Being a spoiled Northern Californian, I panicked with heavy late May and June rain. I started pining for the droughts. At least I know how to garden during the droughts.”What do you mean we have two inches of rain? I have a potager, kitchen garden, to tend. ” I huffed at Zeus and my patient German husband.
Of course he is mad, again another Easter/Spring and I did not sacrifice a lamb to the coming of spring. Lamb keftes and lamb chops do not satisfy Zeus. It’s not my fault, Greek and heathen Easter, fell on the same Sunday two years in a row. This happens something like every three hundred years. What’s the use of a religious schism when I cannot celebrate a separate Easter and show them how Easter should be celebrated?
The zucchini is just starting its gigantism a bizarre evolutionary adoption. The tomatoes are anemic and a couple died due to aggressive staking techniques. A neighbor gave us a Costco tomato plant, who knows what kind of genetically altered Frankenstein I let into my garden. I refuse to plant it in the ground, this is my soil. This is my compost. It, the monster tomato, came from the store with fruit hanging on it in early May. June 10th and they are starting to get color. Somehow they are not enticing, even though they are early. They are vulgar. Tomatoes this size in June. It’s just not done. That will teach my husband to help neighbors with “well problems”. Last time we helped, we got a bottle of zinfandel, this time we got Frankentomato.
The herbs have gone on a growth spree. The bay leaf has shot up and the oregano is expanding.
The chamomile is lovely and gentle. Too bad it reminds me of my mother’s cure for all gastrointestinal ailments, “chamomile enema”. Yes, darlings, my mother and her mother and her mother before her, considered “cleansing”, colonics or whatever you want to call them these days, as part of their medical repertoire.
And the lovely borage, the only edible blue flower, is busy attracting bees.
The lavender, unlike me, did love the rains and I am glad.