Well, I made it. Without killing everything. Without driving myself insane. And with a ton of vegetables. Not as many or as well as my gardening mentor, who could grow a pepper from her pinkie, but not bad.
A couple weeks ago I finally put my garden to bed for the winter. A person I met from Brazil laughed when I used that expression. “We just don’t do that—put a garden to bed.” Well, the rest of us make pickles and stock up on booze, and settle in for the cold. This guy has a mango tree in his yard…jerk. Nah, he was alright.
And really, putting the garden to rest was a bit of relief. No more early morning gardening sessions before work. No more never leaving town. No more wondering if there will be rain soon and worrying endlessly. The garden was a low-maintenance child or dog. I could walk away from it after some time together, but I always had to come back. Now I’ve sent it off to winter camp, covered in leaves, and will see it again in the spring.
All I had to do was pull out the annuals (everything but the sorrel and strawberries) and hack up the thin-stemmed plants and mix them into the soil for nutrients. Then a layer of leaves on top to help it all compost naturally. The two fennel plants I’d been growing never matured. So I hauled them out mercilessly. And the abundance of lettuce made for a good couple weeks of salad.
The hardest part was de-stemming every single basil leaf from my six or so plants. Took forever. But I loved it in a meditative sort of way—the same way I get into pulling weeds on a sunny afternoon.
Except it wasn’t sunny and warm anymore. My hands were feeling stuck from the cold and my nose was red. It sure wasn’t gardening season anymore. So I pulled the last of everything and went home to my patio plants, figuring I’d move the self-watering containers to the back. But they’re awfully heavy, and I just don’t have the heart to pull the last pepper plant. My last hot chili made it until just last week. I didn’t get to the basil in time before the first frost, but goodness knows I don’t need more basil. Does that make me a bad gardener/parent?
Well, that was fun. Next year, one of the Satay Brothers will build me a trellis for beans and a peas and okra. He said once he’d do that when he’d come to visit the garden and seemed utterly disappointed in how un-majestic it was. Sorry, Alex, but it will be better when you build me this trellis business.
Zucchini. Lots of them. Dill. Lemon balm. Lime basil. Chervil, despite the question of what you use chervil in besides every Yotam Ottolenghi recipe ever…
What else should I grow?
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