Are you about ready to get out your ark?
I can’t recall when we’ve had so many consecutive days of deluge lately. Maybe my brain won’t go back to last winter, when I’m sure we had some big rain days.
Summertime in Mississippi usually calls for occasional afternoon showers, but maybe this Global Warming thing is starting to mess with my historical expectations.
I’m more upset that the oregano seeds I planted last Saturday likely have wound up in Nettleton.
If not, they surely will drown under the added sand and topsoil that’s washed down from the top of my backyard hill.
Oh, it’s good, the rain, because I don’t have to fret over my 7-foot-tall okra and its accompanying bell pepper plants.
It keeps the days fairly moderate and the nights cool enough to save the A/C.
But still, it’s gurgling my fall plantlets of green onions and carrots. I’m hoping my parsley seeds aren’t affected. The new bean and pea plants just seem confused, but they may be an inappropriate addition this time of year.
I don’t know. This is all a continuous science project for me.
Speaking of science projects, turn away, if you are squeamish…. Go read Sports or the weather, appropriately.
OK, now for you brave souls: I have begun to take great delight in using my garden shears to eradicate my acre of large grasshoppers. They just turn a cold eye to insecticides. So, I’ve found out I can just whack them across their fat torso, and baby, that’s all she wrote!
I know that sounds gross.
It has no bearing on my distantly warm feelings for mammalia like dogs or cats.
I’m not likely to take the hedge clippers to a stray neighborhood pet, although if I could catch them, I’d gladly mete out harsh penalties for all those nasty squirrels that deign to enter the unfenced bounds of Rosalie Gardens, so named, as you will remember, by my friend, Joe. I’m hoping reincarnation isn’t in my future, but at least I’d know what to look out for.
I’m starting to make myself a list of things to do, when the winter cold snap comes along. I aim to build a raised bed/box for my hops. They’ve fared badly on their maiden voyage and I’ve reaped about 12 blossoms, hardly what my beer-making son had in mind for a new brew.
I think it’s because their roots don’t have much wiggle room in that galvanized tub I’ve got them in. My massive rosemary plant near the backdoor seems to love its tub, but I suspect there’s a world of difference in the growth requirements of each.
I’ve also got to move some stuff, which gives me something to do during the winter, short of digging up the entire yard.
I’ve got new roses coming along from Felder Rushing’s suggestion just to stick some small cuttings into decent dirt, add mulch and walk away.
Then there’s a new planting scheme for the garden, as soon as Mother Nature lets me get back into it next spring.
Meanwhile, if you’re a marauding grasshopper, beware.
Contact Patsy R. Brumfield at (662) 678-1596 or firstname.lastname@example.org. Read Patsy’s more hard-core news blog, From the Front Row, on NEMS360.com or follow her on Twitter.com/RealNewsQueen and Facebook.
Patsy Brumfield/NEMS Daily Journal