As A Grampa Gardener I Tend To Walk Slowly
As a grampa gardener I tend to walk slowly. The two feet by six feet of pathway in front of me takes all of my attention. The shadows of the pebbles, twigs and grass continually change as I pass and provide a billion bits of information for me to process. It fills me up. Getting to my goal becomes secondary to the amazing panorama of moving through space and time and knowing that each instant has passed forever. Being in the moment is a concept that all religions recognize. Knowing that this moment is all you have, and being exceedingly grateful for it, is the beginning of wisdom.
Fall planted peas come up much quicker than the spring planted ones. Half of mine came up under the board. Not a sterling testament to my gardening prowess. My Brussels sprouts are also mocking me again. They are forming loose heads allowing the aphid easy access. I think I’ll start picking off the bottom leaves for mulch. When the cabbage leaves dry out the window blows them around so I’m forced to continue covering them with new, green mulch. The pea vines worked well but I’m out of them for awhile. I’ve got plenty of “weed mulch” but it’s a bit more unsightly. I’ll go rustle up some more hay because using it is like decorating the garden.
This geek has started separating his weeds. As I pull them up they either go into the broad leaf pile or the grass stem one. Weeds that will re-root if put on the ground go on top of existing mulch. I’m getting burms around some of my planting beds due to the constant addition of mulch. If I don’t keep the mulch heavy on the cabbage leaves that are on the creeping jenny it will lift it up and, you guessed it, creep out into the bed. If I use creeping jenny as mulch it has to go on top of the ground, not on it, or it will re-root, and, you guessed it, creep on. Putting creeping jenny on top of cabbage leaves that are on top of creeping jenny is a mulch sandwich. I think they call it lasagna gardening. I think I’ve been in the sun too long.