Yesterday and today I played with my plants. Yesterday I dug in the dirt--a big bag of potting soil, but it is real dirt nonetheless. I have dirt under the fingernails to prove it! A small bag is residing on the porch waiting to fill pots for various transplants and will be refilled so that I can pot up new bulbs that came from American Meadows two weeks ago--tulips, King Alfred Daffodils, the fragrant ones, white daffodils and a new Amaryllis bulb, big Amaryllis bulb. I can hardly wait.
Today I messed about with moving pots and moving plants--at one point I was enmeshed or maybe ensnarled in potted rose bushes and trying to move a tomato plant by myself was a mistake. It did more damage to the plant than me, but there was a moment there when I wondered what I was going to next. Then I carefully grabbed one rose, between the thorns, and extricated it from me and the wheelchair. Next I did the same with the other. Then I admonished them to stay in their places. (Yes, I talk to my plants.)
My friend L came and expertly, patiently staked the remaining tomato plants before moving them. They are nicely in a row farther down in the patio from where they had been, getting more sun. They have tomatoes growing on them, so now we are hoping for ripening--and they need more water than I have been giving them for the grow bags were so much lighter than I thought they would be.
I smell of tomatoes and basil and dirt and wish my house could be equipped with a handicap accessible bathroom and shower. Someday, perhaps. I dream and dream also of the garden that will grow in the next season.
I am grateful for the exercise and sunshine, the warmth of the Fall day and the friendship of L who is home, all too briefly, from the sea.
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