The sun had found its way high up between the scarce clouds, blazing through all atmospheric resistance to break through the leaves and gently stroke my arms with a motherly warmth. I had just read an article by a passionate gardener and writer, which then lead to one of those "Oh crap" moments, where two neurons that were supposed to be working wake up from their slumber and bring you the memory of a task left undone.
The article was about "feeling small". And I remembered that I had forgotten to prune my dill plants. For 5 weeks now. Well, I came way too late, they were already sky-high (okay, like 2,5m), and while I was feeling quite small I wondered how they could hold themselves up there. They usually bend over very quickly. Maybe my pruning from early days on, harvesting the precious resource (dill isn't known here) week by week, exploiting the plant to the maximum and squeezing it for many, many leaves, maybe that helped them growing strong.
Anyway, they're flowering now. I took that picture holding my arm up. Took a few intents. They won't produce many leaves now, but seeds, which is okay - though I don't know if the seeds I got are hybrids or true. I guess I'll have to try and see.
When I reviewed the picture, I saw that I had also neglected the lemon trees. It's really time to harvest now, and make some juice to freeze or make liters of delicious cocktails with. Or lemonade. Or cake. Or roux au basilic avec des champignons. Oh là là! Getting hungry now.
But not only the lemons are overly ripe, but the physalis/goldenberries were at their best, too - not the ones close to the ground, Lily and her friends enjoy those every chance they get. But that astute bugger of a plant had crawled up the wall and was hiding its best berries behind the climbing rose. A rose with many nasty spikes.
After so much care from my side towards both of those plants, they team up against me??? And they think they can beat me? ME? No way. I couldn't let that slide. What would come next, the potatoes hiding behind the nettles? Not in my garden. My garden, my rules.
It was a nasty fight. It didn't matter how much strategy I implemented, how carefully I planned my moves through the vines to the fruit, there was always a spike, coming out of nowhere. As if the plant was shooting at me. Yet, I made it into their back-lines, flanking the points of hardest resistance, and got the berries. One by one.
Half a bucket full of delicious berries. The taste of victory! Quite sour it is, as those fruits are full of Vitamin C and other wonderful nutrients that my body will gladly use to replenish the ranks of the fallen.
But I did not stop there. One victory is not enough. Authority has to be established again, I had to set an example. A nasty one, I admit, but it had to be done. Something cruel enough to extinguish the flame of rebellion once and for all.
Fight fire with fire. I had many branches accumulated, and many of them from that climbing rose. Of course, one could now argue who attacked first, and it's most definitely me (or the gardener who helps me from time to time), but that's nature. That's the food chain.
So, I burned the rose branches. Many of them. And I laughed and drank beer while they withered with a last "soosh" of heated water escaping the breaking membranes of their cells. Little cries of agony, music to my ears.
We sat by the fire until late. It burned down almost completely, while Ellie, her cousin and I were talking about whatever. I do enjoy having some time without Lily, being able to socialize again like I did before. I notified those friends who disappeared while I was full-time-fathering, and already did some catching up. No hard feelings there.
They're not roses.
