May 17, 2023
Thanks in large measure to the
amount of sun and warmth we’ve had over the last week, David was able to build
that extra table garden, and fix the back gate in the yard. He was determined
to work long and hard to get those two construction projects done.
We’re both well aware that the
weather in spring in Ontario can be unpredictable. His desire to get those two
outside tasks done quickly were wise ones.
He was also spurred on by the fact that he had planted his seeds a bit earlier
than he needed to have done. And upstairs, with the sun beaming through the
windows, those seeds did better than any of us expected.
He was understandably anxious
to get the plants into the gardens as soon as possible.
This past weekend, daddy and daughter
went to the garden supply store and picked up the bags of soil and peat moss
and yes, manure, sufficient to fill the gardens. For all of his worry about the
expense of it all, those items weren’t particularly pricy. And while he had
planned to reorient the table gardens so that their short ends were aligned
west-east, he didn’t like the result as much as he thought he would, and just returned
them to their previous north-south configuration.
I went out to inspect them
this morning, braving the unexpectedly chilly air. He had told me that the
tomatoes had taken well—no droop to them at all. But the green beans, he wasn’t
so sure if they would be ok or not. They do look a little “limp” and I wonder
if that’s the side effect from them having grown “up” so quickly.
He assured me that they were “bush
beans” and not “pole beans”. The only thing I cared about was that they were green
beans, and not yellow beans. But having
taken the time to examine the beans in their bed just moments ago, I’ve decided
to reserve judgement. Now that they are in a garden that has room to support a
better root system, and not a small, cramped planter carton, time will decide
their fate.
And lest you sense a lack of
faith in my husband on my part, let me assure you. It’s not, because when I asked him if he’d ended
up planting any seeds, he pointed to the one table garden that had only a couple
of tomato plants, and said, “yes, beans.”
Home grown green beans are one
of only two green vegetables that David enjoys eating. The other is Brussels sprouts.
He will eat broccoli, as long as it’s only the stems. Dear reader, every time I
prepare that veggie, I always ensure to cut up a good portion of the stems, so
that when the rest of us have selected the blossoms, he can happily scoop the
portion he prefers.
He is catered to and yes, I
did “spoil” him. Having married in 1972 it should surprise no one that I have
always been a very old-fashioned wife.
We have a long weekend coming
up in a couple of days, which in our neck of the woods is referred to as either
“The Victoria Day” weekend—or the “May Two Four” weekend.
It is a holiday that harks back
to the late Queen Victoria, and is held on the closest Monday to the 24th
of May, as that was her birthday. In our young adult years, it was a time for riotous
drinking parties, thus the name “two four”—because the largest case of beer one
could purchase in the 1980s and 90s was a case of 24 bottles. And the men,
eager to get away from wives and children for a “fishing weekend” would indeed
go with their camping gear. But more often than not the only fishing they did
was to fish bottles out of the bucket filled with ice water.
Those wild weekends are long behind
us now, and more often the other feature of the Victoria Day holiday of years
past—large fireworks displays—for the most part have been moved to our
celebration of Canada Day. Our nation’s birthday is July 1, and it happens on
the actual day, and not the closest anything.
Every year, we took our children
to whatever large fireworks displays could be found. And while I sometimes miss
those days, I don’t miss some aspects of them. Shivering in the cold as we
waited for it to get dark enough for us to see the pretty pyrotechnics is not a
thing for me to miss.
But it is a fond memory of a
rite of parenthood that David and I, for all of our other faults, generally managed
quite well.
Love,
Morgan
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