Mentally Gardening

Good morning!

I am mentally going over my son Alexander's garden in Cedar Rapids, IA.  It is an absolute mystery to contemplate the arising of so much green growth from the absolute deadness of winter in that climate.  Of course, "far beneath the winter snows" all sorts of things are going on.  But there is a point when those Northerners can till the soil, plant, and get a huge reward.  Last year, Alexander's elderly neighbor Carol lent him a machine to turn the soil over and get things started.  In a space about 20 x 20 (that's a guess) he planted corn, beans, melons, squashes, tomatoes,  and I don't know what else. Oh yes, a scarecrow, lol.

The plants grew amazingly. I was stunned to see, last June, tall huge-leaved plants waving in the breeze already.  "Knee high by the fourth of July," is the rule for corn, and I guess it's true--but by the end of that month things have really happened, and there is--corn!  There is a short growing time and during that time all the good things are going to mature and make seed for the future.  Imagine that we had to live on the things that came out of that garden last year.  We'd have canned and pickled all summer long.  Here in dry  California we often coddle and work and get meager growth and fruiting, it seems to me.  At least, by comparison to that amazing climate of Iowa, where nature says, "Here it comes, and lots of it, so deal with it!"

Alex also studied the internet and learned how to make wooden whirligigs and made a great one of Kruschev banging his shoe on the podium (who knew A. even knew who Kruschev was?) and another one of a busy chef flipping burgers.  A stout breeze blows at all times in that back yard, so those figures keep very busy at their tasks.  They're very cheery amidst those big green plants.

Alexander also grows peppers of all sorts. He became a devotee of the chili pepper when they lived here briefly in the 90's.  He has all sorts. Makes many fine salsas with them all....

He's also always had a hops structure, because he likes to brew his own beer.  The wind seems to blow down those hops vines at least once a summer, but he and they go on with it.

I like to think about  all my gardeners and their gardens.  Here in my own garden are the grandchildren of the last nasturtiums my son Gregory planted long ago.  They come up every year, waving their orange and yellow colors to me and I think, "Here's Gregory!"  The color orange was his favorite color, and he loved those fancy nasturtiums.  YAZZYBEL