Growing Our Garden

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Another tomato

Autumn is here and it seems like a good time to give our planting beds another try. To be continued...

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Beautiful Canna

The edible plants are not doing too well, but the canna is thriving as
it makes its ascent towards the sun.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Dance of the Dragonfly

As we were pruning our front yard trees this weekend, this lovely
creature stopped to say hi and danced for a while between the sage and
rosemary bushes.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

How the garden grows

We breathe

The sun shines

The birds sing

The plants grow

The flowers bloom

Time goes by.

Fragrant White Bloom

Bouquet of Veggies

Pomegranate Tree

Friday, June 24, 2011

This morning I needed some salt. Normallly I don't use salt on my food as I get more than my recommended amount from all the take-out and restaurant food I consume over the course of my week. That said, today I wanted some salt and pepper on my boiled eggs.

Pepper was not a problem, I found a big bottle and dispensed copious amounts on my plate. I then reached across the table for the salt shaker only to find that it was empty. Small empty dispenser in hand, I suddenly recalled that no one had bothered to fill the salt shaker for months as the opening had become so encrusted with salt that it became stuck. I recall many weeks ago attempting to turn it with my bare fingers. The lid did not budge. Again I gave it another go, knuckles white and tense. Again, no movement. Not willing to give up, I reached for a tissue, thinking the added layer would give me a better grip. Again, the lid did not budge. I cursed. Then I asked myself, "Do I really need salt on my eggs today?"

At that point, a quote often referenced during my yoga class popped into my head. "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and hoping for a different result." In fact, I had often thought of that quote in reference to others. How clear it was to me when I looked at the travails of those around me and thought, "You're crazy! You're doing the same thing over and over again and continue to be shocked that your life is the same. That you meet the same mean people in relationships that parallel each other in amazing lockstep. That you get into the same fights with your mate over the same nagging issues."

And there I was, holding the empty salt shaker, attempting for the 5th time to turn it with my fingers, the same thing I had tried to do weeks ago before deciding that my food didn't need salt after all.

That's when I looked at my fingers and realized I needed a stronger lever. Then I walked 20 steps to the cabinet in the hallway and grabbed the pair of metal pliers laying at the top of the tool pile, just waiting for its moment to be useful.

It took 2 seconds. The lid came off like butter.

I was euphoric, amazed at how long it took me to come to such a simple solution and how little time it took to actually execute it. I also realized that the power of wisdom is not how often you repeat the words to others or even to yourself but rather how often you actually physically and mentally implement it in your own life. In the every day, simple things, like opening a recalcitrant lid. It's those little things that continually speak to us, constantly trying to get our attention to tell us there's a better way to be.

Or, we could just decide we don't need salt on our eggs that day.

Good-bye, Beautiful Tomatoes, Good-bye

This morning when I went to do my daily watering of the plant box, I was surprised in mid-spray when I noticed that my two most beautiful ripe red tomatoes had disappeared. So much was my shock that I continued to spray away, all the while, trying to crouch lower for a better look.

As if on autopilot, I proceeded through my own abbreviated version of the stages of grief.

First, Denial. Maybe the tomatoes are actually hiding behind the green foilage. That must be it, over the course of 24 hours in the 110 degree scorching Las Vegas heat, the tomato plant in question underwent supersonic leaf growth enough to completely obscure two beautiful, bright red tomatoes about 3 inches in diameter.

Second, Anger - other party directed. That pesky rabbit. It must have been him that managed to climb/leap over our 4 foot plastic fencing (which was intact) and absconded with our perfect tomatoes. I don't know why just yesterday I thought he was a cute furry creature that greeted me each morning by scurrying into the nearest corner to hide and then running off when my back was turned. If that little critter was here now, he would most definitely be the target of spray from my hose at its highest setting.

Third, Anger - self directed. Why didn't I pick the tomatoes sooner? I knew they were ripe for picking several days ago. I was just biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to pick them. Well now there is no need to wait for the perfect time, as some unknown rodent/pest has decided that for me.

Fourth, Depression. Oh, it is just so sad. Two perfect tomatoes. Time, energy, water, anticipation - completely wasted. Gone. What a sad start to the day.

Fifth, Acceptance. Ah, such is life. Lesson learned - pick tomatoes when they are ripe enough. Who knows if it was the rabbit. Maybe it was a bird. After all, the soil around the plants was not disturbed at all. Whichever creature it was, it clearly made good use of the tomatoes to satisfy its hunger or thirst, as the fruit was picked clean to the stem with just a tiny speck of red color left dangling on the end. So my efforts were not in vain after all, since it contributed to the survival of another creature for yet another day. That being said, tomorrow I'll have to figure out a way to tie the tops of the fencing together to keep out uninvited guests.

What a beautiful garden we have and how lucky we are to have it.

Ten minutes over. Time to get to work.