Fools.
I spit in the eye of convention.
All the gardening books are like, "oh, no, you can't transplant the Zucchini. Or the squash. Or anything like that because it will die and the roots get all screwed up" (I'm paraphrasing).
But I was like, "oh, no - I'll be goddamned if some random person in the world is going to reap ALL the fruits of my toil. I will take two plants and see what happens."
I spit right in the eye of conventions. Much like Hurricane Isaac.
In other abandoned yard news, I snuck* back into the old yard, in the dusky twilight after work one night, with a hand shovel and a pair of gloves, and dug out the zebra grass that I love.
Picture it. Auburn. 2012. A slightly overweight lady in dress pants and leopard print flats (don't hate - those things kick ass and are SO cute) hunched madly over an unruly clump of zebra grass, trying to dig out the roots with a hand shovel. Nearby, a Wild Birds Unlimited bag huddles in silent resignation, knowing it's ultimate fate will be sealed as an impromptu garden pot. The street lights come on. The old house is dark. The neighborhood dogs begin to bark in a curious symphony that starts on cue at sundown and commences until one or more owners come out in disgust to usher them inside.
Then. From behind me. Footsteps.
"You need a hand?"
I whirl around.
My giant and imposing neighbor. With a shovel.
"Don't worry. I won't kill you."
Laughter always makes work lighter. It's amazing how fast a truculent bunch of zebra grass comes out when your giant and imposing neighbor is at the helm of the big ole shovel.
Soon, the grass was in it's place (the front seat of my car), a couple of mallows were dug up into other found pots, and I had successfully rescued all of my push garden stakes that hold up chicken wire. In the dark. In dress slacks.
After one 3 hour planting, weeding, and watering marathon at the new place, much of what I brought has been put in the ground. What is left are some ferns, another mallow, a brumeria and another flowering shade plant. Also some fennel and sunchokes, but I don't know where those are going to go - so I may lose them. I hope not. I foraged them fair and square from friends and neighbors yards!
And I have a couple banana peppers that are coming along nicely.
*Shut Up spellcheck. It's a word.
You are naughty! (It's one of the things I like best about you.)
ReplyDeleteWhen we bought Mucky Boots we didn't actually move out here for about six months, so all that fall we drove out once or twice a week to take care of the garden as it wound down for the year. And I swear the previous owner (who was slightly off her rocker and really, really didn't want to leave) was lurking around - we kept having the feeling tomatoes were disappearing from the greenhouse, and that the chain on the gate was done up a different way than we had left it. And then we actually saw the woman leaving our street as we were driving in. Creepy. That's when we put a lock on the gate...
And who says "snuck" is not a word? What does spellcheck know, anyway? According to my computer, "spellcheck" isn't a word. So there.