This was an okay day.
Today was pretty low profile. The weather was balmy, the wind was mild. I was in aftermath mode. I hardly cried at all.
I haven't done anything with the garden in several days other than water it, and pick the peas. The peas are doing really well. I have nice sweet Amish snap peas that look just like any old snap peas, they are supposed to be hardy. We'll see how long they hold up when it really starts to get hot.
And then I have these strange yellow-podded peas with purple flowers, that are not sweet, they are not all that tasty, but they work good in soup to soak up the flavors.
They are very pretty, though.
I harvested the carrots about a month ago.
The beets are starting to get big greens. These are chioggia beets, another heirloom variety. This round is all from seed I saved a couple of years ago. Back then they were going to seed rather early, so I'm keeping an eye on these, since beets are quite edible for the greens, at any given point, and I don't need more seed. But so far, so good.
They are pretty beets with white and purple rings, and quite tasty as well.
Beets are used in some countries to treat cancer, I've read. I used to make carrot/beet juice, with more carrot than beet, and a good glass of that will sure make you feel like it ought to treat something. Beet juice can really give you a kind of a zing.
My winter and summer squash both are coming along, though just starting. The summer squash came from a seed packet at the grocery store. I brought it home and found it was infested with what was probably something like Indian meal moths. Imagine.
I froze the packet for awhile, and planted most of the seeds the next week. All is well.
I still haven't planted all of the heirloom tomatoes, I had so many of them. I gave half away to a guy from Freecycle whom I've never met personally. I have given him books too.
He comes by via appointment, I leave my gate unlocked, he is reliable and doesn't hang me up, takes away whatever I have to offer, and writes me very appreciative emails back. That works. That's all I really need, in many cases, though it would be nice to meet him in person sometime.
But overall, the garden is doing well. Now, for the hail, as claude would say.
That can happen here. Usually it's not too bad, but I remember one that left the place several inches deep in leaves. I remember one that pulled down my shadecloth, just from the weight.
Acts of God.
So far, this spring has been great. But now we're moving towards May, and May is less reliable. May can bring us heat waves well over 100. Or not.
And once the monsoon kicks in, lots of things are possible.
When the monsoon does not kick in, extremely high temperatures are possible. They seem to bring the monsoon (which makes sense, considering how the weather works here).
Sometimes the monsoon gets here first. Sometimes not. It's all quite the crapshoot, for someone who spent so much time gardening in West Los Angeles, which is nice work if you can get it.
I was watering this afternoon, and my elderly Chicana neighbor was in her front yard, and hailed me. She asked first about when I might help her some more?
I don't know, I replied. What do you need done?
She said, maybe some flower beds here, and pointed. But then, maybe that's all okay the way it is.
She was concerned about her little pair of loppers, that they were dull. "How do you sharpen these?" she asked.
Well, I replied, I do it with a file.
She responded that maybe she was thinking about finding someone who would do that for her.
I went back to watering for about a minute, and then went back into my house to get my rat-tail file.
Would you like to borrow my file? I asked. No, she does not know how to do that. Well, then would you like me to do it for you?
And I did. Her shears are not made of very good metal, and they are loose and the blades had little spurs. But I cleaned off the straight side, carefully, and honed up the angled side some. Not perfect, but better.
A couple of years back, I bought her a nice pair of Fiskars handclippers for Christmas, the ergonometric kind they had for sale then, that kind of swivel nicely, that are especially nice for people whose wrists are getting arthritic.
I trashed my pair by trying to cut stuff that was too thick, but she still has hers, she pointed that out the other day. She likes those shears.
Today, she thanked me for sharpening her little loppers, and I went around watering some more.
"You know, Miep," she said to me, from across the fence, after awhile;
"There are times when I don't think I'm going to make it."
Indeed. I have such thoughts myself, not because I am seriously suicidal, but because it's true.
No, you are not going to make it.
None of us are going to make it.
Still, here we are, trying to find little interstices in the world that give us some small pleasures, and telling each other lies such as "Well, you've been sick."
And handing back the shears, and saying "Happy to help."