Susanna J. Sturgis   Martha's Vineyard writer and editor
writer editor born-again horse girl

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How Does My Garden Grow?

July 12, 2008

Pretty well, thank you -- and much to my amazement. For years I've been half convinced that anything I planted would croak PDQ, because sooner or later everything I planted did croak. True, I didn't plant much, mainly because I thought it was all so complicated that probably I should take a course in gardening, for which (of course) there was never the time or money or an actual course to take even if the time or money ever showed up. You'll notice a pattern here, but I digress . . .

So for my birthday a month ago Wendy jump-started my garden by giving me a planter with four flourishing cherry tomato plants and a bushy basil plant in the middle. The tomatoes are still flourishing: they're about eight inches taller, they've sprouted flowers, and some of the flowers have already turned into little green tomatoes. Will wonders never cease or what? The superbells and superba are still flowering away in the window box (literally it's a railing box, but you know what I mean), and the herbs I bought as seedlings are doing quite nicely in their pots. The dill looks a little enervated and maybe a bit scorched, but the Greek oregano, the lemon thyme, and the rosemary are all thriving. I've actually used the oregano and the rosemary in cooking. Often I'll just pinch off a leaf or two, rub it between my fingers, and sniff.

I'm one for two on the seeds I planted myself. Nothing came of the chives except two very thin green tendrils that never grew more than half an inch tall. The nasturtiums, however, sprouted and grew in all six pockets of their little plastic container. The other day I transplanted them into two clay pots borrowed from my neighbor, three clumps in each pot. They seem to be doing OK, though two or three leaves in each pot look a little too yellow.

Already I'm thinking about what I should plant next year.

One neat thing about my little garden is that it doesn't have any weeds. The closest thing I've got to a weed is the puppy in residence, who is growing like one. He's also the reason that the leftover potting soil is sitting on the steps, on the far side of the puppy gate: when it was on the deck, then in a chair, Trav managed to dig a hole in the bag and start digging. I put the soil bag in a garbage bag; he dug a hole in that too. Malamutes are renowned for their digging prowess, and it's probably a sign of soil deprivation that Travvy is reduced to digging in plastic bags, but the longer I can keep him out of the neighbors' gardens or the barn's manure pile, the better.

 

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