Tuesday’s heat wave passed without the predicted violent storms. So on Wednesday I awakened at 7 AM to do what nature didn’t, water, water, water the garden!
But how much? Water too shallow, roots reach upward instead of growing down. Too much water is a waste, they say the next wars will be over water. Water at night, mildew. Water in hot sun, plants boil. Nothing is ever cut and dry! Will these cages support my tomatoes or will the tomatoes attack the rest of the garden when they grow tall? Are my collards too close to each other? Why isn’t my cilantro sprouting? I planted it two weeks ago! Oh, but here are lettuce sprouts, and I planted the seeds two days ago!
My parents’ friend Sid came to visit us for a couple of days sometime around 1970, a year after we bought our home in Shorewood. He immediately asked me, “Why don’t you have a garden?”
“No place to put one,” I replied.
“You don’t care about these, do you?” He pointed to the scraggly shrubs near our front door.
I shrugged. I hadn’t even asked myself that question.
“Do you have a saw and a shovel?” he asked.