Growing a crop of frustration (6/7/04)

I planted the garden last weekend. Then I replanted the onions Wednesday and again Thursday and one more time Friday. Either they don’t like being covered with dirt or else the birds are playing games with me. I’m not sure how many more times I will try to coax the little bulbs to stay underground and grow roots before one of us gives up and allows the brown orbs to perch on top of the garden beds until they shrivel in the sun.

This year it is the onions that won’t stay planted. Other years the birds chose something else as their favorite. I think they get together in the spring and draw lots as to which plant or vegetable they will concentrate on.

One year it was celosia. I would barely get the flowers in the ground before a starling or other designated thief would pluck the posey and fly away with it. They didn’t even have the decency to wait until I went inside the house. As soon as I moved away from the row of flowers they would brazenly make off with their prize.

I finally resorted to hacking the bottoms off every plastic bottle I could find and shoving the remains firmly over the baby plants. This worked but the garden looked like an orderly landfill for awhile.

The only good thing is that the birds limit themselves to one type of plant per season. This year it is onions and the celosia are safely encircling the purple coneflowers with nary a bird in sight. Next year the flying bandits will choose something else to decimate.

Even though the birds make off with my plants, the rabbits seem to leave things alone. They may be congregating in other people’s gardens preparing to write a rebuttal to Watership Down.

For reasons known only to them, the only plants our bunnies go after are the early spring tulips. The first set of leaves our tulips grow are always nibbled to the ground. The subsequent foliage is left to shelter the tulip buds with not a bunny bite on them.

There are many reasons that I plant a garden. One reason is that I can’t stand those mushy cardboard things the grocery store calls tomatoes. A fresh tomato straight out of the garden is a real treat. Actually, almost all vegetables eaten within seconds of being picked are far superior to anything in the supermarket.

The other reason I garden is because I like to play in the dirt. The feel of soil sifting through my fingers, the sun on my back and the daily change in the size of the plants all serve to feed my soul. Even yanking the weeds out by their roots feels therapeutic.

It is usually peaceful outside except when people insist on blasting their music. Sometimes I think I am the only one who is thinks sound hurts. Loud noises are not just irritating, they are physically painful. I wonder how people can survive being constantly beaten by sound. Maybe that is why our young people seem so angry all the time. Thankfully, this is just a transient thought as the cars and trucks bounce on down the street and out of hearing range.

The birds don’t seem to be bothered by the loud noises any more than they are bothered by anything I have ever tried to deter them. They patiently wait for me to turn over the next shovel-full of soil in case there is a juicy bug or worm just waiting to be eaten.

I don’t mind gardening with an audience of feathered friends.

I do wish they would leave the onions alone and concentrate on eating bugs like all good birds should. Since they refuse to do this I will probably still be replanting onions until they get tired of the game.[[In-content Ad]]