A gardener's life...

[Zeedman]

...is part Hope:

Atlas bush bean (top), WI 5207 cucumber (bottom)


Gigandes runner bean (top); Emerite pole bean (bottom)

...and part despair:

The apple tree DW & I planted, which was doing well, loaded with apples - and suddenly died. For some unexplained reason, rabbits felt compelled - in mid-Summer, with food plentiful - to dig under a chicken wire cage, and completely girdle the bark of the apple tree. They left the suckers alone, so I will nurse them along as DW did with our Delicious tree, in hope that the suckers are not from the rootstock.

The tomatoes were volunteers in DW's surprise garden, which I considered a blessing, since I was unable to start any of my own tomato plants during her hospitalization. I had intended to transplant them into the garden today... unfortunately deer beat me to it, and bit off every one. They are now too small, and it is too late for them to have any chance of recovery before frost.

Being a gardener means rejoicing in successes, and learning to roll with the punches when something fails. Some punches hurt more than others.

 

[heirloomgal]

What a wonderful post @Zeedman, though of course I'm sorry to see the damage from your local wildlife neighbours. The disappointments are indeed a travail. But you're so right; I struggle with the wisdom you impart here. Like all things it's a balance, and you just gotta roll with it and carry on. I admire your wise perspective.

Tonight I felt quite discouraged to find another vole apartment complex in the back of my garden. Then I found your post here. Wow, what timing. Thank you.

 

[digitS']

A little disturbance to the soil next spring may well stir-up more tomato seeds.

But yes, my best suggestion for new gardeners is to diversify. Eggs in one basket and all that ... The cool May and cool/wet early June suggested that extra bok choy might do okay in the distant garden. Not too much wind and they did start off well. Flea beetles. Yes, those pests are always a problem but with my less than frequent presence there, the bok choy was quickly beyond saving.

The plants will flower if left any longer and if I was a seed saver par excellence as some are (and if they weren't hybrids), I might still gain something from the effort. And, IF that garden was still extended in an L-shape and all the extra work that would mean - I'd have better ground to grow some things ... over there, around the corner, in the distance. Shorter and fewer steps this year but there will probably be some successes to lift my spirits thru the days, weeks, months until there is a chance to begin again.

Steve

 

[flowerbug]

for sure! it teaches humility.

 

[Cosmo spring garden]

Yes, hope and despair go hand in hand with gardening. With life, really.
My Soybeans were eaten up by what we figured to be rabbits, coen is being eaten by raccoons and sweet potato leaves by rabbits and roots by voles. And so many bugs.
Despite all that, I have abundance of harvest that I am falling behind in preservation.

 

[Zeedman]

While gleaning the last things from the rural garden, I found myself composing a garden poem in my head. I used to write poetry, but haven't done so in years, so it was a pleasant surprise. It just seems natural to share it with my friends here.

Summer's Last Gasp

October, and the first soft whisper of Winter
Summer's last gasp

In the garden, a sense of urgency
The end draws near, but the children are not ready!
We must prepare them!
Make haste, for the sun wanes!
Hurry!
Hurry!

Flowering stops
Young pods & fruits are abandoned
To direct strength only to the largest

The days grow shorter, the nights grow chill
We must move faster still!
Hurry!
Hurry!

Days pass, cold breezes blow
Oh no! The children are still not ready!
Summon all our strength,
From leaf, from root, from stem
We give all for the children
Hurry!
Hurry!

The children at last are ready
And we would sleep; but first
We must help the children to disperse
Hurry!
Hurry!
By fruit, by pod, by seed they fly free
And now, so must we

Our work is done
Their time now to seek the sun
Our time to rest
In the embrace of the Gardener by whom we were blessed
Our sunset is their sunrise
The ice beckons, and will not be denied
Farewell

You can learn a lot from a garden

 

[baymule]

I love your poem.
Did the suckers on the apple tree continue to grow?

 

[Zeedman]

I love your poem.
Did the suckers on the apple tree continue to grow?

Sadly, no. I can't get water to that side of the yard, and they died during our long dry spell. At least the other apple tree - the one DW nursed from suckers - is still going strong. The Grandson always enjoys picking an apple from that one whenever he comes over. There are still a few hanging, and the deer, bunnies, and squirrels eat the drops.