land of milk and hummus

Beth moved to Lebanon and has a blog called land of milk and hummus.  Check it out.

Garden Update

Yes, it has been 2 weeks and all you get is a garden update.  Too bad.  The rest of the family trip, a visit to Seoul, an epic journey to New Zealand, and a recent visit from two of my favorite people will have to wait because my garden is glorious.  Do you know how tomatoes smell?  They smell elemental, like earth and sunshine and childhood summers all rolled into one.  Seriously, go stick your face in one, and tell me it wasn't good.

And speaking of, my tomato plants are HUGE and, until recently, all that abundant virility was threatening to tip over their somewhat dainty window box.  That problem was solved by a ￥１００ contraption designed specifically for window box virility containment.  However, I imagine (note to self) that it would have been substantially easier to install before they exploded.  Oops.  Lesson learned.

By the time the tomatoes are pickable (there are 9 little green spheres and blossoms abound), the basil should be in fine form.  It is growing riotously.  I may plant another bucket.

If the tomatoes have all the juicy passion of a soap opera star, the peppers have the stoic perseverance of a former-Soviet Bloc drama. (Hey Beth, "Shit, my shirt is so ugly.")  They continue to do their thing, producing minimalist white blossoms and baby fruits while growing ever taller. 

The cilantro sprang (wait, now say "sprang" ten times... what a weird word) forth from the dirt like guests at a suprise party, going from invisible to an inch tall in one afternoon.  I had just about given up hope that the parsley would ever appear when the first seedling popped out.  The rest soon followed suit.

I recently went to Yoko and Tamotsu's house for dinner, and Yoko sent me home with two pots of fun things, pretty purple and black seeds, and three bundles of old, old fabrics (Mom and Linda, they are beautiful.  Just beautiful.  We sat around after dinner and went through every stack before she taught me how to tie a proper Japanese bundle and took me on a walk with Tamotsu to play with the fireflies.  I love them.)  One pot from Yoko has three of my very own soybean plants and some volunteer lettuces.  The other is a delightful mix of cosmos, chives (spring onions??), and something that resembles flat leaf parsley.

This morning, after springing out of bed at 6 am much like my cilantro (will wonders never cease? who am I?), I put on the coffee and planted a pot of thyme, another of sage, and a big pot of climbing pole beans and zinnias.  I am just now realizing that that may have been a bad combo... meh, it'll work out somehow.

And then it was summer...

Despite the fact that I am still working on telling the (many) stories of my first cold, dark, and unimaginably wet Kanazawa winter, time has passed.  Seasons have changed, and we have arrived into glorious summer weather made all the more deliciously extravagant by my not-so-fleeting memories of months past.  In celebration of the season, I have planted a garden.

A few weeks ago I was mentally bemoaning my lack of a lawn, garden, patio, or even a balcony.  I mean, really, is a balcony sooooo much to ask for?  I just want a little space of my own to sit outside, soak up some sunshine and maybe grow some basil in a bucket?  Come on Japan, everyone and their grandmother has a balcony or two, and I get a laundry room?  Lame.  And that is when the genius struck.  My parking space.  My parking space!  I could plant a garden in my parking space!  The only cars that ever hang out there are Katy's or Karen's, and neither of those take up more than half of the space.  Brilliant!

It took awhile before I could bring my dreams to fruition, but as of two weeks ago, I have a garden.  After some consultation with my mother and gardener extraordinaire, I got two window boxes and planted two pretty sizable tomato plants in one and three green pepper plants in the other.  I threw a lemon balm into a bucket I got at the 100 yen (~ $1) store and sprinkled an entire packet of basil speeds in another (unappreciated) cleaning bucket from under my sink.  The lemon balm (despite an aphid infestation, gross) is growing by leaps and bounds, and the basil seedlings are as cute as can be.  Wonder how long I have to wait until I can eat them...

In the afterglow of planting things and with hands still dirty, I grabbed a grape chu-hai left over from the weekend and sat back to admire my handiwork.  It is remarkable what a little sunshine and some plants can do to a space.  It felt welcoming.  I wanted to go out and buy a deck chair and just sit there looking at my plants and listening to the kids playing down the block.  And Charlie, I wished that you lived in the neighborhood.  I would get out the Scrabble board, make a couple of G&Ts, and we could sit around bickering about word validity and scaring small children.

You know, you still owe me a visit.  :-D

The spearmint that I am keeping hostage on my living room window is threatening to take over by force, but I have plans to show it who's boss.  Anyone for mojitos and homemade mint ice cream? 

Next on my list of parking space garden experiments are two more pots of herbs, one of cilantro and another of parsley.

p.s.  assuming I get this aphid thing under control (dish soap???) does anyone know what you can actually do with lemon balm?  Sticking my face in it on my way to school every morning has been pretty satisfying thus far, but there have got to be some other (less awkward) ways to enjoy it.