Saturday, August 17, 2013

I can sometimes use my anal retentive powers for good. Sometimes.

Every fall, for as long as I've done the gardening, has been all, "OH SAD. It's fall. The garden is over. I shall perish." and shit.

I believe I've even threatened people and you with death or a sound face beating for mentioning the forthcoming of fall before I've deemed it time.

There have been rants and specific fingers thrown up in protest of fall.

Because I love the summer garden.

Because, duh.

I love the tomatoes and the harvesting of a billion green beans and making pickles from the never ending supply of cucumbers sproinging off the plants and the watermelons taking over all reaches of the property and having to dodge crazed bees while scooping Jada's doots and losing most of the walkways around the garden because of ever-reaching vines and looking at the crispifying nasturtium when temps go into the 90s and putting up shade cloth to keep fruit from sunburning and refilling the bees' waterer every day because they're sucking it down while trying to make honey meanwhile not die from the extreme heat and remembering to water and care for the potted plants that I knew better than to plant but in spring time I can't be trusted with orphaned seedlings so I just put them in a pot because "OH I CAN'T LET A SEEDLING GO INTO THE COMPOSTER even though I totally don't have room for it so I'll just put it in a pot and totally remember to water and care for it just like the other plants" and oh wait some of that stuff is not fun.

Hi. May I use that walkway or bench? Oh no. No I may not.

Ah, volunteer tree sunflowers propped up with scrap lumber. That's classy.

Why yes, it has been hot. Thanks for noticing.

Really have no idea why I let this dill just grow wild and awkward except that I can't make it down this path to prune it.

Green beans - the awkward months.

So sunflowers, tomatoes and green beans, you're just going to grow all together then? OK, got it.

Don't worry tiny supposed to be manageable watermelons, I don't need to walk there IN THE WALKWAY or anything.

Nah. I don't need that bench. You use it, cucumber bullies.
Yeah. That's what I meant for you to do, tomatillos. Just grow wherever the hell you like and everywhere at the same time.

As it turns out, there are things about the summer garden that are annoying as fuck.

Because, as you well know, I'm anal retentive as fuck.

And things like crispy plant leaves, never ending watering tasks, vines growing all over the place and in my way as I try to navigate my way to the never ending watering tasks and potted plants getting chewed to shit by monsters that settled in while I was absolutely not paying attention get fucking annoying when you're super anal retentive and like things neatly and tidily growing to perfection.

So I *don't* remember to take care of the potted plants that I plant in spring? Oh right.

Within the confines of their pre-determined-by-me space. With the luster and vigor of young plants. In the mild and agreeable weather of spring.

The spring garden looks awesome, is what I'm saying. It's just the way I'd like the garden to always look because when you're as anal retentive and Type A and batshit crazy as I happen to be, having a garden that's growing green, healthy and within the lines is GOOD and promise of the food to come is GOOD and the not-a-huge-time-taking-mess is GOOD.

Sunflower at a size where, if I were a smart person, I could still transplant it elsewhere.

Cucumbers INSIDE the beds.

Yes, tomatillo. I prefer you like this. AKA - NOT EVERYWHERE.
No wayward branches just needing to be tied up RIGHT NOW OR ELSE? Yes. I like this.

Which is why I've decided/realized/finally-come-to-peace-with-the-fact fall is GOOD.


Yeah. After all these years of being all DON'T YOU DARE SAY FALL UNTIL IT'S, LIKE, NOVEMBER, YOU SHITBITCHING ASS BASTARDS, I've changed my mind.

You can say fall. Shit - you can say it in August for all I care. I just did, anyway.

Because if fall's coming then it means I can clean up the damn garden and reset it to Awesome.

I can take down the volunteer sunflowers that have grown into trees, getting into my way every time I go out to look for watermelons.

It's a good thing you're so cute.

I can rip out the tomatillos that grew 8 feet tall, had to be reined in by multiple means and then fell over and cascaded freely all over the place any way as though to taunt me with their growing-all-over-the-place power.

That's a start.

