Tuesday, September 21, 2021

Plant Them And It Will Rain

 


Time after time, I have planted in the hopes of rain coming. Or, to be frank, as the synod politicians say, I hoped for some back-up showers after planting. This morning I woke up to a Florida style cloudburst. 

Sassy knew it was going to rain for a long time, before we went to bed, because she went out in heavy rain for her post-prandial. Something told her it be would an all-night rain. She is seldom wrong. She will not leave the front porch for a walk, if she knows it will rain, but she gladly follows me when it looks like rain, but her senses say "Fake report."

Knowing the fickleness of weather reports, I hoped for some rain. Some very small Clethra shrubs just came, and I wanted to give them a sunny home with access to water. I ordered them when everything was different, only a few months ago.

Yesterday, step one was watering the old blackberry patch because the soil was more like an earthen parking lot than a place to dig.

The shrubs were soaking in chlorine free water while the old bramble patch was being watered. I filled one dry rain-barrel with Springdale dam water to let the chlorine evaporate out. When I planted them, they were hydrated and ready more growth. The holes were easy to dig. The shrubs were surrounded with newsprint to keep weeds away and soil moist, then water with more of the chlorine free water. 

Knowing the stealth and hunger of rabbits and squirrels, I surrounded each shrub with a plastic collar and doubled-down with wire fencing to confuse or amuse, baffle and frustrate the freeloaders. I have seen new plants pulled out of the ground the day after I dug them in. The last victim was a colorful basil plant, one out of four. 

This morning, when I looked out at the rain, a possum was slowly moving near the door. He noticed the change in light and slowly headed away. He is another likely garden thief, but he is good at collecting what the squirrels and rabbits miss.

Ranger Bob  looked the Rose Garden and asked, "Why did you cut down all the Joe Pye and leave that one up?"

I said, "I was waiting for you to ask that question." He laughed. The last tall stand and the butterfly garden were the last areas to be trimmed. Across the Rose Garden the newly scalped Pyes were sending up fresh leaves. They no longer crowd the eight-foot-tall Clethras in the roses, and now the roses will bloom more with rain and sun.

Psalm 126

When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream.

2 Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing: then said they among the heathen, The Lord hath done great things for them.

3 The Lord hath done great things for us; whereof we are glad.

4 Turn again our captivity, O Lord, as the streams in the south.

5 They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.

6 He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.


When I look over the garden spaces, I do not think of all the losses from drought, cold,

predation, and my own mistakes, I see what remains.