Today I harvested my first strawberry out of my garden. I didn’t even wash it. It was a little dusty, very tart, and tiny.
It was magnificent.
I have three squarefoot beds that are divided into sixteen squares each. Two of them have plants- one of them has thirteen squares full, the other isn’t divided and only has four plants. I have Egyptian Walking Onions (google them, they’re really neat), strawberries, cucumbers, tomatoes, spinach, lettuce, carrots, and one birdhouse gourd plant. In another bed, I have bee balm (monarda fistulosa, I think), comfrey (symphytum officinalis), horehound (marrubium… marribum? Hm.) and sage (salvia officinalis).
Hells yes, I just did all those Latin names from memory. I am rocking the herbs today.
I’ve also got pots out there- roman chamomile, lemon verbena, variegated meadowsweet, kentucky mint (whatever that means), more tomatoes, a volunteer cabbage that came up in my compost, three types of peas, basil, and elfin thyme. I’m going to be using that thyme to make a faerie garden, complete with little offering table for the little ones who drop by.
In the meantime, I’m trying to get past this desperate need for sweets I seem to have developed. I am desperately craving sugars, both physically and psychologically.
I… am not sure how I’m going to kick this one. We’ll have to see what happens.
In the meantime, I’m learning how to mother through my own confusing days. My husband of ten years asked me for a divorce several months ago, and at first there was much with the tears and denial, but after some consideration I’ve found that the idea actually seems to be a relief, rather than a torment. We’ve been so changed by our marriage, a lot of it for the better, and we’ve sort of… drifted apart, in different directions in life. We’re quite good friends, dedicated parents, and dedicated to each other- just not as lovers and spouses.
I’ve changed my faith over the years, while he’s remained the same. Or, not the same, but you get the idea. Our interests and friends have diverged, and our expectations of each other are not fulfilled in the other person. So, before we grow to resent each other and let that rot inside us, we’re choosing at our ten year anniversary mark to have a parting of ways, a releasing of vows ceremony to separate in the eyes of the God before whom we were married.
The legal stuff will have to wait for a more opportune time, since things are a little nutters here at the moment.
In the meantime, we’re learning to parent with respect to each other’s life decisions and faiths, and finding that we are better parents now than we were when we were still trying to sort out our differences.
What a strange world, huh?
At least I have a strawberry.