Almost as soon as we had yanked out the last dandelion root from the bed out back last summer, it was overtaken again. Tigerlilies sprouted on either side of the rock border, a veritable herb garden of mint spread a net of tendrils from end to end, and the dandelions' offspring came back to reclaim their heritage. There was too much to be done, so, naturally, nothing was done.
Over the winter, I thought nobly of checking out a good beginner gardening book, or tracking down a friendly-sounding blogger who could walk me through how to turn my dreams for the bed into a reality. Come spring, I wanted to plant a vegetable garden. But time, like gardens, tends to get overgrown with both commitments and distractions, so I researched nothing and learned nothing. Hence, I found myself squinting at seed packages in the Menards garden center, realizing that, if I wanted to grow tomatoes from seed, I ought to have started six weeks earlier.
In the end, I bought a package each of zucchini, cucumber, and scallion seeds as well as 2 cherry tomato seedlings. That was the easy part.
In between the intermittent rain showers of the first few weeks of May, my husband and I set out to do what ought to have been done in the fall and clear the bed. I knelt on my cheap foam gardening pad; he half-squatted next to me, and together we yanked and dug our way through the half-dead vegetation from last year and the half-grown sprouts from this year. We filled our yard waste bins many times over until, at last, we had emptied the bed.
And then, guided by the simple seed packet directions and half a YouTube video, I planted. I mounded the good new soil Mitchell had laid and deposited a ring of cucumber seeds. I hollowed out a space for the tomato seedlings and scattered tiny black scallion seeds between the two. I covered the zucchini seeds with handfuls of earth. In all, the whole affair lasted perhaps fifteen minutes.
It has been about two weeks. One of the tomato plants seems to be dying––too long in its plastic cup on my counter, I suspect. The spots of green in the middle of the bed could be either new weeds or baby scallions; I can't tell the difference. Yet, in that once dead and ugly place, tiny green shoots are starting to emerge, just as promised.
It will be a miracle if anything grows, but isn't it always a miracle? Isn't it always a sheer act of God to take the shriveled seeds we plant and turn them into something so alive it can nourish us as we have nurtured it? Isn't it beautiful that we can plant and water and hope for weeks before, at last, we receive the firstfruits of our faith and faithfulness?
I am watering my sprouts. I am hoping.
Here's what I read, cooked, and created in the month of May.
What I Read
Something Wicked This Way Comes, Ray Bradbury (★★★★★)
Every Moment Holy, Douglas McKelvey (★★★★★)
A Thousand Heartbeats, Kiera Cass (★★★★)
Room, Emma Donaghue (★★★)
If you want to hear the rationale behind my rating, head to my Goodreads for full reviews.
What I Cooked
Difficulty: ★★★
Flavor: ★★★
Keeper: Maybe
Comments: As a society, we need to stop pretending crushed cornflakes make good chicken breading. They don't. They're terrible. This might work well with panko, but I'm not sure whether I was crazy enough about the flavor to give it a second try.
Difficulty: ★★
Flavor: ★★★★
Keeper: Yes
Comments: I was not quite as thorough in following the instruction to melt the cream cheese as I should have been, so it was a little clumpy, but other than that, I thought it turned out well.
Difficulty: ★★
Flavor: ★★★★
Keeper: Yes
Comments: Tieghan Gerard is the only person who could make me follow a recipe for a quesadilla. I thought the avocado and rice would be weird, but it's basically like a burrito.
Difficulty: ★★
Flavor: ★★★
Keeper: Maybe
Comments: Mitchell commented that this tasted like something that would be served at camp, and he's not wrong. For me, it was a little bland. I can see green chiles being a good way to resolve that issue, and I'd like to try this again with that variation.
What I Created
The beginnings of an essay
Half of a sonnet
A few more pages' worth of progress in my new project
May your days be filled with beauty, and may your heart be filled with the willingness to see and give thanks for it.