I can dial back my watering tasks to once a week and finally toss that potted tomato plant that I had no business growing in the first place even though its tiny fruits are really quite tasty and it turned out to be the perfect tomato plant to grow in a pot, in case you're in the market for one next spring and you're a person that can grow shit in a pot without leaving it for the caterpillars to demolish.

The nasturtium will bounce back and not look like total fried shit anymore.

Mmm...not fried shit.

I can clear my walkways and not have to circumnavigate the globe to get back to my spying chair.

So what you're saying is that no, I may not go back to the chair? Got it.
I can maybe see the beehive again from the patio.

Yeah. Not just yet.

And I can have NEW plants that are green and healthy and living within the confines of their raised beds like good little crops with their promise of food to come.

One day you'll be huge and crazy, but you're just awesome and new.

So, yeah - I'm totally using my anal retentive powers for good now. In order to be not depressed by the summer's end times approaching, I'm choosing to instead be glad that I can clean this place up and have new little green plants to stare at.

Bonus is that I can do this WHILE eating all of the summer's stuff because I'm a fucking traitor like that.


  1. Your post makes me so sad I never got a garden in this year. NEXT YEAR. NEXT YEAR I will do it all :)

    1. You fucking well better!


      But really you should.

      Love you, girl :)

  2. I should have your problems. Apparently my garden is aka the homeless critter buffet.

    1. I recommend a predacious ravenous dog. We haven't seen a live homeless critter in our yard since we got Jada 7 years ago and it's FABULOUS.

  3. I notice that even in the photo of the spring cucumber, there's a little tendril already sneaking out. Tricky.

    August is when we start talking longingly of the first frost. Because everything everywhere is overgrown and weedy and shitty looking. It's like your garden spread over six acres. The only thing that can end that is frost. Bring it.

    1. THEY ARE TRICKY. All, "Hey, we're small and innocent. Who could be annoyed by us?!"

      And if I had six acres of that to stare at - well, I'd fucking pray for frost. Or some sort of crop circle thing to appear across the entire mess.

  4. That's an impressive haul Finny. And thanks for letting me know that my miniscule little garden isn't the only one that looks like crap at the end of summer.

    1. I think all of our end of summer gardens look like total shit and I'm done pretending that I'm OK with it.

      Let us bond in our equally shitty looking EOS gardens, Anna :)

  5. I've got beans/corn/squash doing what your beans/sunflowers/tomatoes are doing - it's insane!

    1. And don't you just desperately want to reorganize the whole mess and clean it up???

      It makes me mental.

  6. 1. I love your dialogue with your garden. It's my favorite thing to read during downtime at work. Those vegetables can be such brats sometimes.
    2. Your anal retentiveness is what I love about you the most.

    1. THEY ARE BRATS. Thankfully, they're delicious brats :) Come over and gather some delicious bratty vegetables any old time, by the way. Plus, we'd love to see you.

  7. This is such a healthy, generous attitude toward the end of summer. I'm going to try to adopt acceptance :) here in Almost Canada, the end of summer signals 8 months of Near Darkness. I'm being dramatic, but it's not great. This year I will focus on my aquaponically grown pak choy, you have encouraged me :)

    1. Dude. 8 months of winter above the 44th parallel and I'd fucking shoot myself - so good on you for making it through every year.

      Meanwhile - yay for aquaponic pac choi! I love mine and those hydroponic crops are what gets me through the California winters, which as I'm sure you're aware, are awesomely sunny and cheerful compared to what you've got.

      Be strong! Hug your plants!


[2013 update: You can't comment as an anonymous person anymore. Too many douchebags were leaving bullshit SPAM comments and my inbox was getting flooded, but if you're here to comment in a real way like a real person, go to it.]

Look at you commenting, that's fun.

So, here's the thing with commenting, unless you have an email address associated with your own profile, your comment will still post, but I won't have an email address with which to reply to you personally.

Sucks, right?

Anyway, to remedy this, I usually come back to my posts and post replies in the comment field with you.

But, if you ever want to email me directly to talk about pumpkins or shoes or what it's like to spend a good part of your day Swiffering - shoot me an email to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom.