Following a week of being covid-positive in which rain fell nearly every day and temperatures quickly rose to 90F (32C) on most days, I'm “over it.” This interesting term used to mean “recovered” or “moved past” in the context of a disease, break up, loss of a job, etc. It is in this sense I'm using it to refer to my physical health. I am now well.
I didn't like the new usage of the term when, several years ago, younger women at work would proclaim they were “over it.” They meant were still stuck in a situation, but heartily wished that they weren't, in this case that work was boring or stressful and they wanted to go home. The term had been turned on its head to indicate almost the opposite of its original meaning in the space of a generation. I hate this sort of change with all my nerdy heart, however it is this sense of the term I am invoking when I say that I'm “over” the garden.
My fresh, dew-kissed herb and perennial beds are now floppy, overgrown, and mildewy. The crab grass is winning the battle for control of the paths, and the tomato/cucumber support has toppled. I just don't have the heart or energy to restore it to an upright state, or to make a serious attempt to take back my paths.
The potager isn't a complete loss, or even a loss at all— it's still producing tomatoes, green beans, cukes, eggplant, and basil. The potato harvest has been enormous with many still remaining in the ground. The new-this-spring everbearing blackberry is huge and is sporting berries commensurate with its size. So if I'm being honest I should admit the main problem is how it looks out there, which is something the beginner gardeners that ostensibly comprise my audience get hung up on. Now I get it, but can't muster the energy to make it look better.
To top it off, I've come to the stunning realization that vegetables don't really taste all that good! This is no doubt less epiphany than covid-induced tastebud malfunction and will most likely remedy itself. Meanwhile the condition has given me empathy for those who dislike vegetables: perhaps this lack of flavor is always their experience rather than the savory goodness I'm used to. My sympathy furthermore extends to all gardeners who are overwhelmed with weeds, bugs, and fruit that rots or refuses to ripen. Thoughts of fire bombing the whole enterprise occasionally flit through my mind.
Such destructive ideation is quickly vanquished by thoughts of that magical time of year soon to be upon us: autumn! Crisp nights and haze-free days. Asters and mums and bright foliage. All this ridiculously fast growth slowing down. It's only a matter of time. Meanwhile I will leave readers with some positive garden developments and share plans for future writing.
The old stock tank is in place, filled with premium compost, and ready to be planted in the spring. It's right next to the raised bed I made from the butt logs of the dead maple we had taken down. My son calls the plants occupying this bed the zombie squash because they should be dead but continue to grow and produce fruit, despite having almost completely severed stems.
A new piece of concrete graces the zombie squash bed as shown below.
I've decided I've written enough primer-type posts for beginners. If a reader asks a specific question, I would be happy to address it, but otherwise I intend to return to my previous eclectic blend of random musings, politics, and celebrations of live on the farm.