Plants in the Ground

It’s official, folks. We’ve got plants in the ground.

After days of rain/cold/lack-of-time delays, I finally had a little bit of sunshine, an hour of free time and the motivation to get digging.

And dig I did.

Three kinds of peppers, including the Purple Marconi which promises to deliver a sweet bell pepper with a deep eggplant hue that I can’t wait to taste.

Cucumbers that will be begging for Jay to make into spicy, salty, crunchy pickles.

Four kinds of squash plants with tiny, delicate stems slowing growing into hardy vines stretching over anything that will hold them.

And I blame the incessant clouds for my tomato plant purchase. Typically, I buy small plants and wait patiently for them to grow. There’s no patience this spring.

Our already short growing season is weeks behind, so I went for the big guns this year. Three heirloom varieties that are already two feet tall and flowering were transplanted in the ground. It was a splurge. Is it a shortcut? Yes. Do I feel bad about it? Heck, no.

And then there are these. Spiky, lavender-colored blossoms perched atop delicately onion-flavored chive stems. No planting necessary, just returning on their own, year after year. Almost too pretty to eat.

Almost.

4 thoughts on “Plants in the Ground”

We got purple marconi last year from our CSA. They are fantastic! Enjoy!

I would like to pre-order a jar of those pickles please!

Wondering what to plant???

Springtime Plantings

Were I to plant a garden,
Perhaps send away for seeds,
I know just what I’d order,
But who could fill my needs?

I’d order seeds of kindness and wait for nature’s graces
To push them through, themselves renew, put smiles on many faces.
I’d order seeds of friendship, then watch them grow and bloom
And hope that they would multiply to brighten lonely rooms.

I’d order seeds of joy and tears — somehow they go together
And hope whomever filled my order gave me only my fair measure.
I’d order seeds of love and hope, of wisdom, truth and beauty.
Plant them all with caring hands and hope my soil was worthy.

I’d have to order humor or else nothing else would grow
And lots of April sunshine to melt the winter’s snow.
Then I’d have just one last wish, a plant that’s ever-bearing.
One large bunch of heritage, please, packed with tender caring.

As I look my choices over and think of my small plot,
Where could all this be planted? — In every person’s heart!
So when my garden starts to grow, wee sprouts come into view,
I’ll treasure all the seedlings and share some of each with you!