a leisurely tour

(From March of this year - it's taken me this long to type it...)

much of what I write is fiction, since much of what I write is plans and I pretty much never do what I write down that I should.

But here's a piece of documentary prose (oxymoron? paradox? redundancy?). Here is descriptive narrative - an observation of the state of affairs of the garden, to wit, the notations of a backporch farmer who doesn't know much yet. I've got some ideas, and I don't know how they'll pan out.

Geraniums flank the door, an oderiferous (the cashier at the nursery pronounced it "pungent") citronella geranium on the left. Intricate lacy leaves, no signs of bloom yet save a picture on the tag jammed into the front of the pot. The flowers pictured look more like plumerias than geraniums, but what the hell. The foliage smells nice.

In more robust, fat petaled typical geranium style, the Americana Violet '11 is colored like an acid trip. Vibrant migraine trigger pink, it's so bright that it's taken me a month to realize that part of the retina-searing brightness comes from the cymbal crash contrast of atomic orange at the center of each bloom. It cheerfully weathers whatever it is that's chomping away at the fat Buddha palm leaves. I should do something about that. (Post script: I never did. The chompers became so full of no-thing that they disappeared with all the drama of one hand clapping.)

Hanging over all is usually a variegated pink and red ivy geranium, raining scarlet petals over all, like cherry blossoms in Japanese art. These things go freaking everywhere and it's so blatant where they fall because they are so bright. The ivy geranium is on the ground now, due to weather predicted last night, and down also came the mostly experimental hanging strawberry. (Post script: May and I'm ready to compost the thing. Put it out of its misery - it's obviously a daylong strawberry not an everbearing and we can get something up there to either make food or attract pollinators. The other farmer does not agree with me and for the moment he is winning.)

Two mints, actively and promiscuously trading various nuances of flavor, behind the guilt Gerber from Gran (she beheaded the two I had on a plant that my cats have since treated as a salad bar) in a goofy green pot. It is entirely goofy, big floppy leaves and guileless bumpkin face flowers. The gerbers will really be impressed when the sunflower seeds get going in the protein garden.

The protein garden is yet to come, so I will here steer discussion away from lofty goals and return to the now-ness of what-is. What-is is stevia, a sweet leafed herb, potted on the right of the back door. I am thinking of stevia and chocolate mint (one of the promiscuous ones) herbal infusion tea. (Post script: I have harvested and dried some leaves from both the stevia and chocolate mint plants this week. I crushed some up with ice, turbinado sugar, my favorite bourbon and a few drops of water last night. Excellent.)

There's a small pot of rosemary, one sprig, and it refuses to grow, but it hasn't given up. I feel for that rosemary. Gran just kind of pulled it out of the crack in her sidewalk, late last summer and it lived in a glass of water on my counter for about a week because, I'm sorry I was busy okay? The rosemary persists. It abides. Whatever. (The other farmer insists that it's upside down. I once again will not say outright that he's correct, but it's entirely possible. Roots went in the dirt, I say.)

Garlic chives about as motivated as the rosemary. I've never had luck with chives or green onion from seed but I don't know. We got it as a plant and I am not the one who potted it. We'll see. (Post script: We're still wait-and-see with this one. Still.)

Oregano in another pot. Also a little plant, not doing much. (PS: Still.) An aloe plant, growing slowly, recovering from the loss of a spike before we got it. There is a rubber shark in the aloe pot, just so everyone is properly warned that it is a tough plant.

Ichiban eggplant (a gift for the other farmer) is in a taller pot and it is starting to bloom - light purple flowers, six petals, yellow pistils(? stamens?) something inside; it reminds me of a violet or a prairie flower, yet it nestles in with these bulbous fat leaves naturally. (PS: There are literally a million eggplants on the plant right now. I need to harvest some so the plant will keep producing, but they're all fat and egg-shaped, not long like the tag and the rest of the world and the internet indicate Ichiban eggplant should be.)

The last (at that time) pot is a strange case. It's old, crappy dirt, and I think I tried to use it for nasturtiums last summer/fall. No va, as they say, nada. But I think the other farmer put some kind of citrus seed - anything from a grapefruit to a lime - in the dirt. I ignored it; the pot sat out all winter while other things went into the garage (the rosemary is the only thing that made it out of the garage alive). So. There's a seedling with three layers of glossy green citrus looking leaves. (PS: Still growing, still no clue.)

(Post Script to entire previous: This piece neglects to mention the proliferation of tomatoes slowly taking over the place, the raised bed, my birthday lemon, and various other secrets. These may or may not be addressed in due time.)