Sometimes we have cruel (or kind: pick your poet) April showers, and dark quick storms with thunder and lightning and hail. I brought a few cherry branches inside where they have bloomed cheerfully in the kitchen to help me survive the meteorologically difficult moments.
Out in the garden, I don’t know what the winter-grown cabbage plants have been reading but someone has convinced them to abandon normal cabbage behavior in favor of mass seed production, which I suppose is nice for their (apparent) goal of Earth domination (the cabbage apocalpyse) but utterly inadequate when it comes to my spring salads. These mutant cabbage plants (cell phone towers…?) are taller every day and each about to burst into some sort of bloom instead of any sort of cabbage head. (I don’t expect to like the flowers.)
Now we move on to a stand of onions known far and wide (from the picket fence clear to the greenhouse) as the Great Onion Forest. It includes three varieties of happy onions who aspire only to become parts of my suppers, growing there in the shadow of the perennial herb bed, which is just beyond (chives, French sorrel, chard, Greek oregano…)
You may observe that the onions were all clipped before the Gardener planted them outside and the reason the Gardener did that is because some onion expert book-writer guy told her to and she just hopes he was right about it even though he’s been wrong before but we are not going to talk about cucumbers right now.
Next, exciting news from the Fate Department, which is where we find this report on the new accidental bean trellis.
But that was before Mr. O drove the tractor down the lane to pick up and transport a huge length of a fallen oak tree and the tree snagged the gate as it traveled past and reconfigured it to a perfect 90 degree angle thus morphing it (the gate not the tree) into the free-standing bean trellis you see here. Add to that the fact that I bought bean seeds this year. (There are no coincidences.) (ps: the gate was not in actual use as a gate before it underwent the fortuitous transformation.)
Now. That is quite enough press, or screen, about vegetables so we will move right on to the cute little maidenhair fern clump (adiantum capillus-veneris) which was languishing last year but is smiling in its handmade tufa pot (which if it looks like a mixing bowl is because it was cast in a mixing bowl).
In other news, the fruit trees are all thinking seriously of blossoms but discreetly waiting for just a bit more security, weatherwise. Only the ornamental cherry has
wrecklessly, no of course I meant recklessly (with a tip of the bottle to Kininvie), opened all flowers and I do appreciate its brave forging ahead into heaven knows what sort of next weather but of course there is no fruit at risk here.
It is simply the time of year when everything is growing like crazy and I like to wander around the gardens and see which things I planted in the fall on top of which then-dormant spring things so that now there are lots of places with two things growing together, so interesting and kind of like attending a botanical prize fight.
Oh I suppose I will rescue the astilbe from that pushy delphinium–