Peas Porridge Hot

During my recent sewing frenzy, I neglected my poor unfortunate garden. The peas are in desperate need of trellising, the beans in need of mulching, and I better find poles for my pole beans to climb less they wrap their graceful grasping tentacles around my onions. I'm a wee bit ashamed of myself for letting things get out of hand, but that's how we lazy people procrastinators roll.

Not all is gloom and doom, however. Things are happening out there, albeit rather slowly, as gardens tend to do. I went out there the other day to inspect my little babies and wonder of wonders, there are green, nearly edible things cropping up out there.

First up, the tomatoes. Really, I have no idea what kind they are. Grape? Cherry? Who knows? I think gophers stole the plant identification tag. We have gophers in Georgia, don't we?

If you squint really hard, you might see the baby squash at the base of, oh who am I kidding? I think that's the wrong picture of the wrong squash plant. You'll just have to trust me when I say that out there in the wilderness of The Hot Mess garden, there's a plant with some baby budding squash out there.

Is that a future ear of corn? I feel all verklempt, almost like the first time I saw an ultrasound pic of my baby. That's not weird at all.

I still only have enough peas to eat them by the hand straight off the vine. This is no great loss as far as my youngest is concerned. I think raw peas straight out of the garden might be right up there with salt water taffy and starburst on the list of things pudding likes to eat. See for yourself.

Fresh Growing Things

"If you look at it the right way, you can see the whole world is a garden."

Frances Hodgson Burnett

Look at all of the pretty green!

The warm weather is still taking it's sweet time but I'm not complaining. For starters, our AC unit needs a tune up, and secondly, the peas and the lettuce like it a bit cooler. We've also had quite a bit of raining which has resulted in all of this gorgeousness cropping up every where.

All of my tomato plants have blossoms. As does one of my squash plants and my tomatillo. The peppers like hale and hearty, the lettuce is growing more quickly than I imagined.

My only loss was that of two broccoli plants. They were wee little things without even enough for one serving so I let them go thinking they would grow bigger. Instead, they became spindly, woody, and eventually, blew up into a bush of pale yellow flowers. I'm sure I'm not the only one who referred to them as trees as a kid. Well guess what? Those aren't baby leaves. They are little flower buds. I was committing floricide in my mouth.

The horror!!

Anyway, we've pulled it. Nothing to see or eat there but hopefully, space for a watermelon plant.

In the meantime, let us remember poor broccoli, who did such a wonderful job growing nice and strong but unfortunately, suffered at the hands of a gardening newbie who let him go past his prime.

I'm sorry, mr Broccoli. I'm sure you'd have been tasty had I picked you when I supposed to. Instead, you've shrank away into a woody stem.

RIP, my brassica friend

Spring is taking its sweet time springing!

It's cold and wet here. Not cold or wet enough compared to other places. Just cold and wet enough for me to whine. I live in the South, okay? If I'm not going to see snow, then I deserve to be warm.

But enough about what an ungrateful little wretch I am, let's talk about what I've been up to lately.

Yeaaaaaaaaaaaah boy! I've been growing stuff. Look at my pretty violas! Rumor has it these bad boys will shrivel up and run away the minute it gets good and warm, all the more reason I should stop pouting. It's going to get hot soon enough and I'll be crying over their demise. But I couldn't help myself. I just love violas, all fluttering in the breeze. Aside from those, the flowers can wait. It's gardening season, my people! Kind of early for my region, yes but look, you have to get out there while the getting is good or you'll be sweating like a pig before you can get a row in.

Some of you may remember that I moved last year, which is why I had a break from gardening. New place, new ground. My backyard is sizable enough that I could do some good but was also nice and grassy. That left me a few options. I could do a straight raised bed, but that's a ton of dirt I would have to buy. I could dig it out myself with shovels and such but you people ought to know by now I'm too lazy for that. Or, I could find a tiller. Lucky for me and everyone else who isn't try to spend that kind of scratch, Home Depot will let you rent one. For a measly $40, I could dig out my garden in less than 24 hours. And dig out I did.

I filled it with a couple tide me over plants. Things like cabbage, Brussels sprouts, and broccoli. There is really very little hope I'll be harvesting anything off those plants because they like the cold and this state likes to roast you to death as early as April. But who cares? Plants for everyone!

Brussels Sprouts

Cabbage

So admittedly, I'm feeling a little salty about the broccoli. In this picture right above, you can see one spindly looking broccoli plant at the left rear. The stubby little thing right in front of it? Another broccoli plant. I had nine of them planted in that little space and some creature of some sort ate them to death. It's amazing how gardening can turn you from this animal lover into something that hunts them to the death and ain't even sorry. Just let me find out what kind of furry beast has been eating up on my stuff and see what happens. JUST SEE WHAT HAPPENS!

I also threw out some peas, carrots, and other assorted stuff. My grand plan was to wait until some of them were nice and established, then go out there and mulch. LIKE A BOSS!

