Flourishing

In these topsy-turvey times, what a pleasure to see something gather strength, poke up its head, and take off! That seems to be what's happening in our garden these days as it begins paying us back for two months of isolation-induced digging, weeding, wheelbarrowing and planting. We're beginning to eat home-grown greenery from the seedlings I bought in March, and the strawberries are vigorously producing flowers and buds. Sadly, I must nip them off the first year to encourage root growth, but they're certainly trying! The tomato plants still look iffy and the basil is recalcitrant in our current cool temperatures, but there's a long growing season ahead, so I have hopes. Our venture into horticulture may prove to be one of the bright spots of a so-far crazy year.

The little vegetable garden John and I created out of our old compost patch has turned into a mecca of deep-green, ridiculously healthy-looking edibles. If we chow down on this for the rest of the pandemic, we may end up with Popeye physiques. Here I'm collecting our first feed of home-grown lettuce, kale, chard and rocket. Photo by John Denniston.

I've planted a mix of vegetables and flowers in a section of  this garden bed that used to be taken up by a forest of Solomon's seal, which was impressive but inedible. So far, the new arrivals appear to be flourishing. 

 A closer look at that bed, with its tangle of rocket, parsley, kale, daisies and lavender.

The three new lavender plants are all producing buds. In the right foreground, one is already showing off its bee-friendly blooms.

These irises aren't edible or new, but I include them because I'm amazed they're blooming after I tore them all out to clean up their bed in March, then stuck them shallowly back in the soil. These guys are tough!

The new strawberry plants, all bowing toward the sun. Every day I tear off the blooms that would otherwise turn into delicious fruit for this summer. Gardening involves a lot of delayed gratification.

Talk about flourishing: this is mint, confined to a pot without good soil, but looking as if it's in a luxury spa. Mint is famously dangerous to put in the ground because it spreads like a weed, so experienced gardeners only grow it in pots. I look forward to being able to use all the mint I want this summer without paying $2.49 a bunch for it. 

Pickier but still resilient, these cosmos sulked when I planted them in deep shade, but started blooming when I put them in a sunnier spot.

This is the start of what will be a magnificent tower of sweet peas in a couple of months. They're at the base of an obelisk that will vanish under their vines.

And here's the start of the perennial delphiniums that will soon be towering over the sweet peas. I've already begun staking them.

The peonies seem happier this year after I cleaned up their bed and staked them early. They have lots of buds and more room to show them off.

These snap peas, grown from seed, are in the same bed as the peonies and a row of  daisies. I don't know if they'll survive in a shady spot, but this year is all about experimentation.

These little sprinklings of green are from wildflower and other flower seeds that a friend passed along. I scattered them in a front-garden bed left vacant when an azalea died. 

Weeds flourish too when you add compost to your flower beds. This one was about two feet high when I caught it hiding among the hollyhocks.

Here's something that's not flourishing: the lower leaves of some front-garden hollyhocks turn yellow, then brown, then fall off. It's a rust that hits them every year, but the plants keep growing and producing flowers anyway. 

And outside our new backyard veggie garden is a type of weed so tough it grows through asphalt. It's already poking up among the veggie plants, and I will be battling it all summer. Of all plants, weeds are the best at flourishing.