In the garden, as in life, endings and beginnings are easily confused, one for the other.
I thought it was spam, and then a scam… A Nigerian prince offering riches beyond my wildest dreams. For a price. The e-mail read: “Dear shopper: You have received this notification from Prairie Moon Nursery because you received a gift certificate from Admirer for $400.00. Message: ‘A blog admirer is sending you a gift certificate to thank you!’”
Friends and supporters have requested that I complete a series I began last year on Organic Pest Control. Prior to doing so, I thought I would provide a link to the series so that new readers can familiarize themselves with my approach to the subject. Check out:
Looking forward to the gardening season!
Right around this time of year, landscaping and yard service companies start cruising my neighborhood. They come in search of easy prey: nice middle-class homeowners eager to keep a tidy yard, and concerned about the danger large trees supposedly pose to telephone and electrical wires, the roof, or the neighbor’s five-figure fully winterized RV. They’ll leave flyers in your mailbox or dangling on the doorknob. In my case, they come on up to the stoop and ring the doorbell, having greedily eyeballed the monstrous pin-oak that towers over my house, the phone lines, and the neighbors’ houses on two sides.
“If we top your tree before leaf-fall,” encouraged one sly salesman, smiling his honey-sweet money-shredder smile: “you won’t have any raking to do. We’re insured.”
Get thee behind me Satan, indeed.
There’s nothing quite like coming home from a long, hard day’s work to find a tag on your doorknob from the water department telling you that the water main has ruptured… on *your* side of the meter.
I have always done the majority of my gardening during the spring and summer months. September usually finds me in a gardening postpartum funk. Green tomatoes linger on raggedy vines that straggle in the mulch. Wildflowers slump out of bounds. The awful lilac bushes go white with powdery mildew.
Of course, there are flowers in the August garden. But the fruits of hard labor are what stand out to me this time of year. And like a woman in the last trimester of her pregnancy, the garden looks both magnificent and worn.