Muck-that’s
right, I said it. MUCK! That's the best word to describe what the lower 40 of
my yard/garden is right now. It is raining AGAIN. Never, in all my years of
gardening in the South, would I have ever even dreamed of dreading to see rain
in the forecast toward the end of July. Usually the ground is cracking about
now. Makes my head hurt from just the mere twisting of my thought process to
incorporate NOT wanting to see rain in July-almost August actually. But yes, it
is true. I was saddened to open the back door to let my dogs out for their evening
“constitutional” shall I say, and see rainfall.
I am not one
who doesn't like rain. In fact, it makes me happy. I love rain. Not just
because it makes my life easier by being able to skip dragging heavy hoses all
over the place in 90 degree summer days, and feeling guilty I am using up my well
water. I do love what rainfall does to my
flowers, plants, vegetables and grass. Everything grows and greens up
beautifully after a good rain. A water hose just can’t do what nature can.
I also love
rain for the smell of it, the feel of it. It is never a dismal day to me. I
like to walk in the rain when others run from it. I ponder over how people
stand at storefront exits waiting until it lets up before they feel they can
make it 30 feet to their car in the parking lot. Huddling together at the exit,
they strike up the standard, “I shoulda brought my umbrella, it’s really coming
down” conversation starters. OK, I don’t fault the over 65 crowd. They should
wait for a let-up. Don’t want an elderly person slipping in a puddle and
falling in the parking lot and breaking a hip. AARP, settle down. But I could run out there and do
a Gene Kelly dance and my best “Singin' in the Rain” impression and be
delighted with myself-that is if I could sing, or dance as if no one is
watching. Sadly I cannot.
But I CAN be
out in the garden hearing thunder’s low growl in the distance, ignore the
warnings, and remain steadfast in my pursuit of ridding my garden of just a few
more weeds. As I begin to hear the rain hitting the tree line as it approaches,
I await with anticipation for those first big fat cool drops to hit my back as
I am bent over a stubborn dandelion root. (When I hear a loud crack of thunder,
however, I do pick up the pace to retreat indoors, I am not that careless.)
So, with my
affinity for rain and all it gives, one would assume I would be happy with this
inordinate amount of rain. However it has been raining so much it feels like
soon they will be measuring cumulatively in feet, and not inches of rainfall. It
befits the, “too much of a good thing…” adage. Consequently, it has turned my
garden into the aforementioned MUCK. Yucky muck. I have never seen anything like it. I used to do rain dances in the summer. I now
sing, “Rain rain, go away…” from my childhood. Sometimes the rain dances worked.
I gave up planting seeds after three sets were
washed away by deluges. My straight row of basil seeds washed into forming a little clump. Our rocky base under our amended soil doesn't perk like
normal soil, so we have puddles. Literally puddles are all through the yard and
garden. I wear my galoshes and my feet get swallowed up and stuck. My zinnias
and cucumbers are getting powdery mildew, my tomatoes are drowning, my corn has
fallen over, (and became deer food), and my artichoke plants are turning black. I dug holes here and
there by some plants to wick away the water and with a strike of my shovel,
water poured out of the soil and I have a series of mini ponds. In desperation,
I left weeds to grow so they could help soak up some of the water. I added
shredded newspaper to my mini ponds and added dirt back into them. We have gotten our tractor stuck in the mud.
Rain, rain, go away for just a week, please!
Mosquitoes
love this, I am certain. I know because I have seen them dancing around me like
joyous garden fairies. They love me, and I don’t fit the categories of what mosquitoes
are drawn to. Though why would they look elsewhere for a tastier meal when I am
available daily for them to feast upon if I forget to take my mosquito fan? If
you don’t have ice cream, might you settle for yogurt if it’s right there in
the fridge?