Instead, the skies opened up

And so for the last week, I've felt like this

Please, sir, can I have some sunshine? Maybe a little warmth?

I have gladiolus to plant, strawberry columns to make, green things to mulch.

Enough piteous begging. Lord knows I probably can't be heard over the weeping and gnashing of teeth coming out of the rest of the country. 

Somewhere in Pennsylvania

Let's look at the rest of my garden, shall we? Feel free to ignore the neighbor's ugly old shed and the unsightly bag that used to house my gardening soil. Before Noah's Flood hit, I was using that bad boy to rest my lazy bum whilst I mulched. I got really far in my efforts, can't you tell?

Rain, rain, go away. Mama's got some squirrels to slay.

Things I will do this week

1) Finish reading Doctor Zhivago.

I watched the updated miniseries a few weeks ago starring Keira Knightley. I love everything she does and I had an extended Russian obsession when I was in high school, including attempting to learn Russian. Then there are the Edwardian era costuming and all the eastern style embroidery.

And yes, I know this isn't Keira but look at the embroidery on that peasant top.
::sigh::

So clearly this book and I were meant to be. Just you wait until the new Anna Karinina update comes out. You will all hate me. You're welcome in advance.


2) Not shank pinky's dance teacher.

I could bore you with the long story of how I nearly hurt that woman hard but suffice to say, she is not my favorite person and we are heading into the home stretch towards recital. If she cuts her eyes at me one more time, I might do something to permanently alter her ability to do so in the future. Apparently, asking her what I need to do with this kid's hair isn't worthy of her time unless I'm also paying for expensive private lessons and/or am willing to shell out ridiculous amounts of money to put an ad in the recital program. I guess I just don't like my kid enough. And what I dislike even more is being ignored and then yelled at when someone fails to provide the information I've spent weeks asking for.

Pray for this woman's eyeballs.

3) Weed the garden and plant the limas and more bush beans.

This one should be easy peasy and I bought a nifty new gardening hat for a whole three dollars at walmart. It looks delightfully stupid.

4) Finish the smocking on pudding's Easter outfit.

I'm not sure why I'm calling it the Easter outfit anymore. We all know what month it is. I don't know what it is about Easter but this is the second year in a row I've failed to produce awesome outfits for this particular holiday even after all that planning, ordering and even cutting. If I don't get this damned thing done soon, it won't fit the kid at all.

5) Start my pretty lace shawl.

Someone think good thought for my doofy behind because I really think I must have accidentally got into the good stuff if I'm actually laboring under the delusion that I'll be able to finish this thing. Hell, at least the yarn is pretty. I'll share all the details tomorrow, for swears.

So that's my list. Feel free to yell at me if you think I won't meet my goals. Just make sure the dance studio lady hasn't pissed me off or you might not get the results you're looking for.

Unless you're willing to provide an alibi, of course.

I might be dying

But at least the flowers look pretty, right??

I think it's uneven but if you're smart,
you won't say a thing

You better agree or I'm going to come to your house and flop my sweaty behind right all up on your sheets. Especially if they are nice and cool.

And for an update on the rest of my gardening sitch, I did some weeding, caged the tomatoes, and strung up some kind of trellis (please, Lord say I did it right.)

Everything looks really good. The carrots are taking their slow, sweet time for which I cannot blame them as they are probably just a wee bit perturbed by random doggie paws constantly up in their business. The spinach doesn't have the same excuse as my Boston terrier isn't nearly as interested in that side but at least the little shoots, sprouts or whatever the crap you call them are bigger than the carrot seedlings.

For a kid who is too lazy for own garden,
she sure as hell is all up in mine.

It actually feels like a real garden now and not some kindergarten-esque smattering of wishful thinking. I'm beginning to think I might actually manage to harvest something other than tears and disappointment.

I am ridiculously easy to distract

It's true and it would be nice if I could blame it on someone dangling stuff in front of my face. The reality, however, is that I have a thousand ideas bouncing around in my head at any given moment and can only follow through on those ideas when I'm supposed to be doing something else.

For instance, I'm supposed to be sewing up those post Easter dresses. Instead, all the fabric lies neatly in their flat rate boxes while I am practically teeming with gardening energy.

But can you blame me?? I have not one but two whole strawberries growing on my back porch.

Naturally, this means I must plant more. Suddenly, I am convinced that I do not in fact have a black thumb and that I possess the knowledge, power, and superhuman, super tight superhero costume wear mega strength to go all Laura Ingalls Wilder and provide my family with food grown with my magic, stuff growing fingers.

So before I wake up and realize that I did the same thing last year and only had a Charlie Brown rosemary tree and an unknown mystery pink, not-a-petunia looking plant to show for it, I took my happy behind out in the backyard and made all my precious little John Deere dreams come true.

May I present, La La la la lola?

