collect. cull. cultivate.

One of my gardening books has a section heading “Control Freaks, Rejoice”.  It follows, “Ultimately troubleshooting using smart gardening practices is all about exerting your control on the garden… If that sounds dunting, remember that although the world is out of your control, there is always the garden.” 

While I’ve never had trouble exerting my control freak nature in other situations, exerting control over plants, over nature, has always been difficult. 

Well, in the past two days, I have finally bucked up, and exerted some control.  The irises and lilies that were everywhere, but getting trampled by everything else came out, to be replanted judiciously in the fall.  The rosemary bush was pruned.  The vines covering everything were pulled.  I extended my bed about a foot out or so, planted the beautiful hydrangea given to us as a wedding gift, spread some new seeds after turning some new soil into the clay/rock.  I trained the nasturiums, which turned out to be a vining variety, onto cages so they would stop overrunning my young rosemary.   I transplanted some of my volunteer tomatoes into pots, and all my pots got replanted with the addition to their soil of perlite, the absence of which was causing the soil in my pots to not be loose enough and while everything had plenty of room, was acting root-bound. 

Next up: exert some control over my studio. 

Here is my first tomato of the season.  It’s not quite ready, but should be in a day or two.  In general, my garden is coinciding with my life in metaphorical ways.  I will share my first tomato with my soon to be husband, just a day or two before our marriage.  My potted plants, although not as large and prospering as if I had a larger, more sunny garden space to put them in, are still bearing fruit, and some sort of squash has self seeded itself.  These few weeks I am balancing the elation of my soon to be marriage, and the uncertainty of jobs and career paths.  I have potentially missed an opportunity, which is clouding my otherwise joyful spirit this week.  I am taking my garden as a mentor.  Sometimes nourishing things come unexpectedly, like volunteer squash.  Fruit can be born in adverse environments.  I hope prosperity is in the future, but regardless, I will have my best friend with whom I may share all the first tomatoes of the season. 

On the advice of my fellow Urban Land Scouts and other gardeners, I transplanted my tomato to a larger pot, where hopefully it will flourish.  I don’t think it had actually become root bound, as the root system had not taken over the pot, but having a little more room to grow is not a bad thing.  The other tomato surprised me with two tiny little fruits, so I feel somewhat bolstered.  My small container garden seems to be growing everyday.  Perhaps next year I can devise of some place in our very shady yard to begin a garden in the ground that the sun could actually reach it, although the raised beds I’ve been dreaming about may just need to wait for a different home.