Late Summer Garden

The garden is full-throttle right now. As the flowers begin to fade, the vegetables pop. 

People stop to take pictures of the garden. Usually, they are on foot. Sometimes they stop in cars. I have walked out to work in the garden to find groups of people just stopped on the sidewalk, staring. Once, there were two women fighting back tears, telling me how much the garden means to them every year. I didn’t know what else to say except “thank you.” I often stand in the garden giving out thank-yous to passersby complimenting work which is not mine.  Sarah is the perennial perennial flower architect and maintainer. It really is her vision that people enjoy. I am strictly vegetables and annuals. I know people like those too. 

One year, I put googly eyes on a zucchini perched near the sidewalk. I also drew a mouth on it, but it needed something a little more - I crocheted a nice hat. I came back from a run to find two women (not the same two previously mentioned) standing over the zucchini. 

One of them said, “Your zucchini has eyes.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The other one asked, "Why does your zucchini have a hat?”

“Because it’s cold in the morning.” I walked into my backyard leaving them standing there, puzzled and entranced by the zucchini wearing a hat.

The next year I made a talking zucchini. I did it again the following year. This turned out to be a mistake. It became a second job running the zucchini, talking to people through a hidden speaker and trying to make out what they were saying via a hidden microphone.  People still ask, “Is ZuZu coming back again this year?”

I hate to break it to you, ZuZu is never coming back. 

An interview with ZuZu - 
 

I planted corn in front of a place I like to sit in the garden. I am hidden behind the corn, usually drinking a cup of coffee. People can enjoy the garden without having to talk to me. This is fantastic. 

Yesterday, there was a letter in the mailbox. It had a postage stamp on the envelope. I couldn’t make out the postmark, where it was from. It was simply addressed “The Gardener.” Junk mail? An invitation to subscribe to Animatronic Urban Vegetable Gardening? No. It was a beautiful card with a typewritten poem on it. I could think of it as being addressed to either Sarah or me, but truthfully, after 34 years of marriage, three kids, four grandkids, lots of careers, lots of world traveling, and even a gender transition thrown in for good measure, we are, together “The Gardener.” Here’s the poem - 

That's nice, right?

If I could have planted the vegetable garden in the backyard, I would have. But the front yard has the most sun. I had no choice. I don’t have a ton of socialization in my life since I retired, and I can’t hear very well even with my hearing aids. I suppose it is a good thing that people stop to talk to me. The garden means something to them. Usually, the walkers are headed up to Cannon Hill Park or back down from it. Maybe they are in the right frame of mind to appreciate something like this. I am glad for that. But, if I were to buy one of those endless pool swim spas, I would tear out the garden and place it right where the beans and delicata squash used to be. I would put up a fence so people couldn’t watch me swim and maybe plant some corn along its perimeter for good measure.