Some months slowly unfurl. Other months seems to speed by. May is one of the latter. There is so much to do in the garden: weeding, repotting, transplanting seedlings into the raised beds, weeding, adding compost, weeding. Did I mention weeding? The garden is making progress in the merry, merry month of May! I’m very excited about it. I’m also very busy, hence the nearly three-week delay in a new post. So, today I’m letting the photos do the talking. Here’s what’s been growing, blooming, and quietly May‑king progress around the Wild Light Garden.
My garden reflects my own personality: a little wild and whimsical.
Yogurt containers were repurposed as plant pots. Before repotting I drilled holes in the bottoms for water drainage. It’s also important to label the type of tomato you’ve repotted in order to not lose track. The Hungarian Heart tomato is considered a medium to large tomato. It will need a bit more room between plants.
The tomato seedlings are ready to repot where they can grow a bit stronger and bigger in order to be planted into the raised beds come beginning of June.
My cat found a bunny nest. Don’t worry. No bunnies were harmed. My cat is not a hunter. If the bunny had hopped towards her, she probably would have ran!
Fruits forming on the strawberry plants.
Strawberries are one of my favorite fruits which is why I planted them. This is their third year growing now. I’m happy to see that flowers have bloomed and that fruits are forming.
Keeping the garden safe…from a distance…without doing much.
The bell pepper and basil seedlings have been transplanted into the raised garden bed. Two years ago I installed a sprinkler system. It makes the job (mostly) easier.
When I sit on my side steps and look to my left, this is the site I see. I’ll eventually do something with those stack of bricks. I’m thinking pizza oven? What do you think?
I stepped outside this morning expecting nothing from the garden, only to see what was going on out here. I found mud, chilly temperatures, and some surprises. Everything looked suspiciously productive. Suspicious because I still don’t consider myself a competent gardener. It’s almost like the plants had a meeting without me and decided to get their act together. Good for them. I have no idea how to do that.
So I grabbed my camera, took a slow wander, and let the garden show off a little. So, now I’ll give you all a look as well.
I have never grown fava beans before. They have sprouted with the kind of dramatic flair usually reserved for stage actors and toddlers. The seed has sprouted and is posing like it knows it’s the star of today’s show. Honestly, if seedlings could demand royalties, this one would. I can’t wait to eat them!
A few steps over, the raised beds are waking up. Drip lines are weaving through green growth, tiny leaves are pushing up like they’re late for something, and the greenhouse in the background is pretending that it wasn’t a wind tunnel all winter. At one point, I had to collect a couple of the panels from the neighbors’ yards after a windstorm. The greenhouse and I have been through things.
And then there’s the greenhouse nursery where hope and impatience live side-by-side. I’m happy to say that most of the seedlings are thriving while some are still thinking about it. I don’t judge. We all wake up at our own pace. I happen to need coffee and some of us require snacks.
On a different note, I found one of the gnomes leaning suspiciously close to the heater. I’m not saying he did anything, but the last time he looked that guilty, I ended up with a mysteriously relocated trowel and a row of radishes planted in the shape of a question mark. I’ve moved him to the bird bath where he can reflect on his choices.
It’s the magic part of the garden year, where nothing is perfect but everything is possible. The soil is soft, the air smells like rain, and every corner has something quietly happening and the groundhog is eating your dandelions.
The garden is officially in its hopeful chaos phase.
It all starts with packets and empty trays. Add gloves, labels, and a brand spanking-new spray bottle (Dollar Store gold) and I have made the small, but mighty kit of chaotically-hopeful beginnings. (The spray bottle is the hero. Seeds are needy!)
The soil plugs are filled. The waiting has begun. Germination is just suspense with dirt.
This year’s greenhouse is nursing Sweet Alyssum, Mini Mint, three kinds of peppers: King of the North, Ozark Giant, and Lemon Spice Jalapeño. (Yes, there is a pepper called Lemon Spice Jalapeño and, yes, I am very excited about it.) Of course, I’ve added four types of tomatoes for snacking and slicing.
Outside, the cold-hardy plants are already in the ground and beginning to sprout.
Fava beans are spreading under the teepee trellis, carrots are doing their thing, and the leeks are pushing up in thin, cheerful lines like reaching towards the Sun.
The drip lines are reconnected. The galvanized beds are waking up!
The greenhouse is visible from almost everywhere in the garden, a good reminder of what’s coming. It’s also a good place to go when I need to feel like things are under control. They’re not. But that’s fine. That’s what the gnomes tell me anyway.
