garden therapy

the peas, so sweet and delicious.  the shelling peas - I just wish we'd planted more.  the sugarsnap peas grew way taller (nearing maybe seven feet?) than what I'd given them to climb on (um, about 4.5 feet) and so flump! down they fell.  bent over and full of peas in varying stages of ripeness.

oh the garden.  every morning I make my way out there (usually after plugging in those sparkly lights and making myself a mug of something warm to drink) just to look.  I often mess around a bit, too.  weed here, nibble there.  but mostly I just stand there, or sit on the cinder block 'bench' (lacking a bit in the comfort department, but it works) and quite simply, I stare at the plants.

our lavender has taken off and I am greeted by their beautiful flowers when I go out the back door.  there is a bench (a real one, not made of cinder blocks... although there is a broken board on one side....) next to the herb garden.  sometimes I sit there and pick off a few flowers or leaves.  crush them between my fingers and inhale, or eat them.  or both.  an instant chill pill as good ol' grandmother lavender works her magic.

so far so good with the tomatoes.  there are eight in this bed, six in another, a few on the deck in pots and a couple others tucked away here and there.  it seems with the humidity around here it's only a matter of time before some form of blight or fungus claims the tomatoes, but every year I cross my fingers and take what I can get.  I like to create a sizable buffer zone by overdoing it when I seed the tomatoes.

every garden needs a little smiling planter, right?  one that is all face and chubby legs....

I told her that I liked to play with her fairy house with her, that I didn't have a fairy house when I was a little girl.  she looked at me like that had to be one of the worst things ever and quietly told me, after thinking for a bit, that this one was really for both of us.

salsa verde dreams,

the first carrots pulled,

and thai basil in cinder blocks

the garden is one of my happy places, no doubt.  each year we add a bit more gardening space and watch as the lawn is taken over by some other form of flora (or fauna) and it brings me such joy.  something about getting my hands in the soil and allowing all of my senses to just be, to just take it all in.... it brings such peace and stillness, and quietens my mind.