Green stuff! YAY!!! I probably planted stuff entirely too close to each other especially considering how vine-y some of my choices are but whatever, live, learn, and buy your produce at Kroger, amiright?

The one thing I can't manage to get over though is the startling realization that I am, in fact, a complete and utter priss. Yes, I attacked the ground and the crap that was in it with gusto. However, I was also prancing around in my old navy shorts and bargain basement wally world sneaks like I was terrified something under the soil would jump out and eat my face. YES THIS IS A REAL FEAR! It didn't help that within mere seconds of lifting up one of those bricks, something slithery and gross meandered its way over the dirt.

Uhm, eww like for real and stuff.

::shiver::

I resisted the urge to flick it out of my precious little garden as if it were some kind of intruder that dare enter into my sacred, hallowed growing things ground. After all, earthworms are good for gardens, good for earth, or something so why do they have to look so ::doubleshiver:: gross?

I'm sorry, what was I saying?

Oh yes, do you know how long it takes to plant crap when you stop to brush off your hands every five minutes? This is particularly true when you can't bring yourself to brush them off on your person. It also adds to your gardening time when you refuse to sit directly on the ground and instead, choose to waste precious time considering your newly laid brick border for the best seating location to reach all your plants. We mustn't seat our precious heinie on the disgusting dirt stuff, you know. It's bad enough I'll have to wash my hands. I do not want to have to wash my knees, socks, or anything else really. Sure, I could buy a kneeler but I shouldn't have bought the plants either.

::sigh::

I'm actually quite ashamed of myself really and yet proud all at the same time.

After all, for all my wussiness, I have a purty garden to show for it.

Tomorrow I'll be planting flower seeds and I'll do my best to be less of a prissy heifer about it. After all, there's nothing prissier than enjoying a nice long soak in raspberry scented bubbles. Then all balance will be restored.

How Green was my valley

Strawberries!

Last spring was my first foray into the world of gardening. I started a slew of container gardens featuring annuals, herbs, and veggies. There were beautiful green vines falling from my patio. Pinks, purples, and bits of blue blossomed along my back steps. I even helped the kiddie beans dig out their own little spots where we planted watermelon, peppers, and eggplant. By June, everything was going grand. They even survived a one week trip out of town where I fretted the whole time that the sun was scorching my precious babies.

Sadly, all my efforts were ruined by the spawn of satan lodged in my uterus. Despite making it through two pregnancies without a twinge of nausea, my third child decided that I'd gotten entirely too complacent and rained down on me misery that would be best read in the voice of Sam L.



And so, while I lay on my bed, trying not to cast up my much craved for limeade, my plants died a horrible, thirsty death out in the backyard. I'd like to think they didn't suffer but my son occasionally gave them false hope by sprinkling a wee but of tepid water over their poor, formerly glossy little leaves. It wasn't enough to keep them from wasting away, just enough to prolong the inevitable.

Someone really should have called Plant Protective Services on my neglectful behind but since they did not, I figured I'd give it another go. There will be no more babies this summer so that should take care of one problem and the kid might have been a terror in utero but he seems to have gotten over himself post birth. I think I can manage some decent watering at least once a day.

As if punishing me from the grave, the mosquitos were out in full force last night while I replaced the lost souls of last year's forgotten efforts with newer models fresh from the wally world gardening department. I'm missing a couple pints of blood but my containers are blossoming once again.

Rosemary, basil, oregano, tarragon, and thyme

Dusty miller, snapdragons, petunias,
and two plants whose name I can't remember

More petunias, dusty miller,
and snapdragons
with a few violas thrown in for good measure.

Sunday Kind of Love

Oh there was so much to adore today. For starters, I made it out of wallyworld with my sanity in spite of teetering on tiny heels with a honking seven week old draped over my shoulder. And when I say honking, I mean it. This kid sounds like a goose when he starts feeling hostile. He was in no mood to pushed along sedately in his car seat and he certainly wasn't obliging of my need to browse the pattern catalogs in the fabric section.

Babies really do cramp your style. Good thing they're cute.

To make up for throwing down between the bobbins and the bias tape, little man took a nice, long nap, giving me time to enjoy the sunshine and look over the remnants of last summer's garden. Between morning sickness and my ten year old's inability to comprehend how to fully water potted plants, the only things that survived our neglect are a scrawny rosemary that only Charlie Brown could love and a beautiful draping bit of unknown bursting with pink blossoms and a red ant colony.

Just when I was starting to feel depressed about the demise of so pretty a plant, I remembered my slab of beef thawing, and everything else faded away.

Mesquite steak, bernaise sauce, sauteed mushrooms, steamed broccoli, and tarragon buttered potatoes . . . well, a meal like that makes everything better. Not even finding the asparagus all wilted and useless could dim the sense of contentment that comes from cutting into a perfect steak.

Oh how I love Sunday Dinner.