Spring meditations and ramble
In which I enjoy the weather, the
birdsong, and the plants
This has been a crazy spring. It warms up, then
it is cold. It warms up, then it is
cold.
Every spring I remember my maternal grandfather. After he retired, he bought a five acre parcel of desert. He spent the rest of his life gardening about a half acre. Back in Louisiana, he'd been a farmer from a long line of farmers. That changed when they moved to Arizona and I think he missed it sometimes. The garden was a way to get back to that.
He grew the most amazing vegetables. Stuff that would make your mouth water just looking at it, even if you didn't like vegetables. He always gave away more than they ate, sometimes to friends, but mostly to families who weren't doing well.
But the real thing to see was him planting in the spring. Pipe stuffed in his pocket, he'd spend hours out there. Up early in the morning with a cup of coffee to see the sun rise. Then a few hours before it got too hot. Then inside till the early evening. Then back out for some more work before sunset. It was a communion of sorts.
I planted tomatoes and peppers this year. Nothing like his of course. I am not sure they are going to survive the hail we had over the weekend. But I am looking forward to the plants.
Another thing I did manage to do a couple of days ago was get my tree planted. Every year I choose an out of the way spot and plant a tree, blessing it as I do so. This year I decided to do it twice. About half the time the trees survive the first couple of years, which I figure is a pretty good average.
Being a lifetime desert dweller, it is hard to describe what green really means. When I was a kid, we used to go back to visit the relatives in Arkansas and Louisiana every summer. All the shades of green just hit you like a wall when you are used to the washed out colors in the desert. What greens we have there tend to be all the same shades. What diversity in a single color! Even if sometimes it is mold.
My paternal grandfather had a garden too, but he didn't have the touch that my other grandfather did. What he did have was lots of birds and squirrels and crawdads and chipmunks. That was something else to see. I wasn't used to having to fight to keep my meal when I ate outside. That taught me the benefits of a screen porch if nothing else.
It's spring in the desert that is green you know. By summer, it's all dried out again and waiting for the kiss of rain.
Every spring I remember my maternal grandfather. After he retired, he bought a five acre parcel of desert. He spent the rest of his life gardening about a half acre. Back in Louisiana, he'd been a farmer from a long line of farmers. That changed when they moved to Arizona and I think he missed it sometimes. The garden was a way to get back to that.
He grew the most amazing vegetables. Stuff that would make your mouth water just looking at it, even if you didn't like vegetables. He always gave away more than they ate, sometimes to friends, but mostly to families who weren't doing well.
But the real thing to see was him planting in the spring. Pipe stuffed in his pocket, he'd spend hours out there. Up early in the morning with a cup of coffee to see the sun rise. Then a few hours before it got too hot. Then inside till the early evening. Then back out for some more work before sunset. It was a communion of sorts.
I planted tomatoes and peppers this year. Nothing like his of course. I am not sure they are going to survive the hail we had over the weekend. But I am looking forward to the plants.
Another thing I did manage to do a couple of days ago was get my tree planted. Every year I choose an out of the way spot and plant a tree, blessing it as I do so. This year I decided to do it twice. About half the time the trees survive the first couple of years, which I figure is a pretty good average.
Being a lifetime desert dweller, it is hard to describe what green really means. When I was a kid, we used to go back to visit the relatives in Arkansas and Louisiana every summer. All the shades of green just hit you like a wall when you are used to the washed out colors in the desert. What greens we have there tend to be all the same shades. What diversity in a single color! Even if sometimes it is mold.
My paternal grandfather had a garden too, but he didn't have the touch that my other grandfather did. What he did have was lots of birds and squirrels and crawdads and chipmunks. That was something else to see. I wasn't used to having to fight to keep my meal when I ate outside. That taught me the benefits of a screen porch if nothing else.
It's spring in the desert that is green you know. By summer, it's all dried out again and waiting for the kiss of rain.
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Pagan philosopher, libertarian, and part-time trouble maker, NeoWayland looks at keeping truths alive despite a wash of nonsense.
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Published On: Jul 28, 2008 03:05 PM
Published On: Jul 28, 2008 03:05 PM
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