May (remembering)

In May, I thought, I'd like two more of these peonies in this East-facing Western edge of the garden. There is a sort of wall of older plantings there that defines the back edge of what we see from the kitchen, against the blackberries in the squatter yard. It is an undefined spot, where we can't decide if we need a path or not. Later in the summer, big grasses grow up and bend forward, and the Highbush Cranberry behind explodes with new growth and the peony greens are buried in the mess. But in May, oh how my heart sings (along with nearly every other gardener's I'm sure, and, from the evidence, all the bees as well) to watch this tender queen unfurl her paper petals to bare her sparkling cunt. 

No cops. No prisons. Total Abolition.

Early May seeding... where did I get okra seed? I think I just wanted to see the flowers. Turns out they don't stay long enough to really witness. Not one of the okra that grew were truly edible. And the peppers and eggplant are still out there, finally finding their stride, as frost approaches. There was such a long, silly cycle with keeping the seedling pots on the proofing shelf of the oven, where it was too dry and not bright enough. When I finally moved them to the window and covered them with plastic, things started to poke up more willingly. Just last month in the great basement clean out of fire season 2020, I found the heat mat on the rat slab, under the camo netting curtain we finally threw out. I think next spring I'll try to seed in the greenhouse. 

The peas ended up growing fine in the stone circle, but they were plagued by slugs, as I realize now everything that I planted in there this summer was. Too many places to hide. It feels like that spot wants to be a larger accent planting, anyway. Maybe a tree. 

In contrast, the fava beans overwintered so well loose in the West bed. Beautiful, productive. The calendula bloomed so much and I appreciate them - but that orange is not my garden color. Can I get the cultivars with pale petals to self seed like that?

Wow, how the back edge explodes with growth. I can't even remember it being so low and managed. Reminds me to properly prune all over again.

Precious friend from Rebecca's garden, poking her delicate head up in the side strip. I think it is hard for tender new things to get going over there because of the web-mat of oregano roots. Maybe I'll look for her this moving season and see where else she might shine better.

Yes, committing to move the peonies. Eliminating that back path. Shifting the Coyote Brush that doubled in size from the center of that bed to further back. Dividing the grasses so some of them can come forward. The peonies are two different colors. Maybe I'll separate them. Maybe I'll let the pink one go.

Progression shot; closer to the end of May. The mullein starting to show their truth. 

I grew fennel!

How those allium bulbs define the garden for their time! Then disappear so I forget them.

The tomatoes did well tucked against the house. The flowers I seeded at the end of May were well timed to step into holes in the garden in late June when the big wave of spring bulbs and greenery and calendula had faded out. Those zinnia and amaranth and strawflower are beginning to blacken in the garden now, but their season was long and glorious.