A Grower's Prayer

Photo found here

i sever you into twenty pieces
off of your sacred spiral seat you go
your paper gasping as I work
my breath whispering to your pungency

i cradle you in my hand, a hundred of you
i stare, humbled before your magic
no gnosis can rationalize your life force
yet we all prophesize your journey

i collect you from my feathered ally
my hand dances to feel your weight
turning you over to see your stark creamy perfection
holding a sphinx my clumsy grasp

and then comes my favorite part
committing you to the worms, and things that no longer are
all senses noting your perfection, and you too joining the dead
i smile, knowing your resurrection is imminent

Photo found here

Purple Pumpkin Eater

Last Halloween, Jon and I made a trek to Union County in order to answer his charge of indecent exposure (yep. he was charged with indecent exposure. because he pee peed. in the woods. on a kayaking trip. srsly. i think it may have had something to do with his rainbow flag and his obama stickers.) On our way outta Dodge, we stopped at a little roadside flea market because they had pumpkins of shapes and sizes that we had never seen.

Jon fell in love with some bright orange minis, and I became attached to some almost pastel orange ones that looked like they had been covered with a light dusting of flour. We snatched them up at two bucks apeice and were happy to not buy big orange overpriced Californian balls from Kroger. (yay! local!)

When I asked the farmer, who's English delivery bordered on deliverance, "What kind of pumpkin is this?" He looked at me like I was crazy, "The old-timey kind. That you eat. That kind." Ahem. And Q and A session was over.

I loved her fat nubbly self so much that I couldn't bear to carve her, nor cook her, nor even move here. So there she was, all winter, getting mushier and mushier, until she had to be removed with a shovel. I saved a handful of seeds with the luscious idea of growing my own old-timeys.

In the meantime, the heirloom seed research begain. And well, she's french. The pumpkin was a musque de provence, and is the model pumpkin for fairytale drawings and old postcards and Halloween decor from the thirties...

I started the seed early spring, and FAIL. I got one sad little start, when suddenly, a monster appeared next to my porch where she passed on. This plant has slowly begun to devour my front yard and house (no, I won't cut it back) and blooms like mad (I may just start frying the blooms) and the one little start is only about three feet long.

But she's got one good size pumpkin on her, and several small ones. We should be eating pumpkin all winter. And avoiding the bright orange overpriced Californian balls that Kroger calls pumpkins this Halloween.

Here's my pride and joy. This pic is a couple of days old and she has grown lots in this rain.

And here's the mother of all french pumpkins! (It too, is bigger now.) If you don't see me for awhile, you should come check the house to see if I can get out.

A Garden: The Child of Art and Love

The best place to seek [ the Goddess] is in a garden. You can dig for [her] there. ~George Bernard Shaw

On Earth Day, Silas was committed to Mama Pancha. At school, he signed an oath to commit himself as a protector of the Earth. He took this oath very very seriously for a couple of hours. So much so, that we picked up trash around his school and the neighborhood, and he demanded that I plant the garden (while he randomly stabbed the soil with the tool he found most fascinating at the moment... ).

Green onions, bell peppers, mesclun, and lemon cucumbers made it into Mama P.'s bosom before we passed out cold.



above: Peep, Whiteface, and Mowgli decide to roost and observe the Earth Day adventure once the sun set.

And then today... TODAY! Could there have been a more beautiful day to finish planting a cottage garden? And this time... I had help... Tracie was kind enough to share some plants and seeds with me ... The most exciting being pattypan squash. (I heart pattypans; they remind me of my Nanny.)

Then I drafted Shawn, who was a bit hungover, but said he would agree for "selfish" reasons after a three hour nap. (e.g. he's a fresh foodie too!)



Above: Shawn is pissed that he got stuck with boulder digging duty... the tiller just skipped over these things the past three years (as it only digs about eight inches in, while the handy dandy shovel goes at least eighTEEN inches down... and now the ground is soft enough to dig. Why? That compost has attracted every worm within 100 yards. YIPPEE!)



Above: Silas assists with the collection of poultry manure to compost and later fertilize the garden... kinda. He's learning.



Above: I heart my old iron fence that I haggled off the back of a recycler's truck at the corner of Broadway and Central. (Delivery Included) I made for quite the traffic nuisance. It makes for an adorable trellis. This is a standard green cucumber prepping for its climb. PENSIVE. Can you tell I'm obsessed with cukes?)



Above: I just wanna call this photo "Honest Hands." I love this picture.




Now, almost everything is snuggled in with the worms, clay, and the compost, the rocks are gone and will soon be used for walkways (look between and around the fences... oh lawd, the rocks!). Soon, the okra and onions will sprout, the cukes will be climbing the old fence, the tomatillos will be taking over, and we will be exercising our foodie genes.

My garden makes me happy.

Now, for the tomato ring and the herbs... tomorrow?