Must have been the wrong place

Someone told me that the definition of a weed is "a plant that is out of place." How perfectly subjective.

I just heard on NPR about Maria Carvajal, a woman whose developmentally disabled (U.S. citizen) son, Pedro Guzman, was deported to Tijuana. When they asked the Spanish-speaking, brown-skinned man if he had documentation, he said no. So off he went, to wander the streets of a city of strangers. His mother can't find him. Today there's an article about Zoila Meyer, an ex-city Council woman of Cuban descent who thought she was a citizen (but isn't). She was arrested on a felony charge of voting while not a citizen. She could be deported - to Canada. These are just a couple of examples of uprooting people because they are judged to be out of place.

When looking in the seed catalog for cover crops, I see bermuda grass! The white oxalis growing in front was planted (on purpose) by Agnes, my house's former owner. I get compliments on the pretty blue-flowered borage in the back yard. To me, it's a weed, but to the bees, it's manna. Because the bees love it so, I can't even pull it out until it's all but spent, even though it's in my way and creates a haven for earwigs.

And then there are the volunteers, the robust snow peas and the purple blue delphinium, healthier than any I ever planted. I didn't ask these plants to grow here, but I decide they can stay. They are useful to me.

When uninvited people from other countries come to the United States, they too get treated based on their perceived usefulness. Need cheap labor? Look the other way and hire a Mexican with a fake ID. Need a scapegoat? Build a big fence on the border because "they" are stealing "our" jobs.

I know, the law is the law. I appreciate living in a "nation of laws." It's essential to justice. And, I am concerned about the impact population growth has -- whether from immigration or procreation. I just think the United States is taking the wrong approach. It's one that fuels racism, nationalism, and violence. I'd prefer a policy based on human rights and justice.

Compassion, inclusion, fairness - justice needs these too. The immigration crackdowns we are seeing have more to do with fear than justice.

It comes down to what kind of people do we want to be. I want people to have a chance. People aren't weeds.

In the garden today

Mulched, mulched, mulched. This is my first year of serious mulching - let's see if mulching lives up to its reputation. I planted yet another dahlia. Harvested more yummy snow peas. In the front, shook the seeds out of the dried poppy heads so I could compost the seedy-looking spent plants. These poppies are glorious volunteers, originally planted by Agnes' mother I'm told. I have a neighbor who gives me the history of the plants I inherited when I moved in seven years ago. The giant hydrangea that started out in a 6 inch pot, given to Agnes for Mother's Day. The antique rose installed by Agnes' mother way back when. It is now over 6 feet tall and is so laden with blooms it falls over, blocking the sidewalk. I have several plants that I put in from 6 inch pots or 1 gallon cans that are just huge - a lavender and three kinds of sage, a fuschia that seems to die everytime there's frost, but always resurrects in spring.

For free

Always happens, I start more seedlings than I can plant. And then I feel responsible for making sure every one gets planted. One solution is to put the extra tomato plants in front of my house with a sign "Free Organic Tomato Plants." Then I secretly watch from the living room window to see who takes them. Two years ago two women with a toddler in a stroller walked by, stopped, did a double take and then doubled back. They took the toddler out of the stroller and loaded it with as many tomato plants that fit, and then headed back the way they came. I was relieved when the toddler toddled off with them and wasn't left in trade.

It's extra great when people come by and tell me how the plants are doing or how delicious the tomatoes were.

In the garden today

Other than giving away a choice selection of sweet pepper seedlings, not much happened in the garden today - at least not involving me. But yesterday, I planted even more peas and mulched stuff. Two years ago I planted oats as a cover crop in one bed. I never got around to planting anything in that bed, so a whole 'nother crop of oats volunteered last year. It provided good munching for Kitten and now, good mulching for the peppers and tomatoes.

We are stardust

We are dirt. At least we we all will be after our time as gardeners is up.

Someone once told me that to be a good gardener, you need to learn how to kill. That makes me very uncomfortable. Crushing snails and earwigs brings pangs - I wonder if they feel pain, have families that will miss them. I imagine a giant foot coming out of the sky and crushing me - fear, horror, agony, and then ... nothing. Is killing ok as long as you feel bad about it? Or is empathy for earwigs misplaced?

I love the soil, I love when it's dark and crumbly and I can dig a hole for planting with my hands. Compost is the best. You can really see how rot and decay are raw ingredients for life.

In the garden today

Twelve tomatoes can finally sink their roots into the earth, six Brandywine and six German Pink. Twelve more are still yearning to break free of their pots.

Cats love my garden. Picture above is the cat from across the street. I learned his name when I heard his person yell, "Buddha, stop fighting."

Time to get myself back to the garden.

Gardening at night

In the house I grew up in there was fear, chaos, confusion, and loneliness. It was not a nurturing place.

I have a recurring dream where I am trying to create a garden the yard of the house I grew up in.

I am very excited and hopeful. The soil is hard and the sun is hot. In these dreams, I never get far enough to plant anything, let alone see it grow and harvest it. But I never give up either. Planting the garden seems like the answer. If I can get a garden going, I can transform and heal the past.

The garden is life. Sometimes we're the gardeners, other times we're the plants. Often we're the earwigs and slugs. We seem to devour everything in our paths, just trying to survive. Or maybe we're just trying to find something delicious to eat.

In the garden today

I took the day off (it's Monday) because I couldn't stand the stress of having only two days over the weekend to do all that needs to be done. I am blessed with a long growing season, but I'm really pushing it. No tomatoes in the ground yet; still have peppers to go in. Lots of blackberry brambles to cut up and send off in the green waste can. But I was going to talk about what I did, not what I didn't do.

Built a trellis and put in snap peas that sat sadly in their six pack for too long. Prepared two more beds. Killed lots of earwigs and snails - the bottoms of my garden clogs are sticky with carnage. Planted more baby bok choy. Started lettuce, onions, cilantro, and lemon cucumber. All old seeds, so I planted a lot.

Happy plants already in the ground include sweet peas and peppers (Habanero, Fatali, Fresno, Marconi Red, Tolli's Sweet, Chervenka Chuska, Jalapeno, Buran). That's only eight varieties, wish I had more dirt. Also the corn is as high as a field mouse's eye. Three kinds of lettuce are happy - Galactic (a red), Butter Crunch, and some green stuff that I forget the name of. Snap peas, snow peas, and shelling peas. Harvested my first snow peas yesterday. Wonder if any will make it past my mouth and into the house this year.

When I'm getting the garden ready for planting, it's too big. When I'm planting, all of the sudden it's too small.