Granddaughter Maggie was here for a few days with her mother Pearl. Maggie continued her road trip back to college but Pearl is with me still. They fill my heart and my days by being their sweet selves. Since I typically do all my own work, I am constantly startled when I notice that someone is loading the dishwasher or shredding the lettuce for tacos or whatever task, before I even get to the point of realizing it needs doing.
We went wine tasting for a short while one day; at one vineyard we took a one-mile walk through the rows of vines, and it smelled really good in there: chardonnay, cabernet, syrah, viognier, dried grass, all lending their scents to the air, but mildly, because it was a coolish day.
The next day, to the beach! Pearl and I walked down the shore quite a way, and when we came back we all just lay there in the sun. I lost consciousness for at least a few minutes, lying on my back with the sun heating my face through my hat. As we stared out past the edge of land to the vast Pacific, Maggie said that the ocean seems to our eyes as big as outer space. I thought how nice it would be if I could restart the regular beach outings that I made so often in 2020 and 2021.
My granddaughter spent quite a while collecting tiny pieces of sand. She was conceiving a plan to use them in the Instagram-alternative scrapbook she is starting; she will glue them on to the page and then paint over them with clear nail polish so they might continue to look wet.
That evening we were able to sit on the patio for a dinner that I made, which included chard from my garden. I had washed it up a few days before, during which process I realized that I had four varieties of Swiss chard growing out there.
I pulled out some of that chard, to make room for new plants that I grew from seed in the greenhouse over the last month, and most of which I have set out in the planter boxes. Portuguese Kale, two varieties of collards, Italian Silver Rib Chard — and a new one from the mustard family: Tatsoi. Here it is when its true leaves were barely emerging.
Also Detroit Red Beets. If half of the seedlings I set out thrive, I should have plenty of greens to get me through the winter and into next spring.
Lastly, I show you the barrel planter, where the the snapdragons and Tropical Sage seem to take care of themselves and keep reseeding and blooming. The salvia that was pink for two or three years just last week sprouted stems of red-orange flowers. I saw them from the kitchen window, and had to run out right away to see what they could possibly be. When I give my attention to the garden, even just a little bit, it rewards me abundantly.
When I noticed the Japanese anemones looking better than ever, it occurred to me to plant a few more this fall, maybe some pale pink ones — but I corrected my impulsivity in time, and won’t be taking on one more project, what with so many others unfinished. A more reasonable goal would be to try to take better care of the anemones I have, and see if they can be encouraged to be taller and more robust. It’s a sign of their middling health, that they do not ever spread and multiply, and their flowers are few and small.
seed catalogs or even plants in nurseries, all the options seem so do-able and desirable. But once the time comes to get on with the actual work of planting… well, I literally drag my feet. So who knows what will happen with these seeds…
Gladsome Lights 