It was humid, the sky light and cheerful in one patch, dark and scowling in another. The air was tense. I poked around in my garden, thinking I ought to fertilize, but not wanting to get caught in the rain. So I picked some green onions (to make a spicy sauce I learned from my mother), went inside, and picked up my garden journal (where I’ve been recording when I plant things and when they come up.) “It’s going to storm soon,” I wrote.
Suddenly trees were bending, the sky completely dark. Rain pelted down at a forty-five degree angle. The house shook. “It’s storming now,” I wrote.
The storm lasted until darkness, which was fine since I had an ice cream test batch to make and a quilt to work on. (Notably, both of these things are wedding-related.) This morning was much cooler than yesterday (57 instead of 80) and I probably should have brought in the zucchini I started hardening off yesterday. But I didn’t; instead, I went for a quick walk through the garden before work.
The bush beans greeted me, thicker than they had been–I ended up planting my entire seed packet, so I hope they do well. I noted, as I haven’t before, that I need to plant more carrots and spinach to fill in the holes where nothing germinated. The pole beans and sunflowers had gotten bigger. The marigolds and nasturtiums had gotten much bigger. A friend gave me some cosmos, and I forgot to check on them–I’ll have to do that this afternoon.
I’m also going to make good on my thought of fertilizing. The newer leaves on my tomatoes are much darker than the older ones. They’re also much less flea-beetle-hole-riddled, which is a good sign, but I’d like to help them along. I’m not sure the eggplants are going to recover at all. I do have one extra plant that I kept back, but now I’m afraid to plant it at all. But what’s gardening, or any hobby, without taking risks? You learn and live, even if the plant doesn’t.