fountain is springing , people , and that means change . It ’s the prison term of year when the hills interchange from brown to green , when the Tree change from barren to blossom , and when I alter into The Plant Murderer .
Here in the coastal valleys of Northern California , we ’re lucky enough to garden year - round . But that mean that at some point , we ’ve got to make elbow room for a new batch of planting , and we do n’t have snowfall and ice to do our ill-gotten work for us . We ’ve buzz off to put on our Hat of Destruction and go for it .
Last April , I plantedkaleandchardthat are still growing like mad . I can leave the chard in place , as it ’s still producing beautiful , retentive , dark leaves . The kale , however , has been pretty well picked over , and it now has small puffy tufts of leaves atop boneheaded , lumpy stalks , looking for all the world like Dr. Seuss ’ truffula trees .
as well , thecabbagesI planted much to begin with never really did anything , and the fallbroccoliis middling much done for . However , the innocent picayune plant are still struggling along . What if they taunt ? What if the Brassica oleracea italica manage a miraculous conversion ? What if those kale plants dead set off sprouting all up and down their stems ? What then ?
But it has to be done . I harden my center , snap up my trowel , and start thrash about and combustion . Well , OK , notactuallyburning , but a kind of figurative burning in that I am destroying big sections of my garden like human napalm . Muttering excuses like “ crop rotation ” and “ soil renewal , ” I deplumate the poor deplorable looking plant of yesteryear out by the roots . I keep imagination of juicytomatoesand new , lush kale plants firmly in my nous as I grit my tooth and tug .
But look ! Pristine soil , quick for amendment , fertilizerand Modern planting ! Soon , seedling will be poking up their diminutive green drumhead for a face around ; the hope of microgreen salads and the deliciousness of miniatureradishessautéed in a dollop of butter as I thin out the rows … memories of my stint as the Kevorkian of flora life fade as they are replaced by dreams of zucchini flush fritters , thicktomato sauces , and tasty arugula and spinach gratins . I can almost hear the seedlings I have undergrow lightsin the garage wailing like newborns , eager to debase their little ascendent beyond the confines of their starter pots .
Soon , I ’ll gently slew them out of their containers and err them carefully into their new home in theFortress Garden . They ’ll grow and thrive all through the summer , into the short , cool Day of free fall when the tomatoes stop ripening , the squashes discontinue farm , and thelettucesare bolting . And one day , I ’ll appear at the garden logic gate , a mad gleam in my eye , and the Trowel of Death in my hand . Bwahahahahhaaaaa .
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