Squash, Melons & ProgressPosted: May 22, 2013
I planted my squash and melons this weekend – it’s officially warm! I took my dirt’s temperature to make sure it was above 18 degrees (the seed packets told me what to do).. I even surprised myself with that one.
Because we’re gardening in these raised beds instead of open fields, space is always at a premium. We thought we’d use the rest of our re-purposed birch poles and make a squash and melon trellis for our plants to climb instead of allowing the to spread out. We made notches in 4ft long birch poles and nailed them together to make supports for one long pole, resulting in a sort of tent shape that sits on top of the bed.
To be honest, I’ve been thinking about this squash trellis since we put it in, and I’m wondering if this is taking up more space than is necessary. I might put one side of the trellis on the ground so that the plants can start in the bed and grow up and over the side. I’ll then have room to plant more greens which should do well when partially shaded by the trellis.
The veggies that have so far survived Winnie’s wrath seem to be doing really well! I’m not sure if they are progressing along the usual timelines, but they look good to me.
I’ve planted almost all of the seeds I’m going to plant this year – I have cucumbers and cabbage left but haven’t decided quite where I want them. I may try cucumber hanging baskets just for the fun of it. Cabbage seems to take a lot of space and time so I’m reluctant to commit – I might plant it when I pull the first radishes. I can hardly wait for the first non-greens harvest!
this is the garden:colours come and go,
frail azures fluttering from night’s outer wing
strong silent greens silently lingering,
absolute lights like baths of golden snow.
This is the garden:pursed lips do blow
upon cool flutes within wide glooms,and sing
(of harps celestial to the quivering string)
invisible faces hauntingly and slow.
This is the garden. Time shall surely reap
and on Death’s blade lie many a flower curled,
in other lands where other songs be sung;
yet stand They here enraptured,as among
the slow deep trees perpetual of sleep
some silver-fingered fountain steals the world.
– e.e. cummings