This has been one of those farm days that feel good, but I wore myself out. I pruned off the dead blooms on the rose bushes, tended to the honeybees, raked the muck out of the shallows of the pond, and after a late lunch break, tackled my strawberry transplant.
I don’t know why this is, but sometimes I am just too lazy to look up the proper way to do things and instead I take a stab at an idea. This sometimes works, sometimes doesn’t. The worst times (like today), I start making rash decisions due to being hot and tired and no longer having the will to be careful.
My lonely rhubarb plant was a casualty of this syndrome. I’d decided to move it to another location and give it lots of nice compost and straw to try to make its life better. By the time I’d prepared a spot for it, though, I had very little juice left in me and I carelessly dug too shallow, severing the roots. Oops. Not only was I too tired to cry over it, I decided to toss it out and buy a new one next year. I am a bad mommy.
I did an okay job of digging up and moving the strawberry plants that had wandered out of their row. I dug up the whole weak end of their patch, shook out all the weeds and saved the two or three plants that had hung on all year. Then I added old straw and compost on top of that and transplanted a huge healthy batch of plants from the other end of the row. This was when I was getting close to the end of my rope, so I tucked them all in with straw and tossed straw over the top of the rest of the row haphazardly. Now, I’m shooting water over it all for an hour with the sprinkler.
We’ll call this a Darwinian Garden. Only the strongest can survive my care. But those that do, well they are truly special!