Leave a garden at rest and kabam, it’s a crazy jungle out there.
I thought for sure leaving for 3 weeks would destroy all efforts I had put into my little buckets of life. I figured my mother, though she taught me to garden, would be too consumed with indoor plants, cats and the general being of New York City, to tend to my little outdoor plot. And she was.
Lucky me. The three weeks I was away seemed to be not so unusually wet spring weather. The radish are popping out of their skins, the tomatoes have shot up (must remember to beat away old ladies), the rainbow chard is slowly making progress, and for some reason, that lettuce that was supposed to be a quick 4 week process is struggling into life—though still moving.
One day this little City Garden will make it onto a plate. One day those radish will blush their white away. One day that Swiss chard will decide to grow in grand uniform style. One day that lettuce will… well, grow. One day those tomatoes will blossom into fruit. One day…
Until that day I will hope and pray that my leaving nature to do the trick will provide me with maybe 4 salads. Until then I will pull the tiny weeds, water when I can remember, and gently stroke and sooth my babies into growth as I depart each morning for work (yes, I pay them a visit every morning).
And until that day my little kitchen windowsill full of herbs will have to sooth my green dreams. These too, having avoided the chopping block for three weeks, have shot up. Basil is booming, rosemary is blooming, mint is creeping and sage is swaying. That’s another story for another night.
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