In the breath between winter and spring up here in the mountains, my Gardening Partner built three new raised beds in the upper garden, moved the Japanese silver grass to the wild border between lawn and woods, transplanted pachysandra, composted and turned over the zucchini bed, planted “Tina’s Ruby”–a new crab apple–by the woodshed, and carefully planted a weeping spruce in the front evergreen garden at the edge of the trees.
Spring Rains are a Blessing
His timing was perfect. No sooner had he put away his tools than the air warmed and down came days of soft rain. Now it’s time to sit indoors, catch up on house chores, and our spring reading. As for the hardworking West Highland White Terrier who approved every plant site, nosed the rocks out of every planting hole, accompanied us on every trip to the compost pile, and guarded us from marauding squirrels, grouse, and even a black bear, it’s time for a well-deserved spring nap.
Finally! The seeds arrived a couple of weeks ago from Fedco, the farmers’ cooperative in Maine. A late April snowstorm delayed their planting, but today they were tucked into the rich earth.
The season's first planting
Waking up just after dawn on California’s Pacific Beach, I reach for a sweatshirt, slip into my flipflops, and step out onto the balcony of my room. This is what I’ve come for. The early morning sun glistens off the incoming tide, surfers in black wetsuits dot the waves, a pigeon–clearly thinking that the stucco ledges of my hotel are some kind of rookery–settles in to see what I’ll serve for breakfast.
Morning at Pacific Beach
The day is full of sand and sea, play in the pool, a visit to experience artist James Turrel’s contemplative light installations at the San Diego Museum of Contemporary Art. But the sea is never far from my mind and heart, and just before dinner, I’m drawn to sit with it once again.
The evening tide
Blessings flow.
Ever since my son Matthew received his first set of toddler-safe pumpkin-carving tools at age 2, every Halloween he and his artist-dad have tried to out-do one another at creating the most innovative faces. They spend hours together roaming pumpkin patches for just the right pumpkins. Sketches are made in secret. Pumpkins are cleaned clandestinely. Sharpies disappear from the kitchen junk drawer and are later found near piles of discarded pumpkin guts near the back door. Candles are pilfered from the dining room china cabinet. Matches disappear.
the three pumpkins
Then, one morning a few days before Halloween, a pumpkin appears on the porch fully carved. Then another. No one claims ownership of either, but all day the guys periodically stand in front of the living room’s ceiling-to-floor windows, look out onto the porch and trade good-natured criticisms back and forth.
“Yikes! Look at that left eyebrow,” says one. “Is it sagging?”
“Maybe,” says the other judiciously. “But that other pumpkin looks like it has a copyright infringement issue!”
Finally, at dusk, I add my little uncarved natural beauty, light the guys’ pumpkins, then head for the kitchen to make dinner. As the scents of food wind through the house and darkness approaches, the two, both men now, come from different parts of the cottage to stand together in the glow coming from the porch. They don’t see the glow that flows around them and through them until it illuminates the night.
But I do.
Lettuce, carrots, cucumbers, butternut squash, zucchini squash, bush beans, heirloom tomatoes—the kitchen garden is overflowing with an abundance of all things green and wonderful.
Last year a high wind smashed a few nearly-ripe tomatoes into the soil. The tiny tomato vine hiding behind the romaine must be one of their progeny. I hate to pull it but…
Ok. I did it. I hurt my back again—this time weeding the lavender garden. Am now trying to build my abs and glutes to do a better job of supporting my spine and lower back. Fortunately, I worked on the book Le Personal Coach last year with Valerie Orsoni, the founder of LeBootCamp. She’s not only a great coach, but amazingly creative at figuring out how to integrate exercise into a busy day. Although tightening certain muscles while I brush my teeth, shop for groceries, or stand on a curb are a bit challenging…
