Certain events punctuate the gardening season. Valerian flowering is one of them and planting out the beans is another. The heady scent wafts on the breeze and comes into its own at dusk. It’s the mature cheese stinky roots that contain the volatile oil used for medicine – a sedative and anxiolytic.
The weather forecast says no more frost. A drizzly day presents an irresistible opportunity and we plant out several trays of beans: runner; borlotti; climbing French and dwarf French. They’re settling in nicely.
A couple of hours of brief rain during the week punctuate the ongoing bone dryness. The need for irrigation cries out again and I watch more nerd videos. A timer? 12v pump vs gravity feed? What diameter pipe?
The lush gardens on the internet, already yielding generous fayre, are a long way ahead of ours but there is promise. The peas in the pea house look sick, but the patch in the field are thriving and there are ears on the swaying rye.
The brassica patch, now netted from the magpies, crows and pigeons is recovering and onions and garlic are doing well. The greenhouslet is packed with tomato, chilli, basil, courgette, squash and other seedlings.
The Andy Wyeth painting alluded to in the book (‘The field stretches above reminding me of an Andy Wyeth painting.’) is Christina’s World, painted in 1948. There’s a story behind the painting and it’s as much a portrayal of a state of mind as a physical place. I like all that hint and metaphor stuff. It’s used throughout spiritual teaching in order to trick the slippery human mind into thinking outside the box. Andy Wyeth is one of my favourite painters. He’s best known for his exquisitely sensual Helga paintings – there are stories behind all his paintings. I’m seeing nature in art and art in nature and at this rate I’ll be getting a paint brush out for the first time in years.
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