Nick -- the upper Garden
Truth be told, everything grown from seed this year is taking its own sweet time in developing. I know you can't rush Mother Nature (I saw her play chess with Meteorologist Tom Skilling once and she has a hell of a temper), but the slow progress is just making me wonder if growing from seed was worth it, especially given Colorado's short growing season.
That's why I've augmented our seedlings (tomatoes and Socorro chiles) with a cucumber bush (that little thing in the middle) and two tomato plants. I have noticed that the Socorro's have taken root and seem to be growing. I want them to do well. I love the darned things.
As for the other seedlings, the squash in Nora (see below) are doing well, the beans are struggling a bit, the Poblano peppers look positively dreadful and I do believe the fennel has given up the ghost.
Nora -- The New Garden
Also, my thanks to the squirrel who dug up one of my cloves of garlic. Why didn't you take that weed (lower center left, above -- gonna have to tell Bitterman about that, if I can ever pull him and Furious George away from "Game of Thrones.") which is so obviously tasty, rather than one of the few plants that was healthy, happy and on my schedule to actually produce?
Which is where we really come to the heart of today's blog: my schedule.
Anyone who knows me can tell you that I have the patience of a gnat. A very small, very fidgety gnat.
The garden has been in only about ten days to two weeks and I'm already chomping at the bit to harvest. I've even got to convince myself to go pull the one little green tomato off the plant in Nora so that it can put all its energy into growing upwards (a lesson learned at O'Toole's). I know that I can't stand around, slapping my hands together and shouting, let's go, time's a wastin'! But, I find I am grinding my teeth a bit waiting impatiently for the seedlings to take root and shoost up toward the sun and sky.
The Cucumber Bush -- Sad Isn't It, To Be So Alone in the World?
As I finish writing this edition on the back porch, Furious George has approached me with an old encyclopedia from the basement, jabbering something about the historical significance of the title of this blog: How Does Your Garden Grow?
Though there are many theories to its basis in fact, the old English poem (pronounced: "Poe-EM") "Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary" could in fact be based on one of two famous ladies in Elizabethan times.
The first, is Liz's half sister Mary, also known as "Bloody Mary."
She gained the name by inventing the drink and killing off anybody who said, "No, I'd rather just have coffee this morning." The poem (Poe-EM) was seen as a childish taunt, as she could not bear children.
Which makes me see English children of that age as mean spirited little bastards.
The other story, refers to Mary, Queen of Scots, Liz the First's cousin.
The silver bells could be the finery of her dress or referring to the bells of a Catholic Church, as she was an ardent Roman Catholic. The cockle shells refer to either a seafood dish or a philandering husband, while pretty maids all in a row likely means her ladies in waiting.
What the poem doesn't tell you about, is how Mary died.
When Mary, Queen of Scots, was executed (for being a threat to Elizabeth and the Church of England), the executioner (Bob, I think it was) took three tries to get it right. The first strike hit her in the back of the head. The second went only about 3/4s of the way through her neck.
Bob had to go to the garage, it seems, and get a power saw to finish her off.
Blood went everywhere.
Then, Bob The Executioner picked up Mary's head by her hair. The crowd screamed as the head detached from the hair and fell to the dock, rolling in pools of blood.
Bob was left holding a wig.
THEN, TO TOP IT ALL: A small dog, a Skye Terrier, burst from Mary's skirts, hidden there by her for the entire execution. The dog ran around the bloodied body, refusing to leave the side of its mistress, drenching itself in Mary's blood and barking madly the entire time.
It is safe to say that chaos ensued.
The crowd went wild.
Elizabeth I ordered that everything connected with the execution (block, dock, clothes, wig, axe, sword, power saw, and maybe Bob) be burned to discourage relic seekers.
While the groundlings of the time loved the event, we modern types have grown beyond such displays, finding them horrific, revolting and inhumane.
Except, of course, when they happen on "Game of Thrones."
Which is likely why Furious pointed all this out to me, now that I think of it.