Expounding

OK, I was a little terse with the pictures. Allow me to elaborate.

There are a lot of kinds of bees. Many of those bee kinds are living in my yard right now. I’ve got blue and red masons (though, they seem to be about done), green metallic bees, those tiny guys (about 1/4″), big bumblebees, littler bumbles with a rusty stripe on them, honeybees, and a few more variations. Honestly, I had no idea.

I also didn’t know, when I started gardening years ago, that I’d begin to actually like flowers and insects. I mean REALLY like them. I thought I’d be a tomato-person. Not like a part-man, part-brandywine, but someone who raised all his food for maximum productivity and self-sustenance when the Dark Times arrive (on a chariot of peak oil and global warming).

Somewhere along the line, I decided the Dark Times probably weren’t really coming. Peak oil? Puh-lease. I frittered my childhood away worrying about the Soviets nuking us. We don’t even know where those nukes are now, and yet we’ve collectively apparently decided it’s no big thing. People used to crap themselves about the Huns. And, anyway, so what if the Dark Times do come? I mean, we’re all going to die eventually. You, me, my kids, the chickens, Brad Pitt, all of us.

Impermanence is really the name of the game. We all get sad about it… but isn’t that kind of dumb? It’s like getting sad about photons or evolution. So, what to do about it?

Flowers! They’re real pretty. The bugs like them. They rarely attack anyone (compared to, say, a dog or the president). How much squash can you eat before you aren’t really digging it anymore? Doesn’t take much. How many beautiful red roses can you smell in your garden before you get sick of them? I’ll let you know if I ever find out. Will I ever get sick of watching the bugs? I doubt it. I mean, come on, a green metallic bee?!

Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE a good tomato. It’s just that there’s something to be said for the variety and pure aesthetic pleasure of garden full of flowers passing in and out of bloom. They’re not particularly practical and therein, I think, lies the attraction. They’re just the amazing manifestations of evolution and breeding that explode like super-slow-motion fireworks. And every day, I go out there and go “Oooooh…”

Now, I act all well-adjusted, but right about this time of year I’m gripped with that subtle sense of anxiety that I haven’t planted enough or the right things or in the right places. Time’s flying by, and I’m forgetting something! OHMYGOD! I HAVE TO GET TO THE NURSERY!

Note to future me: Everything’s OK. Relax. Your soil is good. The flowers are blooming. The beans are planted. There’s more food coming out of the garden than we can eat (I just fed the chickens a head of romaine that looked like something you’d buy at New Seasons Market just because they were getting too crowded in the bed.) Go sit on a bench and have a beer. The weeds aren’t going to take over the place. Remember that by the time Fall arrives, you’ll be tired of having dirty fingernails. Pace yourself.