I planted onions today. I didn’t mean to. It just…happened. I was in The Andersons, picking up broccoli and thyme and sunflower seeds (and, as it happened, a lush young rosemary plant that may well sit on my kitchen windowsill all summer rather than be planted outdoors in May), and I passed an endcap full of onion sets. White and yellow and red. Big netting bags for $1.49. How could I resist? I went with yellow, and once I got home I walked into my garden and determined that even if I plant ten tomato plants I’ll still have plenty of room near the south end of the garden, and planted my onions. A couple of rows of widely-spaced, shallow ones for bulbs, and a mass of tightly-packed, deep ones for green onions. I had some left over. I’ll try planting them next month to get a later green onion crop.

As I’ve spent more time in the garden I’ve been able to gauge exactly how much I’m going to be able to fit in, and I’m finding I have some extra space, extraordinary to what I’ve planned. I started a new compost pile in a particularly barren corner, where the pumpkin will go, and the rest may just lie fallow. Or perhaps I’ll put some sunflowers there. (I started the broccoli and thyme and sunflowers once I got done with the onions. The plan with the sunflowers is to use them as bean poles.) Or perhaps, like today, something will catch my eye and demand to be planted.

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