Getting In Touch With My Inner
Farmer
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Two weeks ago I had declared, “New
window glass all around; new patio roof; I love it all. These are my final
projects. My home is complete. My garden is full and lush. No more projects!”
This isn’t a full-blown project.
Really. Honest. Sorta.
It began with a bedraggled hibiscus.
She hadn’t flourished since she’d been planted, several months ago. Her sister
plants were “blooming healthy”, to borrow a British expression. Leo, my partner
in digging dirt, asked if I wanted to go to Centro Vivero to get a replacement.
“Sure, and as long as we are there,
what about replacing those plants outside the wall, the ones I bought on the
street from a pick-up truck. Poor things are last gaspers.”
The space outside my wall, ah, yes.
When I arrived here, a year and a few months ago, run-away bougainvillea had
reached treacherous vine-y branches over the wall to choke out trees and grasp
plants of all sorts on the inside garden. We had viciously pruned said
bougainvillea until finally, each color now nestled, armloads of riotous blooms,
atop the garden wall, creating bountiful beauty on each side.
However, we had dug up the next
several feet of ground outside my wall to install a new drain field. Replacement
soil has finally quit sinking into holes but is bare and ugly. The poorly
pick-up plants, including an avocado tree and two canela (cinnamon), almost
goners, create the far boundary of my “commons” area. I maintain this
weed-infested patch of ugly, about 18 meters wide. Beyond that is parking area
and our dirt road.
So, on the designated trip-to-vivero
day, I stood in the center of the strip with Leo, list in hand. “One hibiscus.”
Check. What do you think about replacing these last-gaspers with Plumbago?
Plumbago grows quickly with blue flowers year-round.”
With Leo’s blessing, I added to the
list, “Seven Plumbago.” Check. “Fertilizer.” Check. “New dirt; how many bags,
Leo?” “Tierra—ten bags.” Check. “Compost—five bags.” Check.
“What about the grass, Leo. This
patch is disgusting. Do you have something like Weed and Feed in Mexico?” I
added that to the list. “Should we plant seed or buy sod.”
See how easily a simple need for one
hibiscus replacement plant simply got out of hand? After the weed-killer has
done its work, then new soil and compost must be spread. A dirty job. Then
we’ll wait for the seasonal rains to start and ask David to lay the sod.
When we pulled into the vivero,
David was on hand to help us. I chose the Plumbago, a new yellow hibiscus, gave
David the rest of my list, emptied my wallet and turned to leave. Just then a
perfectly stunning and bold Magnolia jumped into my pathway. She begged,
pleaded to come home with me. Really, she sounded most pathetic. And Beautiful.
I had little choice.
“This is it, David. This is my last
trip to the vivero. I cannot buy more plants.”
“That make me very sad,” he said
with a full-face grin.
“I haven’t room for another tree or
flower,” I countered and climbed into Leo’s Jeep.
“See you next week.” David waved.
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
June 1, 2017
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