We had cleaned up the joint real nice — yanked the weeds, raked the soil, and spread the compost. Then we waited for the weather to change its chilly attitude. This season’s residents would have to stay in transitional housing until we got the go-ahead from Mission Control. And just like that, the weather had finally perked up and was friendly, hospitable even, making this weekend Move-In Weekend for the thirty-some vegetable starts that had been parked on our dining room table for the past four weeks.
Before the plants got their room assignments, I laid down black garden fabric and staked the edges with metal clamps. I sat in the middle as if it were carpet and I studied the 10 x 12-ish space on all sides. I made notes on where everyone should go and who would make good roommates for each other. I fetched a pair of scissors and a trowel. One by one, I cut circles, stencil style, into the fabric. In each exposed circle, I dug until the hole was deep and wide and welcoming. Then I tilted each plant on its side and shimmied its way upright, back filling the hole.
On Day One, I got twenty-five plant-lings settled into their new digs, and the next morning, finished up with the remaining eager batch of six.
It’s an assortment of species, and mostly heat loving, given the sun explosure on all four sides. From front to back, left to right, they include:
Tomatoes: Granadero, Jerusalem Red, German Johnson
More tomatoes: Paul Robeson, Andrew Rahart’s Jumbo Red, followed by Tomatillos
Poblano peppers, Green Beans, Gandules (pigeon peas), Sugar Baby watermelon, Jamaican calabaza
Rosa Bianca and Listada di Gandia eggplant, Aji dulce pepper
Rosa, Aji twice more, zinnias from seed, dill, basil.
We watered and we fed and one of us may have said, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
From this moment, anything was possible — ninety-five degrees in the third week of May followed by predicted sixties over the upcoming holiday weekend; varmints; drought, aphids. Or maybe the conditions would be perfect, the plants would be happy and productive, and I would donate hundreds of pounds of produce to the food pantry down the road.
But really, the medicine had already taken effect: The affirming act of planting hope, the accompanying faith in plants to bear fruit; using our hands instead of devices to make something beautiful; the joy of hearing birdsong; the magic of botany; the resistance to oppression so that others may eat.
Off to water. More + soon. xokod
P.S. Do let me know if you want to know more about the plant varieties listed. Or share a tale from your own garden, pretty please.
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