ALBANY PARK — How does your garden grow?
Well apparently mine does fine without me.
Corn, aerial view. [All photos DNAinfo/Patty Wetli]
Between my work schedule, stormy weather and having just one fully functional hand, I've only been making it over to my vegetable plot at Global Garden once a week. And it hasn't missed me one bit.
Dave and I popped over last weekend, our first visit since the previous Sunday, and the plants were thriving.
First tomato on the vine.
The tomatoes were bearing fruit, the chard had undergone a massive growth spurt and the corn was sturdy and knee high (before the Fourth of July).
We didn't even need to water, because Mother Nature's pretty much declared a monopoly on that job of late.
Chard, after a massive growth spurt.
I felt utterly expendable.
Casting about for something to do that would reassert our position in the food chain as Lords of the Garden, Dave added wood chips to our potato mound, which may or may not have been necessary. I did a bit of pruning on the tomato plants, which, again, may or may not have been necessary.
We even weeded around our bed, because why not. I would have pulled every invader in the entire community garden, just to prove my presence was of value, but Dave put the kibosh on that idea.
"Maybe if people see what we did, they'll weed around their own bed," he said. (Oh Dave, you cock-eyed optimist, don't ever change.)
"Well, looking good," I said, and we went home.
Is this gardening? It didn't feel like it.
It's probable, or minimally possible, that our plants are so healthy because we provided them with a solid foundation. We worked the soil, fertilized and killed off pests. I like to tell myself that our groundwork, plus a deep emotional attachment, was of vital importance to the plants' survival.
But maybe we could've plunked them in the dirt, walked away, and they'd still be doing what plants do — growing.
Beans, flowering.
Now I'm like the parent of a teenager, waiting for some sort of crisis that requires my active involvement and intervention.
I wanna get my hands dirty, squish some pill bugs, hug some corn. I want something to tend, something to nurture.
Bring on drought. Bring on blight. Heck, bring on squirrels.
I am gardener, give me a reason to garden.
Flower Beds
Well, well, well look who's back. Mr. Bishop's Weed. Thought I wouldn't notice you there, hiding amidst that perennial I planted last year and can't remember the name of.
Ha, the telltale pattern of your leaves gives you away every time. So go ahead. Keep springing back. I'll be here to root you out.
Week-to-Week Comparison
Vegetable plot
Parkway Transformation
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