing it to the tree. It had taken pictures of a cat, one rabbit, then three rabbits, and a whole bunch of distant, unidentifiable glow-in-the-dark eyes. It had taken pictures of me and Nanny as we were raking up the last of the debris from last year's garden.

Nanny and I have made mental notes not to point our rear ends to the south as we're bending over in the garden this year.

Possums

I haven’t seen “Sam,” our resident opossum, for a few weeks, and am beginning to worry about him. It’s fun to watch him nose around the patio on his nocturnal cat-food raids. And, of course, I never see Sam without thinking about Great Uncle Albert and his ‘possum breeding tale.

One Sunday, when we’d all retired to the living room after a big family dinner at Mama Jewell’s, somebody said something about an opossum, and that was all it took.

Uncle Albert elbowed me and asked, “You know how ‘possums breed, don’t you?”

I figured it was a trick question. (With Uncle Albert, it almost always was.) “Well, I’ve never actually seen one in action, but my guess is that - “

”They do it in the nose,” Uncle Albert said, impatient to get on with the story.

“NNNuh-uhhhhh,” I replied.

“Yeah, they do,” he insisted, “don’t they, Jerry?” He looked to my father-in-law to back him up.

Pop-Pop gave an emphatic l nod. “Yep. Shore do.”

“No way,” I said.

“It’s the truth.” He raised his voice a notch. “Ain’t it, Liz?”

Aunt Liz, his sister-in-law, was sitting beside me on the sofa. Aunt Liz was half deaf and couldn’t hear thunder, and she’d missed the whole ‘possum discussion to that point. “What?” she asked, cupping one ear with her hand.

“Do you know how ‘possums breed?” Uncle Albert asked her.

“Why, through their noses, I reckon,” she said. Uncle Albert was about to fall back in his chair in victory until she added, “...like everything else does. Everything breathes through its nose, doesn’t it?”

Uncle Albert leaned forward again and shouted, “No, no, Liz...not breathe: BREED!”

Aunt Liz looked shocked. “BREED? Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that!”

“Well, that’s how they do it, for sure” Uncle Albert said to me. “Looky here,” he said, "a ‘possum’s thang is forked....” He held up two fingers, like a “Peace” sign, and waggled them a couple of times.

“NNuh-uhhhhh!”

I looked at Pop-Pop. He was nodding.

“It is!” Uncle Albert said. “And when he gets ready to breed, he bends his head down between his legs, and puts one fork in each nostril...”

“No way... stop it,” waving him off.

“Yeah, he does,” Uncle Albert continued. “And he snuffs it up in his nose.”

“He shore does,” Pop-Pop said.

"So how does that get the girl ‘possum pregnant?” I demanded.

“Well, listen, and I’ll tell you,” Uncle Albert said. He was fully committed to this now, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “After he snuffs it up his nose, he walks up behind the female and sneezes it into her.”

My mouth dropped open.  I looked at Pop-Pop again. He, too, was holding up two fingers, and when I caught his eye, he turned his hand, palm toward his face, and aimed his fingertips toward his own nostrils. This was more than I could stand. Amidst Pop-Pop’s and Uncle Albert’s assurances that I had been told the 100% God’s Honest Truth, I got up and left the room.

At Nanny’s & Pop-Pop’s house later that evening, I asked my husband, “Did you hear that mess Uncle Albert told me about ‘possums?”

Pop-Pop piped up to swear it was not "mess" but was, in fact, the God's honest truth.

I still wasn’t buying it.

My husband was sitting next to Nanny’s bookcase where a set of out-dated encyclopedias was shelved. Seeing them gave me an idea. “Anything that unique ought to be on the books!” I said.  I asked The Husband to hand me the 'P' volume.

“Don’t you mean the ‘O’?”

“Smart*ss. Hand it here.”

I looked up “Opossum” in the encyclopedia. It said not one word about snuffing or sneezing or forked thangs.

The next day I told a co-worker the story that Uncle Albert had told me. She had a brilliant suggestion to put the matter to rest, once and for all: “Call the zoo.”

I called the zoo, and asked for the ‘possum expert. When he came to the phone, I said, “I have a question about ‘possum breeding habits. My uncle - ”

“Ma’am,” he said, interrupting me, “they don’t do it in the nose.”
“You’ve had this question before,” I observed.
“Yes, ma’am, at least once a day,” he said.
“Well, how DO they do it?”
“They mount, like other animals.”
“But my uncle said they have forked - um - units,” I said.
“That would be true.”
“Why is it forked?”
“Ma’am, you’ll have to ask God that question.”

I could sense he was a bit bored, so I let him off the hook, and I turned right around and dialed Uncle Albert’s number. Aunt Joy answered. I could hear a bunch of chattering in the background; all of her sisters had come for lunch.

“Aunt Joy, this is Susan. May I speak with Uncle Albert, please? I'm calling to straighten out this ‘possum mess, once and for all.”

Having heard the conversation the day before, she giggled at my mention of 'possum. “He’s not here right now, sweetie. Do you want me to tell him to call you when he gets back?”

“No, ma’am, just give him this message: tell him I called the zoo - “

Aunt Joy chuckled. “You called the zoo?”

“Yes, ma’am, and asked to speak to the ‘possum expert. He said. - “

”Possum expert!” She snickered.

“Yes, ma’am, and tell Uncle Albert that the zoo man said that possums DO NOT ‘DO IT’ WITH THEIR NOSES.”

Aunt Joy began to laugh so hard that when she tried to speak, it came out as a wheeze: “Child, he’s been spreading that malarky for years! I can't wait until he gets home!” She was still laughing when we hung up.

Some time later, when Uncle Albert was in the hospital in Intensive Care, I took Mama Jewell to the hospital to see him. As I passed by the hospital gift shop, what do I see in the window but a stuffed opossum, hanging from a limb by his curly tail. Nothing could have stopped me from buying that possum. I took him up to the ICU waiting room, and when the visiting time arrived and Aunt Joy and Mama Jewell stood up to go see him, I took the possum out of my purse and handed him to Aunt Joy. “Take this to Uncle Albert from me.”

“You take it to him,” she insisted. She told Mama Jewell she’d just have to wait her turn.

I followed Aunt Joy back to the ICU. She gently woke Uncle Albert. “Somebody’s here to see you,” she told him.

He opened his eyes.

“I brought you something,” I said, and, lifting the possum by its tail, I held it up high enough for Uncle Albert to see it. He gave me one of his crooked grins.

Some time later, Aunt Joy gave that possum back to me. I still find it around the house from time to time. And it still makes me smile every time I see it.