Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between

Gardening Business

No pictures, no Ghede-inspired string of beautifully crafted expletives. Just Death, and a momentary distraction of the inevitable (which is easy enough beneath an early evening sun as the world buzzes and chirps with life).

PLANTED:
* Broccoli (X 10)
* Cabbage (X 10)
* Cauliflower (X 10)
* Dill (dead crow dirt)
* Motherword (ceramic container)
* White Nightshade (ceramic container)

REPOTTED:
* Thyme

One of my dwarf apples has THREE sets of buds ready to blossom (the other one appears to only have one cluster), there's way too much green in the raspberry container to be errant bird seed (last year I planted a handful of raspberries plucked off bushes growing near a ruined church), the parsley's germinated, there's little pockets of rocket springing up in a tray, one or two blades of green are already popping up in the wheat containers and I SWEAR one of the pumpkin seeds planted in the phallic worship altar at the base of the Shango tree has sprouted.

The flowers that crowned our plum trees on Summer (Beltane / May Day) are nearly gone (hopefully the bees have done their work), sycamore buds have burst into brillant new leaves, the garlic's growing in a prosperous (although cramped) line next to the sidewalk and I caught the first glimpses of beet seedlings peering up from top soil. (And? And there's so many fucking violets in the dirt yard that I'm wondering how much I really need to make a violet based sugar syrup.)

Every day I worry about my beloved peach tree, and every day I remind myself not to get my hopes up. (<- She had a devastating case of leaf curl. It was so bad I had to remove all but 4-6 leaves, and I doubt that's enough to sustain a sapling.) The best of a worst possible situation? She's the perfect shape / height / width for a broom. (Mistakes; productive learning experiences in disguise.)

Let's not talk about my indoor vegetable seedlings. (How bad is it? How about "WHAT VEGETABLE SEEDLINGS?" bad. (Yeah, that bad.))

Death loosened Italics' wallet and he suddenly found himself £23.00 GBP poorer after a seed binge of epic proportions. (HEY, MY PET RAT OF THREE YEARS FUCKING DIED, OKAY? THE GRIEVING PROCESS IS DELICATE, FRAGILE TIME WROUGHT BY TUMULTUOUS EMOTIONS AND A INSATIABLE NEED TO COMPLETE ONE'S PROPOSED FLYING OINTMENT GARDEN.)

In the next few days I get to look forward to planting:

VEGETABLES:
* Courgette, Eight Ball
* Cucumber, Gherkin

HERBS:
* Basil, Christmas
* Basil, Italian Large Leaf
* Borage
* Lemon Balm
* Lovage
* Marjoram, Wild
* Oregano, Greek
* Sage, English
* Sorrel, Large French
* Thyme, Creeping

FLOWERS:
* Sunflower, Henry Wilde
* Sweet Pea

WITCHCRAFT PLANTS:
* Hellebore, Black
* Henbane
* Monkshood
* Mugwort
* Rue
* St. John's Wort
* Tormentil
* Wormwood

Most of them, anyway. Some seeds in my ointment garden require very specific temperatures and conditions for germination. What can get planted now will, anything that needs absolute babying is getting filed away for next year. (SEE HOW ON THE BALL I AM WITH THIS SHIT? YOU TURN 30 AND THEN MOTHERFUCKING //BAM//; YOU'RE ALL GROWN UP AND FUCKING RESPONSIBLE AND PLANNING THINGS IN ADVANCE.)

I'm officially only 7 packets away from completing the rough draft of my witch's flying ointment garden:

STILL NEEDED:
* Baneberry
* Datura
* Enchanter's Nightshade
* Mandrake
* Russian Belladonna
* Sweet Flag
* Wolfsbane

I haven't even had a chance to consider a badger, rabbit and hedgehog garden. I also haven't had a chance to do any proper research into gooseberry, raspberry, blackberry and currant propagation (I've heard it's as easy as shoving healthy clippings into some soil) which I TOTALLY need to learn since all of the above has a tendency of growing near/on some very special places (i.e., ancient cemeteries, ruined cottages, ruined churches, standing stones and other neolithic monuments) and I HELLA want to take clippings and grow them at home.

And I STILL haven't had a chance to even sit down and look at ANY-FUCKING-THING potato related. (<- We really, really, really want to grow some new / baby potatoes in containers in the back.) So that, too, needs to get rectified pronto.

All I can say is: holy shit, dude, this gardening business, holy shit. (<- GARDENERS'N'WITCHES, CAN I GET AN A-FUCKING-MEN?)