In space, but now back.

Hello, little blog! How I’ve missed you! You may not believe it, but it’s true.  It’s been a very long summer–first gray and tepid, then bright and sunny, and now hot and humid, with more water in the air than anywhere on the ground.  Chris and the Geeklet and I spent most of the month of August traveling.  Two weeks of play-living in Seattle in a little temporary Treehouse (it really was, a small apartment three floors from street level, up among the treetops with unripe apples pushing against our railings and temptingly ripe pears just, oh just out of reach).  Chris worked one of the weeks from home in a co-working space walking distance away, and we made no effort to go out of our way to sightsee, but wandered neighborhoods gasping with pleasure at the mini lending libraries on many streets…


…and at the gardens taking up most yards and verges.  There were tomatoes and beans and zucchini and blackberries and blueberries and squash, growing like the most exotic of flowers with pride of place, right out there in front, with seeming little fear of vandalization or–gasp!–the occasional plunder.  There was one house with beautiful black fruit growing out near the sidewalk, so shiny, crisp-skinned that you could nearly see your reflection, globular.  We wondered whether this was a kind of tomato?  A round eggplant?  Its mystery was a kind of joy.

I managed to grow a few tomatoes this summer, finally.  They might even taste good.  I’m afraid to try them for fear that they don’t.  And potatoes, too!



These were pretty yummy when Chris applied his magic touch and transformed our motley crew of Yukon Golds into his Special potatoes.  Oh, I do love potatoes.


On the whole, our poor garden has suffered from a lack of love.  Maintenance is not love when it is merely the occasional watering, which was done for us (thank you, thank you!) while we were gone.  In our absence, a ground-covering leafy vine which we call Morning Glory vine for lack of a name has covered everything.  It has encircled every pot and tried to eat our watermelon patch.  Poor dear watermelon patch.  It tries so hard.  It’s as though my desire to grow a decent tomato this year has taken all the will to live out of our other plants.  I tried to get down and pull out a batch of these vines and smelled something… odd.  Something a bit like cat pee.  I looked up to find a two-foot-long mutant stem of basil flowering at me.  At me.  It was malevolent, I say.


So, after a few weeks in Seattle and almost another week of travel to Huntsville, Alabama to go to Space Camp (YES!  We went to Space Camp!  It was awesome!), we are now home and our garden is glowering at me.  I tried to make it up to it a little this morning, by ripping up some vines and applying some compost tea.  I can still sense some simmering resentment.  The heat requires any garden-love to be early in the morning, so I’m sensing a few early-morning applications of love in the days to come.  Maybe I’ll tell the plants about Space Camp.