Who knows where the time goes?
At this point in our development, many human people are still frantically time centric. “I’ll be there in a minute.” “He’s late again.” “There’s 5.3 seconds left on the clock.” “Time is on my side, yes it is.” “Another day gone by and nobody dusted.” “It’s never too late to be early.”
Actually, the future doesn’t exist since there is only right now, and the past is malleable depending on who the witnesses were. But those who count things have convinced us our year number will change soon, not that it matters. We learned what we learned, forgot what we forgot, here we are, and we should look both ways before crossing the street.
So, first a word about lessons learned. The most recent winter was coldest toward the end, so garlic leaves never died back. I took a trip in late March, so seed-starting occurred a month later than usual with no ill-effect. Still had plenty tomato seedlings to give away (my favorite thing). Important to know a late start can work out dandy.
A well-tended garden space becomes a second home. Perennials you planted know to return right on time. Butterfly milkweed and mountain mint, for example, returned again in the topmost bed. A tall valerian and anise hyssops re-emerged in the kidney bean bed. I think they live here now. I added an echinacea and blue turmeric to their neighborhood, and at the end of summer I planted garlic right beside them. The turmeric is an experiment to see if well-mulched it will withstand our winters.
And a word of acknowledgement for cosmos seeds blown asunder to every square yard of the garden waiting out cold weather in the soil (reading philosophy and watching worms), then to sprout in spring with a take-over attitude… by mid-summer, everywhere you looked, all the world’s a cosmos. Pollinators and I appreciated the flowers.
Also returning right on time were a quintillion squash bugs. They are impressive in their resolute diabolically invasive lifestyle. I transplanted healthy seedlings in the heart-shaped bed, and they prospered mightily until… until no amount of neem spray could rescue what happened next. A happy harvest of a half dozen squashes for me and a new generation of squash bugs waiting out the winter in the mulch. See you next summer.
Way too late, I planted Asian greens, chard, kale and lettuce with the promise I’d protect them as best I could. Sawhorses and plastic later, everybody is doing well, an important lesson learned.
Those plants will carry on into our new number. Regarding the future, I ordered seeds for a wild assortment of plants I’ve never grown before. Now it’s time to get the garden ready for them. After all, the garden space is like a second home. Some gardeners are like that. And I should point out a home gardener who enjoys growing different things to learn about them is not the same as farmers who scrape out a living growing organic vegetables for markets. Support local farmers.
But on a rocky hillside in northern Madison County, I will see if ashwagandha and astragalus like it here. Word is they’re herbalistically healthy. Did you know chia is from southern Mexico? I’ll plant it in the southern Mexico part of my garden.
I also intend to learn about permaculture. What the world needs now is permaculture. And patience and truth. Permaculture has no clocks. Sepp Holzer, permaculture advocate, recommends hugelculltur gardening. I have two beds fashioned this way and modified versions elsewhere, so my hugel project will continue. A simple version is simply to pile heaps of organic material onto a bed and keep piling when you’re not too busy.
Permaculture is a way of seeing the natural world as a connected whole in which our impact matters, a mindset whose time is overdue. Don’t be late.