The weed-pulling job is getting away from me, and I can almost hear them laughing while I stand by, helpless, with two broken toes. The doctor told me to avoid steps and slopes for two weeks and since my vegetable garden is almost entirely slope, the weeds are being ignored. More or less.
The good news is that the crops are also enjoying the perfect mix of rain at night, sunshine during the day and warm but not hot temperatures, a gardener’s blessing.
The strawberries are low on the slope, so they’re easy for me to gather. A young visitor ran up to the corner and grabbed a handful of the first red currants.
I gave a knife and bowl to gardener number 2 and sent him to the lower corner of the garden, definitely off-limits for broken toes, to harvest the first rhubarb. There was enough for a pie, which was delicious, so no complaints from him about the task.
And I gathered 8 lettuce leaves to remind us what the real thing tastes like.
Out of kindness, the roses all decided to open, too. Now to sit back on the swing, foot up, and enjoy it all, reminding myself that a garden is balm to the soul, not just an excuse for building calluses. It’s the best place on Earth to bury unreasonable bosses, dishonest competitors, lazy workers and cheating lovers (don’t take that too literally, though, please).