This morning I sharpened my machete and hacked my way into the garden.
Just kidding. Sort of.
I was away for a week in the land of heat and humidity and felt grateful I wasn’t responsible for a garden down there. There’s a reason for the expression “grows like kudzu.”
While my son and I were on the Great 2015 Soccer Odyssey (2,321 miles), it turns out I should have been worrying a whole lot more about my Maine garden. I had left it dutifully weeded and mulched, but it rained a lot while I was gone. That coupled with a little sun was all it took to “encourage” the chickweed. It looked pretty much like my main crop.
Squinting, you can probably make out the peas, now blooming above the swaying weeds.
Or the beets’ glossy leaves trying to rise above it all. The onions looked like they were trying to blend in like middle schoolers, which made for many cases of mistaken identity. Scallions anyone?
On closer inspection, it wasn’t just chickweed that ran rampant, but crabgrass too. That called for sharp tools and a great deal of digging.
It wasn’t all fun with weeds, however. I picked Colorado potato beetles off the potatoes and discovered evil corn borers had moved in. I swear I am not growing potatoes next year. Which is exactly what I said last year.
This garden is a labor of love, with the emphasis on labor. After a round with the garden, I am always grateful I don’t depend on my handiwork to survive, though I’d be all set if I could live on chickweed.