Gardening for Body and Soul

“Eww, you want me to weed?”

“I’m hot and sweaty – yuck!”

“A BUG! Kill it, quick!”

How my whiny teenage utterances haunt me, when I think of my former hatred of gardening.

Worse of all, when it came to eating my grandfather’s bountiful kale and kohlrabi or the glorious red beets grown by my parents, despite a lack of work, my fork was always the first poised to attack.

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Need to start a bit smaller?  Click here to read about container gardens.

Hectic Hector, the Hummingbird

Come early morning or at twilight, our tiny Hectic Hector buzzes by for a drink.

This frenetic hummingbird's visits start at the end of February when fragile blossoms festoon first the peach, and then the apricot tree. 

Then as late winter winds make them tumble down like pink and white snowflakes, he sips orange blossom nectar through the month of March.

Now several months before the stone-fruit is ripe, his thirst continues.

After several seasons of putting up a hummingbird feeder, the daily battle with invading sugar seeking ants got to be too much.

Instead if I lightly sprinkle water, atop the bright green leaves, nearest the growing fruit he is sated.

Should the hose's spray be late in the morning, meaning anytime after 7:30, Hector rewards my tardiness by dive bombing my head. 

Never close enough to cause harm, but near enough so I recognize his annoyance.

Just another member of our garden's peaceable kingdom.