The sudden shock of catastrophe is a familiar feeling to old gardeners. Whether it is the first sighting of a deer ravaged bed or the heart stopping jolt discovering a favored tree has been snapped by a storm, tragedy is a constant and accepted companion. Yesterday, that too familiar sinking feeling came on again as I looked over the plantation of tomato plants, fountains of foliage shooting out of their four foot nozzles. The crown of the yellow pear was in full wilt. The dreaded disease that had claimed the entire crop two years ago was back. I opened the fence to the veggie patch like a lawyer entering death row to see his client for the last time. I cut one of the wilted stems flopping against the top of the cage. The pith showed the same sinister signs as all the doomed from 2011. The wilt will spread like a toxic cloud, the tomato plants will sicken one by one, falling like dominoes. I knelt down and harvested one yellow pear fruit of the mortally wounded plant. It showed signs of stress, white bubbles seem to float under its skin on the blossom end. It would be flavorless, mushy. This is gardening. One morning the joyful discovery of flower buds on the night blooming cereus paired with the sad news that the jar of Duke’s mayonnaise will not be needed this summer. Gardening teaches one to take the good with the bad. To be grateful to get the chance at another spring. And to look at the Dukes mayonnaise jar and think, “Next year will be our year, I’ll have to buy two of you.” Happy gardening. ©
Posted on: Sun, 07 Jul 2013 10:36:08 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015