P o c k e t CT

As promised in my last post here are the start of the garden pictures. I spent a good part of Sunday afternoon stringing and planting.

I laid the black plastic so I don’t have to start my garden by weeding before I even get to planting. I will lay it on pathways for the rest of the season so I don’t have to weed where I walk.

I have some new things I am trying that I picked up watching AgentY’s ridiculously prolific garden last year. I can sum this style up as stuff it in, make it grow up if possible and eat your thinnings. A very good plan for my little garden. So I will trellis cukes and tomatoes to make them tighter spacing. I am also going to try to trellis my vine squash horizontally to make is grow out of the garden space instead of around a mound. I can not devote the time or attention to the garden that he does but I think this will work for me as well. If I plant things that actually make food later even with it getting weedy, needy and overgrown, well I just find that miraculous.

The great news is that all the seed I planted before the frosts were over seem to have sprouted happily regardless of the roller coaster New England weather. I should have salad soon and the peas are almost big enough to grab the string art I’ve made for them.

One other thing that AgentY did was to sit in the garden and command it to grow. He would actually Drill-Sargent-yell at the plants. So not my style. Maybe I can do better, if you will help. If you have the inclination when you are looking at the photos can you think “GROW” for me. I’m sure it will help.

I am overwhelmed by the decadent scents of spring. In my driveway I could stand under the russian sweet olive forever and breath in the heady intoxicant. It is so sweet it becomes gritty in your nostrils and sexual in the time to inhale it to your lungs. A breeze can debilitate me with the pleasure of lilacs suffusing over me. The crab apples in the backyard have had a confetti party and still see fit to overwhelm me with both the sight and perfume. The sensuality of the earth bursting with blossoms has got my spring fever in high gear. Since at the moment I have no outlet for this heat I will lay it out here.
Last year at this time I armed myself with a five gallon bucket, clippers and the sort of romantic idea born of new infatuation. I filled pail bursting with lilacs to spread on AgentY’s bed. My idea was that if crushed by people roiled in pleasure the scent would exponentially fill the cabin until we could be drunk on it. It was a Dionysian vision for new lovers. I have to admit that in practicality this plan had some big flaws: the 750 foot path to get to the cabin uphill carrying five gallons of liquid actually didn’t cool my jets but the cold water, sticks that can stick painfully if you move the wrong way and the mess after woke me up to the less romantic sides of my plan. However in the light of this spring, I try to edit my memory without those discomforts and have all the aromatic and carnal bliss.

Even with pollen debris and stems that remain from the wreckage is there anything more sexy than flowers?

Since I am tripping down a floral-erotic memory lane should I mention an older instance? This is my personal pinnacle of crossing sex and flowers. To lay the groundwork, imagine someone you have wanted to kiss since he touched your hand while reaching for the same door knob, an entire year ago. During that year, as fertilizer so to speak, I am loaded like a canon of longing. Restraint annealing to a necessity as things weren’t, and still at this point aren’t, quite right to get together. Then imagine a lift to the airport late at night and our first extended time alone. Because you can’t help yourself and it is winter you need to whisper the names of all the edible flowers you can think of into his ear with detailed descriptions of their taste. It is the perfect climax of a crescendo of craving.

Start out small with zucchini blossoms and their unopened unawakened piece of detectability, pansies like tongue kissing a pretty cartoon lion. Now lets get a little down into it with nasturtiums with their hot spice, violets and their dainty pillow princess sweetness. We can round off with dessert of milkweed blossoms holding dew like sugar candy, such indulgence you feel sucking the nectar from lilacs or feeling the lemon love bite of sorrel flowers.

These whispers were the ground work of profound love. The seed from that flower is sitting in the rain this spring.

I spent a good part of Sunday in the garden. Pictures to follow